Rainy

Shadow Over the City The word had gone out days in advance, but no one knew exactly when he would show. Just that when he did, they’d better be ready. The rooftop bar of the sprawling hilltop mansion in Los Santos was glowing with soft amber lights. A cold breeze whispered off the ocean, carrying the scent of expensive whiskey, cologne, and fresh cigars. Suits, silk shirts, polished shoes — not a weapon in sight, yet every man on that roof could end a conversation with a single glance. This wasn’t a party. It was presence. A reminder. The Don arrived just after sunset, stepping out from the shadows of the private elevator flanked by two quiet men — soldiers whose faces never left his side. The music didn’t stop. No one stood. But when he passed, everyone made room. A secluded corner of the rooftop had been prepared — tall marble tables, plush seats, and a panoramic view of the entire city skyline below. That's where the crew gathered, lit by warm lanterns and the occasional flare of a lighter. Tonight was celebration. But not for the sake of it. The Don didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. He spoke softly, with intent praising Capos who had stayed loyal through the rough months, giving subtle nods to Underbosses who had made smart calls when tempers were flaring. He handed out promotions with a word and a touch to the shoulder. And with every word came something deeper a chill that crept through the warm night air. Because between the lines, he wasn’t just giving praise. He was giving warning. There was talk of a rival crew, small, loud, and moving fast. Too fast. The Don didn’t name them. He didn’t have to. “Storms start small,” he said, lifting his glass. “But we don’t wait for thunder to build a roof.” No threats. No orders. Just understanding. The meeting ended as it began calm, clean, and without a single drop of blood. But the city below felt different as they left, like something had shifted. The Don had spoken. And when the Don speaks, the streets listen. Screenshots:

Message to the Rivals The streets had been quieter than usual — too quiet. Word reached the Santucci Mob through one of their trusted eyes on the docks: a rival gang had been using an old, half-forgotten warehouse on the edge of San Fierro to move counterfeit liquor. Not just any knockoff — this was low-grade poison, dressed up with stolen labels, being pushed through Santucci territory without permission, without tribute. It wasn’t about the booze. It was about disrespect. The crew scouted the location days ahead — old security systems, a rotating schedule of two guards, and no cameras. That was enough. Robbing the place would've been easy. But robbing doesn’t send a message. Burning it down? That gets remembered. Late at night, two cars roll up just down the street. The Capo, an Underboss, and a pair of trusted Soldiers step out — one holding a duffel with a small explosive rig (fully RP’d, no actual detonation). Inside, the warehouse is quiet, stacked with crates of fake spirits and forged stamps. It reeks of cheap alcohol and cheaper ambition. The crew splits up, one tags the outer wall with a symbol of the Santucci name, something unmistakable. Another plants the charge in a weak spot under the main support beam, played for realism. No one rushes. No one speaks more than needed. Once it's set, they back off to a nearby vantage point. A flick of a lighter, a slow nod and smoke soon begins to rise. There’s no loud bang. Just a rolling column of dark air and a dull thump from inside as crates collapse and heat licks the rafters. They don’t wait to admire it. The job isn’t about fire it’s about reputation. The message is simple: You move product through Santucci turf without respect? It turns to ash. As the crew walks away under the orange glow of the burning night, there’s no laughter. Just silence, and the smell of power reclaimed.

Crossed Lines Whispers had started circling about a low-level associate doing business on the side, small-time deals with a rival gang in exchange for pocket cash. At first, the crew didn’t take it seriously. But when the rival crew started moving in on Santucci territory with oddly specific timing, the puzzle pieces clicked. A decision was made. A trap set. The associate is lured to a stripclub under the pretense of a sit-down. Something about a new job, a quick buck just enough bait to reel him in. The Capo, Underboss, and two Soldiers are already seated in the dimly lit back room, poker chips scattered on the table, a bottle of bourbon between them. It looks casual. It’s anything but. The moment he walks in, the door shuts behind him. He’s asked questions. Too many pauses. Too much sweat. His answers don’t match. Loyalty isn’t just expected, it’s demanded. And when trust cracks, the punishment follows. They beat him senseless. Not to kill, just enough to remind him who he belongs to. Broken ribs, swollen jaw, blood on the linoleum floor. Later that night, the crew drives him out to the desert. Still breathing, barely moving. They dump him on the cold sand, strip him of his shoes and jacket, and leave him with a warning carved into his soul: “Talk to anyone else again… next time, you don’t wake up.” No forgiveness. Just one last chance. Screenshots:

Dirt in the Water An informant in the crew slipped, leaking names to a city inspector in exchange for immunity. He thought he could play both sides, but the Mob doesn’t tolerate cracks in the foundation. Once the leak was confirmed, the order came down without hesitation: cut him out, clean and quiet. In the dead of night, the crew gathers at an abandoned warehouse deep in the forest of Whetstone. No witnesses, no noise. His body, wrapped tight in a tarp, is loaded into the trunk of a black Admiral. No words are exchanged, only looks. Everyone knows what’s being done, and why. This isn’t about revenge. It’s about preserving the code. The drive to the Los Santos docks is slow and deliberate. One car, no headlights, ghosting down the highway. At the dock, the silence is broken only by the soft lapping of the water. The body is hauled out, weighted down, and pushed into the bay with a final splash. No names are mentioned. No prayers are said. Just one less problem, and a message sent without a sound. Screenshots:

Silent Acquisition (Taking over a failing illegal business under pressure.) After recent heat in San Fierro, the Mob is looking to expand lowkey influence in Los Santos. A failing horse betting shop in Central LS owes the Mob money. The owner hasn’t paid tribute and is weeks behind. Rather than break legs, the Santucci way is simple: take control quietly. The RP starts at the dealership where the Capo talks to the soldiers before departure. They drive in convoy to the LS bet shop (use /f chat to stay IC on the way), where the owner is nervously waiting. The crew walks in, calmly. This isn’t a request — it’s an offer. They’ll wipe the debt if the shop is now a Santucci front. The owner resists but folds when the crew shows what not folding looks like (a muffler dent in a betting machine, subtle violence). No bodies, no mess. Just new management. Screenshots:

Tying Loose Ends: Word spreads fast in San Fierro and the store owner’s nephew isn’t just angry, he’s been running his mouth all over the streets. After his uncle got laid out in front of customers for snitching, the kid’s been acting like he inherited the beef. Talking tough on street corners, posting threats online, and flashing around like he’s untouchable. But in this business, noise is dangerous. The mob doesn't do second warnings, they do decisions. The Capo and his men set up a quiet meet, tucked in a dark alley far from curious eyes. They didn’t come to negotiate. They came to offer the kid one final choice: shut your mouth and walk away… or end up where your uncle should’ve been. He shows up tense, fists clenched, trying to prove he’s got a spine. But the moment he sees who’s waiting and how calm they are, it hits him: this isn’t a fight. It’s a moment of mercy... or a mistake he won't survive. In the end, he’s lucky. The crew lets him walk this time. But everyone in that alley knows: the next time they meet, it won’t be to talk.

Assisting BR 20.7.2025 VIP 22.7.2025 Assisting BR 22.7.2025 Assisting BR 22.7.2025

Date: 20/07/2025 Event Type : LMS Prize: 1.000.000 $ Winner(s): Asgal Screenshots: Date: 20/07/2025 Event Type : LMS only sniper Prize: 1.000.000 $ Winner(s): Drogado Screenshots: Date: 20/07/2025 Event Type : Headshot event Prize: 1.000.000 $ Winner(s): Witz Screenshots: Date: 20/07/2025 Event Type : Headshot event Prize: 1.000.000 $ Winner(s): Witz Screenshots: Date: 21/07/2025 Event Type : LMS Prize: 1.000.000 $ Winner(s): Maksim Screenshots: Date: 21/07/2025 Event Type : Fallout Prize: 1.000.000 $ Winner(s): Butcher Screenshots:

BB BR 20.7.2025 BC BR 20.7.2025 LV BR 21.7.2025 BS BR 21.7.2025

Turf 19.7.2025 Turf 20.7.2025 Turf 20.7.2025 Turf 20.7.2025 Turf 20.7.2025 Turf 20.7.2025 Turf 20.7.2025 Turf 20.7.2025 Turf 21.7.2025 Turf 21.7.2025 Turf 21.7.2025 Turf 21.7.2025 Turf 21.7.2025 Turf 21.7.2025 Turf 21.7.2025 Turf 22.7.2025 Turf 22.7.2025 Turf 22.7.2025 Turf 22.7.2025 Turf 22.7.2025 Turf 22.7.2025 Turf 22.7.2025 Turf 22.7.2025

House Robbery 18.7.2025

Turf 18.7.2025 Turf 18.7.2025 Turf 18.7.2025 Turf 19.7.2025 Turf 19.7.2025 Turf 19.7.2025 Turf 19.7.2025

Turf 16.7.2025 Turf 16.7.2025 Turf 16.7.2025

Jailbreak 15.7.2025 Store Robbery 17.7.2025

Date: 15/07/2025 Event Type : LMS Prize: 1.000.000 $ Winner(s): M8N Screenshots: Date: 15/07/2025 Event Type : Chicken Shooter Prize: 1.000.000 $ Winner(s): Hrizen Screenshots: Date: 17/07/2025 Event Type : Boxing all vs all Prize: 1.000.000 $ Winner(s): Ciro Screenshots: Date: 17/07/2025 Event Type : Boxing all vs all Prize: 1.000.000 $ Winner(s): MC-Oaktree Screenshots: Date: 17/07/2025 Event Type : LMS Prize: 1.000.000 $ Winner(s): MC-Oaktree Screenshots: Date: 17/07/2025 Event Type : Boxing event Prize: 1.000.000 $ Winner(s): Ciro Screenshots: Date: 17/07/2025 Event Type : LMS Prize: 1.000.000 $ Winner(s): Zodiac Screenshots: Date: 18/07/2025 Event Type : LMS Prize: 1.000.000 $ Winner(s): Oaktree Screenshots:

San Fierro BR 13.7.2025 Las Venturas BR 15.7.2025

Store Robbery 13.7.2025 House Robbery 13.7.2025 Assisting R BR 13.7.2025

Turf 13.7.2025 Turf 15.7.2025 Turf 15.7.2025 Turf 15.7.2025 Turf 15.7.2025 Turf 15.7.2025 Turf 15.7.2025

Date: 12/07/2025 Event Type : LMS Prize: 1.000.000 $ Winner(s): Fina Screenshots: Date: 12/07/2025 Event Type : Mafia Barfight event Prize: 1.000.000 $ Winner(s): Spartan Screenshots:

Store Robbery 10.7.2025 Store Robbery 10.7.2025 Store Robbery 12.7.2025

Turf 10.7.2025 Turf 10.7.2025 Turf 11.7.2025 Turf 11.7.2025 Turf 12.7.2025 Turf 12.7.2025 Turf 12.7.2025 Turf 12.7.2025 Turf 12.7.2025 Turf 13.7.2025 Turf 13.7.2025 Turf 13.7.2025 Turf 13.7.2025 Turf 13.7.2025

Turf 9.7.2025 Turf 9.7.2025 Turf 9.7.2025

Date: 4/07/2025 Event Type : LMS Prize: 1.000.000 $ Winner(s): Phantom Screenshots:

Turf 6.7.2025 Turf 6.7.2025

Jailbreak 4.7.2025 Store Robbery 5.7.2025