milliways_bar | (no subject)

(no subject)

Outside, there is an OG, practicing with guns. This time, Ak-47, and a lever-action rifle.

The things a man gotta do to protect his family and friends...

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

And he stops, resting down the rifle, and looking to the girl. "Heya."

"You're pretty good," I say as I walk closer. "Professional interest, or recreational?"

"Survival need." He nods, offers a hand. "Carl Johnson. CJ."

I shake with him. My gloves still crusted with my own blood. "Mona Sax."

"New here?" And he looks down at the gloves. "Rough arrival?"

I nod. "Is it that obvious? I died and came back here, I'm told."

"Harsh. How did you bite it?" Ah, yes, the normally nice guy is in a weird mood.

Paranoia is a beautiful thing.

"Shot in the back."

"Shitty way to go." He nods. "Thats why I wear a vest 24/7 lately."

"They restrict your movement more than I like. More than I liked," I correct myself. "I preferred not to get shot by means of dodging and using cover."

"I think you are wearing the wrong model then..." CJ surely does not even seem to be wearing a vest. "Never had a problem with 'em."

"Considering the men I was fighting preferred .50 AE, any bulletproof vest I would have worn would have had to have the trauma plates to be effective," I say drily.

"Pulaski carries one of those..." He almost spits the name. "But he has a nice big fat head..." He picks up the lever-action rifle, starts to reload it.

"You sound like you're from a war zone," I remark. "Much like I was."

"Los Santos, San Andreas, in the west coast. Pulaski is from the C.R.A.S.H. team, a group of dirty cops." Reloading. "Tenpenny, Pulaski, and Hernandez, and a buncha flunkies. Then Smoke and Ryder, and the Ballas and Vagos."

"Street thugs and the police. Wish my life had been that easy. Max and I had underworld international conspiracy problems. Shadow governments."

"Ah, you are not adding in the Russian mafia and the Mexican gun runners. It seems every day I discover another gang in."

He shrugs. "And anyway, gangs or CIA, whats the difference when half of them want you dead and the other half wants you alive to blackmail ya?"

"Organization and firepower," I not-smile. "Gangs and the mafia don't use radio headsets, infrared and helicopters to chase you down. They also have to watch out for the occasional honest cop."

I shake my head. "How long have you been here?"

"Someone gotta warn the russians and the ballas that the big guns are not allowed..." CJ shakes head.

"Couple months... three, tops. Hard to keep track of time here."

"Does it matter?" I ask, then shake my head. "Are you alive or dead?"

"Very alive, and plan to stay that way. Gotta get Sweet oout of jail, and go back to Los Santos, bring the Families back. And get the CRASH, Smoke and Ryder."

"Good luck on the jailbreak. I know those are a bitch, even if you happen to have someone on the inside."

"Another thing to the list: get someone inside." He nods.

"If I weren't dead, I'd offer to help but I don't think a corpse will do your jailbreak any good."

"You don't seem dead."