I was hoping my little speech would throw you guys off the track.
I thought it was very convincing sounding.
I thought it was very convincing sounding.
MAFIA #5 The Play.....
- Thread starter Rbishop
- Start date
LOL!! I didn't actually mean to pull the whole game up...I was trying to put that in the sign up thread to answer tank Hobby as to who Bala was!!! Although, I'm glad I did...maybe ppl will read through it and see what Mafia was all about!
You were awesome as a mod Daddy O!!!
You were awesome as a mod Daddy O!!!
Memories...Judgemax sings on a short trip through one of her favorite towns. ACville. Where the people are always friendly, and deadly!
...the engine throbs at an idle, but increasing rythmn....as if it senses the growing, hidden currents of ACville. From atop a hill to the west of the town, several citizens, (no reaching out on a limb here...to early to put forth claims of innocence or scumminess), can be seen, wandering on their late afternoon rounds. New homes are visible, here and there....impressive styling and modern materials....but nothing more than elaborate tombstones to those who paid the price for keeping Bala's town free of scum masquerading as townies.
A quiet metal on glass sound, a quenched thirst as the cool brew slides easily down the throat, as does the condensation from the well chilled bottle runs on the fingers of the hand holding it. Bottle empty...tossed aside...time for supplies to be replenished. The other hand squeezes a chrome lever as a minute toe kick and then followed by the lever release, as the chilled, wet hand twists the throttle, and the bike rolls forward.
Anyone looking to the west from ACville would not see much. The setting sun....a dark shape rolling off the hill. And even though it is to far away for them to hear the sound or feel the vibrations as he does.....small hairs at the nape of the neck stand rigid on all who are crossing the town square.
Bala shifts his view....and no one will notice if he gazes in a new direction....it will always seem he looks the same way...in reality or in their opinion.
And on the east hill, another form mimics the actions from the west...do their roads meet?.....
A quiet metal on glass sound, a quenched thirst as the cool brew slides easily down the throat, as does the condensation from the well chilled bottle runs on the fingers of the hand holding it. Bottle empty...tossed aside...time for supplies to be replenished. The other hand squeezes a chrome lever as a minute toe kick and then followed by the lever release, as the chilled, wet hand twists the throttle, and the bike rolls forward.
Anyone looking to the west from ACville would not see much. The setting sun....a dark shape rolling off the hill. And even though it is to far away for them to hear the sound or feel the vibrations as he does.....small hairs at the nape of the neck stand rigid on all who are crossing the town square.
Bala shifts his view....and no one will notice if he gazes in a new direction....it will always seem he looks the same way...in reality or in their opinion.
And on the east hill, another form mimics the actions from the west...do their roads meet?.....
