The light beamed in through the tall glass windows, making it almost impossible to see what’s going on. The screaming is inevitable and endless, yet despite being predicted it sends a sharp pain into his ears. As the clouds gradually move across and cover the sun the situation reveals itself like curtains opening at a theatre production. Omar glares down in disbelief at an elderly male who’s body has been butchered by the savage power of a Usp.45. As the wailing filled the room the deafening sound of sirens closed in on the church. All eyes became fixed to the door, anticipating the powerful fist that is the LSPD. Moments before the door was forced open a large figure jolted across to the aisle and hurled a small handgun towards the altar, it dropped at the feet of priest Williams, and without thinking he knelt and picked it up. Suddenly the doors flung open and crashed against the wall behind them, the sound of the impact was accompanied by the shouting of “LSPD DROP THE GUN AND PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR!” Panic and nerves took over Omar’s body and the shock stunned him momentarily. He stood, still, silent in complete shock, of course he was a former criminal turned priest, with a gun in his hand and standing directly behind a dead body. As the swarm of armed officers cautiously stepped closer to Omar he opened his hand, let the gun drop to the floor, still silent, still shocked and within seconds an officer darted towards Omar, hurled his whole body into him, knocking him to the floor with ease. Yet Omar said nothing, what was the point? By this time the seats were empty, the parking lot was empty, and Omar was left with a gun, beside a dead body.

Later that day Omar was thrown straight into a dark, gritty, cold cell in Las Venturas maximum security prison. The cell was unoccupied till this point, so he was alone. However being a priest, most would claim God is with them, but the incident sent various thoughts of regret and doubt through Omar’s mind, as if God had screwed him over on purpose, if there is a God that is. He dropped onto the floor in the corner of his cell, still shocked and phased by the previous events. Omar used the initial night as a time to reflect, sleep was not an option as, despite the complete silence and isolation of his cell, the screaming and sirens still haunted his mind. Constant replays of the whole situation plagued Omar’s mind, disabling his ability to settle. As the long, gruelling hours dragged on and the Earth gradually turned, the prison began to wake. The echoing sound of metal hitting concrete caught Omar’s attention, he forced himself to his feet and walked towards the cell door and peeked out and watched as the numerous prisoners, all stripped of names and replaced with numbers, dressed in the customary orange theme walk out into the daylight. Omar walked into the prison yard, keeping his head down, this was by no means new territory, but he was no longer with his gang, he was alone facing a whole yard of what could be filled with friends, sons or cousins of people he’d personally cut down in the process of gaining a powerful reputation. He continued to walk across the yard, keeping his chin forcefully on his chest, trying to pass unrecognize. For him this was a lottery, in his mind he was either going to get very lucky and find out that all the individuals he as effected have left, or he’s gonna get the jackpot of pain and depression. As he moved along he sensed something closing in behind him, he came to an abrupt stop and glanced behind him, the tall figure caused his eyes to widen, however a grin slowly formed and a feeling of great relief healed his mind. He stared into the man’s face for a few moments before saying “’Sup Kane?” the man, Kane Harris, was an old friend whom he was very close with until the day he himself was caught by the police. He was also a former member of the once powerful street gang Saint Jefferson Familes at the same time that Omar had been involved. Naturally the two began talking “bid’niss”, although Kane had survived thus far his lust for power was growing by each day, and Omar’s desperate need for a survival plan made the forming of a gang inevitable. As they sat and began to catch up on the details of their lives, another man walked over to the pair. “Whaddup Kane? Who’s this?” Kane turned and stared at the man before answering. “Yo Proof, this is Omar, one of mah boys from the Saints, he’s joinin’ our clique.”
“A’igh’…but we both only in fo’ one mo’ week, how long you in fo’?” replied Wayne “187 Proof” Daniels. The expression on Omar’s face suddenly turned and he was visibly distraught. He shrugged and looked towards the floor, the mental agitation began to build back up, as with the crime he was convicted for he was looking for at least ten years. The conversation continued and the deal was finalised. They were now all dedicated to the gang, only one question had to be answered. “When we get out y’all can stay in mah crib on 4th street in Jefferson.” Stated Kane.
“4th street… 4th Street Saints…that’s what we’ll call ourselves.” Replied Omar. Proof and Kane both nodded and it was set, the only thing left on the table was the sentence Omar was to serve. As he sat in his cell that night the thoughts began to churn Omar’s mind like miners hacking at rock, his mental stability began to break off into pieces until a bleeping sound alerted him and the cell door slid open. Omar looked up at the officer standing in front of him. “You’re free now, a few witnesses has testified against your conviction, we’re very sorry for the inconvenience and if you’d like to follow me we would like to compensate and sort this mess out.” Omar nodded and jumped up to his feet, eager to leave the smutty hell that was his prison cell. The situation was sorted out and Omar was set free, but he still had a huge choice on his mind. Would he go to 4th street or to his own home?

22nd August, the date that Proof and Kane are scheduled to become free men. They had been picked up by a taxi near the prison and set off home. As they came closer to Kane’s home Proof looked out of the window and a grin formed as the tall figure of Omar came into view. “He’s here Kane, we set.”

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