'Vice City' Aftermath

[bored]

I'm not posting the start of the actual story tonight (sorry), but I've been formulating a story about the aftermath of "Vice City". People have done a bunch of stuff like this for '3' and 'SA', but none actually about Tommy Vercetti and Vice City (though he's involved in pretty much all of 'em somehow). Hell, I even did one where he figured in (see the sig). Aaaanywho, the first post'll go up in a day or two. Hope you enjoy it when it starts.

[SA Contest]

Nice one, bored. I really wanted to read your King Of GTA3 story, but I left it too late and couldnt get time to read it all.

BTW, I did a story ages ago, which only ended in three chapters of events after VC, but it was my first story and pretty much sucked.

Vice City Continued

[Kanney]

That was me by the way, sorry.

[bored]

ah. how far did you get in 'KOLC'?

 

 

EDIT: read through your story. it's odd the way it's written at first (a bit hard on the eyes), but when you get down to it, there's some cool stuff. hearing about 8Ball and 'Fido's parents. Sorta kills an idea I had for this. I may still include that, actually. I'll just pm you with it sometime though, so it doesn't ruin it for other people.

Edited January 2, 2005 by bored

[Kanney]

Eh, well I noticed (I was away from Writer forums for a while) it late in the series so I'll be keeping an eye on this one.

 

I have a story coming up tonight aswell, it'll be good I promise.

[bored]

Okay, this is how it starts off.

 

 

 

A white Infernus went zooming down Vice Point. A man hung his body out the window, and was shouting something, in the kind of melody that one would ordinarily hear from a child chanting 'nanny-nanny-boo-boo'.

 

"I'm Tommy Vercetti! I'm Tommy Vercetti!" He shouted, in that slightly slurred melody. "Whooooh! Yeah! I'm Tommy f*cking Vercetti! Ken, switch!"

 

"Tommy, I am not letting you drive," the driver of the car, a pudgy man with curly reddish hair, said. "You're drunk!" He said all this in barely two seconds.

 

"And you're coked out of your mind, Ken! Now switch!" The two men struggled to switch sides in the two-seater sports car, which swerved all over as they did so. Bystanders ran for cover, until Tommy Vercetti was able to get to the wheel, and give the car a minor impression of being under control. Luckily, there were no cops venturing out here at this time of night. Tommy, if he were sober enough to know better, would not want to be picked up for drunk driving. Not tonight, after he'd just fought off the onslaught that was Sonny Forelli and his gang. Not after being betrayed by one of his closest friends and allies, but still coming out alive. No, he needed to celebrate tonight. So, he'd done what any man like him (of which history had few) would do: he got hammered and took out his most expensive car to terrorize the first neighborhood he saw. This wasn't so much a neighborhood as a collection of apartments and pointless stores, but it served it's purpose.

 

"I'm Ken Rosenburg! I'm Ken Rosenburg!" The other man in the car yelled, from the passenger side. "sh*t, this isn't working. Umm... I'm Tommy's lawyer! I'm Tommy's lawyer!" A gunshot rang out, and Ken ducked back into the car. "Haitians! Floor it!" Tommy gained enough composure to speed away quickly, not crashing into anything.

 

 

 

That night, after somehow managing to get home with minimal damage to the car, Tommy sat on the roof of his sprawling mansion (which also happened to be a heli-pad), occasionally glancing at the blood-stain on a lower level of the roof. Earlier, he'd put several bullets into Lance Vance, his former ally in the crime world of Vice City, Florida. Sure, he'd been elated to show the world he meant business by killing the treacherous Vance, and his enemy Sonny Forelli, but it still brought his spirits down. He felt so stupid for not giving Vance as much of a piece of the action as he'd wanted. Sure, Tommy was somewhat of an asshole, and proud of it, but he was good to his friends. He'd ignored someone who had helped him through so much in his rise in Vice City's criminal underworld, and that had driven Vance, who'd started out so aggressive in his attempts to work with Tommy, to betray him for Forelli. Tommy pounded the cement floor, and grabbed his coffee mug, trying to sober up a bit more. His cell phone wrang.

 

"Yeah?" He moaned.

 

"Tommy?" A man with a Southern accent said on the other end of the line.

 

"Avery?! Christ, man, I haven't heard from you in a while!" Tommy exclaimed. "What's up?"

 

"Just heard 'bout your business with Sonny Forelli, and about Lance Vance. I'm real sorry that you two had to grow apart. Thought you made a hell of a team."

 

"You found out already? It was just this afternoon," Tommy said.

 

"Yeah," Avery started to explain, "but word travels fast. You know that as well as I do. Now, about why I called."

 

"Let's hear it."

 

"Take this from somebody who knows: when you start accomplishing alot in Vice City, you get trouble. I bet you can agree there after today, but it'll get worse. I like you Tommy, you're a good guy, so I'm just sayin' that you should watch your back. Come visit me sometime in the next couple of days. I'm eager to hear some stories from you. Bet you've got a ton. Bye."

 

"Later, Avery." If anyone in Vice City could be called a mentor to Tommy Vercetti in the few months he'd spent down here, it was Avery Carrington. To the high-society types, Avery was a Southern gentleman, with good clothes and a thick accent to go along with his charm. He'd given Tommy some decent paying jobs early on, and gave him advice whenever he needed it. When Tommy and Lance had killed Ricardo Diaz, the former top drug baron in Vice City, Avery had personally helped him turn it into the center of Tommy's business and social lives. They'd lost contact lately, so it was good hearing from him again.

 

Tommy got up, and headed inside, as it was starting to rain. When he got to his office, he looked out the window at part of the city that he was determined to concquer, and was well on his way to doing. He picked up the phone on his desk, and dialed the hospital, checking on Earnest Kelly, the old man who ran the Printworks, which Tommy had recently purchased. To signal that he was in town, Sonny Forelli had sent his goons to beat up the elderly man and 'tax' the printworks. Kelly was doing alright, though he'd taken a savage beating. There was a knock on his door.

 

"Come in."

 

"Hey, boss," a fat man in a dark red shirt poked his head in.

 

"Hey, Jimbo. What's up?"

 

"The lawyer passed out by the bar."

 

"Just throw him on the couch and make sure he doesn't choke on his vomit."

 

"'Kay. Somethin' bothering you, boss?" Jimbo, one of the no-name thugs who'd come under Tommy's service in the last month or so, left. Many of Tommy's underlings had either died or run off scared during the Forelli attack. If not for the few that had stayed, Tommy would probably be dead, and worse, his money would have been stolen.

 

Tommy, still in his current funk, stared at the poster of Candy Suxx, prominent local hooker/porn star, and decided he needed some company. He picked up the phone again, and dialed another person.

 

"Hola, it's Mercedes," a Hispanic woman's voice said.

 

"Hey, babe. It's Tommy."

 

"Hi Tommy. What now? I gotta seduce a foreign diplomat?"

 

"Haha, but no. Only person who could use some company now is little old me. Care to come on over?"

 

"Of course. 'Bout time you wanted to party with me. See you in a little bit, tough-guy," Mercedes said.

 

Tommy hung up, and went to his bedroom, waiting for her to show up. He'd been assigned by Colonel Juan Cortez, one of many crime bosses who'd taken a liking to Tommy early on, to watch his daughter, the gorgeous Mercedes Cortez. Some job he'd done, only talking to her when he needed her to entertain a horny rock band, or do a porn movie at his studio. And she was clearly smitten with him, so it seemed like a good time to get her over. That would raise his spirits, he thought, among other things.

 

 

EDIT: got some names wrong. never good w/ names. thx Kanney.

Edited January 4, 2005 by bored

[Kanney]

Very nice indeed, two things tho.

 

Avery Carrington and Juan Cortez. THose are the real names. Keep it up, bored.

[bored]

"Aaaaspirin...." Ken Rosenburg moaned, in the morning. "My head hurts like hell!"

 

"Ken, you were on coke last night, you weren't drunk," Tommy Vercetti said. They sat at a round table in the huge dining room in Tommy's mansion.

 

"I got hammered after I came down from the high."

 

"Genius." Mercedes entered the room. "Hey there, babe."

 

"Hi, Tommy," she said, sweetly, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. She kissed him in the cheek. "Sleep well?"

 

"Who says I slept?" Tommy said, with a wink.

 

"Did I miss something?" Ken asked. "Why didn't you call a girl for me?"

 

"You'd passed out," Tommy said. "I didn't know you were into that kind of thing, Ken."

 

"Huh?"

 

"Oh never mind," Tommy said, with a laugh. He beckoned Mercedes to sit down. "So what's on the agenda today?"

 

"Who cares?" Mercedes purred, cuddling up to him. "You don't need to work every day."

 

"Well, I'm assuming you're going to cuddle with your little girlfriend here," Ken said, not looking up from his plate of pancakes. "But you were supposed to oversee the distribution of some fake money from the Printworks. Oh yeah, and the people at the Malibu wanna remodel, but they need some input from you. If you and Lolita can tear away from each other long enough, you might want to get those done."

 

"My name's not Lolita," Mercedes said.

 

"Babe, he means-"

 

"I know, I know. And I'm 22. That's completely legal."

 

 

 

 

In the Gulf of Mexico, Colonel Juan Cortez was evading the French special forces again. Tommy Vercetti, the gangster who was watching after his daughter, had fought them off for him in Vice, and he thought that they would leave him alone after that, but he'd stolen information, and they weren't happy. The only thing he had left to do was return to Vice City and hope that Vercetti could fight them off again.

 

 

 

this bit was short, but i wanted to update a little. i think i'm not going to update frequently so that future posts can be longer and better. not like my last story, where it was rushed sometimes.

[bored]

Tommy Vercetti sat in his office, looking over the Malibu Club. Ken was searching under one of the chairs for his glasses, occasionally bumping his client.

 

"Rosenburg, cut it the hell out," Tommy groaned. "Look in the upper right-hand drawer of my desk." Ken opened it, and found his glasses.

 

"Tommy, what the hell?"

 

"Gotcha." Tommy turned back to the window. "Ken, do people like me?"

 

"How do you mean?" Ken asked.

 

"What the hell do you think I mean? Do people like me?" Tommy still looked through the window.

 

"I didn't think you were the type to care, but yeah, people do. People you haven't threatened, at least. Avery, he likes you. Steve, from the film studio, he thinks you're alright," Ken thought for a moment for more people, "Kent Paul likes you, but he likes anyone with more money than him. Earnest, I think he likes you. From what I'm told, the old guy doesn't get alot of people who show a genuine respect for him or his ideas too often. Let's see... Umberto! That Cuban nut with the cafe! He thinks you're cool. And let's not forget Mercedes. That girl crushes on you like nothing I've seen in years. And hey, there's me!"

 

"Well I'm glad I have such a loyal side-kick," Tommy said. "You forgot Phil. He'd sure as hell better like me."

 

"Phil?" Ken knew who he was, but he really didn't like him. "Phil Cassidy, the gun-nut? Ahh, I don't even want to think about him! Gives me the creeps, ya know that? He got his arm blown off, and he acts like it's nothing." The phone wrang as Ken spoke. He picked it up, and muttered under his breath: "Well, speak of the devil. Tom-bo, it's for you."

 

"Never call me Tom-bo."

 

"Sorry."

 

"Phil? Hey, it's Vercetti. What's up, man?" Tommy listened intently. His blank face developed into something worried. "sh*t! I'll be there soon, Phil!" He slammed the phone down. "Ken, Haitians are moving in on Phil's gun yard. Call the cab joint, and have 'em block off the entrance. I'm gonna round up some of the guys and give him a hand. Oh, and when you're done with Kauffman, call up Cam Jones for me, and have him meet me by Umberto's place." Tommy ran off, out the door and down the stairway; then through the crowded club, and out to the parking lot and his white Infernus. He zoomed off to the mansion to wrangle any of the members of his gang that were there, along with more weapons than the handgun he had on him.

 

 

 

Twenty minutes later, Tommy Vercetti and his gang met up with Cam Jones in Little Havana. After getting wind of the situation, Umberto, the portly Cuban gang-leader, volunteered several Cuban gang members to join them. This put them up to almost thirty people, which Tommy estimated to be more than enough. They sped off together to Little Haiti, past Kauffman Cabs, which Tommy had owned for almost a month, and to the entrance to Phil's Gun Yard. Taxis sped away quickly as soon as Tommy, his gang, Cam, and the Cubans appeared, leaving the Haitians briefly bewildered. Several hurried through to the Yard, and others turned to Tommy and his forces. Vercetti had them start firing immediately, while he and Cam rushed past, shooting at the Haitians going after Phil. There was automatic gun-fire coming from inside the Yard. Accompanying that was maniacal laughter.

 

"That's Phil!" Tommy yelled, shooting ahead. "He's alright!"

 

"I know, I know," Cam replied. "How can he still shoot with one arm?"

 

"We'll find out," Tommy said, sounding eager to see for himself. At the gate, A Haitian shot at them, narrowly missing Cam by inches. He shot with a pistol, hitting the Haitian in the shoulder. They hurried on, entering the yard, which featured a typically chaotic scene of rusty buildings and wrecked cars, though there were several dead bodies now, as well.

 

"Aw, not more of you assholes!" Phil Cassidy yelled, before realizing who they were. "Cam? Tommy? 'Bout time you two cowboys got here!"

 

Tommy and Cam both blinked, possibly at the exact same moment, seeing what Phil was shooting with. He'd rigged up a special sling to hold up an AK-47 in place of his missing arm, leaving his other to hold the handle and pull the trigger. It seemed like the system was working pretty well.

 

"Any more Haitians out there?" Phil asked, rushing past them. "I wanna give a few more of those jerks a piece of my mind!"

 

"What of it he hasn't drunken away," Tommy whispered to Cam. They followed him outside, where Tommy's gang and the Cubans were fighting off a whole wave of Haitians.

 

"Aw, sh*t!" Phil yelled, clasping his gun. "Where'd they all come from?"

 

"Doesn't matter, Phil," Tommy said, catching up. "Come on! We're getting out of here!" He shoved Phil into the passenger side of the red car that Tommy had 'borrowed' on his way from his mansion to Little Havana; then hopped into the driver's side. "Cam, hitch out with the Cubans if you wanna stay! I'm getting him out!" He zoomed off with Phil, and several dark red Voodoos, the Haitian gang's car of choice, followed. Tommy hurried away as fast as he could, with Phil struggling to get his seat-belt on. After getting to the bridge to Starfish Island, he gunned the car's engine as hard as he could, sending it practically flying over the small, upward curve in the middle of the bridge. This wasn't the fastest car he'd ever driven, but it was doing alright against the Haitians. Behind the Voodoos, two cars carrying Cubans tore in, getting to the flanks of the Haitian cars, and shooting out the side windows. Tommy finally got to his mansion, where several of his men were ready with various guns. Tommy jumped out of the smoking car, clutching one of his guns.

 

There was an explosion outside, and he was told that one of the Cuban cars had been blown up. He pushed in front of his gang, and started shooting the closest Voodoo. All of the cars stopped, and thugs emerged from each. Tommy started shooting, covering the few Cubans left who were trying to get out of their car. The last of the Cubans threw a punch at the closest Haitian. Another shot him in the gut. Tommy charged, almost being shot in the process, and rammed into one of the Haitians. He grabbed the thug's arm, and twisted it around his back.

 

 

 

In a few more minutes, Tommy had taken care of the remaining Haitians, and had their cars removed.

 

"So what do I do?" Phil asked. "If I can't go back to the Yard, then I've got nowhere. I don't know what I did to piss those damn Haitians off, but they're out for me."

 

"I know, Phil, I know," Tommy said. "You just stick around here for awhile. I'll get some of my guys on it in Little Haiti, see what's going on. There are only so many Haitians to deal with. I think we'll be alright. Now come on to the pools outside. I got some company for ya'."

 

"Pools? Pools, Tommy?!

[Kanney]

Nice one bored, it wasn't as tense as it could be, and ends suddenly enough, but I'll keep reading, I like your work.

[bored]

An unfortunate Hatian gang member wriggled in an uncomfortable chair, tied tightly and gagged. Two thugs guarded him, until Tommy Vercetti arrived, holding a machete.

 

"What's your name, buddy?" He asked, menacingly. The Haitian tried to give a muffled answer. "I said, what's your name? Come on, we want to establish some communication here. Oh, wait now. Do you still have this thing stuck in your mouth?" He mocked him as he took the gag out. "Now, what is your name?"

 

"Francois," the Haitian sputtered.

 

"Francois? Poor schmuck. I'd never want such a Frenchie name," Tommy sneered. "Now that we've got that established, do you know who I am?"

 

"Vercetti?"

 

"Yep. Know why you're here?"

 

"No."

 

"What were you pricks doing messing with Phil Cassidy?" demanded Tommy.

 

"I didn't go near no Phil Cassidy." Tommy smacked him with his free hand.

 

"Don't bullsh*t me! You guys practically sent an army to go after him."

 

"I wasn't there! I swear it! I don't know why they wanted us to for him!"

 

"Who's 'they'? Who sent you? Was it Auntie?"

 

"Auntie, she old. She ain't got no part in this. I dunno who they were!"

 

"Boys!" Tommy called to his two guards. "Work him over a little for me. If he lets anything, and I mean anything, out, I've gotta know about."

 

"Can we use that?" One of them asked, pointing to Tommy's machete.

 

"Oh yeah, go for it."

 

 

 

Tommy exited the Printworks building, where the Haitian he'd nabbed was being interrogated. This was inside Little Havana, but he worried about Haitians venturing in, looking to cause trouble in retaliation for his intervention in the raid on Phil's yard, and possibly if they knew that he'd captured one of their own. At the store, he could count on the men who had come under his service to help him, and the various Cuban gangs that roamed the area wouldn't tolerate their prescence. His cellular phone, which often clunked on his side, wrang.

 

"Hey."

 

"Vercetti?" It was one of the ice-cream truck drivers the Cherry Poppers'. "Boss, we've got a situation. Your boys went off for lunch, and some Italian goons showed up, started causing trouble."

 

"Easy. Where are you?"

 

"A pay phone down the block. I'm scared, Tommy. Alot of the guys are still stuck in there, and I can't call the cops, otherwise they'll find the drug stash. You've gotta help."

 

"Alright, I'm on my way." Tommy hung up, and got into his Infernus. He checked to see that his Colt .45 was loaded, and that he had a pistol in the glove compartment. The tires screeched, and Tommy was off. Minutes later, he reached the ice cream factory, which he'd bought early on during his time in Vice and soon learned was a front for a drug ring. When he reached it, everything seemed calm. There was only one thing wrong, and that was that the door was closed. It was never closed at this time of day. He took his guns, and headed in, ducking behind a table in the garage. Sure enough, a small batch of Italians had invaded, and were tearing the place apart. One was sent to see what happened at the entrance. When he got close, Tommy sprung up and snagged his collar, pulling him forward and slamming his fist into his face. When the gangster made a noise, Tommy spun him around and snapped his neck with a quick motion of his arm. Two more Italians raced out. Tommy pulled out his .45 and shot both of them before they had their hands on their guns. He waited to see another Italian come out, which was the kind of thing that usually happened, but none did. He peered into the windowed office in the corner, where three people were cowering. He beckoned them out.

 

"Who are these punks?"

 

"I think they're holdovers from the Forellis," one of the truck drivers said. "One of 'em said they were gonna cause trouble for taking out Sonny."

 

"That," Tommy said, "is a pretty clear indication. These three, were they the only ones?"

 

"There were four," another person, a janitor, said. "The other one went up on the roof." Tommy nodded, and headed out back, to get to the service stairs. Outside, he scanned around, pointing his gun wherever he looked, not seeing the fourth Italian. He started up the steps, hoping not to make too much noise. At the roof, the fourth man was watching over several bags of money.

 

"Hey, greaseball!" Tommy called. The Italian saw him, and reached for his gun, but Tommy shot out his knee before he could get up. "What do you think you're doing here?" The injured Italian wimpered. "Not another quiet one."

 

"Th-the Forellis sent us down, said you iced Sonny!"

 

"Figured so. How many of you are here?"

 

"We got... we got..." the Forelli goon passed out.

 

"sh*t. Well," he said to himself, "better get him some medical attention."

 

The Forellis were back, pissed at Tommy for killing Sonny. Things would either be very bad, Tommy thought, or very fun.

[bored]

bored lost his muse for a while.

 

 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

"...Well, I don't you either!" Kent Paul shouted to a leggy blonde woman who stormed out of his recording studio. "I got millions on other people. I produce Love Fist, you li'l tramp!"

 

The woman shoved past Tommy Vercetti.

 

"What the hell was that all about?" Tommy asked.

 

"Just some prude bird," Kent replied. "Nothin' you need worry about, mate. What can I do for ya'?"

 

"Actually, I came here to give you a little warning," Tommy said. "The rest of the Forellis are headed in our direction, and I figure they'll go after everyone I know before they actually come to me."

 

"Oh bloody hell!" Kent sulked. "Well, I'll call you if I know anything."

 

"Do that," Tommy said, sternly, before turning to leave.

 

 

 

He cruised away in his Infernus. That new wave station that he had a love/hate relationship with was playing "Hyperactive", and the late afternoon sun was beating down on his face, made worse through the windshield of the car. When the song ended, a woman who clearly was not the usual DJ took over.

 

"This just in," she said, "Popular adult film star Candice S. Uchsumbour, better known as Candy Suxx, was found brutally beaten in her apartment a few hours ago. It is unknown who the assailant was, however, doctors say she will be ok-" Click. Tommy turned the radio off and sped off to the hospital.

 

 

 

Tommy rushed into Candy's room, despite the protests of many people in the hallways.

 

"Candy?" He called. She didn't respond, as she was very much unconscious. Instead, Steve Rosenthal spoke up.

 

"It was Lips Forelli," he said.

 

"Lips? Mike Forelli's here?" Tommy responded. "Dammit, Steve! They've got one of the heads of the family down here!"

 

"You know 'em too, eh? I figured the unpleasentness with Sonny was just a coincidence," Steve said. "I studied film at Liberty University, so I'm pretty familiar with the family myself."

 

"How do you know it was them, Steve?" Tommy asked, calming himself down.

 

"Saw 'em when I went to pick up Candy," the director replied. "We were doing some screen tests that day for a little b-flick I had wanted to direct. I tried to keep my distance from 'em when I saw 'em, but when I found her in her apartment, I knew what was up."

 

"Steve, I need you to stay at the studio all the time."

 

"I practically do anyway."

 

"Look, Steve, I've got guys posted out there to keep you protected, and you need to appreciate them. The Forelli family is pissed at me, and they're gonna go after anyone near me, just like Candy here," Tommy explained. "I'll call in a few of my guys, and when they get here, they're taking you straight there. For now, I'll stick with you."

 

"I don't think the staff'd like that."

 

"Do you really think I give a sh*t?" Tommy snapped. "In the meantime, just try and do something productive. Make a couple of new flicks, or something."

 

"Without Candy?" Steve asked. "Mercedes hasn't been performing for us too much anymore, so Candy's all we got."

 

"Oh, just grab some homeless girls from the neighborhood or something, I don't care," Tommy said, taking out his phone. He dialed, and ordered a few of his men to come and get Steve from the hospital.

[bored]

A Forelli mobster strolled on the beach.

 

Bang. He fell down dead. Two other gangsters who had been with him ran off. A man on the beach reached into his blue duffel bag, pulled out a handgun, and shot them.

 

From his perch in the lighthouse, Tommy Vercetti pulled out his cellphone.

 

"Jimbo," he said. "Did you spot him?"

 

"Think so, boss," the underling said. "Limo took off right when the first guy went down. We've got him tailed."

 

"Good." Tommy turned his phone off. Mike 'Lips' Forelli thought he was here to teach Tommy a lesson. That was not going to happen.

 

 

 

 

A car with some of Vercetti's men pulled into traffic near the bridge to Starfish Island. The windows of the Forelli limo rolled down, and machine gun barrels popped out. They opened fire, causing the car to burst into flames. Several other cars, all with men working for the Forellis, followed the limo. One went ahead, making a 90 degree turn in front of the gate to the Vercetti estate, then ramming it and knocking it down. The stream of Forelli cars entered.

 

 

 

Tommy's phone wrang. He'd gone to retrieve Cam Jones, and was waiting for his associate to retrieve some of his guns.

 

"This is the V Man."

 

"Tommy!" Mercedes cried over the phone. "Tommy, I'm at your house. It's getting raided!"

 

"Raided? Cops?"

 

"No!" She said. "It's those Italians!"

 

"The Forellis? Already? Dammit! Cam, hurry your ass up!" Tommy shouted. "Mercedes, how many are there?"

 

"Alot! I'm on the roof, Tommy," she answered.

 

"Just stay there, Mercedes. I'm coming." Cam came out of his building. Tommy gave him the phone. "Call Phil and tell him to get down to my place, and with firepower!" The two jumped into Tommy's car, and sped away.

[bored]

"Lenny, hurry up!" One of Tommy Vercetti's men shouted to a comrade. Lenny raced back to the shot-out window overlooking the front of the mansion with several machine guns. Three men grabbed guns, pointed them out the window, and started returning fire to the heavily armed Forelli-employed goons outside. The man who had called to Lenny fell down, a bullet finding its way into his face.

 

"They got Wilkes!" Lenny cried. "I'll blow you Italian bastards away!" He poked out and opened fire, shooting the Uzi that he'd just loaded. "Spray and pray, assholes!"

 

 

 

On the roof, Mercedes paced anxiously.

 

"Cut it out!" Ken Rosenburg yelled at her. He was cowering on the far side of the roof. Mercedes reached into her purse, and pulled out a Colt .45.

 

"We're fine," she snapped. "Remember somethin', Kenny, my dad's one of the biggest crime lords in this part of the world, and I'm sleeping with your boss. I know how to fire this thing if someone makes a move on us."

 

"You can not have enough shots to push them all back," Ken said, approaching her. "And I doubt you have Tommy's aim. Reason he wiped out half of Sonny's people is 'cause he knew how to work one of those." Mercedes pointed the Colt at him.

 

"And I don't?"

 

"I'll shut up now."

 

 

 

Tommy and Cam pulled into Starfish Island.

 

"You hear the gunfire?" Cam asked.

 

"Of course, and so does everyone else. You notice there's nobody here," Tommy pointed out. "The cops stay out of stuff like this here. I figured that out after Sonny made his move on me. How long did Phil say he'd be?"

 

"Twenty minutes, tops," Cam answered. "He's gettin' some firepower, and he says that Umberto's got a couple of his cronies comin' to pick him and the guns up and lend us a hand."

 

"Umberto? Why the hell didn't I think of him?" Tommy groaned. "Dammit! We'll need everyone we can get. I'm pulling over. We'll walk the rest of the way, after I make a few more phone calls." Tommy pulled the truck they rode in over, hopped out, and pulled out his cell phone.

 

 

 

Mike 'Lips' Forelli and two others barked out orders from safety of the farthest end of the Vercetti property in the front. A man keeping watch of the outside on the wall pulled Lips over.

 

"Boss," he said, "we got company. Vercetti's outside, comin' this way, and he brought a friend."

 

"Well send a couple of guys to deal with 'em," Lips ordered. "Do what you want with the friend, but try and keep the rat alive, so I can give the asshole what's comin' to him."

 

 

 

The first few to be sent out made the fatal mistake of driving out to take on Tommy and Cam, who held in place when they saw that the Forellis had discovered them. As soon as the car was close enough, Cam shot the tires out of it, and Tommy started spraying bullets through the windshield. As more poured out, on foot this time, a van came from the bridge and stopped by them. The door opened, and Phil, holding a pistol hopped out.

 

"Well, what the hell are we waiting for?" He asked. His most sadistic grin was on his face.

 

"Change of plans, Phil," Tommy said. "Get back in the van. You guys inside, we're going back to Umberto. We need his boat, and fast."

[Yamuchi]

Very entertaining and hooked me in. Hope you will put some more up soon

[bored]

"Ken!" Mercedes called. Ken Rosenburg jumped in surprise, expecting an assassin to come blow him away at any moment. "Ken, look at that boat!" Ken joined her at the ledge of the roof. A speedboat was coming close to the small dock of the Vercetti mansion. Inside, one of the passengers was a rugged man with a loud Hawaiian shirt.

 

"Tommy!" Ken yipped. "Oh thank you God, it's Tommy! Hahaha!" He sank down and fell back on the shingles of the roof. "We're saved, Mercedes!"

 

 

 

"Hey Tommy, ain't that your lawyer?" Phil asked, sitting on the other side of the boat. He pointed up, to the roof of the mansion. Tommy covered his eyes from the sun and looked.

 

"Hey, yeah it is," he said. "Just like him to run and hide instead of actually doing something. Looks like Mercedes is ok, too." He felt like breathing a sigh of relief at that, but didn't.

 

 

 

No one guarded the water entrance to the mansion. Tommy, Phil, Cam, and two Vice City thugs working for Tommy got all the way to the entrance to the backyard swimming pool with no trouble, and there was only one less-than-attentive man standing guard. Cam charged forward and attacked him, smashing his shoulder into the man's back, then grabbing him and crushing his wind pipe with his arm. Sure that nobody else was around, he beckoned for the others.

 

"I'm wearing a red shirt," one of Tommy's recruit's complained.

 

"Why does that matter?" Tommy groaned.

 

"Haven't you ever seen 'Star Trek'?" Phil asked him. "This poor man is screwed."

 

"That ain't helpin'!"

 

"Both of you, shut up," Tommy snapped. "Cam, scout ahead."

 

Cam, clutching his Uzi, went ahead, occasionally pausing to let the others follow him. They got all the way into the foyer, where Tommy had only recently slain Sonny Forelli and several of his thugs. Mike 'Lips' Forelli and five others were there.

 

"This all you got left? Tommy called.

 

"The rest are outside, you little rat!" Lips snapped. "They're taking care of your little wannabes! Take a listen." This was unnecessary, as the spurts of gunfire outside were all too obvious.

 

"What do you want, Lips?" Tommy asked, rhetorical as the question was.

 

"You still owe us, Vercetti," Lips answered. "You iced Sonny, but that doesn't get you off the hook."

 

 

 

Mercedes clutched her handgun. She and Ken hid on the side of the roof where they couldn't easily be seen by the gaggle of men who very obviously worked for the Forellis (Vercetti's people didn't wear suits). They didn't seem to be looking for anyone, but it was only a matter of time before they were spotted, or when Rosenburg made some sort of noise to give them away.

 

 

 

"Junior, get back," Lips ordered. A young man reluctantly backed into the bar connected to the foyer. "You won't cooperate, Tommy, you go down!"

 

"Like your wife!" Tommy roared. "Guys, let's do this!"

 

Lips backed away, letting his three henchmen raise their guns. Tommy drew his Desert Eagle and squeezed of a shot, hitting one of them with the speed and marksmenship of a cowboy in an old Western film. Another started firing, hitting Cam in the chest. He went down and grunted. The two men working for Tommy charged, firing wildly.

 

"Watch it!" Tommy barked. "I don't have insurance on this place yet!" Regardless, holes filled up the room. Phil, who had a gun in his one hand, joined them, though with more success. Tommy helped Cam, who had wisely worn body armor, up. The three Forelli employees were down, along with one of the two men working for Vercetti who had come along. Ironically, the frightened 'red shirt' was okay.

 

"Cam, Phil, go grab Forelli," Tommy ordered. He looked at the dead man who'd worked for him. "His name was Jamal, right?"

 

"Yeah," the surviving thug answered. "Jamal Johnson. Poor guy was working to pay off some child support. His baby's momma and his kids all moved off the San Andreas last year."

 

"Right," Tommy said. He started for the bar room. "Later, tell me where I can reach them. I'll send some more money, for him."

 

 

 

"There're people over there!" A random voice shouted.

 

"Jig's up, Mercedes," Ken squeaked. "We are dead!"

 

 

 

Tommy and his underling joined Phil and Cam in the bar. Lips and the young Italian were backed up to the wall.

 

"You wanna know who this kid is?" Lips asked.

 

"Why do I care?" Tommy answered. He tossed down the Desert Eagle and pulled out his gun of choice, the Colt Python that had wiped through countless men days before.

 

"Introduce yourself, Junior," Lips ordered.

 

"Name's Forelli," the young Forelli said.

 

"Yeah, I figured," Tommy mocked.

 

"Can we kill them yet?" Phil asked.

 

"Sonny Forelli, you piece of sh*t!"

[bored]

"Sonny?" Tommy asked.

 

"Sonny Forelli, Jr., here to blow you away!" The young Forelli pulled out a gun. Tommy quickly pointed his own gun and shot out Sonny Jr.'s knee. He screamed, and sunk to the ground. Lips grabbed him, and pulled him away. Phil shot him in the back, the bullet lodging itself into his ribs.

 

"Cam, deal with these idiots," Tommy ordered. "Phil, back him up." He pointed to the gang member that had been with them. "You, come with me. We're heading to the roof." The pair raced through the house, to the stairs that would lead to the rooftop where Tommy had been forced to kill his treacherous friend Lance Vance only days earlier.

 

 

 

Forelli-employed men advanced on Mercedes and Ken. Mercedes aimed her gun.

 

"What are you gonna do, girly?" One of them mocked. Mercedes shot three bullets. The loudmouth went first, the second went wild, and the third hit something completely by accident.

 

 

 

Cam and Phil were at the front door as the explosion rocked them. In the time that they hid for cover, men were able to sneak into the bar's window and retrieve the badly injured Mike 'Lips' and Sonny Jr. Forelli.

 

 

 

Tommy and his comrade were nearly knocked over the side of the stairs when the explosion shook the house.

 

"We need to get up there!" Tommy shouted.

 

 

 

"Did you do that?" Ken asked, dusting off his jacket.

 

"I- I think I did," Mercedes said, getting off the ground. Both had been blown back several yards, but were otherwise unharmed. Their attackers were fairing more poorly. Her last shot had hit the top of a canister of gasoline for the helicopter that was currently not there. It had exploded, and caused several other cans to blow up as well. Those few guns of the Forellis still alive were in agony.

 

"Mercedes! Ken!" Tommy raced out, desperately hoping to see his friends. He ran out passed the charred entrance to the rooftop. He stopped to see the gore and destruction where he was, but then saw Mercedes.

 

"Tommy!" Mercedes called back. They embraced on the helipad.

 

"Guess who's okay, too," Ken said, trying to get their attention. Tommy turned his head.

 

"Ken," Tommy grinned. He hugged his lawyer too, though went back to Mercedes shortly.

 

"Hey, boss!" The lesser gangster with Tommy shouted. He pointed to the street below. A seeming fleet of cars sped off. A few escpaped, but most were destroyed by those loyal to Tommy Vercetti. A helicopter approached. Tommy braced himself for more combat as it touched down on his roof. It opened its door, and a middle aged Souther man hopped out.

 

"Avery!" Tommy laughed. "Took you long enough, buddy."

 

"Well sorry, Tom, but I don't have the firepower to get into this kinda stuff when it's going on," Avery Carrington responded. "I did snag a few people around town to block off everyone who got away."

 

 

 

It was a day later. Tommy lay in a guest bedroom in the mansion of his friend and mentor Avery Carrington. Cam Jones and Phil Cassidy were both under constant monitering by Carrington's various connections in local organized crime. Mercedes was across the hall. Tommy wanted badly to go to her, but couldn't. She'd just been through something bad for a girl who'd been spoiler and guarded her whole life, and he didn't know how she was dealing with it. He was ready to go outside, breath some fresh air, when there was an explosion coming from downstairs. Tommy grabbed his gun, and darted for the stairs.

[bored]

Several guards had gathered in the place where the explosion had torn up part of the entrance to the building. When Tommy spotted them, another explosion close by killed a few of them. He got back, and started thinking. Someone was trying to scare them. A space in front of him went up, and the force knocked him back, but didn't hurt him. Tommy got up and stood in the space that had just taken an explosion, knowing that it was now a safe spot. Others followed suit in spots that they were close to. One more explosion took out a reception desk. After almost three minutes of nothing. People dispersed. A few gathered up bodies, checking everyone to see if they were alive, which very few who had been hit were. Tommy pulled his Colt .45 back out.

 

"Hey!" He called to someone who looked like they were giving orders. "Any idea when those bombs were planted?"

 

"Not long ago," the man, who was Asian and wore wire-rim glasses, answered. "People saw someone leaving a couple of packs and take off. Soon as somebody went to look at them, one went off."

 

"What'd the person look like?" Tommy asked.

 

"They said he's about your height, but darker complexion, and green eyes, I think, but I don't know if anyone was really close enough to tell."

 

"How 'bout where he went?" Before the man could answer, a last explosion tore up the parking lot outside, causing several cars to blow up near it.

 

"Everyone start looking around!" The Asian man shouted. "They can't be far! You, Vercetti, come with me." They hurried out, the Asian leader barking orders all around, Tommy scanning for anything that seemed suspicious.

 

"What's your name, buddy?" Tommy asked, as they rushed.

 

"Kasen," the man answered. "Soji Kasen. My family and Mr. Carrington are old friends." Someone yelled. A car was speeding away. "Follow it!" Soji Kasen led Tommy to a car. They got in, and chased the car. As they left the property, men on motorbikes pulled up on either side, and started firing. Tommy poked his gun out of the window and shot one in the neck. He slid out the window, sitting on the door, and fired at the other one. The first shot missed, and he had to twist his body to keep from being shot, and from hitting low tree branches over the road. His next shot blew out one of the bike's tires. Tommy slid back in.

 

"You okay?" He asked the driver.

 

"Not a scratch," Soji replied. They kept going, but at more of a distance. Another motorbike with an assassin started following. Soji swerved the car, stopping it at a seventy degree angle on the road. He pulled a small gun from his side, and shot the attacker three times. His phone wrang. "Kasen. What's up? Yeah. We're gone."

 

"What's the story?"

 

"He took off for the docks. It's the Forelli family."

 

"Will those assholes ever stop?" Tommy moaned.

 

"They've got a lot of people there," Soji said. "I've got plenty of guns for us in the back."

 

"Music to my ears," Tommy said. "Let's go!"

[bored]

The harbor was littered with people who could have been enemies.

 

"Big fan of silencers?" Soji asked. Tommy shook his head. "Give them a shot. No big fireworks until we get to the cluster on the dock."

 

"Not my style, but I'll take your word for it," Tommy said. "Just as long as my Python gets a few bites."

 

"Oh, it will," Soji replied. He screwed a silencer onto his pistol's barrel, and instructed Tommy to do the same. Slipping in a barely guarded side entrance, both men held their guns close. A single man was on patrol. Tommy, staying close to the wall of a tin shed, got close enough to pistol-whip him. The man collapsed, and Tommy motioned Soji to come along.

 

"Are you sure you know where to go?" Tommy asked.

 

"Positive," Soji answered. "A few spies on my payroll got the Forellis plans for me. They are getting the higher-up members of the family out by boat very soon." The bag hanging from his side sagged. "Most of their men are protecting them out on the edge of the water."

 

The two went on, trying to stay hidden from view as much as possible. A few times, Tommy would need to shoot or beat someone, but he was an expert at that. They pressed on. Tommy led Soji onto the top of a building where three guards were in different places. Tommy shot the first one, and hurried ahead. After getting behind the second and snapping his neck, the third one became aware of their presence.

 

"Intruders!" He shouted, in a strong European accent. He raised an automatic rifle and started shooting wildly. Soji dropped his bag, pulled out an Uzi with a full clip, and returned fire. The last guard dropped, but they had been given away.

 

"Can we scrapped the silencers?" Tommy asked.

 

"Of course!"

 

Tommy took his Colt Python from his belt, and grabbed a shotgun from the sack.

 

"How many shells do you have for this?" Tommy asked.

 

"Enough," Soji answered, fishing out a box. Tommy took to a ledge. Soji turned his attention to the stairs that they had come up on.

 

Most of these guys probably don't even work for the Forellis, Tommy thought. Regardless, he pumped off shot after shot, sending bodies to the ground. Some of them finall returned fire. One of them dropped, and Tommy saw Soji racing across the ground. Idiot's moving ahead! He kept firing at the thugs and gangsters on the dock. Soji sank to the ground. Tommy saw that he had been shot in the side. He hurried down the steps, and out into the open, where he could draw fire from the Japanese man. Reloading his shotgun as he ran, Tommy surveyed the area and saw the small yacht. He knew that Lips and the young Sonny Forelli, Jr. were on it. It was starting to move. Tommy shot a man who was probably a full-time Forelli employee, judging by his dress.

 

"Where'd you get hit?" He asked Soji, who moved his arm quickly enough for Tommy to see the bloody wound in his gut. "Stay down. I'll handle these pricks!" Tommy fired off his remaining cartridges, killing at least four people. Someone tried to sneak up on him, and he clubbed him with the shotgun, which he then dropped. Now wielding his Python, Tommy fired at the boat, which was starting to gain speed. A light-haired man lunged at him with a knife. Tommy hopped to the side, grabbed him by the neck, and shoved him into the water. He saw that there were several untended smaller boats, one of which he hopped into and sped off in. It wasn't as good as his own boat, but it would do. The Forelli yacht gained speed. A horn blasted, and as Tommy slowed down and shielded his eyes from the glaring sun, he saw the boat. It was huge, and he had been on it before. It made perfect sense. Men dropped on the deck of the Forelli yacht. Tommy pulled up, hopped up, grabbed a window ledge, and pulled himself up onto the deck. Orders from the other boat were being barked. Forelli goons, and the heads themselves, were emerging with their hands up.

 

"Tommy!" Someone called. "Hey, Tommy!" He looked to the direction of the voice. It was Colonel Juan Cortez himself.

 

 

Under orders from Colonel Cortez, Mike 'Lips' Forelli, Sonny Forelli, Jr., and all with them who were still alive, were escorted back to Liberty City, New Jersey, and were under orders never to bother the interests of the Vice City underground again. If it were anyone but the Colonel, they would have returned in a few months, but he was not a man to mess around with.

 

"So you been keeping my Mercedes out of trouble?" Cortez asked, leading Tommy off the large boat that had taken him away from Vice City a few months before. Tommy shifted his eyes uncomfortably. There were few men he didn't want mad at him, and Colonel Cortez was among them. It didn't seem wise to tell the man that he had not only been sleeping with his young daughter, but also had briefly gotten her into the porn industry. Cortez eyed him suspiciously. "Well?"

 

"Colonel, there's something I've gotta tell you," Tommy sighed. "Since you've been gone, taking care of whatever business you've had with the French, me and Mercedes, we've, eh.."

 

"What?"

 

"Look, she's an amazing woman, and..."

 

"You been getting to know her well?" Cortez said, with an unnerving intensity. Tommy wiped his brow. Suddenly, Cortez smiled and laughed. "Don't you worry, Tommy!" He slapped the worried killer's back. "Mercedes has been talking about you since you came to town. If you hadn't gotten together by now, I would've figured you were gay, and no gay man I know likes to cause the kind of mayhem you do."

 

"Um, thank you?"

 

"Now come on, let's go see how my muchacha bonita is doing."

 

"Colonel, I would like nothing more."

 

 

THE END

 

 

Thank you all who stayed with this, despite the fact that I only updated every now and then. Sorry if it was obvious that some bits were rushed. Anyways, I know I left a few minor loose ends hanging, but none are ones that really merited me keeping the story going beyond this, which I meant to be the ending for a while. If you have any last questions/comments, feel free to post 'em here.