NAME: Leroy Franklyn
DATE OF BIRTH: Friday the 13th
PLACE OF BIRTH: Brooklyn NY.
CURRENT RESIDENCE: Unknown
OCCUPATION: Released from juvey, school drop-out.
RESPECTS: Not even himself.
FAVORITE FOOD: Burgers.
FAVORITE DRINK: Beer and water.
EYE COLOR: Brown
HAIR COLOR: Black
PHYSICAL SCARS: Cigarette burns on arms.
PERSONALITY: Find out.
This story's from a character I had about 1½ year ago, so the story might be a bit outdated from my current roleplaying/story telling mentality, and sense of realism, which has improved over the past 1½ year. I've changed it to fit this character as it will be pre-developed as I don't have as much time as I used to to neither write a new story, or develop a character from the roots. I felt I needed a background story, as I'd like my character to origin from the east coast as that's what I can relate to the most.
Why the fuck you always so absent..?
I guess I'm just tired of living in the projects.. That's all...
Leroy was born on October the thirteenth, 1996. Fulton street, Fulton Street Public Houses, Bedford Stuyvesant, Brooklyn, New York. The largest public housing development in North America. High murder rates, poverty, extortions and drug dealing.
Not only did Leroy see all of this out of building, but inside his own home aswell. His father, Jacob, was a drug dealer. And his mother, a dope fiend. They were decent parents though, and Leroy had a good childhood. His mother were able to stay at home, while his father, Jacob, made enough money to supply Heroin, crack and food.
His father often had guests till late night, and Leroy, being a little kid not yet to go to school, had no certain bedtime. He'd be told to stay in his room, but often peak out of his door, seeing his mother shoot syringes into her arm, and his father playing cards with his friends.
Sometimes, his father would win, and there'd be peace for the rest of the night, Leroy's form of peace. His mother smoking cigarettes, watching television with his father.
But, sometimes his father would lose. He'd appear to be taking it as a man, smiling widely while showing his guests out of the door, but once that door was shut closed, Leroy's mother would be the victim.
Chairs would be thrown around, glasses broken, clothes torn apart. And if Leroy was still up at this time, he'd get beaten aswell. Sometimes for minutes, sometimes for half an hour. That's just how it was in Leroy's apartment.
As Leroy grew older he'd start going out of the building alone, just not further than his stoop. He had turned five years old, and it was just a year before school was starting. Leroy didn't go to kindergarden, he just didn't want to go, and with his mother being able to stay home, it was not a problem.
He'd sit on his stoop everyday, watching his father work. Leroy didn't know what his father was doing. As far as Leroy knew, his father just had a lot of friends, because he gave a lot of people handshakes. People would even pay his father to shake their hand. He thought to himself, that his father must have had golden hands.
Most of his fathers friends had messy clothes though, and unwashed hair, but some were properly dressed. Neat leather jackets, berets. One male exited the project door behind him, Leroy recognized him as a guy living two floors below him. He was dressed in a decent attire, and rubbed Leroy's hair for a second, saying "What up little man?" before approaching his father.
But every night, before Leroy's father went home for dinner, the same man would come. Huge, black male with a suit, and a tie, along with a nicely looking hat. He'd always smile at Leroy, showing his white teeth, while talking to his father. Leroy would watch his movement closely, as he'd walk away. Leroy's father approached his stoop, on the way into the projects.
"Come inside soon, your mother is preparing dinner." he'd say, continuing into the projects, untill Leroy interupted him;
His father turned around, eyeing Leroy with a questionable look.
"Why's he walking with a cane, when he doesn't have any problems walking?"
His father laughed a bit, shaking his head.
"C'mon, let's head inside." he said, as he slapped Leroy over the back of his head in a friendly manner.
You could wonder why Leroy never got lost inside the projects, because the hallways through the whole six story building looked the same. Leroy lived on the fifth floor, with a good view, but at night he'd usually run up the stairs to roof, just for a better view over New York.
He walked into the apartment, and straight into the kitchen where his mother was cooking his favorite, fried chicken. His father sat down at the kitchen table, as he started counting a fat wad of bills. Leroy himself, walked into his room, looking out of the window.
He didn't have no television, no music. Long story short, he had a bed. Peering out of his window, he'd see all the people down on the street, and as darkness was falling upon the projects, Leroy knew not to stare out of the window, but he did anyways.
Three males caught his attention. They were standing in a triangle, smoking, drinking, and Leroy could hear them laugh through his window. Another male was riding around on his BMX, stopping at the different crowds around the projects, talking to them for a few minutes before riding on to the next crowd, doing the same.
Suddenly, he heard a screetching sound, kind of like when the rubber shoes slides against the floor in basketball, he saw a male running out of the door to the projects he was living in, with two males with their hoods up chasing him. First he thought it was a lightening, but he soon realised the two males were filling the young male with bullets.
Everyone in the projects scattered, running around the corner, into their project building, the two men aimed at the young male, firing a final round into his head, before pocketing their hands into their jackets, walking off slowly. What Leroy didn't know, was that it was his neighbor from two floors below, who had rubbed his hair earlier that day. He was soon to find out though.
With a shocked facial expression, he entered the kitchen, where his mother and father were seated at the table, eyeing him with a stone faced look, before nodding a few times, knowing that Leroy had seen the shooting they had just heard. They sat in silence, eating their dinner, only talking when they wanted something send across the table. After the dinner, the usual guests came by, playing cards, and Leroy was send into his room, peaking out the door as usual.
Their conversation was more interesting than usual tonight.
The sound of cards being dealt across the table was heard, as Leroys father were looking at his opponents with a cocky look, while dealing the cards.
"I'm winning this game tonight." he said with a smirk on his lips, before grinning, showing his white teeth.
"Don't forget who won yesterday, Jacob!" a male said, smiling widely, quickly lowering the smile as Jacob eyed him with a darting look.
The male coughed, changing the subject quickly.
"You heard who got shot right outside tonight?"
"All I heard was the shots."
"Washington from downstairs, third floor."
"What for, and who?"
The male leaned himself over the table, as he slowly whispered;
Jimmy W, was the suited man with the cane that Jacob was working for. Appearently, the young male from two floors before him had kept fifty dollars more of the profits than he was supposed to. Appearently it wasn't the money, but the principle. The card game ended, and Leroy quickly hopped into bed, knowing his father hadn't won tonight either.
First day of school
It was the start of the school year, and Leroy had turned six years old. He had never went away from the projects alone before, but his father assured him that the school bus would take him straight to school, and the door to his class room wouldn't be very far away. His father was right, but Leroy were a shy kid. He spend the whole bus ride at the third row, staring out of the window. He spend his time examining people, crowds rapping, drinking liqour, people being mugged.
The school bus arrived, and Leroy walked through the hallways with the other kids, being led into their class rooms by different teachers, sorted into groups by age. He was sat in the backrow, and his surname was on a piece of paper, taped to the table "Franklyn". He looked to the right, a window. Looked to the left. "Gibbs". However, the table was empty. Leroy didn't mind, he prefered being alone.
The teacher started talking, presenting the schedule of the day, when three knocks was heard on the door. The teacher unlocked the door, sticking her head out, peering around, before closing the door again. Three knocks were heard again, as she once again, opened the door while shaking her head.
"Down here yo." a squeeky voice said, making her look down.
"Are you in this class?" she said.
"Na' not yet, but if you'd stop blockin' da' door, maybe I'd be able to enter!"
The whole class started laughing, untill the teacher snapped her fingers.
"Very funny mister. What's your name?"
"Tommy." he replied, with a cocky grin.
"Tommy what?" she said.
"Jus' Tommy." he said, shrugging his shoulders.
She started looking across the notepad in her hand, before looking back down at the child.
"Alright mister Gibbs, go find your seat."
Tommy cluelessly walked around the class, looking for the seat, before finally spotting it, dropping himself into the chair, as the teacher continued talking.
Leroy examined Tommy for a second, catching his gaze before quickly looking out the window.
"What you looking at? The grass?" Tommy said, eyeing him with a cocky grin.
"You got a smart ass mouth" Leroy replied.
Tommy and Leroy eyed eachother for a couple of seconds, because bursting into laughter, interupting the teachers speech.
"What's going on down there?! Anything you wish to share with the rest of the class?!"
Tommy stood up on his chair.
"I could do that. We were simply talking about how funny I am. I'm a comedian!"
The class laughed again, as the teacher ripped out a page of her notepad. The sound made the whole class go quiet again. She grabbed the pen from her shirt, as she started writing on the page, before walking down to Tommy's chair, placing the sheet of paper at the table infront of him.
"Bring this to your parents." she said. Tommy replied "I don't think my pops wants your phone number, he taken."
the whole class bursted into laughter, as the teacher widdened her eyes, grinding her teeth togheter, before taking a deep breath, walking back up to the blackboard.
"Damn she's tight as hell!" Leroy said.
"It ain't no thang. I live with my grandparents, and they ain't give a shit."
The day had started at 10:30 AM, so the recess was at lunch time. Leroy and Tommy stood up in the line. Tommy eyed the food, holding his nose while sticking his tongue out.
"Man what's this.." he said.
Leroy shrugged his shoulder, creating an awkward facial expression as the meatsauce was spilled into his bowl.
"What's this?" Leroy said.
"Meat sauce." the fat lady replied, with an annoyed stone cold facial expression, motioning Leroy to go on. He picked up some bread, placing it in the soup, before picking up a spoon, heading down to one of the tables with Tommy. They eat their food, and that's when school ended. Tommy and Leroy grew to be best friends over the years, causing daily havoc in school.
Eight years later
It was Leroy's fourteenth birthday, and he couldn't wait to go to school and hang with Tommy. He ran down to the schoolbus after showering and eating breakfast, when he saw a rusty old Tampa parked on the sidewalk. He had been in such a hurry, that he had forgotten to remove the Q-tip from his ear while cleaning his ears. Tommy was seated in the front seat. Leroy rushed towards the vehicle, hopping inside.
"Damn, where'd you get this ugly piece of shit at?!"
"Shit nigga', check it." Tommy said, as he pointed down to the screwdriver stuck in the ignition.
"Stole it from a scrapyard son, ain't no plates, no registration, no owner, shit nigga' this mine now."
"Damn nigga', and it runs?!"
"Yeah." Tommy replied, before giving Leroy an awkward look, then grinning, saying;
"That uh... Thas' a fly look for you.."
Leroy adjusted his usual jacket, cocking an eyebrow, eyeing Tommy.
"I always wear this jacket."
"Yeah, whatever Q-Tip..."
"Q-Ti-.." Leroy said, before feeling his ear, noticing that he had a Q-tip stuck in it.
"Yo, let it sit there! It's fly!" Tommy yelled.
Leroy shook his head, grinning as he tossed the Q-tip out of the window.
"Well fine nigga', I'll just call you Q-Tip till the day you die then." Tommy said, before twisting the screwdriver, stepping on the gas pedal.
Tommy parked inside an alleyway, hopping out.
"Holdon I gotta take a piss, b-day boy. Actually, grab the wheel, you driving."
Leroy hopped over on the drivers seat, waiting for Tommy. Tommy hopped in, pulling the gear in reverse, as he planted both hands on Leroy's lap, applying pressure causing him to step on the speeder, as he shouted; Let's go then nigga'!
Leroy made a u-turn, before driving down the road slowly, before pulling in at the school, parking the vehicle, before exiting. Tommy shouted after him;
"A'yo, remember your keys nigga'!" as he threw the screwdriver towards Leroy. "This your ride now, happy birthday nigga'."
Leroy grinned widely, sliding the screwdriver into his school bag, slamming the door shut. They took slow steps towards the class door, as Tommy eyed Leroy.
"You know, it's friday. We oughta' go hit The Spot tonight. It's a open mic night."
"Yeah, that oughta' be fun to watch."
Tommy started shouting; "AND NOW WE GOT BIG PROPS FOR OUR NEXT RAPPER, Q-TIIIIIP!"
"Oh hell no! I ain't."
"You are nigga', I done seen you writing in that book of yours."
"It's just rhymes nigga'."
"Yeah, you freestyling tonight."
They proceeded to enter the school, going through another dead boring day.
You for real nigga'?
Leroy slowly pulled up on the sidewalk outside the shady bar "The Spot"
It was known for selling liqour to minors, and brawls were often occuring inside. It was a quite big building, kind of like a warehouse. It was filled to the brim, people were lighting their lighters at the ceiling, and Onyx was on stage, warming up the crowd. The track "Slam" was on.
Leroy and Tommy pushed themself through the crowd, bopping their heads as all kinds of niggas were eyeing them, mean mugging them. They managed to get all the way up to stage. Tommy pulled out a small pipe, retrieving a pre-rolled blunt, lighting it up slowly with a Zippo lighter. He started toking on it, grinning at Leroy behind a cloud of smoke. He passed the blunt to Leroy, as Onyx stopped their performance. The host stepped up on stage.
He started announcing the open mic night, and how to sign up for a freestyle, or a battle. "I have to go take a piss" Tommy said, as he pushed himself through the crowd. Leroy continued puffing on the joint, nodding a few time as he eyed the host. He started getting extremely high, as the crowd was also smoking around him. Tommy returned with a huge, wide grin. "Pass me the blunt, you finna' drop it in a minute." he said.
"What?" Leroy replied.
The first two contestants for a battle was called up on stage, and a Wu-Tang beat was put on. The battle lasted for roughly hundred twenty seconds, as the contestants had sixty seconds each, in the one round battle.
The crowd went wild, and the host suddenly announced the next two contestants.
"Mad props for that last battle, mad props! The next two contestants who's finna' be spitting rhymes for y'all, is MC Deck, and Q-Tip!"
Leroy froze up, turning his head slowly, as he eyed Tommy, who was grinning widely with the blunt in his hand. Leroy turned around and started walking off, but he couldn't get through the crowd. Tommy started shouting;
"This my boy Q-Tip right here! Right here! He got them ill rhymes! Them ill rhymes!"
And soon, everyone started pushing Leroy onto the stage, who soon realised that he'll look like a bigger clown if he leave, than if he battles.
The beat was put on, as MC Deck started spitting. He was known for never losing a single battle.
"A'ight just a tip for Tip, you on the wrong side of the tracks, you even hear the beat? Your ears is filled with wax. I hear it fine, microphone crime, sixty seconds time, untill Q-Tip laid out, and the labels want me to sign. Let me tell you 'bout myself, MC Deck, staying vexed, from the project, slanging dex, getting mad sex, how you figure, shout out if MC Deck the realest nigga'. Look at this young cat, Q-Tip what? You sweating nigga', the room it ain't even that hot. Let me dial your bitch on my celly, give her a belly, oh wait she only ten years old, so that's a felly', I do felonies all day by the way, and I suggest you take your bitch in for a X ray!"
The crowd went wild, and the host introduced Q-Tip, before passing him the mic. The beat was put on, and Q-Tip suddenly bopped his head, obviously feeling the beat.
"Nigga' they call me Q-Tip cus I'm clean, MC Deck you slang dex? I bet your moms a crack fiend. You think you smooth nigga'? You look like a gay with that lean, yo Tommy pass me the Hennessey, the lyrical jesus will make it Jimbeam. Yo Deck get off that steroid protein. Anyway, I'm from Brooklyn, I'm living by the edge. I'll treat you like a dog, the mics a bone, go fetch. When I'm done with you, niggas will show you no pity, with them rhymes I wonder is you even from New York City? Go back to your comitte, I bet where you from, it ain't even that gritty. A'yo bitch, stop eyeballin' me, cus ima count to three, Q-tips the MC, you gucci, you fendi. And what's this shit about you being a pedofile? You best get send to rikers isle, before I make the dial. "
The beat got cut, and the host went on.
"Nigga' how old is you?"
"I'm turning fifteen." Leroy replied.
"This nigga' turning fifteen! A'yo I think we calling this a draw!
The crowd started throwing their hands up, shouting, and MC Deck started shaking his head, walking off stage. One thing you just didn't do, was question the host's judgement. Leroy got escorted out of the back entrance, and headed for the car. Tommy walked out with a kid around their age, as he said "A'yo Tip, that was insane! You owe me one nigga'!"
"Nigga' no, you owe me one. What the fuck was that, signing me up like that?"
"Yo you /killed/ him! C'mon, don't be a buster."
Leroy shook his head, frowning for a few seconds, before grinning widely.
"Yeah, it was kinda tight huh.."
"That's what I'm saying, a'yo Tip, meet my boy Mike."
"Yo." the individual said.
Tommy continued speaking talking.
"Mike's uncle works at a mechanic shop, he'll fix the lock up, toss some plates on it, make that shit all yours."
"Worda'mother. Means you'll have to take the train home though."
"Yeah no doubt, catch you tomorrow then."
"A'ight Q. Later." Tommy said.
"Yeah, peace Q. Nice to meet you nigga'." Mike said.
"A'yo Q! Wait up!"
Tommy lifted up his waistband, withdrawing a rusty old piece, handing it to Leroy.
"You gotta take the G train, keep this in pocket, just for safety."
Out of bounds
Leroy walked up on the platform, waiting for the G train, slowly putting a plan togheter incase the beef came. The platform was empty, so he tucked out the piece, aiming it around for fun. The train approached, so he quickly tucked it back in, entering the train.
"This is the L train. Destination, Brownsville."
"Oh fuck!" Leroy shouted, catching attention by a the few individuals in the train. Not for long though, a ghetto blaster was situated at an individuals feet, playing "Rakim - Juice" so everybodys heads was bopping. You could tell they were up to no good though.
"Next station, East Myrtle station."
Leroy stepped out, he didn't want to go all the way to Brownsville. He'd just have to take a train in the opposite direction. He walked down the stairs to get to the opposite platform, walking through the underground subway station, when a group of black males approached him, withdrawing a butterfly knife. They started taunting him, shouting.
"Run your coat black, run your coat!"
"We do eyeslashing around here nigga'!"
"Yo run your shit, it's my shit, gimme the loot motherfucker!"
"Run it nigga'! Run it!"
"Ima cut your fucking eyes out nigga'! What you want! You outta' bounds!"
"Word, straight outta' bounds sucker!"
Leroy took a few steps back, pulling out the rusty heater, aiming it at the individuals, there were around five of them though. One of them reached for his waistband, so Leroy pulled the trigger, not hitting anything though. He ran around a corner, taking cover behind a wall.
"Yeah you better run sucker!"
He looked around the corner, when a bullet got fired at him, he could hear it passed less than an inch away from his head.
"Shit shit shit!"
He turned around the corner, starting to bust slugs towards the individuals who were covering behind columns.
"I'm right here nigga'! I'm right here!" they shouted.
The armed male started firing back at Leroy again, but Leroy went back into his cover. Leroy took a blind shot around the corner, without exposing anything but his arm. He suddenly heard a scream.
"He hit me! Motherfuc-.. He hit me! Grab the gat, yo grab the gat!"
"Shit nigga', you bleeding nigga'! Bad son!"
"Nigga' just grab my shit! Grab it!"
"Grab it nigga' c'mon grab it!"
Leroy ran past the males, who didn't even move, he ran up the stairs, onto the G platform, as the G train arrived. He ran into the train, panting heavily as sweat ran down his forehead. He caught eye contact with a old lady, who quickly turned her head away.
It was Saturday, the stores were closing early, there weren't that many costumers on saturdays. Leroy met up with Mike, and Tommy. Mike and Tommy had been setting up a plan togheter to rob a liqour store, while his uncle were fixing up the Tampa. They picked Leroy up from the projects, who felt invinsible after the episode yesterday.
"A'ight Q', you the designated driver. You down for this shit, or what?"
"Yeah. I'm down." Leroy said, flicking his chin upwards with a quite tough look on his face.
"A'ight then, drive down to 58th, we hitting ol' man Chuck's store."
"That nigga' nice though."
"Yeah, you right Q'.." Tommy said. Mike quickly interupted.
"Y'all fucking down for this or what? I ain't want no busters on this job yo.. We 'bout to get paid!"
"Yeah, yeah I'm down.. You down Q'?"
"Yeah.. I'm down."
It was raining, and it was foggy. Leroy slowly pulled up on the corner a few feet away from the store. He hit the engine, as they all slowly exited the vehicle. They pulled their hoods up, entering the store. Mike pulled out a brand new '44, aiming it at the store clerk, as Tommy froze up. Mike yelled;
"Give up the fucking money nigga'! Empty the fucking register!"
Tommy still stood frozen up, with his mouth open, slowly sliding his hood off as he saw the old man behind the counters facial expression.
"EMPTY THE FUCKING REGISTER! Tommy, go grab-.. Tommy nigga'! Fuck it! Q'! Go empty the register!"
Leroy jumped over the counter, pushing the old man aside as he quickly opened the register, filling the money into a brown paperbag, tossing it to Mike.
"A'ight let's go! Tommy, let's go!"
Mike ran out of the store, with Leroy in his heels. They jumped into the vehicle, Mike as the driver. Mike turned the engine on with the keys already in the ignition.
"Mike! Wait for Tommy!"
"What? Nigga' he's slow!"
"Wait for Tommy, Mike!"
Mike kept driving, eventually taking a turn into an alley, sniffing loudly.
"Good now take a u-turn, go back for Tommy!"
Mike stepped out of the vehicle, slowly walking off. Leroy jumped out of the vehicle.
"Mike nigga'! You ain't running off now!"
"Yeah, and I'm taking the money" he replied.
Leroy pulled out the rusty piece, cocking the hammer back as he aimed it at Mike.
"Get back into the car, Mike."
Mike turned around, flicking his chin up, as he eyed Leroy with an arrogant, and tough facial expression. He then reached for his waistband, gripping around the '44, accidently shooting himself in the nutsack in the process. Mike dropped to the ground, widdening his eyes as Leroy approached him.
"Mike. Am I going to take this bag from you alive, or out of your cold, dead hand nigga'?"
"Mike.. I'm talking to you.... Mike."
Leroy aimed the rusty piece at Mike, pulling the trigger twice. The first bullet went through Mike's head, and the piece jammed at the second shot.
Leroy cocked the hammer back, fixing the piece before tucking it into his waistband. He grabbed the brown paperbag, before entering the vehicle. He was soaked wet.
He drove back towards the store, which was now surrounded by cops. He saw Tommy being escorted out, as he caught eye contact. Tommy looked down, before being escorted into the police cruiser.
Leroy drove home, walking through the projects. He walked into the project hallways, up to the fifth floor, into the apartment. That's when he spotted two cops. He swallowed a big blob of saliva, walking into his room, stashing the money, and his burner. To his suprise, they didn't chase him. He peaked through his door as always, and when they left, he walked into the livingroom slowly.
"What did they want?"
"It's your father. He's been arrested."
Tommy was gone, Leroy didn't have his partner in school. There was no more fun in that part of the day. He didn't talk to nobody in school, he was all alone. That's when he started writing graffiti in his school books. There was nothing else to do. He slowly started developing his own style, paying less attention to the class than ever before. His books were filled. Q-Tip, Q-Tip, Q-Tip. Wildstyle, bubble letters, tags, you name it. The school bathrooms, the school hallways. Untill one day.
Leroy was spraying a tag in the end of the hallway, when a teacher, Mr. Holloways suddenly poked him on his shoulder.
Leroy turned around, noticing a few students, putting his cocky smile on.
"What you want? An autograph?"
Mr. Holloways grabbed Leroy by his shoulder, dragging him down the hallway, and into a office. He gave him a bucket with water, and a small brush.
"You can't clean aerosol off with that."
"You should have thought about that earlier, Leroy."
Everybody was laughing, even Mr. Holloways, when Leroy was forced to clean off the graffiti. It didn't came off, and after one hour, he finally gave up, heading down the hallways, towards the cafeteria. His reputation was ruined.
"Yo brushboy!" "What up janitor?!" "Yo, my room could need cleaning up!"
Leroy shook his head, heading down to the cafeteria for lunch break, when Mr Holloways stopped him in the middle of the line.
"There's no food for you, till you clean up."
Leroy furiously grabbed a small shank from his backpocket, a nail hooked to a piece of wood, before starting to furiously stab Mr. Holloways. He dropped to the ground, gasping for air, while Leroy was being held back by five teachers.
"Call 911! Somebody call 911"
Leroy blacked out from anger, before waking up in the police station.
The police station
A loud sound was heard, as the policeman slammed his baton into the table infront of Leroy.
"Wake up, you fucking miscolour!"
Leroy woke up with a shock, eyeing the obese smelly caucasian police officer.
"Your mother is on her way. Sit tight, untill she's here, you're my bitch."
Hours went by, Leroy's mother didn't show up. The officer slammed his baton into his left hand a few times.
"Well.. Well.. Well... See you in court."
Leroy was sentenced to a half year in juvenile detention under strong surveilance, and was moved to Spofford.
Leroy sat in the bus, examining all the rough faces around him. Kids with heavy dark frowns, lifeless eyes, looking like they could snap and kill you anytime. The bus drove through the gates, and into his new home. Spofford Juveline Dentention Center.
A white lady in a tight uniform stood infront of a whole squad of armed guards.
"Alright people, everybody step through the door at your right, you'll be frisked and have your uniforms handed to you!"
One black kid shouted out "Nice rack bitch!"
Three seconds went by, and the white lady had him kissing the concrete, clenching her baton while yelling;
"I said get through the fucking door to your right, and do as your told!"
Everybody walked through the door with no question. Everybody was forced to strip, before being handed two sets of clothes. Freetime clothes, and working clothes.
"Working clothes?" Leroy said.
"Yeah, what, you think this is disneyland motherfucker?" another kid replied.
After everybody had been dressed, and shown their rooms, everybody was shown around the facility, then led back into their rooms. Lockdown.
Everybody started talking, before a kid from the cellblock across him recognized Leroy.
"Yo, you're that havoc kid from the news!"
"Yeah, the screwdriver stabber."
"It wasn't no screwdriver."
"A'yo this Havoc right here!" the kid yelled.
Nobody else seemed to give a fuck, and people slowly started going to sleep, some cried, some stayed up silent, some fell asleep.
The project hallways
9AM, everybody met up in the conference room for breakfast. The daily plan were given, which included work, yardtime, gym and reading.
"Franklyn! You're going to be in the washing room!"
"Kenton! You're going to be in the kitchen!"
Laughter broke out. "Hahahaha, draws boy and kitchen bitch!" He was quickly interupted.
"And you, Jackson, you're going to be doing both!"
Leroy smirked, before being led into the washing room. He quickly frowned, peering around at the large stacks of dirty clothes.
"I ain't washing no fucking draws, fuck that."
"So you refuse?"
"Hell yeah, fuck that."
"Very well, come with me then."
Leroy was led into the isolation room, sitting in complete darkness for the four working hours, before being led out.
"I want a phonecall!"
"Franklyn wants a phonecall!" a guard yelled.
Another guard shouted back.
"His phonetime is at eight'o clock!"
"You'll have to wait after yardtime."
Leroy walked into the yard, peering around at the signs.
Leroy walked into a corner with a few boys smoking, asking for a cigarette. To his suprise, he were given one. He peered around the yard, hiding the cigarette behind his back everytime a guard would pass. All the other kids were playing basket, Leroy would rather smoke and talk shit with the others. Yard time ended, and everybody was led back inside.
"Franklyn, your phonetime."
Leroy walked the room with the phones, and the guard left for a cigarette break. He called up his mother's housephone. She had already been informed of his imprisonment, and told him she were moving to Los Santos, and gave him an adress. A few boys approached him from behind.
"A'yo new kid, hand me the phone piece!"
Leroy turned around, eyeballing the two individuals with a fronting look in his eyes.
"I said give me the fucking phone piece!" the kid repeated, pushing Leroy into the phone. Leroy just turned around, continuing to talk to his mother.
The next thing he felt was a burning sensation from his neck to his shoulder. The kid held Leroy by his hair, while using a razor blade to cut him from the neck to the middle of his back. Leroy passed out.
He woke up in the hospital, with release papers on his lap. He clenched his hands in pain, while re adjusting himself in the hospital bed. He smirked lightly, while reading that he was being transfered to Los Santos.
He looked down the side of his bed, grabbing his backpack with his blackbook in it. He zipped open the front pocket, grabbing a black Pilot marker, uncapping it. He looked over some of his pages, before proceeding to cap every single Q-Tip signature with the name "Skuf"
After being signed out of All Saints General Hospital, Leroy came to visit his mother for the first time. She was still her same old, smoking crack in the couch, watching TV. To his shock, his father was there aswell. He looked upon Leroy, sniffing loudly.
"Come over here."
Leroy slowly approached his father, knowing what was about to happen. His father took a drag of his cigarette, motioning him closer. He grabbed Leroy's arm, holding him in a armlock, while burning him multiple places on his arm, shouting loudly.
"You've cost us the apartment in Brooklyn!"
Leroy wrestled himself free of the grip, before running into the bathroom, washing his arm in cold water, shaking.
His mother knocked on the door, showing him his room. Leroy dropped off his stuff, rushing past his father, out the door, and down the stairs. He sniffled a few times, before lighting up a cigarette. "Belden.."
Walkin' 'bout fifty meters down Belden Heights avenue or whatever the fuck the place was called, Leroy found himself a place to rent, too bad it cost him every single dollar he had on him. He went back to his parents crib, got his most important stuff, a slap over the neck, and he was back out on the streets. He walked up to his new crib, and started unpacking.
"Finally I got my own place set up" Leroy thought to himself, and went straight out to the mall to get himself what he needed, spraycans. Leroy still loved graffiti, and he felt he had to put his new name Skuf up everywhere.
And then it was straight out painting. He went onto the train tracks, walking along them until he found himself a spot. He did a burner piece with hook-ups, multiple colour fill, highlights, 3D and shadow.
High as fuck on paint fumes, he went home, realisin' that living on your own ain't too easy when you broke.
He had to get paid.
Walking through the unusually empty and silent project hallways, thoughts was racing through his head.
He started by headin' up to a scrapyard, but the cat owning the place was greedy as fuck, and wouldn't even give Leroy a decent deal, and Leroy had self respect, so he wasn't 'bout to get played.
There was only one thing left to do, in order to get a quick buck.
But even bitchass white cats can be broke.
He rushed off in panic, riding over to the train tracks where he did a piece earlier, to collect his thoughts and lose his paranoia.
And that's when he decided to use his head, smartest thing to do would find a night club without entrance fees, and clean purses. But them bitchass guards wouldn't let him in because of his raggy ass clothes, and that's when he met that nigga' Rock.
That nigga' Rock got the idea to get a molly hook-up, sneak up in the club, and sling that shit for the white folks, but they never got the hook-up, they ended on tryina' rob off a rip-off weapon dealer instead. Once Rock yelled out the code word "SKUF", Leroy smacked the nigga' over the back with his knuckles.
Too bad he was dealin' rocks, so that's all they got out of it, a sportsbag fulla' rocks, and not the type that get you high, the heavy type of rocks. Leroy liked the bag though, so he grabbed it.
The next day when Leroy got out on the block, he got approached by a group of mexicans who lived around the hood as well. He got told he had to pay hood tax to live there. That shit was the last thing Leroy felt like doing, he had trouble enough tryina' pay his rent and get food. Besides, the nigga' who taxed him didn't look a day over fifteen.
Some fat bitch named Hunter. Leroy explained he just lived here, and Hunter told him to show him where. Hunter knocked him down right outside his apartment.
He jacked Leroy's brass knuckles, and then the fuzz showed up, asking Hunter if he was serious, asking for hood tax infronta' a cop. Leroy, being a smart ass nigga', knew better than to snitch. He said "Naaa, fuzz, 'sall good, just showing my partna' my crib." and he let Hunter inside.
He asked for his Brass Knuckles back cus it was his only income, and told Hunter that instead of tax, he'd steal shit for him. Rims, cars, drugs, and whatever.
Leroy never intended to give him shit though, but more about that later. Leroy made his first friendly encounter around the hood while buying a burger, a nigga' named D. He told D' his plans about smoking that fat bitch Hunter, and that he wasn't gonna pay no tax. D' started preachin' 'bout it being a bad idea messin' with the mexicans, but Leroy just told him, you obviously ain't know me nigga'.
He thought of D' as a straight pussy at first glance.
He asked D' to go make some dough with him, but just as they was leaving, Hunter walked up, tryina' make Leroy help him jump a crip, Leroy wasn't about to cause beef with nobody who ain't done nothing to him though. Only reason he was schemin' on Hunter was cus he tried to tax his ass.
But it was time to make dough, and Leroy was always schemin'.
Now Leroy had enough for a shitty low qualy' jammer heater, but he wanted to score some blow instead.
He approached some nigga' asking if he had blow, the nigga' said naa, but I got this snow. Stupid nigga' probably hadn't been on the corner for more than a day or two. He took fiftyfive a gram, but Leroy only had fifty so he just copped a half gram.
Crazed out on blow
Leroy and D went up to Leroy's pad, slouchin' down on the couch to some hiphop.
Being emotionally wrecked, but refusing to show it, Leroy was down to do anything to gain respect in the eyes of his new homie. He'd always be a step ahead. It was time to lose control, and get as crazed out as you could be.
They snorted up a few lines, and went outside to kick it.
Get paid, get money, get props
After sleepin' out the coketrip, Leroy met up with Rock later that night at pizza stack.
After eating, Rock and Leroy took a drive around Idlewood, and Rock got Leroy down for doing some meth, being a little doubtful at first, Leroy decided to do it anyway as he trusted Rock.
Streets was so dead, that none of the gangs around the area would notice if anyone was tryina' sling they own shit on their block, Rock saw an oppertunity for testing out Leroys skills on the sales.
And Leroy had them skills for business, Rock was impressed. But yeah, it was time to do some more blow.
Back on the block with the usual trouble, I need a strap, if I had the cash I'd pay double.
After sleepin' a good nights sleep, Leroy once again had his mind back on the trouble with that nigga' Hunter tryina' tax him. He wasn't gonna take that shit from no younger than him fat lookin' bitch.
It was time to get a heater, and what better place can you get a free heater, than the sewers.
Leroy asked all around the 'jects for some rounds, but nobody was too keen on sellin'.
So he called up his boy Rock, whom he knew had a .45 himself, two bucks a bullet ain't a bad deal, so why'd he say no anyway.
The used burner was in a bad condition though, and probably had prints all over it from some other nigga' who probably used it to smoke a cop or some shit.
Leroy knew he had to be smart and fix it up, so it wouldn't jam in action.
Sniffin' out that nigga' Hunter
It was time to find Hunter, Leroy was so caught up tryina' find him, he ain't really think about the consequences of him asking everybody where to find him.
If he'd used his logic, he'd know that he'd be the first nigga' they'd be looking for when Hunter dissapears, but yeah, you know what drugs do to knuckleheads.
And there he was, right outside the projects, posted on the block.
Leroy told him that he had jacked a buncha' drugs that he'd use to pay his weekly tax, Hunter followed him inside. As they walked down the project hallways, Leroy reached into the front of his waistband.
He pulled out his burner, turned around, aiming it at Hunter's face as he said "Here's your tax, nigga'"
And the gat went off, twice. Hunter didn't even get to finish what he was sayin'.
To be continued
Last edited by Leroy "Skuf" Franklyn on Sun Jan 19, 2014 1:39 am; edited 4 times in total
Yeah I remember you Arthur.
Thanks Darryl, I'm not really satisfied with it myself anymore. Shanking your teacher blabla bullshit unrealistic as fuck. But yeah like I said, I didn't want to re-write it too much so that's the story.
Thanks Darryl, I'm not really satisfied with it myself anymore. Shanking your teacher blabla bullshit unrealistic as fuck. But yeah like I said, I didn't want to re-write it too much so that's the story.
Boom, bap, original rap.
Well I hope to see you in-game when this lag is calmed down.
Darryl Ortiz wrote:Well I hope to see you in-game when this lag is calmed down.
12:30AM where I'm at, I could skip school tomorrow but seeing my homeboys is more important to me than playing this game all night. I'll be around tomorrow.
Carmelo Taylor wrote:This story looks interesting, I will read this but from the looks of me skimming through it you did a very good job.
Nice screen shots.
I'm watching this character keep it up.
Leroy's going to be moving out of Willowfield because of beef with the mexicans and now also being busted tryina' steal from the crips. So since I'm not living in the community anymore, I'll stop posting my screens in here and in the Belden thread. It wasn't really my intention to join Belden, I thought I'd do it at some point but when I join factions I start off roleplaying as a guy living in the hood, and then spontaniously meeting people in the gang. Our timezones are way off, so I haven't really had a chance to meet people from the faction other than on the weekends, and I usually go party on the weekends so yeah. Good luck everyone, was fun to see the RP of some of your members, even if I just bought cocaine from them. Peace.
EDIT: My graffiti/lyrics service will stay available!
EDIT: My graffiti/lyrics service will stay available!
Boom, bap, original rap.
Yeah, that timezone thing messed it up.
Leroy \"Skuf" Franklyn wrote:Hope we can have some RP going on if I'm on during the weekends. I'll drop by Willowfield and kick some freestyles yeah?
Always welcome to come and RP.
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