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  1. #1
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    Cops and Crips (WIP)

    Chapter 1 - Loneliness and Constant Failure
    [spoiler:30oxqaq3]Another hard day at the office, I breathed a sigh of relief as I entered my modest one bedroom, one bathroom apartment. No greeting for me coming home, no children to run out of their rooms and hug me, no wife to breathe her own sigh of relief for my safe return home. Not even a dog to loyally run to me and barrage me with an assault of licks. Nothing but loneliness, willing and ready to draw me into its caliginous depths. I was left to ponder and think about the stacks of cases, those that were solved, and those that still remained a mystery. These infuriated me. They stared at me, laughed at me, and haunted me. Everywhere I went, I saw a suspect. No one was to be trusted. Was this why I am lonely? Do I have trust issues? It’s certainly hard not to have trust issues in this city. Every corner has a drug dealer, prostitutes and the possibility of being mugged. Not to mention the countless acts of fraud and extortion by the big corporations. For an outsider looking in, California is paradise. Great weather, beautiful people and let’s not forget the lights of Hollywood. But for me, I see the city for what it really is. Though I guess I’m just as much of a phony as the city. People look at me and see a happy go lucky bachelor, free to come and go as he pleases. But you and I both know that this is not the case. Well, I know, you will find out.
    For me, failure is inevitable, and I cannot escape it just like I cannot escape this lonely void I’m trapped in. Infinite crimes, with finite time to solve or prevent them. I can’t read the newspaper, watch T.V. or even talk to strangers without my failures being thrown into my face. It’s as if God likes to watch me suffer. I hang my coat up on the rack at the front door, and walk over to my couch, my one sanctuary, the one place I feel at home, the one place I feel comfortable. I fumble around in the darkness, searching for the remote, hoping that the television will drown out my thoughts. The slight click of the T.V. turning on echoes around my hollow apartment, the radiating screen is the only source of light. It took only a few seconds of the late night news for me to jab at the off button on my remote in anger.
    “Police are still in search of the culprits responsible for the mass brawl, but from what one can gather, it was gang related.”
    Gang related. Those two words have followed me through all of my cases.
    “The scene suggests the two most notorious gangs in our city of Los Angeles were involved...”
    Before she could continue, I violently turned off the television, and tossed the remote aside.
    Not today news reporter. I could not take seeing that again, another gang related incident. They could walk into my apartment and beat me senseless and I wouldn’t struggle. I could work, I mean, it’s not like I haven’t worked my ass off all day already, but I am tired. I made my way to bed, no shower, no brushing of my teeth. A normal man would go for a glass of warm milk; I reach for the bottle of scotch, take a few swigs, and allow myself to slip into a sleep with the dirty stench still emanating from my mouth.

    I wake up, sprawled all over my bed, the taste of dry, mouldy scotch in my mouth. A raspy cough escapes my throat, as I roll out of bed and head out to another day filled with failure and misery. Sorry, that was meant to be felicitous and mystery. A glance in the mirror, I look terrible. As always, the black sagging bags of sleep deprivation are noticeable under my eyes. Spiky stubble scratched at my arm as I wiped away the dried spit from a night of sleeping with my mouth open. I removed what little clothing I had and headed over towards the shower. Ah, the shower, the one place where my thoughts go from senseless convoluted nonsensical ramblings, to intricate and precise ideas and reasoning’s. The drops of purity cleanse not only my physical being, but my mental self, allowing me to think clearer, and be at peace. Though this euphoria is short lived, and I am dragged back to my barrage of thoughts with no order and no organisation. Work has already infiltrated my mind, even though I’m still at home. I sigh heavily, and begin to dress. The same clothes, the same deodorant and the same aftershave. Am I a creature of habit? Or stuck in a rut? Great, another thought added to the pile of the already overflowing thoughts from today, and it’s not even eight o’clock in the morning yet.

    I leave my apartment, double locking it. What’s the point? Who would want to look into my boring dismal life? It’s not like there is much to rob either. I walk down the stairs; it’s a beautifully sunny day, the normal for California. For me, clouds hang overhead, and torrential rain soaks my mind. My mind is gloomy, dreary and depressive. Another day brings another case to follow. What would it be? Drugs, murder, assault? With this gang rivalry it is impossible to tell. Bloods, Crips, who knows who the victim would be, and who the aggressor would be. It chops and changes every day. And it’s up to me to find out, unfortunately. Walking to my car, the first crime of the day appears before me. A man carelessly tossing a piece of rubbish out of his car window, littering a city already filled with rubbish and scum. And I’m not just talking about the plastic bottles and aluminium cans. Wearing the uniform in a city like this feels like I’m painting a target on my back. A very large one. Every dirty look, every disrespectful gesture, even the odd lunatic spitting at my feet drilled another nail into my already dreary life. I breathe a sigh of relief, as I step into my car, and battle the traffic to start another day at work. Another day of failure.[/spoiler:30oxqaq3]

    Chapter 2 – The Robbery
    [spoiler:30oxqaq3]Another day, working my ass off to earn some serious paper. The work was tough, gritty and in most parts, illegal, but at least the pay was good.
    “You ready bro?” Andre looked over at me. I nodded, and pulled down my balaclava. “Just remember, make sure everyone is visible and on the ground with their hands behind their heads. We go in, grab the money, and fuck off back to the street.” I nodded, anxiously.
    “Countdown?” I asked.
    “Sure thing.” He said, reassuringly. “3. 2. 1.” Andre and I both started counting.
    “Wait!” I called out to him. Andre stopped in his tracks.
    “What?” He looked at me, confused, and slightly angry. I took a deep breath, and cracked my neck.
    “Just nervous...” I said, sighing heavily.
    “That’s normal. Just remember, we’re in this together. It will be over in a few minutes.” He smiled at me. He always had a way with words, a way to comfort anyone in any situation.
    “Now!” He screamed, and we charged into the factory.

    “Everybody get on the fucking ground; get on the fucking ground now!” Andre yelled. Scared, the workers did as they were told. I strolled in after Andre, my confidence had returned.
    “Hope y’all motherfuckers are ready to be robbed!”
    “Yo Carl, go and find the rest of the employees, get them in here, as soon as possible.”
    I walked around the back, nine millimetre held ready. I walked into a small room; a crowd of people were huddled in the corner. There were no more than ten people there.
    “Please, don’t hurt us. We’ll show you where the money is!” I grinned; this man was my personal hostage.
    “Alright, nice and slowly, get the fuck up, and walk out the door. Single file.” I shouted.
    “Yo Andre, I got more coming through the door.” I pointed to the man who said he would take me to the money.
    “You last cracker.” He nodded, and they slowly walked out, hands above their heads. They joined the rest of their colleagues, in a line, lying on the ground. I grabbed the man by the back of his shirt, and pushed him towards Andre.
    “He says he’ll take us to the money.” Andre smiled cheekily.
    “You go Carl, I got these guys under control.” I laughed.
    “Fucking Norteńos spics will have no idea what hit them.”

    I prodded the man in the back with my pistol.
    “Keep up the pace.” I ordered. “How much further?”
    “Just around the corner, Sir.”
    “Sir?” I laughed to myself, “I like that.” The man allowed a forced laugh to escape his lips, though it came out more like a quiver of fear. We reached the end; a large bolted door blocked our path.
    “Open it.” I ordered. He nodded, and did as he was told.
    “This may take some time, Sir, the door is very secure.” I grunted heavily, looking around the factory, and the vault we were in. I could just hear the echoes of Andre taunting our hostages.
    “So why do you work for these dirty spics?” I asked, I felt it necessary to make small talk to my hostage.
    “My family struggles, they pay well.” This man couldn’t be older then nineteen. I feel sorry for him, knowing how hard it is to try and support your family. Andre and I are willing to do anything to keep our family alive, safe, and able to buy food. A few odd noises came from Andre’s area, but I was focussed on the door, and getting to the paper.
    “Hurry the fuck up!” I said, impatiently. And then, a click. The door opened, filled to the brim with our pay. I couldn’t help but wipe the grin off my face. I threw a bag at my hostage.
    “Start filling it.” He nodded and began, as I did the same. One hundred dollar bills and lots of them, we hit the jackpot. I picked up about thirty bills.
    “How much do they pay you?” I queried.
    “Between two-hundred and four-hundred dollars a day, depending on how generous they are feeling.” So much for good pay. I snapped a band around the bills I had in my hand, all up three grand. I threw it to him.
    “Look after your family, but do not mention anything that has happened here.” The man looked up at me; tears began to well up in his eyes.
    “Sir, thank-“
    “Shut the fuck up and keep putting money in the bag.” As I said that, he filled the bag to the brim. “Good work.” I grabbed him by the collar and pulled him up. While I was picking him up, a sound made my heart sing. A gunshot pierced the air, an echoed throughout the entire factory.
    “Andre!” I whispered to myself, slinging the bags over my shoulder, and running out towards the main hall.

    My hostage bailed, bills in hand, thanking me as he was running in the opposite direction, but I took no notice. I reached the hall, and remained hidden around the corner. I peered around, and saw Andre; gun pointed at some of the Norteńos members.
    “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Ese?” One of the Norteńos members shouted at Andre.
    “Back the fuck off, before I blast you.” Andre replied, remarkably cool with three guns pointed at him. I had to act, and act fast. I spun out from the corner.
    “Drop your guns, don’t make me –” Before I had time to finish, a bullet came whizzing past my right side. Andre reacted, shooting one in the chest, jumping behind a crate. I slid, hiding behind a barrel, and shot at the two members left. I hit one in the leg, and once more in the neck. Blood squirted from his wounds as he dropped with a loud, echoing thud. The hostages on the ground were screaming in fear, with their hands over their heads. A daring few were watching the gun fight, waiting for an opportunity. Andre and the last member traded shots at each other. I moved out from the barrel, and blasted off two shots in quick succession, both collecting him on each side of his chest. Aiming at the door, I edged cautiously over to Andre, the bags of money still slung across my back.
    “Yo Andre, you ok?” I called out. A raspy cough answered me. I walked around, my heart pounded, everything slowed down. His right hand was clutching at the left side of his chest. Crimson red blood flowed between his fingers.
    “No.” I cried, tears were flowing down my face and landing on Andre. “Andre, hold on.” I picked him up, and threw him over my shoulder, running out the door and to the car. I started the car, and quickly sped off away from the factory.
    “Answer for fucks sake. Answer.” I shouted at my phone, trying to call every member I knew. Crips were usually reliable. Andre coughed once more.
    “Carl, I’m not going to make it.” He coughed; blood flew out of his mouth. “Take care of the family. Get out of –” He fell silent.
    “No Andre, wake the fuck up!” I smashed my foot onto the accelerator, racing to the gang’s main location. Andre stayed quiet and still.[/spoiler:30oxqaq3]

  2. #2
    Dedicated Member Awesomator's Avatar

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    Re: Cops and Crips (WIP)

    Pretty good, I'm no expert but you say 'the one place I...' allot. are you going to continue this?
    [center:23yq8c40]PM me|thread|Freestyle[/center:23yq8c40]
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    Juke joint: some where between 200 and 400 frames/????[/center:23yq8c40]

  3. #3
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    Re: Cops and Crips (WIP)

    Quote Originally Posted by Awesomator
    Pretty good, I'm no expert but you say 'the one place I...' allot. are you going to continue this?
    Hmm I never noticed that, thanks for pointing it out! Yeah, I hopefully can continue this, I have a fairly good idea of what I want to happen, it's just a matter of putting it into the story.

  4. #4
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    Re: Cops and Crips (WIP)

    Added more. Would love some comments.


 

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