It had been years since Carl “CJ” Johnson left Los Santos. The city had changed, but the streets? They still whispered his name. Crime had crawled back in, the Ballas were back on the rise, and Grove Street was barely holding on. CJ stepped off the train wearing the same green bandana he left with. “Time to clean up,” he muttered, adjusting his jacket as he walked through the old n... https://gtasanapks.com/