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Joey Belgier - Story of my life


Jan 27, 2010
PART I - prologue

Germany, late January 1970 at a small coutryside hospital near to Stuttgart, a young single woman was giving birth to her first child.
As the father left her at the same moment she told him she was pregnant, she had no more income and the economy wasn't too stable.

She tried to give the child as much chances as she could. Therefore, they moved to the biggest city of Germany, Berlin.
There they rented an old apartment, so Joey could go to school without having to walk too much, since they couldn't afford a car.

After about a year, the small family was still pretty poor, but at least they had all they needed; a small income from the mother working at the textile industry, food, clothes, even a small motorcycle so they didn't have to walk everytime..

Another year passed, and Joey's mother found a new husband. About a year later, in 1977 when Joey was 7 years old , Joey's sister Jessy was born.

Now they had an extra income, things were finally getting better. When Joey turned 15, he started to work at the warehouse of a logistics company after school. When he was 18, he quit school and he got official work at the company as courier, delivering products with his van.

Mother Belgier died in 1988, due to lung cancer. The 'new father' didn't feel like staying with Joey and Jessy and a certain day, he just disappeared.

Joey raised his 11 year old sister in Berlin untill she was 16, providing her the chance to go to school.


When he got a message of an old school friend saying that his life had become much better since he moved to the States, Joey got all his money of his bank account and booked a single flight to America with his sister.

Once there he searched for a house at the countryside, as the houses in the city were way too expensive. So he bought a small one-roomed flat at Dillimore. After doing side jobs for half a year at Red County, he got the money to move to a bigger place, a house in Fort Carson. As it was inconvenient for Jessy to travel several miles a day by foot to get to school, she went to a boarding school.

At that moment, Joey saw an advert for a research facility, known as the black Mesa, he worked there for about a month as security officer. Because of the fact he didn't earn much from the job, he went fishing at Palomino Creek, selling the catches, sometimes taking them home to have some food. At the fishing spot, he meeted several people that he would become friends with later on. One of them recommended him to join a delivery group, called Epsilon Incorporation.

A bit later, Joey got a job at the Epsilon Incorporation, a delivery company. As Joey was experienced with this job by working at a delivery company at Germany, he got promoted quickly, even having a business car and van.

Altho the Belgier family had transport now, Jessy stayed at the boarding school, as Joey didn't always have the time to bring her away and it would be dumb to send her to another school at that moment as she had good chances there, and already made quite some friends.

Joey finally got a stable life, and his sister would come back during most vacations..


When Epsilon Incorporation changed from a delivery group to a security faction, Joey left. Ever since he started working back in Germany, he was into delivering, so security just wasn't his thing. Thanks to his job at Epsilon, he had managed to buy a big house in Mulholland, some nice cars, even a private limousine.

After resigning from Epsilon he decided to sell most of his stuff, and going back to the basics. He liked a secure amount of money for the future more than the rich life. This way he was almost sure he wouldn't get into financial problems ever again.

Altho the boss of his former company Epsilon left and people asked him to come back and lead the faction, he never came back, and he probably never will... At this moment he's workless, but he's thinking of starting a business himself one day.

Red County used to know multiple Motor Clubs before. At first you had the Dillimore Bastards, a great motorcrew with it's main meeting place at the Welcome Pump located at Dillimore. However, when the leaders disappeared, the crew slowly started to fall a part. The few enthusiasts that were left over joined the MC Hells Angels some time later, So did my uncle Heinrich Belgier. After some weeks the whole troop of MCHA members, using the Welcome Pump as their temporary base, departed from the countyside, as they were heading to the West Coast. Somehow, I lost contact with my uncle as he stopped writing and calling.

I searched ways to contact him for a few weeks. In those weeks I met some interesting people, all enthusiastic Freeway drivers. They learned me to live the relaxed life, something I didn't have back in the days I worked for Epsilon Incorporation. When I heard my uncle died on his way to the West Coast I immediately went to the San Fierro Airport to go to his funeral. Later I heard he had been killed by the WCS when he joined them but was unloyal. After the funeral I went to the local sheriff department, where his motorcycle had been stored.

Some people I met at the village were looking for something new, so they suggested I wouldn't sell the Freeway and take the plane back, but actually drive it back home. I wasn't sure about doing that. When they said they'd join me on my trip back I took the decision to go for it. We drove through beautiful landscapes, at abandoned highways, through cities full of life, I had a great time. We slept at shitty motels, some nights under the stars. After a few weeks we finally arrived back at Red County.

I decided to sell my big house back in Vinewood, and swap it for a cheap apartement and a caf├â┬® at Blueberry. Some of the West Coast people decided to stay at Red County. We meet up every day at the caf├â┬® now. Although we have found a good spot at Blueberry and I'm friended with the local gang Blue Dynasty because I made some guns for them and helped them out in fights, me and my fellow bikers decided we should move to Montgomery. This to prevent problems with Blue Dynasty in the future, as some of the bikers are racist and I don├óÔé¼Ôäót want to cause any problems at someone else├óÔé¼Ôäós ground. We├óÔé¼Ôäóll stay at Blueberry as long as we can├óÔé¼Ôäót find a good property, but we├óÔé¼Ôäód like to move out as fast as possible.


For one or other reason, I have been in a coma at the Montgomery Hospital for a week. I was found along the road with my throat half open. I'm okay again though. El Vato.. oh wait, no, they're La Onda now, well, whatever, La Onda has burned my caf├â┬® at Blueberry when I was laying at the hospital, with no reason at all. I wish they could afford a television so they'd have something to do, not harming others...

But actually, I couldn't really care less right now. I managed to buy a small caf├â┬® at Montgomery and I might start to re-decorate it soon, so it'll fit a bit more with the people hanging out in it. They can have the burned shithole at Blueberry..



About a month ago, I had to let my MC die. The "Montgomery Mot├â┬Ârheads" knew 2 main reasons to disappear from the streets.
1.: The lack of active people, somehow, for some reason, a lot of people suddenly left. ((Many of them left the server, due to bugs + noobs. -_-))
2.: Being fucked up by two gangs, or better said, a gang and a mob.

The fight consisted of me with a single MP5 with only a few clips left, against these two pretty well organised crime factions. I ended up in a coma for a week, laying at the Montgomery Hospital. By the time I woke up, the attacking gang, "the Creenshaw Kings", had died too. I haven't seen any of them since the attack. The other attacking party, the so-called "Waqqa Crime Syndicate", did what they always do after a bigger action: disappear in the underground untill they find a new weaker enemy to extort. They're probably pretty scared of the feds, as they didn't show their faces for weeks now. ((Oh no wait, the feds are too scared of Waqqa Admin Power to go after them ))

Anyhow, as I said, after the 'fight' I ended up in a coma. When I woke up at the Montgomery Hospital, one of the first people that visited me was Billie Johnson, the CEO of San News. He told me what happened to me, as he saw all of it on the recordings of a security camera at his companies headquarters. I thought about what happened for a while, and I decided to stay low myself, and follow the legal path for a while. As many of you may have heard via your scrappy car stereo kits, I joined the News team. It was a great experience and I'd like to thank Billie Johnsson for accepting me, although I have a fairly criminal past.

Thanks to my new income, and my both legal and illegal savings from Black Mesa, Epsilon, the Hells Angels and the Montgomery Mot├â┬Ârheads, I finally had enough cash to accomplish my dream; to have some oldtimers that I could work on in my spare time. While standing in my garage, working on the engine of my Hotknife, I saw my Freeway standing in a corner, still dark gray with a silver line, just looking a bit darker. I dropped my wrench and took a look at it. I moved my finger from the speedometer to the middle of the petrol-reservoir. About half an inch of dust sticked onto my finger... I started to miss my old life, driving around, getting drunk, and driving around even more, with my mates... damn, my mates...

I tried to get back in contact with an old mate of me, Alex McLovin, he and his racing gang used to be one of my fewer allies. I knew he used to ride the Freeway before, so I wanted to ask if he wanted to drive around a bit with me, and so he did. Both in the saddle of our steel horses, we started to chat a bit about the old days, about the MCMM, about the Dillimore racing crew, about the Dillimore Bastards... It seemed that we both missed the MC life. That's when he gave me this new opportunity, he sold me the Welcome Pump and I could keep it under one condition: I had to bring up a new Motorcycle Club and make it run as long as I could.

Again, a new dream came true, my very first bar had become a fact. Dillimore would be my new turf now. And our new name? 'Mot├â┬Ârheads' will do, you can scrap the 'Montgomery' part, I took my official depart from that shithole, forever.


Funny how things can change all the time.. funny how you can get fucked all the time. The deal with McLovin obviously wasn't the best deal I could ever make. After a few weeks it went all wrong. Every day I saw more and more members, and I never spoke to them.. every day the number of ignorant people increased, and I kept my mouth shut, because I didn't want to fuck it up this time.

And then came the big swap trick, he ripped of my President patch.. no reason included, I kept on asking him why, but he wouldn't answer me. I decided to stay although this action had set me straight to the boiling point. So we went on a cruise. Within a few hours we already had trouble with the police. I didn't even know what was going on. We cruised to Angel Pine, to Alex's house, right there at this front door, we were all waiting for commands, everybody asked what to do. We were waiting to have the door opened, but no real response came, he just ran a circle.

I guess he lost it.. and on that moment I lost it too. I couldn't keep watching this. Some of the men in there were great, but some of them, seriously, how did they even get a drivers license. I left the scene and went to an abandoned cabin in Angel Pine. When I took my vest of, I was filled with anger. I ripped the big "Mot├â┬Ârheads"-patch of. Been demoted in my own gang. My creation. The feeling of failing was heavy. A bit later I sold the bar to McLovin for a fair price and I took my bags out of Dillimore.


I'm trying to stay on the right path. I've been offered quite some jobs, both legal and illegal, but I only replied on the legal ones. Been vice-president of the Elite Trucking company for a while, because they knew that I used to be manager at Epsilon delivery Inc. Hrm, Epsilon, I wonder who did that to Richard.. If I ever get him in my hands..


It's hard to stay out of trouble. I'm helping some old comrades from time to time. Two former members of the Bolsheviks, used to be my allies. I never break an alliance. In a fight toghether with them, I met a strange group. I don't know how to describe them. Most of their acts are pretty discrete. My old friend Mugel seems to be with them. They could be me allies if I ever.. hrm.


Well, I managed to buy a gas station in Montgomery. Good old rotten Montgomery. I've set up a little business, offering Blooddring Bangers for rent. The clients look quite croocked sometimes, but oh well. As long as I don't get in jail, and the money keeps rolling, I don't give a shit about how much blood there is on the bumpers. Though, a few clients were old members.. them and some other people keep asking me the same question: "Will you ever bring it back?", and the only answer I can give is, "Maybe", and maybe it will be.

It looks like the Dillimore Bastards are giving up. Yesterday night I managed to buy "The Welcome Pump" from David Henderson, the Vice President of the DBMC. Their actual president doesn't even know yet.

McLovin, the DBMC President, came by to wish me good luck with my crew, I was astonished. Then he asked me something, something that'd change everything. He asked me where my current HQ was located at. I barely dared to answer. "The Welcome Pump", I mumbled. He didn't seem to believe his ears.

A few seconds he just looked at me. I had difficulties to look him straight in the eyes. He asked me whether I found it logic for the MHMC to be located at the DBMC's HQ. I couldn't think of any friendly reply, so I went for a direct one. "Where the fuck is the DBMC anyways", I asked.

The discussion was on, after answering each question he shot at me with a new question about him and his own MC he got tired of it, he walked out of the door. Outside, he walked to his Freeway, I could clearly hear him mumble. Once on the bike, he hit the kickstart as if the bike was the cause of his problems.

I was sitting in the chair I'm sitting in whilst writing this, I felt pretty fucking bad by what I had done to McLovin. I felt bad from the moment he knocked my door, just a bit ago. I grabbed a beer and tried to relax. After a minute or ten I heard the sound of a Freeway, driving up the farm hill. I knew it was McLoving again, I didn't have to look out of my window to know who's bike that was. The sound of McLovin's old Freeway, which was filled with bulletholes, rattled I had never heard any other bike do. It's a miracle that bike still runs.

I stood up, opened the door and I yelled: "WHAT NOW AGAIN!?" He had just risen his fist to knock my door, he looked up. He didn't seem to be filled with anger anymore, unlike when he left. No, he looked rather sad actually, yet he had some sort of a smile on his face, a grin maybe. Before I could even add anything to my rather brusque welcome line, he said the following:

"It was a mistake to not accept you to the DBMC back in the day, I see that now. You deserve to own the Pump, make the best out of it. I ain't coming back, I'm going to search myself a new direction, a new life. Good luck with it all."

I looked him straight in the eyes, he was dead serious. My mouth opened but I couldn't think of anything decent to say. He saw I was speechless and started to grin again. "T-t-thanks mate", I said, "this means a fucken' lot for me." He stepped of the wooden doorsted and went back to his Freeway. As he flicked the fuelvalve, hit the kickstart and took of, I just kept looking at him. I was astonished.



Feb 15, 2010
((Good story Joey! :p I took the time to read it. Plan on reading them all.))