History Of Los Aztecas

The History of the Los Aztecas

-1990-

Despite what most citizens of Los Santos may think, Los Azteca story did not begin in San Andreas state. It began in Vice City, when its first jefe known as Marco Mendez fled the state to escape an FBI investigation into a multiple homicide in a Puerto Rican neighborhood. He ran across the country; hitchhiking, stealing cars, anything to get a few more miles from the FBI and its ''loyal'' agents. After two months of running, he found himself in the unfamiliar state of San Andreas, with nothing but his hustle and a few bills in his pocket. Feeling safe enough to rest his feet for awhile, he headed for East Los Santos. This was the heart of crime, drugs, and gang violence in all of San Andreas; which suited Mendez very well. He quickly became acquainted with the neighborhood turf kings, slum lords and drug peddlers, giving him all the right connections he needed to take control...and that is exactly what he did.
After only half a year in Los Santos, Marco had found his nitch in society. He began to buy off the slum lords, kill the turf kings and steal from the peddlers until the only way they could stay in business was to work for him. The civilians in the neighborhood quickly gave him the nickname,El Azteca because he took everything and left no one untouched in one way or another like the natives from the XIV century in mexico. Soon he had a band of avid followers, and together they took control of East Los Santos within weeks. There wasn't a single street where you couldn't see teal turf tags decorating its walls, and it seemed as if everyone was wearing the mark of the brotherhood. They were to known to the rest of the city as, Varrio Los Aztecas and the nam e stuck. This was the birth of the Los Aztecas, as well as some of the most violent horrific struggles Los Santos has ever seen.



-1991-

After almost a year had passed since any fighting between rival gangs had occurred, and Los Aztecas were making enough money to support the entire neighborhood, but new troubles were brewing in the west. Now that Los Aztecas were on the map, the crime families and the Police Department started to give them unwanted attention. As the pressure worsened, their grip on East Los Santos began to slip, and new gangs began to spring from the cracks. Knowing the rules, Marcos members continued to use brutal force and reputation to keep the other gangs at bay. But they all knew war was imminent, and it came to them in the form of Jamaic an refugees from Liberty City. To the members, they seemed like the usual rival gang that would be crushed in a matter of days; but their underestimation got the better of them.
For weeks blood filled the gutters of East L.S., Jamaican and Hispanic alike. There was so much fighting that the police force didn't dare to intervene. After a month, both sides grew weary of fighting, and their members were dwindling away. Despite all the bloodshed, neither side would give in, so the leaders called for a final combat, at 12 p.m., Glen Park to end it all.
Both gangs assembled, and both gangs bled. That night, gunfire was heard across Los Santos, and by the time the National Guard arrived at Glen Park; both sides had been laid to waist. Laid on the bridge were the bodies of what was left of the Jamaicans, including their Bossmon and his bodyguards. The remaining Aztecas limped away from the battle, back into the eastside, were they waited for the rebirth of the once great Varrios Los Aztecas.Marco Mendez had dissapeared.





January 5th -1992-

Approx. 1 week after Mendez's Death





"We Ride Till We Die''


Daniel squinted through his sunglasses at the vanilla-white casket. It was being carried by a number of men; all wearing teal bandanas and sunglasses, the funeral wear of a Varrio Los Azteca. He looked around the cemetery, noticing the lack of people that had showed for the hermanos' that died funeral. We've made a lot of enemies in this town, and they thought to theirselves as the casket was lowered into the ground.
There were only seven of them left, but they were the best of the best. If they survived the Yardies, they could survive anything. Well, except maybe the death of our hermanos and the near extinction of the brotherhood entirely. But none the less they stood there, surrounding the death bodies, looking down at them as they were dropped into a grave. Once the casket had reached the bottom of the hole, they raised there heads and crossed themselves twice, muttering prayers of good luck for the dead hermanos afterlife. Daniel glanced and Max and Ben, the two heirs to the Los Azteca throne. They both stood at the head of the grave looking at each member, nodding silently in recognition.
Okay hermanos, Max muttered with a wave of his hand. Let's give them some peace. They all slowly marched away, as the cemetery staff quickly buried the tombs, sporadically glancing up at the teal men, praying that nothing would go wrong as they left.

The cars were parked out front; two wheels popped over the curb to make sure the paint stayed safe. As they opened the doors each Azteca surveyed the surroundings, as the cemetery was the perfect place for an ambush, and they weren't exactly inconspicuous. Daniel hopped in the backseat of the low rider, as Ben started the engine and Max leaned back in his seat, slowly pulling a handgun from his waist.
''Old habits die hard que no?'' Daniel said jokingly to Max, noticing the pistol sitting in his lap.
''Whatchu think we off da hook? We made a few dangerous enemies that are still breathing homes, and I don't like my enemies breathing'' Ben took a sharp right onto Vinewood Avenue, which was followed by the honks of the people behind him.
''Yeah,'' Daniel agreed, looking out the window at the blur of people walking down the sidewalk. ''**** mane, I cant believe he's gone (Marco)! It's up to us esse, Los Aztecas is ours now.''
Ben looked in the rear view mirror to make sure the other car was still following. Ben cleared his throat and raised his hand to draw their attention. ''First things first, we gotta fill in the missing gaps those fucking negras put in our turf, we need to move our operation east, like around the Emerald nightclub or some shit'' his voice trailed off into thought.
Max and Daniel nodded.
''It shouldn't be too hard to take it back, we don't got no one standing in our way no more, if we play our cards right we can have it back by the end of this week!'' Daniel said, reaching into his pocket for a smoke.
''Yeah right esse, both you vatos forgot about one big problem, the 5-0! I bet they waiting right now at the Pig Pen just to snatch our asses up, take the long way homes! Don't drive straight down Vinewood Ave mane! We about to get swooped on you know that **** esse!
Just as those words left Max's mouth, sirens started blare behind them. All three of them spun around in their seats, Ben honked twice to the car behind to signal a split up. Ben reached under the seat for his desert eagle, as Max and Daniel rolled down there windows.
Daniel cocked the hammer back on his pistol. ''Here we go again hermano! You ready fo' this?''
Max smiled.
Daniel smirked and leaned out the window, putting the police car dead in his sights.
"We Ride Till We Die."