top of page




Vinewood is a bit posh for my taste, but you can't choose where your born and this is where  my story starts. At 18 I had to get out of the house, had no clue what I wanted to do and no direction so I said fuck it and went into the Military. I had been shooting a bunch as a kid and I figured its not much different than hunting deer, people just run slower.

I put 8 years into the Military, it seemed to be over a lot quicker than it felt, but I had fun, learned a ton that would help me later on but right now I wanted money, and lots of it. I did not care if it was legit or not, money all spends the same. I put out my feelers looking for opportunities, I found some luck here and there but where I made the most cash at first was guns. Lots of illegal guns go through Los Santos, probably more than you realize and I was hungry.




I pushed hard, made connections and ground out a life for myself. Later on though I found it safer and more profitable as a dealer in the drug game. You name it I had it. I was going through pounds of week every week as well as piles of coke, Los Santos bread and butter.


I made some good connections, especially with these two psychopaths Dave and Dya. They had made a real name for themselves by having no limits and a thirst for the thrill as much as for the money. Unfortunately this was also all of our downfall. We planned to hook up near LS Customs downtown on an early morning in February when in the middle of the deal we got swarmed by cops. Those fuckers came out of the woodwork. That shitty day cost me 10 years of worth of my life.



I was pissed and looking to get piss drunk the day I got out. Unfortunately in that area there's really only one bar and its a shit hole. I pulled into the Yellow Jack on my beat up old bobber. It was packed, bikes everywhere, people passed out in the lot as well as on their bikes. Perfect.


Walked in got me a whisky, a couple times over before I spotted a cowboy hat across the crowd. I thought it would be funny if I saw those two again, also kind of worried they would think I set them up but I walked over anyway. Life was pretty crap at the moment so not much to lose.


Of course yeah, sure enough at the pool table was Banjo Dave as he went now apparently after beating a guy to death with a banjo in this same bar and Dya.


Favourite bike:

Custom Western Zombie Bobber

Both wore Sons of Leuven patches on their backs. I walked over to them and we instantly hit it off, caught up on old times and after asking about any chances to make some cash learned about the MC they had both joined. Apparently Dya was an officer and Banjo had just been Patched in as a full member. They told me to go over and talk to this very drunk guy at the bar who was almost falling over while yelling at people to line up for some reason.


After a short introduction Pavel the Road Captain of the Sons seemed to sober up a bit and talked to me for a few hours before offering me an opportunity to be a Hangaround in the club. I took him up on the offer and joined the Sons. Now as a Patched member and into my second war I can honestly say I have never looked back.

bottom of page