Stats.
Year; 2003
Setting; The Apollo Theater
Year; 2003
Setting; The Apollo Theater
Who would know... In a years time, we'd be in a war. A war to depict the future of our city, our state, and our world. "Look kid, if you want to finish what you started, wake the ******** up and c**k back that weapon you're holding," blurted out Nathan. "Our target is in the middle of the theater, surronded by atleast 15 heavily armed," Nathan then paused and looked towards me. "Are you ********' listening?!" He coarsedly bellowed. "Yea, yea. We walk in and shoot the ********, whats so hard about this again?" I asked in uncertainty.
"Get your head out of your a**," Nate spat.
The car slowed to a stop, and the driver coughed, motioning it was time to go. We just looked at each other, cocked our weapons, and concealed them.
Approaching the theater was extremely nerve-racking. I had a feeling this just wouldn't go like the rest of our contracts did.
After all, killing a Mobster Drug-Lord isn't really that simple all the time. But y'know, money is money.
We entered the building to a massive crowd, the lighthearted laughter, cheers, applaudes, it was amazing. I never thought there was happines in this part of the world.. It all seemed the same to me; Just commericialism and Socialism.
We gave the attendant the Masonic handshake, and went off to our balcony seats.
Our plan was simple, brilliantly simple.
We had a propane bomb rigged to blow in 5 minutes, the doors would be locked, and all citizens would be evacuated.
Bystanders aren't our style, even a hired-gun has standards.
The stand-up was amazing.. With each laugh I felt that this was just too good to ruin. The walls echoed with excitment, and before we knew it, the bomb blew. The earth-shattering blast left atleast 40 percent of the crowd dead. A major mistake. Our target got hit by a rag-doll flying from the explosion. The commedian was hit in the face by shrapnel, and knocked out before he touched the ground.
We stood up, pulled out the loaded AR-15s'.
It was a beautiful weapon, expertly crafted, and simple to handle. In the blink of an eye, the entire room was filled with bullets and shellings. The blood splats painted the beige and green walls to a new, slightly more crimson colour.
The target had reached the door, which was thankfully locked.
We walked up on him, shooting out his bodyguards with ease.
It took the shot into Nathan's skull to let me notice who this really was. It was Gerald Moreano. The Italian gang-banger who not two weeks ago burning my sister's home down, killing her, and her husband. Before that, 11 years ago, he killed my brother, and wounded me in the chest. I was infuriated that they didn't tell me his name before... Then I wouldn't have missed that shot from the balcony.
I dropped the AR-15, and prepared to end him, like a man.
I kicked him in the knee-cap, stepped back, then upper-cut him in the jaw with full momentum. He fell on his back, sprawled out in pain. I lunged ontop of him, pounding his face into the floor.
After about 10 minutes of steady beating, I needed to finish up the job.
I looked at him.
"You... You're the sun of a b***h whose killed every part of me.
First, my brother. Then you tried with me. Then my sister, then my partner. For 11 years I've wanted this revenge. For 11 years I've killed for so much.
I've killed for anger.
I've killed for my Family.
I've killed for money...
And y'know what Gerry boy?
This time... This kill is for me."
At the end of my speech, I pulled a C96 Pistol from a jacket.
Put it to his eyeball, and ended him.
"Get your head out of your a**," Nate spat.
The car slowed to a stop, and the driver coughed, motioning it was time to go. We just looked at each other, cocked our weapons, and concealed them.
Approaching the theater was extremely nerve-racking. I had a feeling this just wouldn't go like the rest of our contracts did.
After all, killing a Mobster Drug-Lord isn't really that simple all the time. But y'know, money is money.
We entered the building to a massive crowd, the lighthearted laughter, cheers, applaudes, it was amazing. I never thought there was happines in this part of the world.. It all seemed the same to me; Just commericialism and Socialism.
We gave the attendant the Masonic handshake, and went off to our balcony seats.
Our plan was simple, brilliantly simple.
We had a propane bomb rigged to blow in 5 minutes, the doors would be locked, and all citizens would be evacuated.
Bystanders aren't our style, even a hired-gun has standards.
The stand-up was amazing.. With each laugh I felt that this was just too good to ruin. The walls echoed with excitment, and before we knew it, the bomb blew. The earth-shattering blast left atleast 40 percent of the crowd dead. A major mistake. Our target got hit by a rag-doll flying from the explosion. The commedian was hit in the face by shrapnel, and knocked out before he touched the ground.
We stood up, pulled out the loaded AR-15s'.
It was a beautiful weapon, expertly crafted, and simple to handle. In the blink of an eye, the entire room was filled with bullets and shellings. The blood splats painted the beige and green walls to a new, slightly more crimson colour.
The target had reached the door, which was thankfully locked.
We walked up on him, shooting out his bodyguards with ease.
It took the shot into Nathan's skull to let me notice who this really was. It was Gerald Moreano. The Italian gang-banger who not two weeks ago burning my sister's home down, killing her, and her husband. Before that, 11 years ago, he killed my brother, and wounded me in the chest. I was infuriated that they didn't tell me his name before... Then I wouldn't have missed that shot from the balcony.
I dropped the AR-15, and prepared to end him, like a man.
I kicked him in the knee-cap, stepped back, then upper-cut him in the jaw with full momentum. He fell on his back, sprawled out in pain. I lunged ontop of him, pounding his face into the floor.
After about 10 minutes of steady beating, I needed to finish up the job.
I looked at him.
"You... You're the sun of a b***h whose killed every part of me.
First, my brother. Then you tried with me. Then my sister, then my partner. For 11 years I've wanted this revenge. For 11 years I've killed for so much.
I've killed for anger.
I've killed for my Family.
I've killed for money...
And y'know what Gerry boy?
This time... This kill is for me."
At the end of my speech, I pulled a C96 Pistol from a jacket.
Put it to his eyeball, and ended him.
Before commenting.
KEEP IN MIND.
This is the first story I've ever written.
The plot is really just a remake of my favorite game; Mafia 2.
It's a spin-off verision thats different, yet still the same in a sense. So. How'd I do? Lol.
