John Shaft is a black private detective who first gained work by rescuing a black mobster's daughter who was presumably kidnapped by Italian gangsters. Unintentionally, Shaft set off a race war between the Italians and African-Americans who live in the neighborhoods of Harlem. After his successful rescue of the black mobster's daughter, Shaft gains notoriety from his work. He is soon sent to Africa to dispel of a crime ring that smuggles locals to Europe, only to be exploited for their labor or sexual skill. After his adventures through Africa and New England, Shaft retires to train his nephew who was named after him.
Battle vs. Michael Corleone (by Omnicube1)Edit
John Shaft was strolling down the streets of Harlem and looked to the right. Some black children and teenagers were cheerfully playing various games like jump rope and basketball. Feels good to retire, he thought to himself. A purple-black Chevrolet Fleetmaster drove down the road and began to slow down. He saw white and tan hands fling eggs at the African-American children and teens.
"You're ruining society, go back to Africa!" said a voice with an Italian accent. Goddamn Italian pricks messing with my neighborhood. Shaft thought the feud between the two ethnicities was over. He shook his head and headed home.
"Who does this guy think he is?" shouted Michael Corleone in anger.
"He's a private eye, sir." was Corleone's minion's reply.
"I want him dead! You hear! If you can't do it, I'll show this guy who's boss!"
"He's a tough guy to kill, sir, we'll lose plenty of men before he goes down."
"I don't care, he's killed my friends damnit!" Corleone picked up his plate of carbonara and sent it across the room. "Get my car, you dumb piece of s***."
The Corleone family mob leader grabbed his Smith & Wesson Model 10, unlatched the cylinder, spun it, and slapped it back in.
Shaft took off his shirt and prepared to go to bed. He heard a car pull up to the apartment driveway. He heard yelling down below. He walked over to a nearby window and pushed aside the curtains. He saw a white male holding a double-barrel shotgun over his shoulder. He pushed the man in front of him towards the car, drew a revolver, and shot him. Shaft flinched when the shot rang out. He quickly grabbed his High-Standard Model 10 and loaded it with 12 gauge rounds. He grabbed his black leather vest and made his way out of his home.
"You aren't going to survive, Mr. Corleone." said the mobster.
"Do you think I give a s***?" was the reply.
"But sir, please!" Michael Corleone pushed his minion onto the car, causing him to panic. He drew out his revolver and shot him.
"I don't need a pussy like you in my empire." He ran inside and pointed his Lupara at the lock of the door that kept him from moving upstairs to deal with the man that was responsible for his friends' deaths. He fired, kicked open the door, and moved slowly upstairs. After moving onto the second floor a shotgun blast rang out and dozens of pellets nearly made it into Corleone's head. He found cover behind a pillar. He swiveled around and blind-fired. He was able to locate his target, drew out his Smith & Wesson and emptied out all remaining five rounds at his target. He missed his shots and used the time to reload both weapons.
Shaft was panting hard. He was almost killed by the Italian. He had to find more adequate cover. He made his way out of cover and fired his High Standard shotgun and made his way into the hallway. The Italian was right behind him and was firing his shotgun. Three pellets made their way into Shaft's left shoulder, causing him to drop his weapon. He took out his Colt Detective .38 Special and returned fire. He heard a shout and began to fire off the remaining rounds in his revolver and made his way to the third floor to get more weapons from his apartment room.
"AHHH!" screamed Corleone in agony. A bullet made its way into his right leg. He was out of munitions for his revolver and his double-barrel shotgun. He put his hand on the pistol grip of his Madsen M50. He chased after the black detective. He climbed the stairs slowly, ready to kill anyone in the way.
"Hey you!" The Italian mobster looked up, but could not find his enemy. A rifle shot cracked, but the bullet narrowly missed Corleone. He ducked and peeked. He saw the curly hair of his black nemesis. He let loose a torrent of bullets. He saw the hair move away. Corleone ran after him, climbing up the stairs.
Shaft, Lee-Enfield No. 1 Mk. 3 ready, ran down the hallway. The next thing he felt was the a thud and a sharp rush of pain. He put his hand on his back. He felt blood. He fell down, lying on his belly. He heard the Italian come closer. This is it.
Corleone twisted his head as he moved closer towards the black man. He was now eight feet away from his victim. Suddenly, he flipped around and was firing his Star Z45. More than half of the bullets made their way into his body. He fell to his knees. No this can't be.
Shaft got up slowly and kicked the Carcano rifle away from Corleone. He drew out his Colt Detective revolver. He put it to Corleone's forehead.
"I'm tired of you pricks messing with my people." he pulled the trigger. As Shaft holstered his weapon, his neighbors stuck their heads out of the door. He saw a little girl standing near her mother. He smiled at her, ignoring the pain.
Shaft won do to his far superior set of weaponry and experience.