Dlugi

Jesus, calm down lad. Too much excitement from the last post. Fell off my chair, so good!

Couldn't wait for this update. Now I can't wait for the next. Stick to legal life though boss, pays off in the end!

Best story I read in a while.

"Train to New York. Today. Evening. You got your ticket in the mail. See you soon." The phone hung up. Dlugi knew it was gonna be tough, but didn't think it'd be this tough. Calmly getting up from the couch, he slips on his shoes. Walking downstairs, he checks his phone. New freq was sent out. He opens up one of his safes, pulling out a few keys of coke and a handful of blunts. Smirking, he pockets them, locking the safe. He makes sure none of his other safes are open. "Just in case I ever make it back in one piece. All these toys stay with me." He walks out of the building and pulls out his Sultan RS. First stop, meet with her at the beach. A quick ride there, he pulls up next to a fast food stand, taking a fresh hamburger and a couple bottles of water. He parks the car towards the beach. He climbs the lifeguard hut and gets somewhat comfy. Pulling out the coke and blunts, he slowly removes his mask, revealing the eye-patch covering his left eye-socket. "See you've been busy, huh?" Dlugi nods slowly, splitting both products evenly. He quickly snorts a line, numbing the feeling slightly with the weed. The buzz is amazing, especially since he was never much into anything more than weed. "Gonna join me or..?" She does the same, buzz hitting her almost immediately. After about half-hour, Dlugi said his goodbyes and promised to be in touch as much as he can be. Packing up the remainder of his products, he calmly gets into his car and drives to the Noodle House. "Busy as always." It was FSO night, where friends and neighbors from Little Seoul were invited for a nice hot meal. Chit chat and rumors were exchanged, as well as some laughs. Everyone seemed to enjoy themselves. Even our Irish friends were having a nice and chill night. "Stephen, let me talk to you for a sec lad." Dlugi asked Stephen if it was okay to ask his and his gang to accompany FSO to LSIA after dinner was done. Stephen nodded. "Not a problem lad." Soon after, all meals were finished, all dishes washed. Everyone that was present slowly made their way to the Airport. Thankfully, the train station was underground, so Dlugi didn't have to travel far for that one. All cars present parked up, as to attract as little PD attention as possible. Everyone stepped out and formed a circle around Dlugi, who thanked them all for coming. "Y'all been the real ones for as long as I know ye. Been through thick and thin, been through a war for fuck sake. But here we are. Unfortunately, I'm out this bitch. Got Family stuff to look after. Not the FSO family kind, but biological family." Everyone present nodded, but stayed quiet. Stephen and his crew quickly left, after a call on the radio came through. FSO stuck around, and walked Dlugi to the lowest level to catch his Train. After reaching his platform, Dlugi went into a bit more detail as to what is exactly happening. He took off his mask and showed everyone present the eye-patch. "Call me stupid, call me dumb. But if there's a 1% chance of finding my biological father, you bet your ass imma take it and hold onto it for dear life. If I do find him, you lot probably won't see me again. If I don't, I may come back. It's all up in the air right now, cant predict the future." He gave away his most prized possession - the baseball bat. Gave it to Chris for safekeeping, in case he ever does come back. He then proceeded to snort the rest of his coke, dividing his weed between the present members. "Y'all made every single High Command member proud for all your time with the Four Seas Order. And for that, I wish to thank all of you present here. For now, Jake will take good care of you. If anyone has more experience than any of us here, it's him. Trust him with your life, and you won't regret it." One last picture with the gang. The picture was sent to his phone, where he couldn't take his eyes off it. "Aight fuck off before we all start fuckin' crying. Do me proud and don't fuck up. I'll be keeping tabs on ye, yeah? Go on, outta there." On the real though, I wanna thank everyone who I came across and RPed with over the course of almost 2 years now. From the early stages of Marcellos, through The Wanted, Los Zetas and finally Four Seas Order. Always fun. See you later guys.

希望 -(Hope)- The last few sentences of a phone call still stuck in Dlugi's head.. "Growing up without anyone around who you can call Family isn't always the best option. Obviously, nobody wants to have that happen to them. But since you're on the run for killing your step-father... You don fucked up kid." A few seconds went by... "Did you find out anything I asked you for?" This call been going on for too long already. Fuckin' twat never goes straight to the point, gotta fuckin' toy with you.. "Potentially. But there's an issue at hand. [REDACTED] got into a bit of trouble with the GROM. As you can imagine, these Spec Op twats don't fuck around. For them, the easiest thing to do is to bury [REDACTED] somewhere in the woods." "And here's my guess... Since you don't need [REDACTED] for anything, I have to go and save his sorry fuckin' ass. Give or take?" "On the ball lad." Dlugi sighs heavily.. "Fuckin' sound. I'll be on the next flight over. Get a bottle ready." Without telling anyone what he's up to, Dlugi packs a few sets of clothes into a bag. Orders a ticket straight to Warsaw. He looks at the price of the plane ticket.. "Oh you gon' pay me back that plus a bonus. Cunt." While ordering a cab to pick him up from his flat, Dlugi pours himself a quick pint. He sparks up a cig, sitting down on the couch, his pint and an ashtray on the glass coffee table. He looks out his flat windows on the pink-yellow sky, reaching for his pint and downing it. His phone buzzes, Dlugi notices it's the cab app. Finishing the cig as he gets up, he tosses the pint glass and the ashtray in the bin. Stepping out of the flat, he locks the doors behind him. Moving quickly, he gets to the cab, throwing his bag in the seat next to his. "LS Airport. Pay you extra if you hurry this bitch up and don't say shit. Sound lad." After arriving at the airport, Dlugi took out a lump of cash, handing it to the driver. Watching him drive away, he turns around, putting on his headphones and turning the music up to max volume. One final look at his phone... "Sorry." He turns his phone off. No text, no call, nothing. "Dead Man walking as it is..." Continuing down the stairs, he gets to his gate, hops on the plane and falls asleep. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "D, wake up! Your shot's getting warm." Reaching forward with his injured hand, he tries to aim the shot glass to his mouth. Not so easy with losing an eye. "Oi, look at cyclops over here, struggling! C'mon lad, stop spilling it!" Slightly chuckling, Dlugi looks up at his mate with a grin. "Still pull more than you, Séan." "Ok Mr. Worldwide. Where they at then? Did you leave her in Los Santos? Wonder how the City of Saints is treating her." "You're forgetting one thing, lad. Missing thumb would be a problem on my right hand. But it's on my left. Can still aim, shoot and hold a pistol pretty good. Irish cunt." Dlugi pours himself another shot, using his bandaged hand still. "Get me a plane home. The old sack o'shit ain't moving from here, for his and my sake. I'm going back to the hotel. Text me details. Keep him alive. Ireland's shit weather hasn't changed one bit, fuck this. Night, ya wankstain." Dlugi takes his last shot, and stumbles out of the bungalow. Taxi waiting outside for almost 20 minutes. It takes D home pretty quickly. He pays, taxi leaves. Managing somehow to climb a set of stairs in his state, Dlugi gets to his hotel room. Shutting the door behind him, he collapses onto the bed. Sleep arrives shortly after. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Home sweet home." Dlugi steps off the plane. Never been more depressed to land in LS. Not because of the people, or any bullshit situation in town. More-so the fact that he won't stick around for long this time. "The less people know, the better. Right?" He got home without any problems from anyone. Headphones on, Sultan RS' engine roaring. Turns out you can trust a person to park your car where they've been told. Crazy. Dlugi parks the car at his flat, getting inside quickly and dropping his bag. He takes out his phone, checking for any updates. "Nothin', cool. Aight lets reset the jet-lag." Tossing the phone on the floor and the headphones on the table, he jumps on the couch. Laying on his back, he puts his left hand to his only eye left. "This better be worth it." Gently rubbing his bandage around the now-empty eye-socket, he turns on his side, getting consumed by sleep.

Coloured headlights were not working for me as well. The solution for that (for me anyways) was removing any visual mods such as NaturalVision Remastered etc. After verifying my files and re-downloading the modded ones, headlights are now visible and coloured. Hope this helps you guys out a bit.

把垃圾帶出去 --- (Taking out the Trash) --- (Warning: Graphic descriptions of torture following) Waking up in the city of Los Santos was never followed by something pleasant. Shootouts, PD at your house door, Heli’s flying above your estate. Never fun. But when you wake up to a text from your brothers-in-arms from Los Zetas, it brings a smirk to your face. Until you read the text and realise it’s about a completely different thing you thought it might be. “Hey Dlugi, can you meet up with us? CC” Surely enough, a meeting was arranged, and High Command from both the Four Seas Order and Goblins showed up to the location without wasting any time. Names, numbers and greetings were exchanged. The usual friendly meeting quickly turned a bit sour in the mouths of FSO High Command. One of the Goblins was recently house-raided by the newest FSO Trials. Two names were dropped during the meeting, leaving FSO with no other end result in their mind, but to cut off the fat from the gang. Idea’s were quickly exchanged in the presence of the aforementioned. In the end, Goblins loved our quick response to the issue caused. FSO basically had to re-establish their punishment policy to anyone who thought we were joking. We said our goodbyes to the Goblins, apologised for the major inconvenience and left, still on good terms. Everyone was called to meet up at Noodle House. All members showed up without any delay, all were ready to roll out. We packed out all the 4-doors, and moved to a discreet location. We all left our vehicles parked by the docks, hid them around the buildings not to make our presence known to any passer-bys. All lights outside were killed, engines turned off, and everyone headed inside a maintenance room. A small circle was formed by the present members of FSO. Jerome then took the lead in asking whether anybody was involved in the previously mentioned house raid. Nobody stepped forward. It was only after Jerome said “we know exactly who did it”, that there was a shuffle around the room, with Jaiden taking a hesitant step forward, into the middle of the circle. Jaiden was quickly asked why he decided to house raid the Goblins, potentially risking to throw all relations FSO had worked on out the window. His response was “I didn’t even take anything from them”. When asked why he shot Goblins, he said it was in self-defence. Self-defence. While being in their own house. He got smacked in the face multiple times with the grip of a .50 for that answer. The sound of metal slicing the air whipped through the room as Lyosha cracked the captive in the back of the leg with a golf club, sending him straight down to his knees. With the makeshift weapon in his grip Lyosha looked down at his failed recruit, his mind swirling with a variety of emotions, none of them good. Teeth gritted and sweat dripping down his forehead there was no further hesitation. The sickening thuds filled the room, each hit of the club caused the Trials who were watching to jump slightly in place. The brutality didn’t end until Lyosha had rendered him unconscious, the lifeless body lying on the dirty floor of the abandoned building. As Lyosha pulled back for one last swing Jerome reached out and grabbed the club. He motioned the man to walk away and compose himself as he turned back to the watching recruits. Jerome’s foot stepped down across Jaiden’s hand, his heel twisting into the flesh as the man awoke screaming. “Shut your fucking mouth unless we speak to you....” The badly and at this point quite unrecognizable face of Jaiden looked up Jerome just in time to catch a swift boot to the ribs, the cracking sound mixing with the wheezed breathing of the man. Jaiden’s hand reached out in agony, his fingernails breaking and tearing away as he tried to grip the cracked concrete floor in desperation. Jerome knelt down, withdrawing the hammer from his side and tapped the concrete beside the bloody fingers. “Was it worth it?” Jaiden’s pain didn’t allow him to formulate words, just noises of agony. A thick pool of blood pooled beneath his mouth on the dirty floor connected by a rope of saliva. Finally he managed… “Kyle had nothing to…” The words were cut off by the sound of the hammer crushing the fingers of the man, the screams wailed and echoed through the building. His other hand reached out to protect himself but this too was met with a devastating blow. Defeat was evident as Jaiden’s head lay down in the coagulated blood only to have Thomas reach down and rip him up by his hair. “Death isn’t that easy Jaiden… don’t leave us yet.” Thomas’ words sent shivers down the spines of the Trials who were present. His hand reached to his side to withdraw his knife before tracing the tip of the blade across one of the open wounds on Jaiden’s face. “I want to send you off with something to remember me by…” Thomas whispered these words to Jaiden, the man’s only open eye rolling upwards to look at his aggressor. With the head still raised in his grip Thomas took the blade and sunk it deep into the flesh of Jaiden’s forehead, the skin parting easily beneath the sharp edge. Soon a bloody “T” was formed by the deep cuts, blood now pouring as it splattered across the ground in sickening wet smacks. The Trials whispered between each other only going completely hushed once Thomas turned his attention towards Larry, the newest of the recruits. With that Thomas’ grip released, sending Jaiden’s face to the floor with a gruesome thud. “Your hammer, Jerome…” Thomas’ hand reached out for the second weapon as he peered back down, the edge of his blade placed down across one thumb of the tortured man. With a single tap of the hammer on the top of the blade the digit was cleanly cut from his hand. Jaiden’s mouth opened, sound though unable to escape. He watched as Thomas pulled his other crushed hand in place and repeated the process, dismembering the thumb as it rolled to a rest right by the first. “That’s enough…” Jerome tapped Thomas’ shoulder as the man in the white suit stood, a bit annoyed by the splattered blood on his once nice suit. Handing the weapon back to Jerome he stepped away as Lyosha came from the back. The sloshing sound of the petrol inside the jerry can could be heard with each step as Lyosha neared the fallen man. The blue haired Gangster kicked the detached thumbs from in front of him and wasted no time dousing the man with the flammable liquid. Again Jaiden’s hands, what were left of them, clawed into the rough surface as his mouth opened agape. His head rolled from the searing gasoline creeping into his open wounds, pleas were attempted yet no sound would be heard. “Anyone got a light?” Lyosha turned back to the others as he tossed the empty jerry can to the side, his hand reaching into his front pocket to remove a pack of cigarettes, pulling one free. Jonny reached in his pocket withdrawing a lighter, only lifting it to Lyosha as he was hesitant to speak. Lyosha neared the Trial and stuck the cigarette to his lips as Jonny lit the end, a few drags taken before being blown back in the Recruit’s face. Turning his attention back to the fallen he neared the gasoline covered man, the blood swirling in the puddle of petrol. “Get your guns ready, boys…” The four ranked members withdrew their weapons and chambered a round as they prepared to send this man into whatever afterlife awaited. Lyosha watched, taking another slow drag as Jaiden looked up to him one last time. Just as the cigarette was flicked from his fingertips into the bloody puddle, igniting it as the trail of fire roared towards the body. The swollen eyes parted once more though it was too late, the blast of heat shot through the room as flames swirled around Jaiden’s body. In an act of pure adrenaline Jaiden pushed up to his knees, his screams he couldn’t muster prior finally escaping as the skin began to sag and fall from his arms and face. “Put this fucker down…” Coming together in a line, Dlugi, Jerome, Lyosha, and Thomas raised their firearms and pointed them directly at the burning figure. The shots rang out, loud enough to make everyone’s ears ring as the chunks of burning flesh ripped from Jaiden’s body. To say it was overkill would be an understatement, the shots not ending until the guns clicked with only empty magazines left. After Jaidens body was wrapped up in a dusty old carpet found in a corner of the room their attention turned towards Kyle, who was still sitting inside of the locker. Dlugi went up to the locker and kicked the side of it hard. From inside you could hear Kyle falling over from the shock and impact of Dlugi’s kick. Jerome stepped forward, opened the door and told Kyle to get out. Kyle crawled out of the gasoline drenched locker and stopped after a meter, waiting for any further instructions. The room was silent for a moment before Dlugi told him to sit down in a chair that was placed on the other side of the room. Kyle slowly moved across the room and sat down on the chair. Dlugi asked Thomas to remove Kyles shoes and to roll up his pants. Kyle's feet were then placed inside a steel bucket filled with water up to his ankles. While this was happening, Jerome went to look for some jumper cables. He found some laying underneath a stack of newspapers dating back to 2002, as he pulled them out, he saw that they were in a very poor state, rusty and barely holding together. Hopefully, they would still be able to get the job done. Jerome gave the cables to Dlugi who hooked them up to a generator sitting close by. He began pulling the rope to start it up, after a few tries it spat out a small cloud of black smoke and it started. Dlugi took the positive and negative ends of the cables and touched them together to see if they were working. A rain of sparks showered across the room. With cold eyes he looked down on Kyle and said, “This is your chance to tell us what happened”. Kyle looked up at him, visibly confused and stressed and said, “I have told you; I don’t know anything, I wasn’t there!”. They had heard enough. Thomas and Jerome secured Kyle to the chair by tying a rope around him. Dlugi connected the positive cable to Kyle’s chest before saying, “Last chance, have anything to say.” Kyle shouted out “I have told you I don’t…” But before he could finish Dlugi connected the negative cable to the bucket. A surge of electricity travelled through Kyle's body and he screamed out in pain, shaking violently in his chair, trying to get free from the rope holding him in place. Dlugi disconnected the negative cable from the bucket and looked at Kyle. “Are you ready to talk now?” he asked. Kyle, with his head hanging down and saliva dripping from his mouth muttered weakly “I …don’t know…”. Dlugi had no patience for his lies, once more he placed the negative cable on the bucket letting the electricity flow through Kyle's already torn body. Feeling like he had been struck by lightning multiple times Kyle felt extremely weak as Dlugi removed the cables from the bucket and his chest. He slumped over, resting on the ropes that held him to the chair, struggling to stay awake. Dlugi, Jerome, Lyosha and Thomas moved a bit to the side to discuss what to do now. They all agreed on to not kill him here but to knock him out and toss him in the ocean. If he was going to survive or not, they left in someone else’s hands. A gruesome job had been completed. None of the members like what had taken place, but it had to happen. The Four Seas Order cannot and will not let people drag their name into the dirt. The family comes first, and it always will.

It seemed like just another day. Waking up, getting freq, checking up. But someone had other plans. “Check Dlugi. Grab your shit, Zetas disbanding, outcasts tried hunting us. Time to return the favour”. Seems like a lot of information to take in at once. Seems like someone has a death wish. Quickly walking over to a safe, grabbing his AK-47 summed up the morning exercise. Thankfully this toy was cleaned a few days prior in anticipation for other situations. Dlugi eagerly secures it in a bag, pocketing a magazine. “We’re outside if you want a pickup Dlugi” There seemed to be a bit of calmness on the radio. Almost as if people were still processing the situation at hand. Fully packed out 4-doors, sports cars, trunks at the ready. The organisation was impeccable. And of course, finding people to put into MD didn’t seem like a distant wish. The one important bit of detail people forgot, was that it was Zetas disbanding. The people were still sticking around. For us, it was free game. Red or green, neutral or enemy... nobody cared. You talked shit, you got hit. And it was ensured that you felt it. Obviously, the rest of the council came to aid. Due to politics, Triads and Aztecas didn’t initiate, unless they were initiated against first. And you can bet that certain people made that mistake. Annoy a wolf, the whole pack will come after your ass. A few days have gone by, many bullets and casualties later, the opposition could’ve been found at one place in particular. After a few more days, Dlugi found himself joining the Four Seas Order. At first glance, it wasn’t anything spectacular. Another gang with more goals, and even more hopes for the future. “Fuck it. I’m in.” After talking to Brandon Fitz, Fitz made sure that the FSO would see to Dlugi’s recruitment. A familiar smile appeared under his mask, as Dlugi has received yet another chance to prove himself. Friendships were made quite quickly. Most of the people in FSO Dlugi knew already from previous encounters. Be it other disbanded gangs, or ex-legal workers who got bored of their 9-5 jobs, all were welcome to get a shot at the Crim life, and check out what it had to offer. Amongst other responsibilities, the grind for cash was in full motion. Drug lab after drug lab, hustle after hustle. Finally enough was gathered for FSO to buy the HQ they wanted for so long. Bruce Wong was willing to sell it for 2 million. Dlugi obviously did his part for this, assisting in any way possible. The deal was closed, Noodle House now under new owners. A while passed, and Dlugi was promoted to Yellow Crane, a rank with more responsibilities. He could now proceed with training runs and recruitment opportunities. Eager to get started, he set up a callout training the next day. All the participants surprised him with great callouts. Everyone kept up, nobody lost eyes on the target vehicle. Impressive for a small gang, he had to admit. More training runs, more imports, more gunfire. The Four Seas Order seemed to be coming out on top. Granted, a few have done lengthy sentences in SADOC, only to be welcomed back on the radio frequency. Grind doesn’t stop, as long as motivations are high. Another chance was given to him. Another chance he can’t and will not fuck up. Like a wise friend of his once said: "Colour is temporary, family is permanent"

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It seemed like just another day. Waking up, getting freq, checking up. But someone had other plans. “Check Dlugi. Grab your shit, Zetas disbanding, outcasts tried hunting us. Time to return the favour”. Seems like a lot of information to take in at once. Seems like someone has a death wish. Quickly walking over to a safe, grabbing his AK-47 summed up the morning exercise. Thankfully this toy was cleaned a few days prior in anticipation for other situations. Dlugi eagerly secures it in a bag, pocketing a magazine. “We’re outside if you want a pickup Dlugi” There seemed to be a bit of calmness on the radio. Almost as if people were still processing the situation at hand. Fully packed out 4-doors, sports cars, trunks at the ready. The organisation was impeccable. And of course, finding people to put into MD didn’t seem like a distant wish. The one important bit of detail people forgot, was that it was Zetas disbanding. The people were still sticking around. For us, it was free game. Red or green, neutral or enemy... nobody cared. You talked shit, you got hit. And it was ensured that you felt it. Obviously, the rest of the council came to aid. Due to politics, Triads and Aztecas didn’t initiate, unless they were initiated against first. And you can bet that certain people made that mistake. Annoy a wolf, the whole pack will come after your ass. A few days have gone by, many bullets and casualties later, the opposition could’ve been found at one place in particular. After a few more days, Dlugi found himself joining the Four Seas Order. At first glance, it wasn’t anything spectacular. Another gang with more goals, and even more hopes for the future. “Fuck it. I’m in.” After talking to Brandon Fitz, Fitz made sure that the FSO would see to Dlugi’s recruitment. A familiar smile appeared under his mask, as Dlugi has received yet another chance to prove himself. Friendships were made quite quickly. Most of the people in FSO Dlugi knew already from previous encounters. Be it other disbanded gangs, or ex-legal workers who got bored of their 9-5 jobs, all were welcome to get a shot at the Crim life, and check out what it had to offer. Amongst other responsibilities, the grind for cash was in full motion. Drug lab after drug lab, hustle after hustle. Finally enough was gathered for FSO to buy the HQ they wanted for so long. Bruce Wong was willing to sell it for 2 million. Dlugi obviously did his part for this, assisting in any way possible. The deal was closed, Noodle House now under new owners. A while passed, and Dlugi was promoted to Yellow Crane, a rank with more responsibilities. He could now proceed with training runs and recruitment opportunities. Eager to get started, he set up a callout training the next day. All the participants surprised him with great callouts. Everyone kept up, nobody lost eyes on the target vehicle. Impressive for a small gang, he had to admit. More training runs, more imports, more gunfire. The Four Seas Order seemed to be coming out on top. Granted, a few have done lengthy sentences in SADOC, only to be welcomed back on the radio frequency. Grind doesn’t stop, as long as motivations are high. Another chance was given to him. Another chance he can’t and will not fuck up. Like a wise friend of his once said: "Colour is temporary, family is permanent"

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+1 Flint for president

Congrats boys

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Dlugi MacShea Dlugi. Born in Poland, raised in Ireland by his grandparents. Experienced violence and cash-in-hand deals from a very early age. Grandfather was an ex-military man from the GROM. Discipline was his second nature, but after retirement, he focused on cars, bikes and farming equipment. A nice and calm elderly life. So, since Dlugi didn't have anything else to do, he started hanging out with the old man in the garage. Picked up a lot, from changing oil in cars and tractors, to tearing a car apart and building it back up again. His grandma usually stayed indoors. She was unfortunately diagnosed with terminal cancer. A keeper was provided by the local governing body, as they were too fragile to look after one-another. Dlugi did help, but there's only so much a small kid can do. After a few years, he managed to find and renovate an old bike from a junkyard not too far out from the village. A shitty Manchez, but he was proud of it. Got all parts together, got the thing working without too many issues. So he took it for a spin. Drove on for about an hour, to the nearest city. Just as he was approaching, he heard sirens behind him. Checked his mirror and sure enough, Garda were after him. 120km/h on the motorway. He pulled over, took off his helmet and relaxed on the bike. The Garda approached him, asked for a license. Dlugi calmly pulled out his wallet and gave it to the man. After a quick look, the Garda said "Slow down kid, you're only 16, don't end up in the hospital." and went back to his cruiser. He watched them drive off and sat down next to his bike. He got lost in his own mind and after checking the time, he noticed he was gone for more than 4 hours. He hopped back on the bike and raced home, this time without any Guards. When he arrived at his grandparents house, it was dead quiet. Unusual, specially at this time of the day. 6PM on the dot, old man should still be working in the garage. He walked the Manchez to the shed and leaned it against the door. Paced around for a bit, unsure what to do with himself. His stomach rumbling, he knew he had to grab some grub. Ran to the house, and into the kitchen. He opened the fridge and saw a cold bloody finger inside. He then noticed a trail of blood leading to where his grandma slept. Face expressionless, he marched forward. The door squeaked open after a slight push, and he could taste blood in the air. Bed was clean and tidy, back wardrobe also untouched. Even spotless under the bed. So he checked the rest of the house. Nothing. Ran out to the garage. Checked every corner. and then he opened a freezer that was there since he was a kid. Inside, dead bodies. Both grandparents gone, just like that. He fell back with tears coming out of his eyes. He stayed there crying for what felt like an eternity. Dlugi stood back up and checked his phone. 9.58PM. He ran out to the shed again and grabbed his bike, throwing the helmet away. Then he remembered. His grandfather always told him. "For emergencies only" he said. So he went inside the shed and opened a small wooden box. Inside was a small pistol, a Glock-18 with 5 spare magazines, all loaded up and ready to go. He grabbed it all, put it into a bag he found lying around and checked around the shed for anything else. Came across a stack of cash, just over two thousand euros in fifty's. Threw that in the bag as well. Ripped up a shirt he saw hanging there, making a provisional bandana and tied it on his face. He took off. Nothing holding him back, he wanted to get out. Out of the village, out of the county, out of the country. He was looking for a one way ticket. Anywhere. Somewhere else. "Running from problems helps, right?" he thought to himself. He drove halfway through the country north, doing odd jobs here and there, grabbing as much cash as he could. Started dealing with not-so-friendly individuals. Conversations changed from "What's the craic lad you all good, all sorted?" to "D, get an ounce for me, will ya?". So he started delivering drugs. From weed, to coke, to ecstasy. Paid well, let him sleep in a nice hotel. One day, during a quick drop-off at one of his friends' places, he ran into someone. A girl about his age. Obviously, didn't think too much about it, he just wanted to drop off what he had and dip. So he knocked on the door of the house she just walked out of. Waited a while, no response. Knocked again. Nothing. He went to see if there was anyone in the back yard. Not even a ghost. Lights were still on, but it was dead quiet. He left with the produce, hanging onto it for another day won't hurt. On the way out of the driveway, he saw her again, just standing there like she was waiting to be picked up. So he strolled forward, looked at her and offered her a spin into town. She agreed and hopped on the bike with him. "Dlugi MacShea, nice to meet ya." She nodded and said "Holly Hops. Patrick's Street, if you don't mind." They started hanging out more and more, purely by accident more than anything else. She was always at that house, and there was always stuff to be delivered there. Chit-chat on a frequent basis, and soon enough they talked about potentially leaving the country. Hops got involved with the same crowd he did, so they were basically rolling with each-other at this stage. Dlugi knew that he was gonna go as soon as he could. Too much memories in Ireland. He wasn't intending on making another one happen if he could stop it. Time went past, money came and went. The only thing that remained constant it seemed was the friendship between himself and Holly. It was time. He packed all his shit away, stored the weed to be delivered at a later stage by Hops. Gave her his old gun too, since he couldn't be arsed trying to smuggle it through. Los Santos. One way ticket to LS. He said his goodbyes and told Holly to come over whenever she wanted. Marcello Family It wasn't long before Dlugi managed to get involved in a gang of sorts in LS. He found them to stand out more than others. This family, The Marcello's, just had something about them. Something appealing. When he arrived in LS, he tried joining up with them within 2 weeks. Barely any knowledge of how anything worked in town, what to do for money or anything like that, he decided to go for what he was good at. While with the Marcello's, he applied for a job in Los Santos Customs. His knowledge in car parts and what not to do in a garage came in handy. Overall, the experience and the friends he made in the Marcello Family were very positive. Many of them were something Dlugi wanted to be. He wanted an actual family. He got one. He reached the rank of Capo within the family. A respected rank, one responsible for many orders. Responsible for recruitment. But unable to work. Unfortunately, this didn't last long. The head of the organisation, Winston, had left town unexpectedly, due to a family funeral back in Italy. Luca was in charge. And then Luca left. No leaders, no future plans. Marcello's disbanded. So D was back to the lone wolf position. Many of his friends tried recruiting him to their own gangs, for example the Saints. He turned them down every time however. Not looking for anything in particular, he just wanted to be left by himself, do his own thing. He got bored after a while, started trying out some races with his friends. There were a few races, but a lot of racers. Then one crew caught his attention. One in all orange. One who knew how cars worked, how to drive efficiently. The Wanted The Wanted were a unique crew in town. Orange racers. This is some excitement that the city needed. So Dlugi tried out for them and got accepted due to a quick interview organised by his friend from Bayview, Dre. Everything went smoothly. Races were hella fun. Dlugi climbed through the ranks until he got to Bandit. At that point, the war with Zetas had really kicked off. Many boys left town for different reasons, many more just didn't wake up from their slumber. Dlugi himself had to leave for an extended period of time. He needed a break. He picked the worst time for it as well. After coming back, he knew something was in the air. No texts of new radio frequencies, nobody from the Wanted in town. He threw in the towel for himself and changed car colours back to black and white. Misfits Before the Wanted and Zeta war, Dlugi's friend showed up in town. Hops was around, and is sticking around. She managed to find herself a nice bunch of friends. Yellow gang, called Misfits. She tried to convince him to join up as well, but he refused many times. He wanted to be the lone wolf of the city once again. This didn't stop him hanging out with Holly and the Yellow Boys. Of course, when it comes to gang activities, Dlugi remained unaffiliated. But then the thought of being part of something even bigger again, that made his finger itch. "What if this is it? What if I go hard again?" "I ain't going 6 feet under because of natural causes. Being normal is boring. Fuck it." He called Holly for a quick meetup and told her he's in. Her asking finally paid off, and she told the Boss, Richie the good news. "If this is it, then fuck it. No more solo shit." With a lot of fun, comes a lot of jail time. Fuck it. Be grand.

That one dude looks familiar...

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