This is second in my rewriting and creating missions in GTA IV. Enjoy!
Note: Yes, I realize this reads like a story instead of a mission. It just isn't fun to write something without lots of details though, so just ignore it and remember: If you were playing this, you wouldn't be noticing most of these details.
Mission name: Interference
For: Roman Bellic
Unlocked by: Uncle Vlad
Replaces: "Crime and Punishment" for Roman Bellic
Niko shoots up from bed in a cold sweat. It takes a couple of moments for him to find his bearings, but once he does he's fine. Those damn dreams, he thinks. Will they ever go away?
He glances at the bedside clock. 5:37AM. Roman isn't home, so he's probably sleeping over at Mallorie's place on Oneida Avenue. Niko's only been there once, but he got the impression that she's quite a lucky girl compared to the cousins Bellic's place on Mohawk.
At 6, Niko decides that it's hopeless to try and fall back asleep. He gets up and has a shower that only lasts three minute until the water turned cold.
"I hate this place", Niko says to himself. He puts on a beige T-shirt and his favorite leather jacket and jeans and grabs his watch, a Casio Oceanus that Roman bought for him upon his arrival in Liberty City.
He heads down the flight of stairs to the red door to the street and exits the building. He pauses for a moment, not knowing exactly where to go. He actually has nothing to do, which means actually being able to eat a proper meal for once. As Niko jaunts down the block, he is finally able to take in how many people crowd Hove Beach. It's nearly impossible to avoid bumping into someone every couple of feet. It's still nowhere near as bad as Algonquin, though.
Despite the crowd, it only takes Niko about a minute to walk down to the 69th Street Diner. As he enters, the scent of eggs, bacon and coffee fill the air. The place is a surprisingly clean, 1950s style diner, all-American. Even so, the voices of Russians, Poles and Ukrainians galore fill the air.
While waiting for his breakfast, Niko receives a text from Michelle. "Hey Niko, I'd like to go out tonight. Call me if you're interested.", it reads. Niko can't help but laugh at the direct nature of American women. Before he can answer, he receives a call from Roman.
"Niko, are you there cousin?", Roman's urgent voice asks.
"Yeah, what's wrong?"
"No time to talk. I'm at the corner of Perestroika. Come quickly, man."
The line is cut. Niko rolls his eyes and looks at his watch. 6:45AM and Roman's at Perestroika? That's unusual, but Roman also sounded exigent. He puts the heavy Badger phone in his pocket and orders the check. Breakfast can wait.
Outside, he hails a cab that was stopping to let a fare out at the diner anyway. He recognizes the patron as Lenny Petrovic, the Russian crime lord's son, but doesn't say a word. He sits in quiet for the short drive while listening to Vladivostok FM on the radio. Perestroika is already open, though probably not for public use. Mikhail Faustin probably sat in his office at that moment, which made being there all the more hazardous.
Niko walks to the corner of the building and stands there in wait of Roman. It takes a couple of minutes for Niko's patience to run out, but it does.
"Come on, Roman! Where are you?", he says to what he thinks is only himself.
Suddenly, Roman walks out from the alleyway behind Perestroika...followed by a tall man wearing a beige suit and tie, who happens to be holding an AK-47 to Roman's back. Luckily for the man, nobody is on the short street.
"Come on, Mr. Balkan. Hands up or I shoot fatty here", he says, revealing a very thick Russian accent. He nudges the muzzle of the gun against Roman's back.
"Good boy. Now stay still." Another man who Niko doesn't see hits him over the head with a pistol; hard enough to knock him out.
When Niko regains consciousness, he's in a dark and dirty room. Boxes are stacked in a corner and a lone light bulb illuminates the room. Roman is seated across from him, gagged but awake.
A man slaps Niko fully awake. He's wearing a dark green suit with a beige tie and wears glasses. He has a black goatee but blond hair and has bright blue eyes.
"He's awake", he says, also showing a Russian accent.
"Good. Can I work on him?", the man from earlier asks.
"да. I'll go get Mikhail. Just don't kill him."
The green-suited man heads up a flight on concrete stairs, leaving Niko, Roman and the испитивач alone in the dim-lighted room.
"You've been a bad boy, Mr. Balkan. Nobody touches a боевика and gets away with it", the Ruskie says. "Who told you to attack Vlad Glebov?"
The beige suited man picks up an old, rusty hacksaw from a workbench. This whole situation reminds Niko of the time he was caught behind enemy lines in 1994. They interrogated relentlessly, but to no avail. Niko's adamancy probably saved his life. He escaped with seven other village soldiers after two weeks.
And while Niko was daydreaming, the interrogator became increasingly annoyed at that attitude. He holds the saw in his right hand and hits Niko straight in the forehead with it. Roman attempts to yell in empathy, but Niko does not proclaim any pain. The wound refuses to bleed, which makes the Russian angrier. He takes the saw and slowly grazes it across Niko's face. This time, Niko makes no attempt to conceal his pain and nor does Roman.
"So you gonna tell me, or what?", the Russian presses on.
"Okay, okay...", Niko responds. "Your daddy likes it up the ass. What you want me to say, huh?!"
"I'm going to saw off your f*cking legs! Speak!"
"I have nothing to say to an accident."
The interrogator walks up behind Niko and holds the saw against Niko's neck. The short blades tickle and hurt at the same time.
"Last chance, Mr. Balkan."
"I said f*ck you."
Roman has been screaming the whole time, but now he loses it. He cries hysterically then starts hyperventilating from the gag. The man rubs the saw back and forth and Niko starts to yell out.
At that moment, the other Russian and another man walk down the stairs. The new man is older, looks to be about 50 with a grey and receding hairline and is wearing a maroon dress shirt, a black blazer and black dress pants. He has a .357 Magnum in the right hand and nothing in the other, but has an interesting tattoo in his palm. He stops short on the bottom step and looks over at the interrogator.
"Andrei, the f*ck are you doing?" he says in yet another Russian accent. The cursory way he says it makes Niko laugh quietly, despite the pain in his neck.
"Ничего. I mean, I was finding out who he is."
The new arrival casually walks down the stairs. The exaggeratedly laid-back way he walks makes Niko smirk, but Andrei has an expression of loathing and annoyance on his face. The man walks up to Niko and bends down to reach his seated height. The .357 points dangerously at Niko's chin.
"You know who I am?"
"I think so. Mikhail Faustin?"
"Good boy", Faustin says with spurious cheer. He looks up at Andrei.
"You were making all this noise in my club just to find out who he is? Imbecile." He turns his head back to Niko.
"So, Niko Bellic. Do you think it is okay to kill an employee if he is disrespectful?", Mikhail Faustin asks Niko nonchalantly.
"If he is an asshole, yes."
Andrei takes a defensive step back, but it's futile. Faustin stands up from his crouched position and shoots Andrei in the face. The bullet goes straight through his forehead and the back wall is instantly sprayed with blood and brain matter. Andrei collapses to the ground like a ragdoll, causing both Niko and Roman to yell out in surprise.
"Mikhail!", the green-suited man practically screams.
"Asshole looked at me like I am piece of sh*t. You know I don't tolerate that." He looks back down at Niko.
"As for you, you are just lucky that Vlad is piece of sh*t. I only keep him around because I screw his sister. He an asshole, too. I only need you to do something for me."
Roman's screams become increasingly annoying.
"Man, shut up!", Faustin yells in an irritated tone.
"Shut up, Roman.", Niko concurs.
"Shut the f*ck up!"
"Shut him up, Dimitri!"
"How?! I...I can't!"
Roman's continued screams.
"Shut up, you fat ебля!"
"Roman, they will-"
A final scream becomes too much for Faustin, and he turns around and shoots Roman in the stomach.
"f*ck!", Niko yells.
"Stop shooting people, you lunatic!", the green suit, Dimitri, yells.
Roman's screams get worse for a couple of seconds, then cease and his head bobs lazily toward his legs.
Faustin raises his hands in the air in an I give up gesture and runs back upstairs. Dimitri grabs the saw and hacks Niko's rope off his hands, then attempts to speak. Niko pushes him out of the way and gets to Roman. He shakes him to no avail, and Dimitri grabs Niko by the shoulders in a surprisingly friendly gesture.
"I'll take care of him. For now, you need to go to a hardware store on Dillon Street. I'll give you a call, we've got your number. Go!", Dimitri tells Niko.
Without a word, Niko obeys. He walks up the stairs and uses an emergency exit to leave. He rubs his face with his hands once he gets outside. Having nothing to do but wait, he goes for a walk around Hove Beach. About 20 minutes later, his phone buzzes. Niko doesn't hesitate to answer.
"How's Roman?!", Niko demands into the phone without hearing who is on the other end.
"He's fine. We've got a doctor stitching up his wound as we speak. So here's what you need to do. There's a police car in the back alley. You see it?"
"Take it. You're going to Discount Hardware on Dillon Street. You should know it, it's where Roman likes to gamble. A blue delivery truck is set to arrive there at 1pm. Give them time to pack it up, and wait a couple of minutes before going after it. They're headed to East Hook, so you will have time. They shouldn't resist, but there's a pistolet in the glove compartment if you don't have one. Do not kill them. We've already planted a GPS in the truck's glove compartment, so just turn it on. When you get to the destination, park it in front and call me. Got it?"
"Yeah, sure. What's this about?"
"Never you mind. Just do this and your debt to Mr. Faustin is payed."
Niko hangs up without another word. It's only 12:15pm, so Niko has time to waste. He spots a hotdog vendor across the street and buys a hotdog and a can of eCola. He takes a seat in the terrace area of Alazone's Restaurant and browses the internet on his phone for about a half hour. At 12:45pm he sets sail.
He goes to the police car, a 1998 Vapid Stanier and opens the door. He pops the trunk to see what's inside, and isn't very surprised at what he sees. A police officer, gagged and sedated. Not dead, by the looks of it though. He thinks about whether or not to take the cop's clothes, but decides not to. All the delivery truck will need to see is the vehicle.
He enters it and heads down to Dillon Street.
By 12:55pm Niko is parked in an alleyway across from the hardware store, only visible if one was to look straight down the alley. It was too narrow to get out of the car, and that certainly wasn't a bonus.
The truck arrives a couple of minutes early, a Maibatsu Mule with the Easy Lay Carpet logo on it. The truck is white, not blue. The logo is blue. If Niko didn't have common sense, this could've ended badly.
Two men step out. The driver is wearing a brown leather jacket and jeans; he's bald and has a thick beard. The passenger is more refined; he is clean shaven, has slicked back black hair and is wearing an expensive black suit with a blue tie, black dress pants and leather loafers. He's clearly just overseeing the operation.
Loading up the truck takes about a half hour with more than eight men doing it. By the time it was over, the truck's back was filled to the brim with cardboard boxes with no logo on them.
When the grunt work finished, the man in the suit was gone. He had left halfway through the operation in a sleek, black Übermacht Oracle and hadn't come back. Niko was afraid of him screwing it up, but he arrived a couple of minutes later with a 24-pack of beer for the workers and a Bean Machine coffee for himself. Even though he didn't need it, Niko took a look in the glove compartment and found a Zastava M70 pistol, which used to be one of his favorite handguns during the war. He grabs it and conceals it in his jacket. The more the merrier, he thinks.
There's also a pair of binoculars. Niko picks them up and puts them to his eyes, even though it's totally unnecessary. They're rather advanced, and get him a very close look at the man in the suit. He has intriguing eyes. They're a very bright grey, which gives them a magical appearance. He's not entirely clean shaven, he has a small goatee.
Then Niko sees something very interesting. The binoculars have the ability to snap photos, and have a USB slot on the right of them. He has the perfect opportunity to ID the men, and he doesn't waste time. He gets a perfect shot of the man in the suit, and uploads it onto the LCPD computer on the dashboard. It takes about 30 seconds, and he's in.
Name: YALON, RAMI
DOB: 6/27/1962 (age: 46)
Place of birth: TEL AVIV, ISRAEL
Affiliations: PETROVIC CRIME SYNDICATE, FREELANCE HITMAN
Criminal Record of RAMI YALON
2006: Money Laundering
Rami Yalon. The name doesn't ring any bells to Niko, but the name Petrovic does. The man he passed at the diner earlier in the day was the Pakhan's son, Leonid "Lenny" Petrović. That's why Faustin wanted whatever was being delivered into the truck; he and Konstantin "Kenny" Petrović were enemies. But orders were orders, especially when it erased all debts to someone powerful.
At 1:30pm the truckers finally decide to roll out, but not before Mr. Yalon gives one of the workers a large stack of $100 bills. The previous driver stays behind, and this time it's an older man who steps out of the building at the last minute. He seems to be another man of higher authority, as he yells something to the workers and they immediately stumble back into the hardware store. He's also dressed nicely, but casually. He's wearing a more or less the same outfit as Mr. Yalon, except his suit is unbuttoned and he has no tie. He seems about 65, maybe 70 years old but he's still agile. He's able to climb into the high Mule without any hesitation or trouble. Niko snaps a photo of him to run through the database, but he doesn't do it yet. The task is to follow these guys.
The old man drives down Dillon Street and onto Wenrohorn Avenue to Rotterdam Hill. The streets aren't overly crowded, but still quite full. Niko stays two cars behind the truck until they turn onto Cisco Street. About 200 feet from the East Hook gate, Niko turns on the sirens and overtakes the two cars in front of him. He hopes that the pair don't try and resist, and his wish is granted. The truck pulls to the side right in front of Roman's cab depot. Niko parks up behind them, draws the Zavasta M70 from his coat but conceals it again. Maybe they won't be suspicious and they'll think he's an undercover cop.
Niko exits the car and sees the old man glaring at him in the side mirror. He rolls up the window. As Niko approaches the door, the man fishes something out of his pocket. Niko gets ready to shoot, but it's just an ID.
"Afternoon, officer", says the old man. He sports a typical Alderney accent, so he's very likely not a made member of the Petrović family.
"License and registration, please", Niko says simply.
The man hands it over. It names him as David Rassi, a 58 year old Lebanese-born man living in Broker. Obviously fake, and this was Niko's cue.
"Step out of the car", Niko orders.
The man does as he's told and jumps down. He really is agile for an old man.
"Look, officer. I got money. How ab-"
"Open the back doors", Niko instructs.
"Open the back. Now."
It's then that Yalon makes a move. He jumps out from the passenger door and comes around the other side, hundreds of dollars in hand.
"How's this for a reason to leave?", he says in a Russian accent. Trying to rule himself out, Niko thinks. Smart guy. "Come on, give us a break."
Realizing he won't get any further playing the cop routine, Niko draws both the Zavasta and his Glock 22 and points one at each man. He's glad he brought both guns.
"Whoa, pal! You're not a cop, are you?", the old man says.
"Who the hell are you, then?" asks Yalon. Niko isn't sure whether or not to identify Faustin, so he decides to go cliché.
"Your worst nightmare at the moment."
He hits Rami Yalon over the head with the Glock, and he hits the ground hard. His slicked hair becomes unfurled and his perfectly tailored suit is cut up in the unpaved road. Niko then turns his attention to the old guy, who he didn't really want to injure. He points the Zavasta M70 at him, but he doesn't move.
"I wouldn't do this, kid. The shipment's for Kenny Petrović", he says.
"That's why I'm here", Niko reveals.
"Then you're a Goddamn fool. Nobody who goes against Petrović survives."
"Not yet, maybe. I'll bet that I can be the first."
Niko pushes him aside, but when he attempts to get in the truck the man pulls him down and does the unthinkable: he pulls a gun on Niko Bellic. Mistake, Niko thinks.
But he follows his order: no killing. He shoots the old man in the upper thigh, and he hits the ground in pain. Yalon is somehow still unconscious. Since the truck is still running, Niko turns on the GPS as ordered, and it shows his destination: 57 Shinnecock Avenue. He floors it and takes off down the street.
Having no idea where Shinnecock Avenue is, Niko just drives as inconspicuously as possible while listening to Careless Whisper by George Michael on the radio. He arrives on Shinnecock only minutes later. It's the only road in a gated community called Beachgate. All mansions, but the address Niko got from the GPS leads to the most extravagant one, at the end of the road. It's at least twice as big as all the others, and it's covered in vine on the first floor to give it a classy look. It appears to have two stories plus an attic, and a long driveway paved with red brick with a red Turismo and a brand new F620 parked in it. The backyard leads out to the beach.
Niko parks the truck in front of the mansion, turns off the engine and phones Dimitri.
"Yes?", Dimitri greets. Niko notices he picked up after only one ring.
"I'm parked outside of the address."
A pause, then "Ah, I see you. Come inside. Roman's still here. Leave the truck there."
Away from the phone, Dimitri calls "Сергей, иди собирать грузовик" and hangs up.
Niko gets out and walks to the front door. A tall bald man wearing a intimidating black suit, black pants, black shoes and a black tie opens the door for him, asks for the keys and fetches the truck. Niko walks in, and is it ever a big house. Beige walls accented with gold columns, expensive paintings everywhere and red curtains hanging over the arch to the living room. A flight of carpeted stairs leads upstairs. The furniture is somewhat strange, though expensive, with many flowery patterns and red colors everywhere. Dimitri is in the kitchen with Faustin, the two chatting over a large bottle of whiskey.
"Niko!", Faustin calls.
Niko walks over to them. Dimitri offers a drink, but Niko refuses.
"So you did a good job. Sergei says that nothing was damaged. Did you have to kill anyone?", Dimitri asks.
"No. I left the police car on Cisco Street."
"Not a problem. We had someone watching you the whole time, anyway. You did well."
"Can I see Roman now?"
"Sure. Come with me."
Dimitri leads Niko upstairs. With more than 10 doors, it was somewhat confusing. Dimitri leads Niko to the second door on the left wall, and Roman is inside laying on the bed. He has a large bandage over his stomach, but is perched up against the pillows watching TV.
"Hello, cousin", he says to Niko.
"Hey. You seem okay."
"Yeah. They stitched me up good and Dimitri here gave me some painkillers. I'm kind of out of it."
"Well, at least you're mellowed up, now. I'll leave you be."
"Yeah...see you, cousin."
Dimitri and Niko leave, closing the door behind them. Dimitri leads Niko to the front door and hands him five hundred dollar bills.
"This is from me. Mikhail said this was a favor, but you did good."
"Thanks, Dimitri. We could use this", Niko says gratefully.
"I know. I'll call you if something else comes up. There's always money to be made."
"I can see that. See you around, Dimitri."
Niko walks down the pathway onto Shinnecock Avenue and Dimitri closes the door behind him. Niko phones a cab to take him back to the apartment, which doesn't seem like such a bad thing after a day like this.