Cracking Up

Read Cracking Up Storyline:

The estate was a stark, barren gladiator school with two warring factions battling it out in an unresolved territorial feud and trade dispute. Aggression and violent acts were common place because both sides want to make money in the dirty cut-throat drug business. Ganging up and ambushing, dishing out proper batterings and copping a load back, no hard feelings; it was all a part of it. But now, all of a sudden, guns were turning up on The Shooting Range. Crack and smack were going to turn it all into casual murder and mayhem. The violence was unavoidable and addictive as any drug - a product of the struggle to provide the crews with a means to survive in a society that had abandoned them. As they battled it out for the necessaries of street cred such as MONEY, RESPECT and POWER, dying was the probable end result and preferable to the living nightmare of being banged up in prison for a depressingly long incarceration. The Ju$tu$ Crew were a bunch of scary, villanous, gang-banging low-lifes from the dark side, coming together to make TOP TILL. They grafted, battled and stuck it out together. Double confident on their own patch, being mob-handed and armed to the teeth, the only squad of soljas in town that mattered. Their crew may have been an annoying bunch of lazy CRASBOs; loud-mouthed, abusive scum with a mean streak seeking sanctuary in the company of some like-minded nasty little hood rats using crap tactics to stay alive on the feral streets of Liverpool, but the dough was rolling in and their faction were well on their way, daring one day to live the dream: The Scarface world of grotesque amounts of money, phenomenally priced mansions, flash motors, tasty birds and mountains of the wicked devil dust because they looked up to Tony Montana and a top lad like Curtis Warren was their role model, Pablo Escobar their father figure. The vibe was heavy as the Ju$tu$ Crew infiltrated the estate wearing ski-masks and bulletproof vests. Sworn enemies, the Mug Fam, were on the paper chase same as them and tooled-up to the eyeballs. The police were less than impressed with both factions because there were reports of rapes and punters being taxed along with brutal street robberies and mindless violence. The drug business was a sick and schizoid ATM machine. A big, stinking public lavatory where psychos, back-stabbers and Judas informants defecated on everyone, and good lads were used like toilet roll. The apex predators smiled as they wiped their backsides with the boys, the crocodile smile. But the police Matrix units were their greatest adversary on these mean and unrepenting streets where the War On Drugs was full-on and the drugs were winning because despite the crackdown it was all too easy for the lads that remained at large to get caught up in the addictive adrenalin buzz of a criminally-minded outlaw lifestyle and this is the gun-toting Ju$tu$ Crew's fast-paced, blood-splattered testament ...