Marcus didn’t flinch. “That’s Carl’s territory now. Let him handle it.”
He didn’t stop until he reached the rooftop of his own building. Down below, Los Santos glittered. The rich folks in Vinewood saw a skyline of dreams. The tourists saw the lights. gta sa hoodlum
He lit a stolen cigarette and watched a police helicopter circle the district, its searchlight cutting white scars across the dark streets. Marcus didn’t flinch
An hour later, Marcus found himself at the mouth of the alley behind the donut shop. The air smelled of old grease and diesel. Three purple Bandanas—Ballas—were leaning on a Cadillac, laughing. One of them, a lanky guy named Stitch, was holding a bundle of cash. His cash. Down below, Los Santos glittered
The fight was ugly. It was a mess of grunts, asphalt scrapes, and the wet thud of fists on ribs. D came barreling in from the side, taking the biggest Ballas down with a clothesline. Marcus focused on Stitch. He wasn't a brawler; he was a survivor. He used his speed, jabbing at Stitch’s kidneys until the bigger boy crumpled.