Godfather Universe: Forums / Godfather RPG / Mean Streets (RPG)

Godfather Universe :: Forums :: Godfather RPG :: Godfather RPG		<< Previous thread \| Next thread >>
Mean Streets (RPG)

Go to page <<
Moderators: Wurmik, Mobstr32, Falcone, Don Panzitta

Author

Post

Falcone

Tue Nov 24 2009, 05:21PM

Registered Member #1122

Joined: Tue Sep 05 2006, 12:34PM
Posts: 650

"It should be fine. I'm gonna head home with the cash and sit on it for a while. Half of this booze is yours, how you get it is up to you. If you want you can leave half hear and take your share in the truck." Wayne shrugged. "Good luck to ya." He flopped his fedora ontop of his head and slung the satchel of cash across his shoulder. He wrenched the warehouse door open, slammed it shut, and dissapeared into the night.

The Young Gang

Shangas

Wed Nov 25 2009, 02:13AM

Registered Member #2155

Joined: Sat Apr 21 2007, 07:27PM
Posts: 148

Vino watched Wayne walk off. He stood in the warehouse for a few minutes, contemplating what to do. Then he walked over to a payphone about a block away. He picked it up and dialled 0.

"Hello?"
"Operator? Get me CARson 4932 please..."
"CARson 4932...yes sir..."

Vino drummed his fingers and waited. He heard a 'click!' of someone picking up a phone.

"Hello?"
"Mr. Matthews..."
"Yes...who is this?"
"David. I found the book you told me about last week. Can you come over and pick it up?"

Vino looked outside the phone-booth and gave the street-corner that would be a block away.

"Okay".

Vino hung up and then pulled out his pocket watch to check the time. Knowing Frankie, he'd be here inside of 20 minutes. They never used their real names or real anything whenever they had to talk on the phone and those damn operator-dolls might be listening in.

Vino pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and started waiting for his friend to help him with the booze...

Ludovico

Thu Nov 26 2009, 10:15PM

Registered Member #2177

Joined: Thu Apr 26 2007, 08:52AM
Posts: 207

Kristoffer thought that he'd been in worse (or at the very least similiar situations) he knew how to take and give beatings. This time he figured there'd be no troublesome muscle fucking things up for him.

"Well, looks like you fellas need to get a job and a haircut" Krist said with a smirk on his face, a brawl was coming he felt it/

Ok, he felt the chair on his back break first, as he turned and elbowed the guy who busted it on him he dived over the pool table and picked up a pool cue, he used the area effect of the pool cue as best he could to indiscriminatley beat anyone in a motorcycle jacket. He had to work his way to 2 more pool cues before they kept breaking and he grabbed his last one as he straffed backwards out the bar door, Dead Enders following him with chairs, brass knucklers, bludgeons, various brawling things.

He jabbed one in the gut but another came form his side and socked him in the mouth, Krist followed thorugh with the pool cue again upside his face.

THings of this nature followed for about another 15 minutes before Kristoffer was surrounded and being beaten on until a man, a big man sauntered out of the bar stopping everyone.

He whistled loudly and the beating stopped.

"Gentlemen, Gentlemen. Why all the hostility? You've got the guy beat down, he didn't pull a gun. Now go inside and drink to your victory"

The crowd mumbled some obedient phrases like

"Sure thing Sal"
"Right you are Chapter president"
"I want some whiskey"

The man stood looking at Kristoffer, jesus, this guy must've been as big as him, what was with the suit though? He stared at him for a good 10 minutes before Kristoffer looked at him and stood up.

"Well?" Sal questioned
"Well...what?"
"Why are you here, you're not a cop, cops don't brawl like that"
"heh, yeah."
"Well?"
"Oh... To be honest I uh... wanted to know more about those things" Kristoffer pointed to the motorcycles
"Ah. Well I can say that most punk-asses that come here asking about things they know nothing about ar eusually run outta town. But you didn't pull a gun on my guys and that means you like brawlin', and I saw you take on alot've my boys so you can *Handle* brawlin'. Come on inside, I'll have ya meet the brothers..."

Such a friendly reaction from an outlaw biker was most uncommon, but Sal saw something in Kristoffer, something that needed to be unlocked or filled or...something.

And over the course of a few days Kristoffer spent most of his time at the Dead Ender's Bar. They even started to teach him how to ride, Krist had to buy his own bike but they taught him all the same.

Kristoffer could tell he belonged in a place like this...

Shangas

Thu Nov 26 2009, 11:39PM

Registered Member #2155

Joined: Sat Apr 21 2007, 07:27PM
Posts: 148

Vino looked at all the barrels. Frankie had helped him unload half of them, which he left in a dark, discreet part of the warehouse, somewhere where nobody would find them at once...just in case. The two men hopped into the front of the truck and Vino started the engine.

"What should we do with the rest?" Vino asked.

"The speakeasy at the Bluebottle probably needs a topping-up," Frankie said, "Let's take it there! The bartender knows us, he'll give us a good price for this booze..."

Vince nodded. "Good idea," he said. "And I could do with a drink!"

Don Forlenza

Sat Jan 30 2010, 11:26AM

Registered Member #7231

Joined: Wed Jan 07 2009, 09:59AM
Posts: 39

Screw all those other characters...I'm serious now
========================================
Name: Joseph William Scarborough
Age:30's
P.O.B: It doesn't matter
Job: "Cleaner"
Spouse: None
Kids: None
Crimes: 75 counts of 1st degree murder

Bio: Lets just say, if I told you, I would kill you first.

Mean Streets: Joe Scarborough aka The Cleaner
GOLV: Don Vincenzo Forlenza of South Las Vegas and soon all of it!

Don Forlenza

Thu Apr 01 2010, 08:41AM

Registered Member #7231

Joined: Wed Jan 07 2009, 09:59AM
Posts: 39

The Police car stopped his car as he was just entering the turnpike. Joe parked his car, still clutching the cigarette in his hands. His shoulder length hair was put back and his 1,000 yd. stare made his eyes look hollow. The police man got out of the car and asked, "Step out please."
Joe opened the car and stood up.

The diminuitive policeman looked up to Joe and said, "Mr. your entering this country illegally, this same car has been followed from Canada."
Joe simply nodded and said, his voice deep, "And I'm under arrest?"
The policeman nodded and put his handcuffs on Joe, who cooperated. They then drove to the dept. The policeman then asked, "Your from Canada originally?"
"No."
"Where from them?"
"Far away."

When the policeman got to the dept. that was a few miles down the road of the old one, due to asbestos problems. The policeman led Joe to his office and set him in the sofa. As the cop made a few calls and looked over Joe's profile. Joe slipped the handcuffs under his self, making his legs come up and his arms in front of him. He then walked over and wrapped the handcuffs links around the cop's throat. The cop thrashed wildly.'

Joe fell back on the floor, stranging the cop. It felt good, good enough to bring a smile to Joe's face. THe man's pulse was pumping rapdily and Joe felt it rivet through his body like a shockwave. He tightened his wrists, blood already com,ing from the chaffed over skin. Finally, the cop stopped breathing.

Joe got up, used the keys to remove his handcuffs, then he walked to the bathroom. He washed his wrists of the blood and doctored them with first-aid. He then got to the cop, grabbed his pistol and walked out the door. He walked to his impounded car.

He then broke the glass, grabbing the lighter from inside. He wadded up some old TP and stuck it in the gas hole. He lit the paper and walked off to the street. About 2 minutes later...
BOOM!!!

Joe saw the cops and people flock to the scene, he then noticed a roll's royce. He walked over, rammed a screw driver into the ignition and started it up. Then he drove out of there, towards his intended target.

Mean Streets: Joe Scarborough aka The Cleaner
GOLV: Don Vincenzo Forlenza of South Las Vegas and soon all of it!

Go to page <<
Jump: Back to top