"Long ago, a group known as the Rollers roamed the filthy, gang-infested streets of Los Santos with a great sense of satisfaction toward the trouble they had caused it. It was common knowledge in the criminal underground that no one in their right-mind would disrespect one of these individuals, due to the reputation that they had earned for themselves as the most ruthless gangsters in town.
The organization was built off of illegal street races, and underground boxing matches. However, as any illegal organization progresses, they began amassing a collection of weapons, and distributed their arsenals amongst other well-known organizations. With the best of the opposition now at their side, it seemed the new found Rollers were unstoppable. In the earliest times under the leadership of Cram, it was known the only way to become a Roller was to box your way through a tournament, win a big race, or to be an immediate family member of a respected Roller. As more time progressed, it seemed that the Rollers were becoming more powerful and influential than they had ever anticipated. With nearly every single great boxer from the town at their side, extorting rent money from the towns local factories became a breeze, seeing as how no other gang would question their presence.
Cram's life seemed all too good to be true, until one gloomy day he would never forget..
Rain poured down onto Cram's windshield as lightning struck in the distance. The squeaking windshield wipers slashed across the Huntley's windshield as it scattered beads of rain. If only Cram had known that his day would be as shitty as the weather outside, he probably would have stayed home..
...Cram pulled up to the curb in front of the Los Santos Bank, and without wasting any time quickly twisted his cluttered key-ring full of keys in the Huntley's ignition to the off position. Cram pushed the Huntley's door wide-open, and began turning to get out as a piercing shot rang through the air. Cram grabbed his chest in peril, letting out a deep yell. Truthfully, he sounded more angry than he was in pain, but you wouldn't have guessed it judging by the bloody gap in his chest. The force of the shot pushed Cram back in his seat, as blood splattered across the steering-wheel and the dash. Knowing he wasn't far from death, Cram slouched back into the driver seat and fiddled his key-ring from his pocket back out, desperately searching amongst the large ring to find the one that would fit the Huntley's ignition. As he eventually flipped through to find the right key, seeming like it was the last key he hadn't checked on the ring, another shot screamed through the air and into the windshield. Small glass shards scattered across Cram's face and chest as the bullet edged by his ear, and punctured the driver-seat headrest before it came to a stop. Cram shifted his body lower, trying to conceal as much of himself under the dash of the car. Barely able to see out the front window, Cram punched the gas with the little bit of strength he had left in him. The rear-tires broke loose, peeling out across the soaking wet road. It seemed as soon as Cram finally gained traction, he had lost it again as another shot rang through the sky. This shot was accompanied by an unfamiliar popping noise after it, as the Huntley's rear driver-side tire was pierced. "God- Damn- Fucking- SHIT! GO!", Cram shouted as the car slid across the slick street..
If it wasn't for Cram's vast experience with rear-wheel drive cars and drifting, he probably wouldn't have made it as far as he did. More shots erupted from the sky, most missing, with a few nicking the Huntley's fenders. With the throttle wide open, Cram fishtailed the car down the long bank street until his out-of-control vehicle was fatefully lined up with a turn he couldn't make. Without letting off the throttle, Cram shanked the steering-wheel left, and slid the Huntley onto a street a ways down from the bank. After he had passed the apex of the turn, the Huntley spun-out 180 degrees around to an abrupt stop. Without his initial momentum from taking off, and being on a street that would seem the sniper wouldn't have had an angle on, Cram threw his door open once more and limped from the Huntley to the sidewalk, crashing down on his back as he reached in his pocket for his cell-phone to call for help....
It took Cram to be in critical condition at the All-Saints hospital for him to realize the streets were getting too heated for him to stick around. The snipers first shot had only missed his heart by an inch. While the doctors said it was a miracle he lived, the police questioned why he was the target of such a precise sniper attack in the first place. With the best lawyers at his side, skillfully dodging every question the cops threw at them, Cram was eventually released from the hospital without requirement of further legal action regarding the attack.
Cram arranged a meeting with his highest ranking members in an undisclosed location and decided that Cram would leave town for a few months via private jet. The gang wasn’t one that would crumble apart if one man was missing, they were far too organized. Rightly so, before he left, Cram appointed his second highest in command to take charge of the crew; Joel Daoulas. Of course, with Cram's absence being a hot-topic on the streets, other gangs wanted to contest against the Rollers presence while they were down.
There were nights when the Rollers had to fend off attacks from multiple gangs, ranging from the Mexican Vato's grunts, to highly trained Yakuza assassins. But like every gang before them, constant war had eventually depleted their forces, and Cram's absence had passed before anyone realized it..
9 months later...
Cram began stepping to the door of his private jet, with a sigh of relief thinking about his old life, and anxious to see his best men, waiting to greet him upon his landing. As he stepped off the plane expecting to see masses of soldiers, he looked upon a mere sixteen rollers in front of him. Realizing the loss that his gang had suffered, it was apparent to him on what he must do. If Cram wanted to live the life of fortune he was accustomed to before he left, he was going to have to start all over again from scratch."
Leader: Cram_Fonruter
Rank 6: Pelu_Brazzi
Rank 5: Lucka_Brazzi
Rank 4: Corbin_Onion
Rank 3: Maurf_ONeil
Rank 2: Aleman_Brazzi, Travis_Bickle, Eddie_Green
Rank 1: Marco_Grozzi
Skins: 17, 190, 25, 24, 241 (Left to right)
Cars: 2x Tahoma 2x Huntley
HQ:
Why? I would like to lead the Rollers because we're a good group of people and we're SZR veterans. We look to enhance RP on the server and interact with other families. Everyone in the family is a good old friend of mine and we don't just dissapear in a day. We come as a group and that's how we will present ourselves. We will be open to recruiting low level members to help them learn about the server. All around we just want to have some fun on the server. Thanks.