Post by $avage Life on Apr 11, 2012 23:05:34 GMT -5
*Sham*
- The tires of the green Voodoo slammed into the pavement before it ricochets off of the pavement; the hydraulic shocks launch the front of the vehicle into the air. The small crowd of a dozen cheered, raising their 40 oz. bottles to the sky as the male inside the Voodoo continued to pound the pavement. Among the patrons was none other than Sham himself, sharing a drink and entertaining a few of the homies from the OGF as well as his home team of LSO. He was dressed in his usual attire that consisted of a pair of black Dickie khaki pants that were neatly folded atop a pair of his trusted black Air Force Ones. His upper body was fitted with a white wife beater that fit snuggly against his muscular form. The handle of his Sig Sauer p220 .45 caliber was revealed between his back and his waistline, allowing everybody to know that he was ready for whatever. In his left hand was his forty ounce and his right held a tightly rolled cigar filled with the stickiest marijuana that flooded the streets of Los Santos. -c-
- The conversations between the two gangs filled the streets of Jefferson as the small group occupied the basketball court that had been contested between a few factions. A large swig of the alcohol was taken followed by a slow drag from his cigar before an unknown vehicle comes to a screeching stop in the middle of the street. Four doors open and out jump five Balla’s, fury rolling around in their orbs as they stare down the group that stood on the blacktop. “You pussy ass nigga’s capped mah homie, now all bitch’s gotta die.” Screamed one of the Balla’s before they all revealed mac-10’s and opened fire on Sham and his companions. Within seconds five of the dozen members were killed, their bodies falling as fast as forgotten forty bottles. Sham quickly takes cover behind the Voodoo along with three other members of his outfit and begins to return fire as the remaining three occupants searched for cover elsewhere. The barrel of the .45 spit metal round after round towards their enemies, tearing into the chest and stomach of one of the Balla members. -c-
- Sham’s fellow shooters gun down two more of the enemy gangsters, causing one of the remaining two to flee from the scene, but before he could get too far, a barrage of bullets tear into his back. Sham then quickly moves around the back of the Voodoo and charges towards the remaining Balla, bringing the barrel of his weapon to take aim upon the man’s head. His index finger was flexed twice, pulling the trigger to allow a duo of bullets to exit the chamber and plant themselves in the face of his target. His pace then slows up as he continues to make his way to the wounded member who took two shots to his upper body. The man was barely breathing, but breathing none the less. -c-
- The .45 was then raised again as Sham ended the man’s life with three bullets that landed inside the man’s forehead, neck and another in his chest. The madness had finally calmed down and the remaining seven allied members of Sham’s crew began to scramble, knowing that the cops would in the area within minutes. His weapon was then tucked as he sprints towards the bullet ridden Voodoo and hops inside with the driver of the vehicle, a senior member of OGF as well as one of LSO’s own. As the other three gangsters fled on foot, the engine of the Voodoo was started and the pedal was mashed to the floor as the wheels screamed out, leaving the smell of burnt rubber in the air and a line of tire tracks on the basketball court. –e-
- The tires of the green Voodoo slammed into the pavement before it ricochets off of the pavement; the hydraulic shocks launch the front of the vehicle into the air. The small crowd of a dozen cheered, raising their 40 oz. bottles to the sky as the male inside the Voodoo continued to pound the pavement. Among the patrons was none other than Sham himself, sharing a drink and entertaining a few of the homies from the OGF as well as his home team of LSO. He was dressed in his usual attire that consisted of a pair of black Dickie khaki pants that were neatly folded atop a pair of his trusted black Air Force Ones. His upper body was fitted with a white wife beater that fit snuggly against his muscular form. The handle of his Sig Sauer p220 .45 caliber was revealed between his back and his waistline, allowing everybody to know that he was ready for whatever. In his left hand was his forty ounce and his right held a tightly rolled cigar filled with the stickiest marijuana that flooded the streets of Los Santos. -c-
- The conversations between the two gangs filled the streets of Jefferson as the small group occupied the basketball court that had been contested between a few factions. A large swig of the alcohol was taken followed by a slow drag from his cigar before an unknown vehicle comes to a screeching stop in the middle of the street. Four doors open and out jump five Balla’s, fury rolling around in their orbs as they stare down the group that stood on the blacktop. “You pussy ass nigga’s capped mah homie, now all bitch’s gotta die.” Screamed one of the Balla’s before they all revealed mac-10’s and opened fire on Sham and his companions. Within seconds five of the dozen members were killed, their bodies falling as fast as forgotten forty bottles. Sham quickly takes cover behind the Voodoo along with three other members of his outfit and begins to return fire as the remaining three occupants searched for cover elsewhere. The barrel of the .45 spit metal round after round towards their enemies, tearing into the chest and stomach of one of the Balla members. -c-
- Sham’s fellow shooters gun down two more of the enemy gangsters, causing one of the remaining two to flee from the scene, but before he could get too far, a barrage of bullets tear into his back. Sham then quickly moves around the back of the Voodoo and charges towards the remaining Balla, bringing the barrel of his weapon to take aim upon the man’s head. His index finger was flexed twice, pulling the trigger to allow a duo of bullets to exit the chamber and plant themselves in the face of his target. His pace then slows up as he continues to make his way to the wounded member who took two shots to his upper body. The man was barely breathing, but breathing none the less. -c-
- The .45 was then raised again as Sham ended the man’s life with three bullets that landed inside the man’s forehead, neck and another in his chest. The madness had finally calmed down and the remaining seven allied members of Sham’s crew began to scramble, knowing that the cops would in the area within minutes. His weapon was then tucked as he sprints towards the bullet ridden Voodoo and hops inside with the driver of the vehicle, a senior member of OGF as well as one of LSO’s own. As the other three gangsters fled on foot, the engine of the Voodoo was started and the pedal was mashed to the floor as the wheels screamed out, leaving the smell of burnt rubber in the air and a line of tire tracks on the basketball court. –e-