The Good Crime Boss (open to one woman)

[guyloveshotstories]

Gerald D. Williams
Age 35
Height 6'0"
Weight 175lbs
Naturally fit with flat stomach, sun kissed skin, and toned muscles with smooth facial cheeks, oval shaped hazel eyes, 3 inch long light brown hair, walks about in a fine Italian made suit with gold cufflinks.

Every time I see a organized crime movie it makes me angry. Sure it looks nice to have everything in the palm of your hand, money, women, drugs, the cops, politicians, but all of that comes with a price. How do gang leaders get their money? Easy. They take it from the workers. Protection rackets, prostitution, money laundering. Someone was paying for it, and it was always the little people.

My father was a police officer. Honest. Hard working. Then he was killed by the Mafia. My mother was never in the picture. She couldn't take the hard life of an officer's wife. Raised alone I grew up on the streets. Life was tough. I thought joining a gang would keep me safe, but when you're just a soldier, your life doesn't mean anything to the Dons. When I saw old folks' business being held up for protection money and when they refused to give in they had their businesses burned, that's when I decided to fight back.

I formed my own gang.

We started out small. Hijacking shipments of booze, but then ramped our work when new people came in. People were tired of seeing their city being taken over by toughs and slime. We didn't ask for anything from the people. We took their money back. We patrolled the streets, streets the police were either too scared or were paid off to avoid. One block at a time we pushed and fought to get rid of the mafia. There were violent skirmishes. We lost people, but they lost more. We started winning the people. That was the key difference. We didn't use fear or intimidation. We didn't ask for money or for help, they offered it to us. We found corrupt cops and forced them out or turned them, politicians were another matter. They held a great deal of power, almost as much as the Dons.

To show this, my group and I went to a warehouse down by the water front after someone reported hearing voices in a area that was condemned. When we got there we found how far the mafia would go to stop us. We found Officer Lily McTavish had been killed, but more than just killed-humiliated and executed. She was a lovely officer, fiery long redhead, ample figure, nice rack and backside, and young. She was a good friend. She had been lured to the warehouse and ganged up by several mob guys and given a bukkake. Dry cum stained her uniform and face and then she was shot. It was a message to us that no one was safe.

When I returned to my building that sat on top of a bakery my mind was working to strike revenge. Half my mind wanted it to be big and bloody, something no one would forget, the humanity on the other side said to make small precise strikes.

(I'm looking for a female writer to play a key female lead of their choice, but I would like to have police or women in uniform involved as well as playing female secondary characters. I can play this tight and serious, like a crime drama, or have it be more loose and fun. Contact me via Private Message.

 

[guyloveshotstories]

While I was planning for this event there was word that several events were taking place, two senators were coming to the city to speak with the police about weeding out corruption. It was for show, they were in cahoots with the mob. They would find a couple of dirty officers and make a show of it that they're doing their job, but dirty officers were like weeds, rip off the top at the surface level and leave the roots, the weed would grow back. They were going to be having a dinner at the police head quarters with all of the brass.

Then there was a dance going on at the 'Jager Beer Hall'. It was some sort of celebration, but it was being conducted by one of the biggest mob bosses in town, Ira Dickman. He would be surrounded by guards and by police. There were going to be hundreds of people there, mob soldiers-their families, lots of innocent people but also plenty of mob targets. A hit here would be bloody if we rolled in with automatic weapons or set off a bomb. The more I thought about it, the more I figured we couldn't use a bomb, it would kill too many innocent people.

Then there was a large shipment of booze and weapons coming in at the waterfront. Word was a large freighter from Germany was coming in bearing the marks of surplus weapons and equipment. If it fell into the wrong hands then the streets would be flowing with blood as the mob got their hands on military grade automatic weapons and explosives.

Pacing the floor of my room I pondered greatly looking at a wall map of the city with all of the targets circled and intelligence reports tacked on beside them. There were pictures of the senators, the bosses and other high ranking officers with them. All were potential targets. Taking a drink of whiskey to steel my nerves my eyes locked on to the targets thinking, watching the scenario of each target play out in my mind.

 

[guyloveshotstories]

The bosses had the police, perhaps the local military as well. Their roots ran deep. Their families as well. Some families traced back ten or more generations in this city, but all of them did the same thing here.

I couldn't think. Sitting down and taking another sip of my drink the warm thoughts of a peaceful time came spilling back. There was a time when it wasn't so bad, where kids could play outside. Where we didn't have to worry about some shootout taking place. Where we could go down to the corner store and play games, and people were friendly, not living in fear.

Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I just laid down and took it, became a goon or just left the city, leave it to its fate and watch from a distance as it was consumed in fire.