For Ace77799999

/ By linkthehero [+Watch]

Replies: 2 / 5 years 360 days 14 hours 44 minutes 49 seconds



In the not too distant future, New York City, New York.
With the absence of a government, most of the large cities had turned into hives for gangs and violence. New York now probably had the highest crime rate, but who was counting?

One of the first gangs to form got their name from the civilians who feared them. They were known as the Takers, since they grew so large and abundantly that no one was sure who their enemies were anymore. Your own neighbor could have been one. And as a result of the growing population within the gang, they would take houses, even if there were people living in it at the time. They would raid everything, stealing anything they might need. The Takers had always been led by Jason Ellis, a 33 year old. He formed the gang, and so therefore became its king of sorts. He was respected by the men he led and hated by the other gangs.

But no gang hated the Takers more than the Blades, who got their own name due to their preference to knives over guns. But the Takers knew all too well that they used guns just as often. Shootings broke out frequently between the two gangs. It was like an ongoing war in New York City. And as in any war, the are prisoners of war.

But Jason knew little of what he was getting himself in for when he took the leader of the Blade's younger brother hostage. He was ________, a slightly younger man, looking to be around mid-twenties, and he didn't want anything to do with the gangs. But the circumstances were just right that he grew up into the Blades. And you could never really quit a gang. If you did, death wasn't too far behind.

The kidnapping went smoothly, but ________ proved to be more trouble than he was worth. And even though it was Jason's aim to provoke the Blades, their constant battling was wearing both sides out. But Jason was a stubborn man. He wasn't going to give his hostage up easily.

And there was something about the man... Secretly, Jason didn't want him to go.

New plot
+ Oscar and Jason were in a relationship, before the rise of the two major gangs. Dated for just over two years, so it was pretty serious.
+ Neither of them really liked the violence and didn't plan on joining any gangs.
+ Jason accidentally makes himself an enemy of a group and as a result, he's attacked and in turn, loses his memory.
+ And at this time, the streets were getting worse and worse and Oscar's brother/ family/ etc. forbade him from going out alone. So he never got to explain anything to Jason.
+ Then, as the years passed, Jason renamed himself and started his own gang, mostly out of anger and confusion for what happened.
+ Then, it all goes like above. He kidnaps Oscar, but he doesn't realize who it is. It's really tense because Oscar knows who he is obviously.

+ And later, when they actually get closer and whatnot, Oscar could accidentally call him by his true name. Which obviously causes Jason more confusion and it takes him a while to get any answers out of him.

+Another excuse for Oscar to not blurt everything out is because Jason had changed so much. He used to be like Oscar, not wanting to fight, wanting to stay out of gangs and all. And then there he is, running the worst gang out there. I can imagine that he'd almost be afraid to tell the tale, simply because he probably wouldn't accept it, or he'd only get hurt if Jason thought he was lying and trying to confuse him further or something.

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Oscar woke with a start. The first feeling to reach his brain, followed closely by the fuzzy feeling of his arm falling asleep under him, was of being watched. Shifting from his slopped over position on the edge of his queen size bed, he noticed the man sitting in his doorway. A skinny, early-twenty-something kid was smoking a cigarette with his pistol left haphazardly in his lap while he watched Oscar return to consciousness. Less of a guard, more of a snitch, the young gang member was no doubt told to remain there most of the night, obvious signs being the bags under his eyes.

"I thought my brother told you guys not to smoke in here?"

Oscar spoke with his back to the doorway, as he stood to pull his pants on over his boxers. He glanced back far enough to see the guy put the almost-out cigarette into the carpet while shooting a dirty look. The singed carpet, mixed with the smoke already in the air, made Oscar wrinkle his nose his disgust. Although the smell wasn't likely to stick to the room very long, he knew it would cling to his nostrils for the rest of the day. This was one of the main reasons he pushed Jason to quit, disliking how it started to rub off on him too. The smell also reminded him too much of his brother, Devon. The head of the Takers gang, and the reason he hadn't had a moment alone to do anything other than take a shit, always kept a pack of cigarettes in his jacket pocket, though he did refrain from ever smoking inside. Oscar smiled to himself at the memory of Jason making the promise. Going so over the top as putting out the boy scout hand sign as he said it, Oscar had pushed him after rolling his eyes.

The promise had been kept, up to the last time they had been together. Oscar had moved to the downstairs kitchen, though his mind had continued to think about Jason, as he rummaged through the fridge. It was fairly early in the day and although most people with a job or school or responsibilities would have something to do on a Thursday, he unfortunately had none. After his older brother started making a name for himself and things escalated to the point they are now, Oscar was forced to quit his job and essentially become a prisoner in his own home. Civil services had all but disappeared, shops either belonged to one gang or another, and everyone had been negatively effected by the Takers over one thing or another. Devon didn't let Oscar travel alone, on foot or through any neighborhood where a rival gang was starting up. The area of availability seem to get smaller and smaller with every passing year.

Oscar's attempts to get a hold of Jason would have persisted for far longer than the month or so he tried, if it weren't for the information Devon had shared. The brunette wouldn't accept the idea that Jason had got himself mixed up with one of the rival gangs that had started up. They had both forgone the idea of getting into a gang, even discussing the idea of leaving New York.

“Yeah, and we could get married in Vegas, move into a house with a white picketed fence and pop out a few kids."

...gulp

A now half-empty, beer bottle is slammed onto the counter beside a mostly eaten sandwich. Alcohol, the copping mechanism for a wide range of issues, and as stereotypical as it was,Oscar found it a comforting relief, without resorting to the wide array of drugs he had easy access to, being the brother of a gangster. At first it was to deal with the loss, though it slowly turned into the best way to pass the time, but quickly becoming something of a habit. It was a dying habit over the more recent months, as the reality of his situation was starting to become steadily more impending.

A song list was scrolled through on an ipod, as the brunette boringly try to decide on a song to drown out the noise. The family room of his large two story home had become bustling with a half dozen men over the course of the morning, having their own conversations about recent activity within the gang. Devon was among them, giving an affectionate tap to the side of Oscar's head as he moved from one side of the room to the other in order to join another conversation.

A loud bang made Oscar look up from his ipod, but it wasn't until the following shots range by that he realized what was going on, and by then everyone in the room was scrambling for the door. Devon told him to duck behind the couch before following his men onto the porch, towards the barrage of bullets. The initial rounds were met with more in return and Oscar could hear the distinct sounds of wood splinting, as well as various men groaning out in pain.

Not sure how he could tell them apart, or even knowing what it meant, Oscar scrambled out from behind the couch and through the door. Movement was obvious across the street, along with the shuffling about of the men on the porch, where both side's casualties were attempting to asses themselves. Ignoring the shouting through clenched teeth, Oscar took a look at Devon's leg, obvious to the fact that he could still be shot, even though everything seem to almost instantly stop. The blood was fresh, but wasn't draining very quickly, so it didn't appear life-threatening.

Looking around to see what he could use to help his brother, the movement across the street caught the brunette's eye. A man stood in the middle of the opposing side, standing far more exposed than any of the rest, it seemed as if he was begging to get shot. The blue eyes, defined jaw line and solid form brought an almost shocking sensation to Oscar's temples.

"Jason... Is that Jason...?"

Thoughts racing back and forth from uncertainty, his body moved of it's own will, heading straight towards the single point in front of him, even amongst the restart of gunfire and shouting. He almost cracked a smile as the blonde moved towards him, causing a wave of confirmation to hit him, but that quickly subsided as a gun came into point blank range of his vision. The sound of his brother shouting followed by the man in front of him also speaking came as intelligible until he was forcefully grabbed and pushed into a vehicle. Having landed awkwardly in the seat, he was forced upright as others loaded into it, the Jason-could-be sitting right beside him as the car screeched around the corner and a kerchief was forced over his mouth.

Oscar was still in a daze, staring at the figure beside him, but the trip was too short for him to recover control over his body, as he was yet again forced to move. Being plopped down onto a rather uncomfortable couch and un-gagged, he barely heard the spuele mostly taking cue from the look he was getting from the blonde, clearly waiting for an answer.

"Ja-... Um... Oscar, Oscar Riley."

He'd almost blurted out Jason's name, looking for the confirmation he desired the moment he'd laid eyes on the other, but nothing beyond appearance could make this person Jason. The attitude, behavior and even the heat behind those strikingly memorable eyes were not the Jason that Oscar had missed over the years. He tried to start rationalizing to himself that maybe he was just subconsciously looking for Jason in this stranger's face, but his feelings were far more overwhelming.

"Look, you're making a mistake. I'm not involved..."
  Oscar Riley / Ace77799999 / 3y 285d 21h 38m 46s
“I don’t know. Sometimes I just think about running away. Like this place is unhealthy.

I’d bring you, of course.”


Jason Ellis was a direct victim of the violence in New York City. A victim in such ways that prevented him from living life like any other 28 year old. He didn’t know his true name. He didn’t know when his birthday was. And he could really only remember bits and pieces of his childhood. Scenes that never quite played out with hazy edges like an old VCR, playing over and over. And there was one memory that he felt was more recent. Something important. It was the most clear of his memories, yet the most frustrating, because it always stops short. A second too short. The wind was blowing, leaves were falling, and the crazy hair on the back of someone’s head danced with the breeze. The man started to turn his head to look back at Jason, but for the life of him, he can’t remember the person’s face. And this haunted Jason ever since he woke up that fateful day.

Oh, that fateful day. Jason vowed to never look back. He swore that he’d just keep looking forward. He’d live like he had never had a life before. There was a time when he wanted to figure it all out, but it was completely hopeless. And now, with his gang, he felt like he didn’t need anything else.

Some would argue that his amnesia caused his hardheadedness, his ability to live in the now, as well as his anger issues. But his boys took him as he came. Jason was probably one of the best leaders out there due to his almost-insanity. He was daft. He took risks. And he got things done. The members of The Takers all felt lucky to have him. Because not only did he start their gang, he had their backs in battle too. He didn’t just sit at base, drinking or taking pleasure in women while everyone else was out getting shot at. This comforted them, but also worried them. If he stepped out into open fire, the nearest ones would follow, no matter the cost, and yell, “Protect Ellis!” as if he was their king. And in a sense, he was. And though some of the men called him crazy, they still backed him up. Like the day he kidnapped his worst enemy’s brother.



“Hey. Kev,” Jason was saying, nudging a man on the ground with his steel toed boot. “Kevin!” There was no reply. “God, dammit, Kev, get your ass up!” He kicked Kevin’s back and he woke with a start looking about the room that was littered with trash and hung-over bodies.
“Wha-! What?” Kevin turned to see Jason looming over him.
“Are you my right-hand man or not? Put together a team- a sober team- and meet me upstairs. We’ve got work to do.”
With that said, he left the spiky-haired Kevin and pounded his way upstairs, making as much noise as he could to punish those of his gang who felt it was alright to party hard all night.

The Taker’s base was in an old abandoned house on the corner of a street that no one really knew the name of. The basement was where the celebrations happened, the first floor was where the meetings too place, and the upstairs held the rooms that Jason and Kevin rested their heads in at night. The wallpaper was tearing, the couches were falling apart and the floor was creaky as hell. But it was home.

Once upstairs, he lit up a cigarette, unaware that he had once promised a very important person that he would never smoke again after he broke the habit the first time. A moment later, a large group of men came waltzing upstairs. Jason looked each of them over individually to make sure they weren’t hung-over.
“What’s the plan, boss?” Kevin asked.
“No plan,” he replied. “We’re just going to go shoot their windows out.”
“Boss, we don’t even know where they li-“
“Oh, yes we do,” Jason said. “It’s a wonder what can happen when you’re taking a casual stroll through the neighborhood.”
“We’re not really going to do this, are we? It’s insane! Right on their front porch?”
“No,” Jason replied casually. “Just across the street. Maybe to the sides of the place.”
“Boss, I can’t belie-“
Jason gave him a threatening look and Kevin knew not to protest one more time.

The group set out, guns and all, and Jason led them down the street. What an odd group of men they would appear to be if no one knew who they were. But everyone around quickly retreated indoors if they saw the men coming. Everyone knew the Takers, and they didn’t want to become the next victims.

Jason seemed to know exactly where he was going. It was about a fifteen minute walk before they arrived at their destination. There were a few abandoned cars in the street that they took cover behind.
“What’s the purpose of this?” Kevin asked.
Jason just shrugged. “To piss them off?”
Kevin rolled his eyes, but there was no way he wouldn’t play along.
Jason tried to see into the house, but the curtains were drawn.
“Radio Skipper,” Jason informed. “Get him to drive over here with the SUV. But tell him to park a street away. We’ll need a quick escape.”
Kevin did as he was asked, and Skipper, whose real name was simply John, responded that he understood. And as soon as Jason heard that, he pulled out his weapon and started to rain hell on the house across the street. His men followed suit, and the windows broke, the shingles fell and the siding split. The Blades must have had a decent plan in case this ever happened, because it wasn’t long before guys were shooting back out of the broken windows and flooding out of the door, taking cover on the front porch.
And there he was. Their leader. The thorn in Jason’s side. The bulky man about his age was shooting blindly from the front porch, calling orders to his men. All Jason needed was one good shot.
One…
Men on the porch were falling left and right.
Good…
Several of Jason’s own guys fell.
Shot…
Jason aimed, and everything seemed to slow.
Bang.
His target fell to the ground with a pained shout, gripping his thigh.
“Dammit!” Jason shouted. He managed to hit the man in the leg, but that wasn’t enough for him. He realized then that every man who was on the porch had been either killed or wounded, so he aimed again. But someone else stepped into vision, kneeling over the man’s body with a worried expression. From this angle, all Jason could see was the back of his head. The man obviously had no idea about warfare. Jason could drop him any second. But something stopped him. The hair that made up the stranger’s mohawk seemed familiar, blowing in the breeze. His started to turn his head, and for some reason, Jason almost lowered his gun.
“Boss, what do we do?” someone called.
Jason could hardly respond when the man turned all the way around, his eyes wide. He was even stupid enough to step off of the porch, looking in awe at Jason. He seemed to ignore the shouts from his own men, calling him back to safety.
“Put your aim on him!” he shouted. “And cover me!”
And taking advantage of the break in fire, Jason sprinted straight for the awestruck stranger. He heard the gunshots following his every move, whizzing past his body. The adrenaline kept him up to speed, and before he knew it, all fire had ceased and he had his pistol pressed to the man’s temple, turning to face the house.
“No one shoot!” the wounded man, Jason’s worst enemy, shouted from the porch.
“Kevin, signal Skipper!” Jason called, backing up across the street, the younger man in tow, still with the gun to his head.
Kevin was so completely blown over by what just happened- Jason had never gone so far as to take hostages- that he hardly heard the command. But when it finally registered, he fumbled over the buttons. And the next minute, a black SUV came swerving around the corner, stopping in the middle of the street with a screech. Now under cover of the vehicle, Jason tossed open the door and threw his hostage inside. Kevin entered next and then the rest of the group of guys poured in or hung onto the sides of the vehicle as it sped off.

Kevin was seeming to have a mental breakdown as Jason took a handkerchief from one of the boy’s heads and used it as a gag on the stranger.
“I can’t believe you did this, Jason! This is too far!”
“You don’t remember when they took James? It’s not too far at all! Besides, I know that they, like we do, have more hideouts. We can figure out where they are this way.”
“Did you know this was going to happen?” Kevin asked, almost crying and bouncing up and down.
“No! I had no idea he was just going waltz out into the street, Kev! Now shut up and take your pills!”

The drive was short, especially with Skipper driving. And once they were at home base, Jason pulled his hostage from the car, ushered him inside, and plopped him on the moth eaten couch. He tore the kerchief from his mouth and said, “Don’t even try moving. You’ll be down in a second, and I’ll bind your hands if I have to. Now, let’s start with the basics. What’s your name?”
  Jason Ellis / linkthehero / 5y 351d 12h 4m 25s
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