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Linky
The story tells about a death row inmate named James Earl Cash, who was the dude you played as in the game Manhunt. Manhunt ended in a cliffhanger, not telling JACK SHIT about what happened to Cash after he killed this porno director named Starkweather. This story is my assumption as to what happened after that.
I must warn you guys, it's really vulgar and bloody, and one chapter tells in depth about something that, well, ugh. Just take caution while reading this, capiche? I'm going to upload the first few chapters today, (All of it's already written) and update regularly.
CARCER CITY- LOS ALBOS DISTRICT
DECEMBER 3, 2003
12:14 A.M.
Almost a week after the incident involving one of Lionel Starkweather’s own snuff stars turning against him, James Earl Cash has been lurking in the shadows of the seedy American rust-belt Carcer City. He sleeps by day, hunts by night. Carcer City is a moral-less hellhole where the six major gangs have complete free reign: The Skinz, Hoods, Innocents, Smiles, the Wardogs and the most sinister of them all: The Jury. The Jury consists of a large number of Satan-worshipping gangsters of German descent, who are fueled by a decade-old vendetta against the Innocents, primarily the faction known as the “Babyfaces.” The Jury are specialists’ illegal motor racing, body-modding, pedophilia, grave robbing, arson and, most importantly, illegal drug trade. James Earl Cash has been on his mission to escape Carcer City, move to Liberty City, get drunk, get laid and perhaps start a snuff film ring.
“Come on out here, you dickhead! I can smell your narrow ass from Liberty City!” Cash hugged the graffiti-covered wall of a convenience store, cloaked in the shadows. He held a machete in his hand, and had attracted the gangster by banging the machete against the wall. The dude waited for a few minutes, turning his head to look around. “Aww, FUCK! He got out of our clutches!” This was Cash’s opportunity to strike. He walked up quietly to the Jury member, and placed his calm hand on the man’s shaved head and grabbed hold. Cash then kicked him to the ground, bringing him to his knees. He grabbed the machete with both hands and sliced his head off in one fell sloop. Blood had trickled across the alley. Cash then picked up the severed head, and noticed two gangsters conversing. He threw the head by the two gangstas, and one announced, “God damn, this better not be Strauss! Fuck. It is. We’ll find that fuck and put his cock on a platter!” Cash had not noticed that the Jury member he had killed mere seconds ago had been holding a MAC-10 before his fortunate death. Naturally, Cash picked it up. It had a full clip left, and Cash felt lucky. Not cocky, though. James, a master of stealth, somersaulted into the shadow of a row of mailboxes. One of the miscreants, clad in an Ed Hardy T-shirt and a hockey mask, decided to walk across the street to take a piss. Cash leaned over the mailboxes and fired a few shots blindly just to get his attention. “Fuck! I gotta kick some half-breed ass while I’m takin’ a piss! Well, I guess I’ll continue on his corpse. Heh heh heh.” Cash rolled into the open and aimed for the Jury member’s arms and fired. The thug hit the cold, unforgiving street, wallowing in pain as his arm has been shot many times. Cash ran to the gangsta and kicked him in the head, hard. Surprisingly, the skinhead but stumbled. Cash grabbed the dude, and with all of his might, he pulled the trigger of his MAC-10 and the gangster’s underdeveloped brains stained the cracked pavement. Cash let out a chuckle, then kicked the man’s corpse one last time, for fun.
He then proceeded to his number one goal: Freedom. Cash was a man on a mission, and he couldn’t fuck up.
Cash was now on 12th Street, and was holed up in a bombed-out crackhouse. He was hiding, like a child playing hide and seek, in the shadows, on a desperate quest not to get his ass handed to him by those damn Jury members. One was stumbling along the cracked floorboards, in a daze from recently snorting a few lines of coke. “I’m a goofy goober, yeah. You’re a goofy goober, YEAH! WE’RE ALL GOOFY GOOBERS, YEEEEAAAAH! GOOFY GOOFY GOOBER GOOBER, FUCK YEAH!” the gangster sang in his drug-induced trance. Cash jumped out of the shadows, and grabbed the druggie’s left arm and threw him to the ground. Cash then squatted down on him, took out his MAC-10 and put it in the gangster’s mouth and pulled the trigger before he could cry for his mother. Cash blew out the smoke from the barrel, then rose and said to himself, “This is what happens when you fuck with a dead man.” But then, Cash heard the bloodcurdling howl of a gang member, saying something like, “We have found our quarry! Let’s hunt this fucker down!” Cash was starting to feel desperate, as his clip was running dry. He made a decision to make a run for it. Cash bolted out one of the window openings, and fell 20 feet to the ground. It took a few seconds for him to get up, but when he did, he ran. And ran.
But, just then his luck took a turn for the worse. He saw an armored car parked by a Post Office, and the back door was open. He saw a semicircle of ominous black figures, highlighted by their red goggles. The Cerberus! The newly appointed squad leader had held out his arm, pointing a taser at Cash. Cash attempted to turn tail, but the armed men got the jump on him. One of them smacked him with the butt of his M-16 rifle, and the leader repeatedly shocked Cash while he was down with his taser, as he cowered and urinated on the ground. Cash was out. “Take him away! Bring him to Schaffer ASAP. Assholes and Elbows, Cerberus!” the leader commanded to his men. One of them picked up Cash’s sleeping body and complained, “This guy weighs a ton. Must’ve had cement for breakfast.” A fellow Cerberus rebutted, “Cut the shit, Corporal! We gotta get him in the Chief’s office before the night is out.” The Corporal threw Cash into the truck. The leader gestured for the remaining Cerberus to pile in, and he slammed the door shut as the truck drove to who knows where.
CARCER CITY- UNKNOWN BUILDING
DECEMBER 3, 2003
3:51 A.M.
Cash woke in a daze, on a cold, hard floor. The first things he saw were those ominous, evil, red goggles. He was fucked. As his sight went from fuzzy to clear, he noticed he was ankle-chained to a huge pipe in the wall. Seven Cerberus were standing near him, with their M16 rifles trained on him. One of those evil fucks walked up to him, and punched him in the stomach. As Cash gasped desperately for air, the radio-muffled voice from the attacking Cerberus told him, "You dirty fuck! You put us through hell, but we got you. It's... fucking... over."
"Let's go tell Schaffer that this wannabe-badass is chained up here, like a dog."
"Alright."
The Cerberus began leaving the room through a rusty, heavy-looking metal door. One of them stayed in the room with Cash. "I'll stay here and watch this dickhead, incase he pulls some hero shit again." One on one with an armed Cerberus, Cash was having thoughts of escape. After all he'd been through these last few days, he wasn't going down without a fight. But his chances of escape were slim. He had no weapons, he was injured and dazed, tied up, and had an armed Cerberus watching him. The only slightly good thing here was his chain was pretty long, about six feet, and his hands were free. The Cerberus snapped him out of his escape fantasy by spitting:
"Don't even think about fucking with me, or you're going to become this gun's bitch. You hear me? This ain't no movie. You're done. Finished. Capiche?"
Cash struck out at him, no plan, just rage. He struck him in the face twice, before yanking his gun away. The Cerberus, who's nametag read "Lloyd", tackled him to the ground, got up, and stomped Cash in the face. Cash heard a snap, and his nose exploded with pain. His nose wasn't broken, as it was broken before, and it wasn't the same feeling. Lloyd lifted his leg up again, but Cash rolled away, grabbed his shin, and slammed him down. He had a chance to use the M16, and shot him in the back four times.
"WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT!" a voice yelled through Lloyd's radio.
Cash threw his voice a little, and replied back to it:
"Ahh, nothing. I got scared. No need to check up on me."
If someone checked, Cash was royally fucked. Cash found the chain key in Lloyd's breast pocket, and unlocked his foot. He undressed Lloyd, and put his Cerberus armor on over his clothes. This might help him a little. Cash took Lloyd's knife and pistol, and slid the M16 onto his back strap, and walked out the door. A long hallway branched with doors stood before him. It was pretty dark, and Cash instinctively ran into a dark patch of shadows. He tapped the wall with his knife.
A voice called out; "I heard a noise. Watch my back, I'm going to go investigate."
Two Cerberus guards came from the nearest door, and looked around. Just like before.
It was just like before, except this time, Cash had the upper hand: weapons, a disguise, and a motive: Escape.
Yet another manhunt had started.
A foolish Cerberus turned his back right in front of Cash, the biggest mistake of his life. James Earl Cash was about to take another life. He took his knife, and slid it across his throat. The Cerberus dropped to the ground, clutching his neck. As for the remaining Cerberus, James' cover was blown. To conserve M16 ammo, James expertly pulled out the pistol, and blew the merc’s head to pieces. The gunshot, however, triggered a mass uprising of CU to pour out into the hallway. Cash counted; 'One... two... eleven.' Eleven fucking CU. James waited, quietly, for the CU to lose interest, but they spotted the shot CU (Cash had dragged the executed one into a shadow), and ran up to him.
"What the fuck! WHAT THE FUCK!" a CU roared.
"HOW CAN YOU LAZY DIPSHITS LET THIS HAPPEN? AGAIN!"
Cash recognized the voice as the man who had radioed Lloyd after his demise. He must be a leader of some sort, or a higher rank. The man was very large, and was packed with weapons. Cash noticed throwing stars, two Desert Eagles, a tazer, and all sorts of evil tidbits. James definitely didn't want to take this guy one-on-one. After a short but heated argument, the eleven CU went back to their locations. They left one door ajar, and Cash saw this as his only way onward.
He peeked through the slit in the door, and saw a CU with his back to the door, waiting. Bait.
Cash opened the door quietly and knifed him, and dragged his body into a dark corner. He snuck into the room, and heard a voice. The room was brightly lit, with no shadows, so he dove under a desk in the center of the room. Not the best idea, but whatever. Two Cerberus walked in.
"Yo man, you scared about this James Earl Cash guy? I heard he's a stone-cold killer."
"Nah, not really, he's probably just a retard on a lucky streak."
"But man, he killed Piggsy. You know, that psycho thing that Starkweather kept locked up?"
"WHAT?"
"You didn't hear about Starkweather's snuff film? The one that resulted in this mess?"
"No."
"I'll show you. C'mon."
The two CU walked into the hallway. Instead of killing them, Cash thought to follow them, and gain some info. The more he knew the better. Cash peeked through the door. The CU were pretty far down the hallway, walking fast, so Cash sneaked around, following them, dodging from shadow to shadow incase they turned around. Luckily, they didn't.
After tailing them for about 15 minutes from hallway to hallway, they unlocked a room, and went inside. Cash peeked through a window in the door, and watched them. They were in a surgical room, resembling the room Cash was supposed to be executed in a few nights ago. Lying on the surgical table, was the mangled corpse of Piggsy. Cash shuddered at the sight of that nightmare again. His hands were lying on a smaller table nearby. His corpse was sliced open, and his guts were completely visible. Cash opened the door a little, and the putrid stench of death wafted in. Cash closed the door. He turned on the oxygen of the CU mask he had, and instantly tasted crisp, clean air. He walked in, remembering his cover as Lloyd.
"Hey guys. What are you doing here? You know this room is forbidden."
(He knew that from the obvious sign on the door that stated: “AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.”)
“Lloyd? Where the fuck were you? Cash is gone!"
"WHAT?" Cash replied, faking surprise.
He nearly laughed at the stupidity of the these 'trained professionals'.
"Yup. The sick fuck killed two of our men. He's skilled at this. Watch out Lloyd, he could be right under our noses.”
These idiots amused Cash. The other CU told them "Hey, I'm going to go take a leak. Be right back."
Cash waited until he heard the sound of urine splashing into toilet water in the nearby restroom, then struck upon the remaining CU. Pulling out his knife, he quickly stabbed him to death, and dragged his body under the surgical table, out of view.
He snuck into the one-man restroom, and executed the second CU, who was now washing his hands. The CU managed to let out a "Hey, gimme some privacy, Lloy-" before the knife went into his neck. His head slammed against the toilet as he fell to the ground. Cash smirked, as he can become all-too used to murder, death, and gruesome, bloody bodies everywhere. He examined Piggsy before leaving the room. His pigskin mask had been removed, showing a deformed, ugly face, covered in blood. The teeth were rotten, and one eye seemed to have been torn out a long time ago. Several of his toes had been removed, and his penis had been removed as well. Laughing, Cash wondered what had happened to Piggsy's dick. Several bones seemed to be broken, a result of the fall that had killed him. Piggsy's scared, horrified face became etched into Cash's mind as he left the room. He walked through a few hallways, walking past CU who either ignored him, or told him about Cash's impossible escape. Cash paid no attention, as he wondered why Piggsy had ended up a freak star of Starkweather's snuff films. Was he, too, a prisoner of Starkweather? Was he turned crazy by his years of killing, or was he truly evil? Hundreds of questions ran through his mind. For the first time in his life, James Earl Cash, killer of dozens, felt sorry for someone. Starkweather turned the poor, crazed man even crazier. Well, Starkweather had paid his price, by the hand of Piggsy's chainsaw, and James' vengeance.
As Cash mindlessly wandered through another door, he walked into a big, brightly-lit lobby. Dozens of CU were hanging out, lounging, playing with their guns. Cash heard his name in one of their conversations;
"Cash? Yeah I know about Piggsy. I'm scared too, that fucker seems unstoppable."
James no longer cared of his reputation. He was determined to find more about Piggsy. He walked to the main desk, where an attractive lady asked, "Need help, Mr. Banks?" So, his new alias was Lloyd Banks. Not the best name, but at least Lloyd wasn't a wanted man anymore.
"I need files on the man nicknamed 'Piggsy'. Now."
"I'm sorry Mr. Banks, all files on the cast of Starkweather's films are strictly confidential."
"Don't give me that bullshit. Starkweather is dead. I have permission from Mr. Schaffer also."
"Oh. I'm sorry sir. Hold on."
She took a key that was hanging around her neck, and walked into the door behind her. She returned a few minutes later with a very fat document. She handed it to him.
"I also need the file on that James Earl Cash guy. Stat." She went back into the room, and returned almost instantly with a thin document. “Good, those fucks don't know too much”, Cash thought.
Since lobbies are always near an exit, Cash knew he was close to freedom. Escaping this fortress was way easier than he had imagined. He took the two precious files under his arms and walked out the door, into a cold outside world. Suddenly, he heard an alarm go off. He peeked back into the building and asked a CU guard if he knew what was going on. He shrugged.
A voice said over the intercom: "THE BODY OF LLOYD BANKS HAS BEEN FOUND, STRIPPED OF HIS ARMOR. BEWARE OF AN IMPOSTER. THIS IS A RED ALERT."
Everyone looked at Cash. Cash looked at everyone.
"AWW, SHIT!"
CARCER CITY- ABANDONED STREETS
DECEMBER 3, 2003
4:35 A.M.
Cash ran outside the building, but then stopped to look back. He was fucked for all time. He was driven by hate and consumed by fear, and wasn't about to get his balls busted on a day like this. Cash noticed that the Cerberus were looking out the window. He had eleven red dots on his black Cerberus armor. Cash then let his instincts take care of him. He sprinted at a blistering speed, not regarding the fact he'd be slowed down by wearing the armor and gear and all that bullshit. The sun was starting to rise and the fog was cleared. There was dew on the leaves of the trees. This was Cash's least favorite time of day, by far. Cash still ran, and then jumped into an alley. He took time to catch his breath, and removed the bulky armor and gas mask, not to mention the combat boots. Cash was wearing his tattered jail uniform, and heard sirens. "I just fucked myself. Well, guess I might as well make the best of the time I have left." Cash lurked into the shadows, and laid his tired body against the brick wall. "Shit, I haven't done this in ages, and if I get caught..." Cash thought aloud.
Cash pulled out his dick and grabbed his boner, his balls resting on his jeans. Police cars patrolled the streets, and he noticed that the imposing red eyes were in the cars. Those fucking Cerberus! They had their M-16s pointing out the windows, and looked down. The laser sights were on his dick head. "HOLY SHIT! THEY CAUGHT ME WITH MY PANTS DOWN!" Cash screamed out. Cash noticed a ladder on the building. He zipped up his pants, wasting no time whatsoever. He climbed up the ladder, and jumped onto the roof. He saw a Cerberus holding a sniper. He walked ever so slowly on the roof, then unleashed a roundhouse kick to the CU's back and before he could react, and grabbed the sniper. Cash pushed him down to his doom, looked down the sight and promptly sniped out each the drivers of the police car's heads. Cash noticed the sniper only held four bullets in the clip, which he thought was pathetic! He chucked the sniper at the street below in a rage. James Earl Cash, perhaps the most hated man in the world, found a trap door on the ceiling. He pried open with all his strength.
Cash jumped in, and noticed a bunch Cerberus pointing their guns at Cash, and a laid-back man jacked into his iPod with his legs on his desk. Gary Schaffer!
"Whoa, shit..."
"CASH! So nice of you to join us on this GLOOOORIOUS morning. I have decided to give you a, well, let's call it a proposition."
Cash didn't like the sound of this at all.
"Keep talkin', fuckface."
Schaffer then announced, "There is no need for profanity. I would like you to be my bitch. Those nasty Cerberus are not to be trusted, they went too hard on you. I have a mission for you, but I noticed you were whackin' it in that alleyway…"
"SHUT UP, PIG!"
"Ah ah ah! I will give you a chance to commit to your little ‘obligation,’ before I give you a mission that ultimately will determine whether I have my Cerberus kill you. I have set up a room for you that has all the porno you need and some beer. ENJOY."
"Look, if there is anything that I want in this world, it's for you shut the fuck up and maybe you won't be such a fucking boner kill. And don't even get me started on Piggsy. Oh my God..."
"Please, you gotta do what you gotta do. Jack off, rest up, then come back in here or you'll get forty clips in your chest."
CARCER CITY- UNKOWN BUILDING
DECEMBER 3, 2003.
5:17 A.M.
Cash didn't feel like doing what Schaffer suggested in the seedy room that Schaffer (Actually, the Cerberus he hired) set up. There were a few bottles of beer on the bedside table, not to mention a box of Kleenex, a comfy bed, a chest that contains who-knows-what and a TV with a DVD player. Cash saw a series of DVDs on the chest nearby the TV, with titles such as "Sweet Asian Pussy," "Summer Camp Secrets," "Welcome to the Bung-Hole," and "Hungry Bitches." Cash laughed at how ridiculous the titles were. He was actually laughing at how ridiculous life was. He had to work for another corrupt nutjob. First Starkweather, now the very man who put Cash in prison back in 2000. Cash said to himself, "Well, I might as well finish what I started!" Cash took the Summer Camp Secrets DVD out of its case and placed it into the tray, and shoved the tray into the player. Before he pressed play, Cash opened up a beer. Cash quickly chugged it down, and threw the bottle on the floorboards.
He took off his prison garments, which were torn and bloodstained, and chucked them to the floor. Cash also took off his boxers, which were the crappy prison "One Size Fits All" kind. He pressed play on the menu, and laid his nude body down on the bed.
Cash watched attentively as the lesbians on the screen went at it. He had a serious boner now, and had to jack off because he never had the opportunity to do it in prison. Cash believed that this was a very special treat, as he had very little joy in his life, if you count the false sense of security of being in prison. Cash took his right hand and gripped his dick, rolling the foreskin back and forth. Cash decided that he was going to have a little fun, so he tickled his scrotum also with his left hand. Cash masturbated until the video ended, where he just closed his eyes and focused intensely on the kinky fantasy brewing in his head. When he finally came, it was otherworldly. Cash’s breath quickened and he even moaned a little. He finally screamed aloud when about a Dixie-cup full of boiling-hot jizz squirted out of his throbbing cock onto his belly with unimaginable force, and he then quietly announced to himself, "Holy shit. That was good." Cash wiped the stuff off of his abs with a Kleenex and threw it on the floor along with his beer bottle. Cash was in the process of putting his clothes back on when a CU broke open the door.
“HEY! Dumbass!”
The Cerberus said in a sick voice, "Heh heh heh. Guess I walked in on you at a rather inconvenient time, eh? Schaffer wants you to shift your ass to his desk to get a sit-rep on your mission. Oh, and open that chest over there. You'll need what's inside."
Cash opened the chest and found a double-barrel shotgun, with its barrels sawed off to an illegal length. (But given that Carcer City had no laws, that didn’t really matter that much to Cash.) Naturally, Cash's intention was to blast the Cerberus, but from all the shit he had gotten from the Cerberus mercenaries before the appeal faded away. When Cash finished up dressing, he grabbed the shotgun and put it on his back. James walked on into the main room where Schaffer was smoking a cigarette, with his legs on the desk.
"Ah, James Earl Cash. I trust that you had fun in the cozy room I had my boys set up for you, no?"
"Fuck off!"
“Cash, I need you to bring your ass over to this abandoned restaurant called ‘The Feed
Bag,’ a klick and a half down the road. There is a high concentration of the Jury gang in there, and there's a flash drive there that I need which happens to be guarded by some stupid fuck who likes to call himself ‘Conan the Kid Fucker.’ It’s four gigabytes of pure bullshit, baby. Bullshit I can use to clear up your name. I'll have the CU drive their van with you back here when you're done. And yo...”
Schaffer threw a cell phone at Cash. Cash caught it and stuffed it in his pocket.
"Merry Christmas. Now get out of here."
CARCER CITY- ONE BLOCK FROM “THE FEED BAG” RESTAURANT
DECEMBER 3, 2003.
6:57 A.M.
Cash felt very uncomfortable as he rode in the van with the CU. He kept thinking about The Feed Bag. His father had always taken him there as a child. It was his favorite restaurant, but The Wardogs had killed his father when he was 14. Cash focused on his current situation. When Starkweather had the CU kidnap him all those nights ago, he was unconscious. Now, he was wide awake (which was a miracle, seeing as he'd only slept a few hours in the past four days), and the CU kept their goggles trained on Cash every second. Every time he moved to scratch his ass or adjust his seat, the CU pointed their guns in his face, saying, "Don't try anything stupid, you dumb shit." After about twenty awkward minutes in the CU van, he felt the van lurch to a halt. The CU got up, gave Cash his sawn-off and a knife, opened the door, and threw him out. He landed on glass, and cut his arm pretty badly. Cash was sure this would fuck him up in the long run, eventually. As the CU van burned rubber down the alley, Cash got up and observed his surroundings. He was in an alley, and about a block up ahead, he could make out a rusty, bloody sign that read "THE FEED BAG- CLOSED BY HEALTH INSPECTOR- 2001". So this restaurant was abandoned for two years now. Cash let out a sigh.
Cash thought the alley would be empty, but he saw two Jury members walk out of the restaurant's back door. One was shirtless, one had overalls. They both had bloody hockey masks, one had a machete, one had a metal baseball bat. The Jury members suddenly stopped, pointed at Cash, and began running towards him. Cash ran a little back, further away from The Feed Bag, and ducked into the shadows, behind a garbage can that had a rotting human hand protruding from it.
As the two Jury members ran past Cash's hiding spot, they looked around, shrugged, and started walking away. The closest one, the shirtless one, stopped to tie his shoe. This was his chance! Cash snuck up behind him, dragged him behind the Dumpster, and jammed his knife into the Jury's neck and twisted. He held him until the Jury member stopped struggling. He dropped the lifeless corpse, took the metal baseball bat, and tapped the closest wall with his knife. The other Jury member, who had the overalls, tightened the grip on his machete, and ran straight at Cash. Fuck, his cover was blown!
Cash pulled out his sawn-off and blasted the Jury right in the chest. He was dead before he hit the ground. James thought to himself, “Jury: 0. Cash: 2.” The gunshot sent another two Juries running to investigate the Jury who was wearing overalls’ body. Cash blasted one dead, and somersaulted behind the Dumpster. The remaining Jury member was unarmed, so he tried running away. Cash decided to conserve some ammo and picked up the machete off the ground. Starkweather had never allowed him to have two of the same weapon type, but that fat fuck is dead now. Cash ran and quickly caught up to the running Jury. He slashed him in the back of the knee with the machete. The Jury fell down, and begged, "Please don't kill me, man! I'll do anything you wan-" but was stopped short when James Earl Cash beheaded him.
Cash began jogging towards The Feed Bag, holstering his knife, sawn-off, bat, and machete. He was loaded. Cash stopped behind The Feed Bag, and looked through the dirty window. Seven Juries were lounging around. Four of them had Mac-10 machine guns. Cash couldn't lure them out one by one, so he looked around for an easier way in. He saw a drainage pipe near him, that led to the roof of the restaurant. (The Feed Bag was two stories high.) Cash climbed it very easily, as he had always climbed this pipe as a teenager, to smoke weed on the roof with his friends. As he got onto the roof, he saw a Jury member having a cigarette, with his back to Cash. Cash ducked behind a large air-conditioning vent (Broken, of course), into the shadows. He punched the vent, and the Jury came to investigate. Cash waited until he turned around, then grabbed his shoulders and threw him off the roof. He landed on his head, which splattered across the pavement. Now that the roof was clear, Cash realized he needed to take a leak. He spread his legs on the edge of the roof, unzipped his jeans, and pulled out his dick.
He closed his eyes as the flow started, and pissed down twenty-four feet onto the Jury's corpse. Talk about respect.
With his bladder empty, Cash ducked into the vent, and slid down into the restaurant. He fell into a large storage bin about 10 feet below, and immediately felt moist, squishy meat. He looked under him. He was in a container filled with cut up human bodies. Cash almost vomited.
He climbed out, and wiped as much blood as he could off of his jeans. He looked around. He was in a dark corner of the top level of the restaurant, where all the people ate. Three Juries were smoking what smelled like weed, on the other side of the room. Cash ducked behind the storage bin, and lightly tapped it. Two Juries looked around, and shrugged. They told the third one, "Hey dumbass, go check it out. One of those fucks better not be alive." He must have been talking about the corpses. As the Jury came, the other two paid no attention as Cash slit his throat, and tossed him into the bin. He took the Jury's Mac-10, and blasted the two Juries. The gun had a silencer, so no Juries came to investigate. Cash's new cell phone began to vibrate. He checked it, and he had one new text from "The Boss". Cash knew it could only be Schaffer. The text read:
hey dumbass, i’m gonna call in 1 min. use the bluetooth headset
Cash found the earpiece that was plugged into the phone, and slid it into his ear. The phone didn't ring, Schaffer was immediately put onto the line. “Figures that corrupt fuck would rig this phone.” Cash thought.
"Listen Cash, I'm running Valiant Videos now. This is the newest Scene, 'Food Critic'. Catchy, eh?"
"Not really, retard. What the fuck do you want me to do?"
"Well first, smile for the camera. Look up."
Sure enough, a flashy, high-tech camera above was aimed at him. Cash gave it the finger.
"Don't disrespect our viewers, tough guy."
Schaffer told him, "There are more Juries downstairs. Your objective is to make it to the freezer. I'll check in on you, and don't even try to escape. I'm watching your every move."
Cash felt so angry at Schaffer. This was Starkweather's Manhunt all over again.
Cash got more ammo from the two dead Juries, and crept downstairs, into the kitchen. He ducked into a dark corner as a Jury walked past. As Cash crept behind him to take him out, the Jury turned around.
"WE GOT AN INTRUDER!"
CARCER CITY- “THE FEED BAG” RESTAURANT
DECEMBER 3, 2003
7:21 A.M.
The Juries entered the second-floor dining room. Cash let out a primal scream and roundhouse kicked one of the dudes in the balls and shot him with the double barrel. One of the juries yelled, "YOU STUPID FUCK! JURY, WE GOTTA QUARRY! OLOLOLOLOLOLOL!" Cash blasted everyone in the head, and rolled into the shadow of a trashcan. A jury knocked the can over. He smiled. (He wasn't wearing a hockey mask, but an army cap.) "OOH, you are in for some shit now, baby!" Cash just blasted the fuck to oblivion. Blood and brains splattered on the floor. Cash smiled. There were no more dudes left, and Cash took a few seconds to calm down. He got a text from Schaffer.
cash, go 2 the freezer. get my usb flash drive and cum back to the van! we got viewers to satisfy here! there's a guy holdin my flash drive who is called by the juries "conan the kid fucker." KILL HIM.
Cash ran downstairs to the kitchen like a dick-less, gung-ho loser who killed his pop. Further into the dilapidated kitchen, he wandered. He saw dismantled bodies decaying on the cold tiled floor. Cash smirked, but didn't laugh. The freezer lay meters away. Cash hugged the wall, and peeked in. An enormous, burly fucker stood there with his machete ready. Cash decided to get creative. To satisfy his audience. He found a pan on the floor, and leaped into the freezer and whacked the dumbass in the face. He just smiled. Cash grappled Conan the Kid Fucker, and gave him a one-two punch to the chest, then head-butted him. "This guy's a fuckin' WIMP!" Cash thought to himself. The man just took it and didn't react that much. Cash slapped the pedophile's face twice, and he fell with a thud. "Don't kill me man, I got kids to fuck! I got kiddy porn to produc--" Cash didn’t listen, but he did take his machete an dive it into his throat. Cash then heard Schaffer's voice on his headset. "Cash, oh Cash, boy. We gotta up the ante here. I kinda lied when I said you just had to do the ‘Food Critic’ scene. Take the exit to the restaurant and go to the train station. It's only a block from here. I've got a contact for you who'll take the USB drive and send the crap to me with his computer. He’s holed up passenger car and there are Juries all around. Cash, this will set you free! I'll just cut out the shit with Final Cut Pro, but I'll DEFINITLEY keep in the finger scene." Cash huffed and continued on his way. He grabbed the USB drive from the pedophile's pocket, and stuffed it into his. He kicked open the emergency exit, and saw the CU guys hanging out by the van.
The CU Leader pointed his arm down the street. "Cash, get the FUCK over to the train station! Would it help if we sang you a song?" Cash said, "Fuck you guys. I'm doin' my shit, my way!" One CU walked over and said to Cash, "You'll need this." The CU handed over a messenger bag. Cash opened it, in curiosity. It was full of MAC-10 clips. Cash thanked the mercenaries with a nice middle finger. James took only about fifteen clips, and stuffed them in the pockets in his ass of his blood-covered jeans. He walked along the cracked sidewalk to the Roslin Park Carcer Commuter Rail Station with a thorn in his balls and blood on his hands.
CARCER CITY- ONE BLOCK FROM ROSLIN PARK TRAIN STATION
DECEMBER 3, 2003
7:52 A.M.
Cash was almost at the entrance to the train station when he got a call from Schaffer. He listened to what he had to say while walking on over to the station.
“Cash, when you’re finished, I’ll stop filming and have this distributed by tonight. It will be a bundle of ‘Food Critic’ and ‘Wrong Side of the Tracks.’ Whaddya think, mister Cash?”
“It’s gonna be the shit.” (Cash was being sarcastic at the time.)
“Thanks Cash! So nice of you to give me positive encouragement! Anyway, when you are finished taking out these scumbags here at the station and giving the USB drive to the contact, I’ll have my CU boys pick you up and take you straight back to the safehouse. I wanna talk business, and reveal some dirt about this ‘Piggsy’ guy. Bye.”
The station was in awful shape. There were boards over the windows and barbed wire lining the roof. There was a sign on it that simply said, “ROSLIN PARK STATION.” Below it, a sign was there that stated, “Condemned by CCPD.” Cash didn’t give a shit. He just took his knife out and cut the padlock on the door.
He noticed several Juries patrolling the area. Cash hid behind a map board. A Jury walked by, whistling James Blunt’s “You’re Beautiful.” Ironic, given the situation Cash was in. This guy held a hammer in his hand, and wore a T-shirt that said the phrase “WTF” on it and a hockey mask covered his hardened face. Cash took his chance and crawled behind the fuck in the shadows. He took his knife and jabbed it into the Jury’s back, then repeatedly raped his neck then, finally jabbing it into his heart. Cash threw the retard onto the tiled floor. Pretty slick. Cash banged his knife against the nearby wall. Another Jury member walked over to the ticket box, where Cash was near. “Shit, I can’t spot him! We’ll get that fuck someday soon!” Cash leaped onto the Jury and stabbed him with the knife, and each time he cut into the Jury’s throat, a guttural scream of pain came out. Cash kicked the guy’s corpse, then proceeded to the platforms.
“The Devil went Down to Georgia,” was playing in Cash’s mind. Cash whipped out his silenced MAC-10 and stuffed a clip from his ass pocket into the gun. He crouched down and walked slowly to an overturned bench. A leader was giving a speech to his Juries huddled around him. “Boys, we got a serious problem. This stupid monkey is slinking through our fingers like diarrhea. We have nothing to fear but fear itself. Juries, time to go out there, and GET OUR QUARRY!” The juries all left the huddle and patrolled the platforms. Cash remembered that the MAC-10 had a silencer, so he didn’t have to worry about people finding out. One of the dudes walked right by his bench. Cash pointed the MAC-10 at the Jury’s head and fired a few rounds. His head exploded as he fell down. Gibs were everywhere! Cash proceeded to the only platform that had a train on it, and one of the cars HAD to contain his contact. Two Juries were patrolling, so Cash had to decide. Go all “Sam Fisher” on their asses, or make like Rambo? Cash chose to use stealth to overpower these fucks.
Cash gathered his thoughts, then climbed the ladder to the top of the train cars. He crouched down and looked to see a Jury walking across the platform, smoking a cigarette. Cash flew into the air and fell on the man, slicing his neck with the knife. He then took his cigarette and put it in his eye. Cash rolled him over, and decided he needed to take a piss again. He pulled his pants down and forced the piss to come out of his 7” dick. “Ah, yeah. That’s the stuff.” Cash pulled his skin back, exposing his head and shaked off the excess urine, then zipped up his pants. He checked his cell phone while and noticed he had a new text message from “The Boss.” The message read:
cash, u r close 2 the contact. go to the dining car and give him the flash drive. get to the entrance, the cu boys will pick u up.
But Cash still had to worry about the other dude. The other Jury member was doing sitting on the platform, his legs dangling onto the tracks below. “God, let him come near me, I’ve GOT to get a kill…” he said to himself. Cash thought that this nutjob needed to seek professional help. And the double barrel would provide that “help.” Cash had about two shells left, so he’d use them wisely. He put his MAC-10 away and whipped out the shotgun. He creeped up to the gangbanger and put the barrels to the back of his head. “Hasta la Vista, motherfucker!” Cash yelled as he blasted the Jury’s brains. Cash then put the gun on his back, and punched one of the windows on the train open with his fist.
Cash vaulted over and wound up in one of the passenger cars. The train had been long abandoned, and had been the site of many teen lovemaking sessions. James Earl Cash walked on through the narrow central hallway. Car after car, he walked until he got to the last car before the locomotive, the dining car. He saw a young man sitting cross-legged on the floor watching porno his laptop. The boy licked his lips and his eyebrows raised. He couldn’t have been older than 14. Cash said to this pint-sized porn potato, “Umm, Chief Schaffer told me to give this flash drive to you. You can shove it up your ass for all I care, just be sure to send the shit that’s on it to Schaffer.” What a way to make an impression on the youth of the nation. The boy responded, “Oh! Thanks! When I’m done watching this movie, I’ll be sure the first thing I do is send the stuff to the man.” “Whatever. Have a nice life, dickhead.” Cash opened the door to the carriage with the assistance of his trusty knife, and crossed the platforms, jogging at a good pace. He found a wrought-iron fence, and scaled it with ease. He noticed the Cerberus van parked by a tenement building across from the station. Cash approached the van, and jumped into the back. One of the CU guys said to another, “Wow. I can’t believe he actually cooperated with us. Rebellious little shit.” The boys all piled in and sat on the benches on either side of the interior. The last one, the Leader, slammed both doors shut. The van started up and drove off to the safehouse, where Schaffer awaited.
CARCER CITY- CONDEMNED DISTRICT
DECEMBER 3, 2003
8:49 A.M.
As the van rode along to the safehouse, the CU teased Cash.
"No more hero shit, huh? Pickle Dick lost his vendetta."
"Watch it, you goggled fag. I can take you out right now, if I wasn't outnumbered 10 to 1."
"Outnumbered? Bitch, you must have killed over 120 scumbags, including us, the CU, within the last few days alone.”
"I don't really have a choice. You people seem to think it's fun watching me fight for my life."
With that last statement, the CU stopped talking for a few minutes. They were whispering to each other, nodding and shrugging.
"Listen, Cash. We have something to tell you, and we need your help."
"What kind of h-help?" The van had hit a pothole, causing Cash to hiccup.
"We're sick of Schaffer. We didn't mind Starkweather, but Schaffer takes this snuff film crap to a whole new level.
Cash was baffled. What the fuck did the CU want him for?
"We want to take out Schaffer. Just, not now. I have a family, and I hardly ever see them due to this prick, making me keep watch on your scrawny ass day and night. Here."
The CU took out a weird looking black leather bag from under the seat. The bag had a belt strap put into it. He handed it to Cash. "What the fuck is this?" he said as he took it.
“It's a leg bag. It hides under your pants, for extra storage. Try it on.”
Cash dropped his pants, feeling no shame. His meat ‘n potatoes was probably bigger than any of the CUs anyway (He caught one checking him out.) He strapped the bag on. It was almost as long as his entire leg. He could hide a bunch of shit in here!
The CU told him, "It's your lucky day that we're being so generous. And there's more." And with that, he pulled a box from under the seat as well. He opened it, and revealed its contents. It had an M16 rifle, which looked much more advanced and deadlier than any of the ones that belonged to the Cerberus. It had a scope, silencer, laser pointer, M203 Grenade Launcher and a strap that went around his neck. The CU took it apart with military-speed and handed Cash the parts.
"You know how to set it up, right?"
"Yeah."
Cash was too shocked by the CU's sudden attitude change, that he had no sarcastic remarks. James Earl Cash put the parts into his leg bag. They only took up about one-third of the space, and hardly weighed him down at all. The CU kept taking items out of the box. Four grenades for the M203, lots of ammo clips, and money. As Cash counted his cash (Ha!) he noticed it was in the thousands.
"This is for when you escape. This is enough to buy out a safehouse of your own. Just play Schaffer's little game for a while, until the time is right to escape. Good luck, Mr. Cash."
Mr. Cash? “Woah,” thought James. These guys respected him now. The CU put out his gloved hand and said, "My name is Jesse Thompson." Cash shook his gloved hand. By this time, the van had pulled into the safehouse garage. Jesse and the other CU escorted him to Schaffer.
"Well Cash, did my USB get delivered?"
"Yeah, the little fag got his file."
"Good. Now, here's your present; Piggsy's file. We found it after you dropped it, when you tried to escape the compound.” Cash took the fat file, and walked into the porn room. He needed solitude to read this. Cash looked through the files.
CERBERUS INTERNATIONAL MILITARY CORPORATION
TARGET PROFILE
Name: Thomas Starkweather
Alias: “Piggsy”
Sex: M
Age: 37
Height: 5’11”
Weight: 351 Pounds
Occupation: Star of Lionel Starkweather's snuff film series "Manhunt"
Known Medical/Mental Conditions: Down syndrome, Amnesia, Obesity
Cash dropped the file in shock upon reading his name. Thomas Starkweather. His heart sank to his stomach and beat fast. The retarded pig fuck was Starkweather's... son. Cash picked up the file and went on. It was full of photos of Piggsy, as a chubby teenager, as a young man, and finally as a psychotic half-pig-half-man hybrid holding his chainsaw. His face was even deformed back then, too. Cash continued reading the dirt on Piggsy. The file read:
Background: Sentenced to life in prison at age 23 for murdering sixteen schoolchildren, his sentence was later reprieved due to his mental illness. His father, Lionel Starkweather, had him chained in his mansion attic to keep him a secret from his friends and co-workers. The Cerberus fed him raw, dead pigs for several months, making Thomas obsessed with pigs. He had their skins and feet tied up like trophies, all over his “lair.” Lionel thought of a so-called “good business opportunity,” and had a pig's head sewn onto Thomas' face. Thomas hated this, as it was hard to breathe. Eventually, he didn't mind, and pretended to act like a pig, as he thought the whole situation was a fun game with his father.
Lionel began using Thomas as a star of his snuff films around seven years ago, seeing as Thomas, now with the alias “Piggsy,” didn't know the crime of murder, and didn't know his own strength. Armed with a chainsaw, he filmed for a long time, before his career came to an end by the hands of a new star, James Earl Cash. James later went on to kill Piggsy's father, Lionel. James is now missing, and a wanted man all over the country.
Thomas “Piggsy” Starkweather had…
Cash couldn’t take any more. He was shocked beyond belief; perhaps ever more than the time when he got his death sentence. He didn’t know what to do.
CARCER CITY- UNKOWN BUILDING
DECEMBER 3, 2003
9:08 A.M.
Cash slipped the shocking file under his bed (He'd pretty much claimed this room as his own.) and walked outside to talk to Schaffer, who was at his desk, with white powder all over his nose.
"Do you have any more bullshit work to put me through? Or can I leave?"
"Cash, oh Cash. Something's popped up, and I need one more favor of you." Cash sighed, and grabbed his crotch.
"What the fuck do you want now?"
"My CU officers are plotting something against me, and I know you're involved. I'm not stupid, Cash. I want to know what's up, and I want to know now." He pulled out a revolver, pulled the snap back, and aimed it at Cash.
“Oh, fuck,” Cash thought. “I'm not taking this bullshit from a coke-snorting pig like him.”
"Fine, I'll show you the project. Just don't kill me." Cash lied. He walked back into his room, and thought for a minute. His time to escape had come way sooner than he'd thought. He locked his door, and looked around. No windows. Fuck! His only way out was to go back through the door he came in at. He opened his secret bag, and took out the M16 parts. He put them together, after about a minute of rapidly thinking, “How did I do this before?”
After it was complete, Cash loaded it with a fresh clip, cocked it, and peeked out the door. Schaffer was standing in front of his desk, with two Juries. He was working with the Jury! That fuck was trying to get him killed. Well, Cash had a little surprise for him.
He opened the door faster than Rambo could ever dream of, and blasted the two Juries, who were the easiest targets. Then Cash ran and ducked behind a wall. Several revolver shots scaled his location. This was going to be a real fuckin’ gunfight. Cash popped out, and shot a few random shots near Schaffer. Two shots nailed him in the chest, but he must have had bulletproof armor, because it only knocked him down.
Cash popped out again, and emptied his clip at Schaffer. He was shot several times in his legs and arms, and his gun flew out of his hand. Schaffer immediately fell to the ground, unable to walk or shoot. Cash walked up to him, and kicked him, and kept him in place with his foot.
"It's over; you crooked CCPD piece of shit. Don't ever fuck with James Earl Cash."
Schaffer smiled, and blood trickled from his mouth. He picked up a walkie-talkie, and spoke into it; "Cash fucked up. Kill him." James blasted him, emptying his second clip, spraying brains, guts, and blood everywhere. He looked out the window. The CU weren't coming; Cash had nothing to worry about. They were on his side anyway. But suddenly, Cash noticed something.
A large, colorful van burned rubber into the driveway of the safehouse. The doors opened, and several large, oddly dressed men came out. Cash counted over twenty. Man, these weirdoes can really pile into a car. They must be Mexicans, he thought. Then he chuckled at his little joke.
The weird people burst through the first story door (Cash was on the third story). A few of them ran all the way up to the third story, using the outdoor fire escape. Cash was hidden, and he didn't move a muscle.
James Earl Cash peeked outside of his shadowy hiding spot, and got a good look at the intruders.
The Clowns.
"Hehehehehehe, we're gonna find you, Cashy! We're gonna make you vanish like a little bitch!" The nearest Clown yelled.
“Great,” Cash thought. “I have three stories of psychos to kill. Again, even during my escape, I have to fight for my life.”
Cash didn't know much about the Clowns, but they were always on the news when he was a child. They were always caught murdering and raping children at fairs. But the Clowns never got arrested, as they were too deadly.
Cash heard more vans pulling up. He peered out of the window, and saw six new vans parked, each carrying over twenty Clowns.
The closest Clown turned his back to Cash, and he quietly executed him with his knife. His body fell out of the shadows, and Cash didn't move his body, in case a Clown spotted him. Good thing too, because two Clowns spotted the body immediately, and ran up to it. Cash held his breath, and hugged the wall as close as he could. A clown broke the window next to Cash (Which scared the fuck out of him.) and yelled out the window; "HE'S UP HERE, BOYS! TOP STORY! GET YOUR FUNNY ASSES UP HERE! HAHAHAHAHA!"
Within the next few minutes, dozens of Clowns were searching the building. Cash was fighting for his life, once again.
CARCER CITY- UNKNOWN BUILDING
DECEMBER 3, 2003
9:24 A.M.
“Calm down, Cash, calm down, don’t get a big DICK!” Cash thought aloud. James Earl Cash could handle these situations better that anyone, as he’s been through them countless times before. He kicked open the door leading to the stairwell, where he saw a pack of around five clowns. He had a grenade loaded into his M203 attachment, so decided he’d take full advantage of that. “Ooh, look boys! Cashy boy has decided he wanted to come out to play! Hoo-hoo!” Cash just closed his eyes and took a few steps back. He fired the grenade launcher, and it made a huge booming sound that echoed throughout the whole safehouse. Cash coughed due to the smoke. After a few tense seconds, the smoke cleared, and Cash saw that the small pack of Clowns were all dead, their bodies in different poses, their guts scattered around the second floor hallway. Cash walked down the stairs, along the hallway. Then, a Clown busted a door open and leaped in front of Cash. He yelled an Islamic battle cry, to startle Cash. Cash involuntarily fired his M16, which ripped through the Clown’s chest causing dark red blood to spill as he fell to the wooden floorboards, his burly body making a thud. Cash naturally kicked the guy’s head in. He stuffed a new clip into his M16 and moved along.
A line of those Clown faggots charged up the stairs to the 2nd floor lobby wielding axes, lead pipes and one of the dudes had an SMG. “Cash, buddy! Come out to play!” the SMG-wielding clown taunted. Cash shot the crazy man in the head with his M16 and quickly downed the others, too as they howled their crazy musings. Cash was just SICK of the stupid shit that those Clowns mumbled. This fueled Cash’s vendetta.
It almost reminded of the time when Cash was in middle school. There was a kid named Meatball and he had severe autism. He always quoted Disney movies, which Cash hated enough. (Except for that one with the mermaid. She was hot.) What Cash hated even more was that he always pranced around like a little princess, which was very disturbing to Cash because Meatball was, well, not necessarily what we would call “skinny.” Meatball was the reason Cash was put on Death Row in the first place. When Cash was 17, he tracked down Meatball (Because he was sent to a special school) and stalked him before killing the retarded fuck. Cash was on the run for a long time, then the Man caught him and sent him to Death Row in 2000 after he committed grand theft auto.
But Cash had other shit on his plate. He had to escape this damned safehouse, and he had more reason to because part of the place was on fire. “Holy shit!” one of the Clowns yelled. Another wave of Clowns appeared in this burning battlefield, but one of the rafters fell on them, and they screamed as they roasted to death. Cash laughed out loud, and then sniped out one of the ones that weren’t dead. Cash then vaulted the handrail on the stairs then fell onto the first floor. He fell flat on his ass, and it took a minute for him to get up again. “Almost there, just keep on blasting these shitheads…” Cash thought. He rose from the floor, and noticed one of the Clowns had come near him. The Clown laughed like a maniac, (Oh, wait, he is one.) and pointed a MAC-10 to Cash’s head. Cash yelled a scream of anger and pounced on him, took out his knife and stabbed the Clown, making a massive cut in his heart. Cash rose up from the Clown’s body, and loaded another clip into his M16. Cash was almost near the entrance. He rolled into the cover of a knocked over water cooler, and then fired at the stupid fucks. Some of them had been packing heat even. Cash then ripped out the ten-gallon jug and threw it at a Clown who held a double barrel. This knocked him out cold, but Cash wanted to be sure, so he grabbed his M16 and marched over to the Clown. Cash announced, “Sweet dreams!” and shot the sleeping beauty in the head. Cash kicked open the front door and was amazed. “I… did it. I killed ‘em all!” Cash had one more task to accomplish: Escape. Just then, his phone vibrated in the bottom of his pocket. He picked it up.
“SPEAK!”
“Yes, James Earl Cash?”
“Say my name, bitch.”
“This is Jesse. I just wanted to call to congratulate you. I can’t believe you mustered up the balls to kill that CCPD son of a bitch. We were watching over the cameras that we installed for Schaffer. Anyway, take one of the Clown vans over to an abandoned bar near the train station called McNutly’s Pub. That’s out new hideout. You’re gonna stay with us and lay low for a while till we find you a new identity. We’ll call the CU HQ over in Liberty City for a plane ride to Los Santos, over in San Andreas.”
“SAN ANDREAS? That’s on the other side of the country! I didn’t quite pay attention in geography class, but I’m pretty sure that’s cross-country.”
“It’s the only place that’s safe, Cash. There’s a gang called the Grove Street Families, they’ll help you out. We’re expecting you over at McNutly’s. Thank you, James Cash.”
“Whatever.”
He climbed into one of the vans, and to his surprise one the stupid-ass Clowns left the key in the ignition. He started that shitbox up, and drove off the bar where the thankful CU boys awaited.
CARCER CITY- NEAR McNUTLY’S BAR
DECEMBER 3, 2003
10:05 A.M.
As Cash leaned back in his seat, he tried turning on the radio. The piece of shit was jammed with something, so Cash stuck his hand into the disc try to seek the problem. He pulled something out, and looked at it. A used condom was jammed in there. It must’ve been at least a year old, because the semen was crusty and dry, and the condom had lost its elasticity. Cash tossed it out the window, and turned on the radio. The only good CD that worked was The Jimi Hendrix Experience: Greatest Hits. Cash laughed, and remembered his stoned, piss-drunk teenage years, when this was his favorite album.
Cash leaned back in the seat, and enjoyed Purple Haze. Suddenly, he heard psychotic giggling, and felt cold hands on his throat.
He immediately swerved off the road, and somehow stopped safely in a ravine. As he struggled to get the sticky hands off his throat, he looked in the rear view mirror; A Clown had hidden in the van. Cash grabbed his knife off the dashboard and jammed it into the Clown's forehead, which ironically had a target painted on it. Cash laughed out loud as the Clown fell to the ground. Cash took out his pistol, and blasted the Clown in the chest. He would have aimed for the head, but he didn't want this van smelling like death, as it was his only ride. When the Clown had died, Cash opened the back doors, and kicked the body out. On his way back to the driver's seat, he found two joints on the ground, both loaded with well, none other than the Kush of Carcer City, the best damn weed around.
Cash lit one up using the car's cigarette lighter, and drove on, blasting Hey Joe as loud as the crappy speakers could handle.
A little while later, Cash got a text from his new BFF, Jesse. It gave him the exact address of McNutly's bar: 7813 Brayden Street.
BRAYDEN STREET?!
That was the street Cash had lived on. McNutly's bar was the place James' alcoholic mother was always holed up at. Cash had always hated his mother as a child; His only strong relationship was with his father.
Cash was almost at the bar, but he did a U-turn, and sped up, turning onto his block. 7654 Brayden Street; Apartment 2B.
Cash parked his car on the front lawn, his usual parking space. Before he got out of the van, he heard breaking glass, and laughing. A light was on in Cash's apartment. It must be The Hoods, as they were the neighborhood gang during Cash's life before prison.
Cash snuck out of the van silently, loaded up his weapons, and crept into his backyard. A rotting dog skeleton was near the door; it seemed to have been there for years. Cocoa… his dog. Cash had always missed her in jail. Cash noticed several bullet wounds in the rotting flesh. The Hoods killed his dog... they were going to fucking pay. Cash put away his M16 and took out his sawn-off. This was personal.
He kicked open the door, and blasted a Hood who was cooking something on Cash's stove. His brains painted the wall. Cash sniffed; the dumbass was cooking Crystal Meth.
"WHO THE FUCK IS DOWN THERE? TOMMY, QUIT FUCKING AROUND!" A Hood yelled from upstairs.
"It's time to die, you dumb fuck."
With that being said, Cash grabbed the pan of boiling meth, and waited near the stairs, hidden from view. When a Hood came running down, Cash splashed the liquid in his face. The man immediately fell to the ground, clawing at his burning face. Cash kicked him in the chest, and blew his brains out.
"Oh shit! Let's get the fuck out of here!" Two pussy Hoods yelled. They jumped from the second story balcony into the backyard. Cash burst through the door, and shot the nearest Hood in the back. Down he went. Instead of killing the last Hood, Cash ran as fast as he could towards him. The Hood was a fast runner, and hopped the rusty chain link fence into another backyard. James hopped it just as fast, barely even touching it. His teen years of being chased by CCPD were about to start paying off.
"Come back here, you scumbag piece of shit!" Cash yelled, as he wasn't gaining much on the Hood.
"Leave me alone man! I ain't done nothin' wrong, foo! NOTHIN’!" the Hood replied, hopping a second fence, into a backyard that was closed all around with barbed wire. Finally, living in the ghetto had its upsides. The Hood was trapped.
Cash looked around at his surroundings; derelict house, burned garage, and nooses hanging from a tree. One had a rotting body on it, but one noose was empty. Cash smirked, and aimed his gun at the Hood.
"I'm CCPD. I'm gonna run you in, punk."
"That's it? Oh shit homie, you scared me. I thought y'all was gonna kill me. Well, I'm fucked, so go ahead and cuff me."
Cash grabbed a piece of rope from the ground, and tied up the Hood. The dumbass didn't even question why Cash was using rope, and not handcuffs.
Cash blindfolded the Hood, who confessed his name as Alvin. Cash led him to onto a tree stump, and tied the noose around his neck, and took off the blindfold. The Hood saw the situation, and broke a sweat, and started crying.
"P-P-Please don't k-kill me. I-I'll do anything you w-want."
"Tell me why you were at that house. Why were you using that house as a hideout? WHY?"
"T-That James Earl Cash g-guy... There's a price on his h-h-head. I wanted to b-bring him in."
That's when Alvin noticed the nametag on Cash's jail shirt. “CASH, JAMES” "Hey! You ARE Cash!" the Hood proclaimed.
"Well, I'm glad you can read so well. It's time to die. I'll find the rest of the info on my own."
Cash shoved the Hood, and laughed while the man choked to death.
That's when Cash heard engines. He looked around, and saw more Clown vans racing down the street, stopping right in front of Cash's location. He was in plain view. More cars were coming, Clown vans, SWAT vans, and CCPD cruisers. They all piled out, and started moving towards Cash.
Cash almost shit his pants. He'd never been this outnumbered before, and they were all packing some serious heat.
In all his confusion as he ran into the alley to hide, he dropped his pistol and sawn-off, but his life was more important. He still had his knife.
He got into the alley, hopping the barbed wire, not even caring that he cut himself up. The SWAT were shooting at him, as the Clowns and CCPD piled out of their vans. Several bullets grazed Cash, missing him by mere millimeters. He must have a guardian-fucking- angel. He ran down the alley, missing bullets. He gained some ground, and hopped into a shadowy corner.
He had to resort to stealth and shadows now. Again.
Except this time, it was going to be the hardest fight of his life.
CARCER CITY- BRAYDEN STREET
DECEMBER 3, 2003
10:24 A.M.
If there ever was a time when Cash wanted to just fall asleep and wake up back in prison, safe and sound, it sure as hell was now! But Cash then remembered that McNutly’s was not far away, and he knew that was where the Cerberus had chose as their lair for the time being. If he could just get to the bar, he’d let the CU boys take it from there. It was late morning, and Cash had seen more than his fair share of action.
Cash knew what to do. He ran over to a house that used to belong to his buddy Jordan, who used to be in the Skinz gang. Jordan had moved to Vice City to get into the porno acting business. Anyway, he broke open the door, and ran up to the bathroom and locked the door. He checked his Caller I.D. and redialed the last person who called him, Jesse.
“Yo.”
“Jesse, this is James Earl Cash. Things are NOT going well down here on Brayden! I’m holed up in a house near there and the Man is all over my ass.”
“All right. This is gonna be one fuck of a battle. (Sigh.) BOYS, IT’S TIME TO HAUL ASS! WE GOTTA BIG JOB ON OUR HANDS!”
Cash heard the sound of many Cerberus soldiers cocking and stuffing fresh clips into their guns over the phone.
“Cash, stay on over at the house. We’ve got a special surprise for those motherfuckers!”
Cash stayed in the bathroom, with nothing to do, except maybe play a few games on his cell phone, but who needs games when Cash’s own life was a game? Albeit a sick, twisted one. He was constantly worried about some CCPD asshole busting the door open. Cash just re-assured himself, that wasn’t gonna happen. He waited for a tense measure of time. Five minutes. Ten minutes. Fifteen. But after twenty minutes of the combined forces of the CCPD, SWAT and Clowns on the
hunt for his ass, Cash heard an ominous sound come from outside. Cash ripped open the curtains of the bathroom window, and he was astonished. He saw an AH-64 Apache helicopter gunship fly over the dilapidated neighborhood, the copter painted black with some red trim, and outfitted with advanced sensors and lasers. The Cavalry sure as fuck had arrived, and Cash was overcome with relief. He noticed a convoy of armored cars drive down Brayden Street. Cash got a text from Jesse, and he looked down to see what it said.
see? i told u we’d have a surprise in store 4 ya!
Cash saw in the cockpit of the AH-64 what he thought was Jesse, giving him a thumbs-up. But perhaps it was only his imagination. Cash observed, as the Cerberus piled out of their vans, running as teams to confront the Man personally. Cash quickly whipped out his cell phone, and recorded a short video of the Cerberus putting their years of intensive training to good use on this urban battlefield. As Jesse in the Apache helicopter used the mounted chaingun on a pack of Clowns, a CU squad with sniper rifles on top of the tenement where Cash used to live quickly terminated out a few CCPD officers hanging out by the cruiser enjoying some donuts, them clearly not taking full advantage of the thrill of the hunt. One Cerberus, leading a squad of about seven gave a scissor kick to a SWAT member and then motioned for his CU soldiers to fire at the others in the SWAT team. This massive standoff lasted for about an hour, before Cash started to notice that the CU were all reloading their weapons. The AH-64 Apache flew over the neighborhood, and it was starting to rain. The sky grew grayer by the minute. Cash got a new text from Jesse. It read:
cash, its safe 2 cum down now. get into one of the vans and we’ll get you to mcnutly’s in no time
James Earl Cash felt a mighty good feeling in the pit of his stomach, like after you eat some soup or some sappy shit like that. He kneed the bathroom door open, and jogged downstairs. There was a Cerberus van parked right next to Jordan’s house, which was convenient. He was the envy of all the CU boys, and he was sure as hell going to have a few beers with them when they got to McNutly’s. All of the vans were locked and loaded, and they drove back to home base, or in Jesse’s case, flew. There was lots of preparing to be done, but that wasn’t paramount at the moment. All that really mattered to Cash was his acceptance by his former enemies.
CARCER CITY- McNUTLY'S BAR
DECEMBER 3, 2003.
11:27 A.M.
James and the other CU all walked into McNutly's, laughing and swapping battle stories. Although the CU were pretty damn experienced, nothing lived up to the night that Starkweather forced upon Cash. As Cash and the CU opened a few beers and huddled around the billiards table, he told his entire nightmare of a story. The CU had taken off their uniforms, as Cash was no longer a threat, and stood there, shocked. A few CU who had escorted Cash through a few scenes confirmed what they knew, but couldn't believe the rest.
"How many hunters did you kill, man?"
"I didn't keep count, but it was well over a hundred."
"A hundred casualties in one single night? That's fucking hardcore."
"And the atmosphere didn't help none. I was scared shitless half the time, when those lunatics came out of nowhere. Starkweather can really set up a movie set, the shitbag."
The CUs raised their beers.
"A salute, to unstoppable, one-man-army, Rambo JAMES EARL CASH!"
"YEAH!"
"You go girl!"
Cash smirked. After playing a few rounds of pool, arm wrestling (And owning) CUs, and drinking a few bottles of Jack, he realized his lack of sleep.
"Do I have a room? Or am I sleeping on this fucking pool table?" Cash asked Jesse.
"Yeah James, the motel-double upstairs. Room 7B." He gave Cash the room key.
"I'm tired as fucking balls, so I'mma get some sleep. 'Night fellas."
"'Night."
"Goodnight bro."
"Sweet dreams princess."
As Cash unlocked his door and opened it, his jaw dropped. The room was fucking amazing. The room had gun racks all along one wall (Loaded with M16s, sawn-off shotguns, pistols, sniper rifles, and all sorts of gadgets.) Another wall had posters of naked women for Cash to masturbate to. His bed was huge, with fluffy pillows. Cash loved fluffy pillows. At least, in the life he had before prison, which sucked. “Oh, I sure as hell could get used to this,” Cash thought. He had a dresser, filled with clothes (The CU had all donated some of their clothes, since Cash had nothing). He had a mirror on the wall, and Cash slowly walked up to it. He hadn't taken a good look at himself since jail.
As he looked into the mirror, he noticed new scars, bruises, and all kinds of “break-ins.” His eyes were sunken, his cheeks were hollowed. He looked like a corpse.
Cash would have made a scene, but he was too damn tired. He undressed, and crawled into bed, and fell asleep instantly.
* * *
He woke up in a daze. Due to his lack of sleep recently, he hadn't felt how drunk he had gotten the night before. He hadn't had such a bad hangover since his sister's wedding. His sister. She was dead too. Cash had no time to think about all the shit Starkweather did to him. If Cash hadn't killed him, he wouldn't be able to rest. At least now, he had a chance to start over, with a badass reputation, huge arsenal of weapons, and military-trained CU buddies.
Cash got dressed in the wardrobe that the CU left for him (A jean jacket, a T-shirt that said “I EAT PUSSY LIKE A FAT KID EATS CAKE,” combat boots and camo pants) and went downstairs into the bar. The CU had cleaned up the mess from last night. Man, Cash thought. These neat freaks were turning this run-down, abandoned piece of crap (It was run-down and crappy even back then, too) into a pretty nice safehouse. The place was empty, and a note was on the bar counter.
“James, me and the boys went over to the shooting range. When your sleeping beauty ass wakes up, come down and join us if ya like. There's a car in front, and it's all yours, courtesy of a CCPD dick's checkbook. Well, here's the range; 129th Parkside Street.”
-Jesse Thompson
Cash didn't feel like driving all the way down to Parkside Street. He went out front for a smoke and dropped his cigarette when he saw the car the CU “bought” him. A brand new, 2003 Cadillac. Black on black chrome, tinted windows, bulletproof siding, and 19" rims. This baby was all Cash had looked at in his Carcer Cars magazine in jail. Cash hopped in, and sped toward his former house on Brayden Street, enjoying the polluted breeze from the open windows and sunroof. He spun onto the lawn, nearly missing all the CCPD, SWAT, and Clown vehicles spread all over the street. Cash kicked in his front door, as he always used to. He looked through the house, searching for something of use. “Fuck,” Cash thought. I forgot to bring weapons. Oh well, I'm not going to need them anyway.
Cash walked down the stairs into the cellar (His parents had owned the apartment.)
In the cellar, he found another note on his father's workbench, but the note was old, bloodstained, and dusty. Cash picked it up, and dusted it off. It was written in his father's handwriting, on a sheet of paper torn out from a journal. The date read: January 11th, 2002.
"James, if you're reading this, it means the gangs are officially taking over this building, and making us leave. We have to listen to them, or they'll kill us. I wish you were here, son, so you could protect your family.
I've hidden all our valuables, and a little gift, in the secret panel in the floorboards in my room.
I'm sorry I couldn't visit you in jail to say goodbye, but remember James, I'll always love you, you were my favorite son, and I hope you live to read this."
-Michael Raymond Cash. Your dad.
Cash almost wept upon reading this. His father was the only family member that he cared about, besides his brother. His brother, Billy, was the only family member he was able to save from the Wardogs. Cash wondered if he would ever see Billy again.
Cash wiped away a tear and ran upstairs into his father's room. The bed was upturned and bloodstained, and the rest of his father's priceless furniture was missing. Cash got on his knees, and opened his father's secret panel. The family diary was there, which was full of photos and clippings of his family. James looked through it. The same photos. He skipped to the end, which had new items in it. Newspaper clippings, titled;
“James Earl Cash Sentenced To Death Row”
“Man Murders Mentally-Ill Friend; Sentenced To Death Row”
“Former Convict Cash Goes On Trial”
“Convict James Earl Cash Executed Last Night”
Several teardrops stained the yellowed newspaper clippings. Had his family wept while reading these articles? Cash looked into the hole and pulled out the last item; a metal box.
He opened the box and took out packs of money, possibly his family's life savings. The other thing was his father's silver revolver. His most prized possession, which he had gotten from his father (Cash's grandfather). James shed another tear upon seeing this. As a child, his father always told him "Jamie, when you grow up, this family heirloom will be yours." Cash had always wanted it, and it was now his.
Cash packed up the stuff, and went back into the cellar to collect the note, and search some more. He wanted everything he could.
As he arrived in the cellar, the front door banged open, and a few gunshots went off somewhere upstairs. Cash grabbed the only item he could find; a rusty screwdriver- and dove into some shadows under the stairs.
"Are you here, you inbred fuckface? The Hoods came back for ya! This time, you're fucked man!"
These fucking Hoods won't give up! Didn't they know they were the least-respected gang in all of Carcer? Cash checked the revolver, and nope, it was empty. No ammo. Cash searched his pockets; nothing. He had left his ammo and phone in his other pants, back in his room. Well, at least he had a screwdriver. A Hood ran downstairs, packing a sawn-off.
Cash made a mental decision; use total stealth for this escape.
CARCER CITY- 7654 BRAYDEN STREET
DECEMBER 4, 2003
8:13 A.M.
It felt very awkward for Cash to be hunted down in the very apartment where he used to live. The Hoods gave up looking for Cash and went upstairs. He proceeded upstairs to a closet near the bathroom, where the towels were stocked. He heard the shower running, and there was a Hood inside pleasuring himself. Cash was reminded of an “Herbal Essences,” commercial Cash once saw on TV when he was a kid. Still haunted him today. After a few minutes of enjoying his sexual fantasy, the Hood climbed out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. Cash came out from his hiding spot and went into the bathroom and grabbed the Hood, who was now combing his hair. Cash strangled the miscreant, and then jimmied the screwdriver into his chest. He then ripped it out and slammed the dumb fuck into the wall headfirst. Cash then used his trademark kick on the guy to make sure he was dead. He was.
Surprisingly, this didn’t get the attention of the other Hoods. He opened up his medicine cabinet and found many interesting things in there. A couple porno pictures, (which Cash stuffed into his pockets for later) a few revolver rounds and a bottle of painkillers. He took a swallowed a few pills, and stuck them into his pocket along with the porno. Cash stuffed the rounds into his grampa’s revolver and went into the living room. He stuck to the shadows, because there were two Hoods in the room. He went into the cover of his overturned couch. He aimed for one of the Hoods’ heads. The dude was wearing a leather jacket and a bandana on his head. Cash was so pissed off at this dude. The Hood was reciting Cash’s favorite nursery rhyme as a kid, and putting a retarded spin on it.
“Johnny and Mary, sitting in a tree. F-U-C-K-I-N-G. First comes Mary, then comes Johnny, and then Johnny capped Mary in the fuckin’ head! Just like what I’M gonna do to you, CASH! Y’here me, motherfucker? C’mon out, I’m waiting for ya!”
Cash shot the man in the head, splattering his brains across the dilapidated living room before he could finish his rant. The other Hood ran over to kick Cash’s ass. James Earl Cash vaulted the couch faster that you could say “fuck,” and he grabbed the faggot and headbutted him then threw him to the floor. The guy tried to rise up again, but Cash pointed the gun at his head and pulled the trigger. “Let God sort ‘em out,” Cash thought to himself. He put his hands in his pants and scratched his balls for a few seconds, then tried to escape this damned apartment. He kicked open the door, but noticed a rather hilarious sight: A man in a chicken suit, armed with a 12-Gauge, and a sign over his crotch that said, “THE DELI IS OPEN FOR BUSINESS.” He must have been a leader of some kind, or maybe the Hoods’ new mascot. Cash forced out a chuckle, but then the thought crossed his mind that this shithead was armed and dangerous. Who knows what this Chicken Shit was on?
CARCER CITY- 7654 BRAYDEN STREET
DECEMBER 4, 2003
9: 02 A.M.
Cash slammed the door, locked it, and ran back into the apartment. He ran upstairs, three steps at a time. He ran into his mother's room (His parents hated each other, so they slept separately.) Upon entering the room, he almost puked. Dead bodies were piled in the far corner, and the smell was unbearable. He grabbed a tissue from his pocket, tore it in half, and shoved the pieces up his nose. This helped block out the smell a lot, but the tissues were dusty as hell. Cash felt like he was going to sneeze, but he held it in. Suddenly, he heard a shotgun blast, and a door bursting off the hinges. Chicken Man had gotten into the apartment. Cash panicked, looked around for a place to hide. No shadows in this room, and he wasn't going to hide in a pile of rotting corpses. Cash dove under the bed, kicked a rotting skeleton from underneath, and punched the ground to lure the crazy chicken fuck. About thirty seconds later, he heard high-pitched clucking, in a whispered tone.
"Buck...buck...buckbuckbuck... bawwk."
Cash couldn't help but smile. This retard reminded him of Piggsy, although Piggsy was way scarier. As Cash reached for the revolver in his back pocket, he nearly sighed out loud. He'd used his last round on the Hood. Cash nonchalantly pulled out the rusty screwdriver instead. Coming from under the bed would take a few seconds, so Cash waited for a good chance, which came almost immediately. The Chicken Man walked over the pile of bodies, and, sniffed it.
"Buck... buckbuck...SMELLS LIKE CHICKEN!" BUCKBUCKBUCKBUCK!" The retard screamed. Cash got startled by the sudden outburst, and nearly slammed his head against the underside of the bed frame. Cash realized the Chicken had his back turned to him, so he crawled army-style from the bed, and walked slowly towards the Chicken. As Cash lunged for the Chicken's extended neck, the dust came back. He sneezed. "ACHOO!" The Chicken turned around, and Cash stupidly stabbed the Chicken near the shoulder, and, leaving the screwdriver inside him, ran out of the room, dodging several 12-Gauge rounds as he did so.
He turned down the hallway, and ran into his sister's room. He dove into a shadowy corner beside her dresser. A few pairs of dirty panties lay at his feet. His sister was such a whore. She used to bring home different guys every night. Cash looked for a weapon, since his screwdriver was left behind. Her dresser was burned badly, and a piece of sharp-looking wood jutted from the side. He tore it off, which made a loud snapping noise. The piece of wood was about two feet long. The Chicken must have heard the noise, because he came into the room, eating a chicken leg, and holding the 12-Gauge with one hand, err, wing. Where the fuck did he get a chicken leg from? Cash got a better look, and almost puked for the second time today. It wasn't a chicken leg, it was a human foot. He must have torn it from the pile of rotting bodies. This guy was fucking sick! Cash looked away. Seeing a guy dressed as a chicken eating a human foot was too much. The Chicken looked around while standing in the doorway.
"Buckbuckbuck... I'm not falling for that again! Buck buck!" The screwdriver was still jammed in his upper chest, and blood was leaking out, fast. Cash had really got him good. The Chicken turned around and walked down the hallway, talking to himself.
"Gonna kill my man… gonna make some chicken. I love chicken. But my shoes, my precious shoes, are boiled clean. Why would Jay Leno do such a thing to poor Chicken?" Cash was smirking. This guy was really nuts!
Cash walked out into the hallway, and snuck behind The Chicken. He hit him in the back of the head with the piece of wood, and shoved The Chicken on the ground. Before The Chicken could get up, Cash hit him again in the back, which broke the piece of wood. Cash kicked The Chicken twice before running past him into the upstairs bathroom.
The Chicken man limped into the bathroom, past Cash's hiding spot, and punched the mirror, smashing it, revealing the secret drug-safe that Cash and Billy dug out as teens to hide their meth and weed. The Chicken didn't care about the safe, and walked back to the doorway, turning his back to Cash.
"Buckbuck, I'm standing here until you come fight me. Buckbuckbuck."
Cash snuck out of his hiding spot, careful not to attract the attention of The Chicken in this cramped space. He took the only syringe from the safe, and jammed the syringe into The Chicken's neck. The Chicken ran away, screaming "BUCKBUCK! LEAVE MY CHICKEN AND ME ALONE! BUCKBUCKBUCKBUCK!”
The Chicken ran up the fire escape to the roof. Cash chased after him. The Chicken was on the roof now and foolishly dropped his 12-Gauge, which Cash picked up and cocked. The Chicken pulled the syringe and screwdriver from him, and stupidly threw them at Cash. Cash dodged the syringe and caught the screwdriver, which he pocketed. That screwdriver was lucky, and probably had belonged to his father. The Chicken held up his hands, backing up.
"Buckbuckbuck, don't kill me! Don't choke your chicken!"
Cash laughed at the ironic pun the retard unknowingly made. Cash was totally choking his chicken later anyway. Cash smiled, and blasted The Chicken with the 12-Gauge, which blew a hole in his stomach, and launched him to the edge of the roof. The Chicken stumbled, and fell off the roof. Cash walked to the edge, and peered over. The Chicken Man had already stained the pavement. Cash slid the shotgun onto his back, climbed down the ladder, and hopped onto the ground. He walked around the tenement to inspect the body. Cash got to the body, got on his knee, and unmasked the idiot.
It was Billy. His brother.
Edited by General Wesley, 30 May 2009 - 13:29.
----The legendary Vincent has returned.---- 
