GTA: The Epic

[beanmachine43]

GTA: The Epic

 

 

Background Info: It’s the end of 1992, only months after the events of GTA: San Andreas. With the extermination of Tenpenny and Pulaski, CRASH’s corrupt reign has ended in Los Santos. The Grove Street Families, The Triads, and the Varrios Los Aztecas have taken over San Andreas, and now rule the streets in harmony. With the huge decrease in drugs being imported into the state, many people [even government officials] have recognized the GSF as street vigilantes in Los Santos.

 

In Vice City, Tommy Vercetti enjoys a similar state of affair with peace struck with the Los Cabrones and “Big“ Mitch Baker‘s Biker Gang. Since the years after Sonny‘s death and the eventual takeover of Vice City, Tommy has seen little action, slowly aging in his office. Some would go as far to saying that he is softening.

 

Things, however, are soon to be changing. Rumors of the Vercetti Mafia looking to expand are spreading, and the Grove Street Families are quickly losing their tolerance from residents of the city. An eventual clash of these two powers is inevitable, and fate of country hangs in the balance as the dominant superpower.

 

 

Author’s note: While I haven’t exactly played neither of the PSP titles, I do have extensive knowledge of the story from each (thank you spoilers and Wikipedia), but still don’t hesitate on commenting if I make an error storyline-wise.

 

Instead of writing in the traditional style like I‘ve used previously in my first GTA Fanfic, I’ve seen others write in a “script-style” and were met with decent success. So I’ve also decided to do the same, but there’s still a lot of action going on aside from the dialogue. I've also heard that this combination of styles led it to be somewhat difficult to read (through family and friends), so if you find it difficult to transverse through dialouge and narrating, please let me know and I'll try to fix it.

 

I‘ve worked on this title for some time, and have it completed. So this time, you don‘t have to worry about abandoning my project because I have no excuse.

 

Since the last time I posted my Fanfic on GTAForums, there was only a few. Now that’s changed, hopefully my story can be considered one of the best.

 

So, with all that through, I hope you enjoy my story.

 

Please comment!

 

 

The Introduction

 

Vice City

December 31st, 1992

11:12

A man sits in his classical-decorated office, feet stretched out onto his desk. He pulls out a cigar and lights it, savoring the first puffs. A knock is heard at his door, he clears his throat.

 

Man: Yeah?

 

With the turn of the doorknob, a cleanly-dressed man with a slicked back hair style enters, closing the door behind him. He locks eyes with the other man, only to immediately stare back down at the floor.

 

Man: What do you want?

 

2nd Man: Excuse me sir, I don’t mean to intrude, but…

 

Man: Damn it, Frank. How many times have I told you; just call me Tommy.

 

Frank: Sorry, sir - I mean Tommy. It’s just that working with my cousin for so long, they demand a certain respect.

 

Tommy: Look, just because you’re a Forelli don’t mean you’re not a friend of Tommy Vercetti. So what’s the problem, my friend?

 

Frank: Well, I have a contact on the west coast…And new business propositions seemed to have open up.

 

Tommy leans back in his leather armchair, taking another long puff of his cigar. Finally, he reaches over to his ashtray and puts it out.

 

Tommy(coughing): Damn cigars, next thing you know I’ll be smoking those damn cigarettes… You know they kill you, right?

 

Frank: Uh, I’m sorry, I’m not following.

 

Tommy rises up from his chair, walking toward his huge window overseeing his estate. He falls into a deep thinking state, losing himself over past events.

 

Tommy: You know what I had to do to win this, Frank? I suffered for this; blood, sweat, tears, you name it. I’m the sole reason Vice is still standing on its feet.

 

Frank says nothing, continuing to stare at the ground.

 

Tommy: I robbed people of their lives, slaughtered innocents out of pure enjoyment, and cost this city millions of dollars. Through the years I’ve lived since, I’ve grown wiser, Frank. Do you know what I’m getting at?

 

Frank: …

 

Tommy begins to tense, memories of his upcoming become clearer and it’s evident that his anger is building.

 

Tommy: Nearly eight years…Eight years since I washed this city in Sonny Forelli’s blood, your cousin. Do you know how difficult it is to maintain an operation like this, huh? Let me drop you some names, kid; Sonny Forelli, Quentin Vance, Ricardo Diaz, Alex Shrub, and the list goes on and on, my friend!

 

Tommy grabs the cordless lamp sitting on his desk and chucks it at the door, shattering upon impact. Realizing his sudden burst of aggression, he rolls his neck.

 

Tommy: I’m sorry, Frank. You know I can get a little tense…So about that proposition.

 

Frank stands up, eager to tell Tommy the good news.

 

Frank: You know with CRASH running things in Los Santos? I’ve got good news, Tommy.

 

Tommy grins, having a good understanding what Frank is leading to.

 

Frank: With the death of Tenpenny, and his partner Pulaski nowhere in sight, the whole f*cking state is wide open waiting for any family to move in! We could start a seperate branch of the family. Maybe your son could run it.

 

Tommy: Stop right there, Frank. Let me get this clear right now; we ain’t like a normal family, alright? When I’m gone - god bless me the day that happens - no seed of mine is going to take over the business unless he’s proven that he has the cojones to do so. Do I make myself clear?

 

Frank: I’m sorry Tommy, I just -.

 

Tommy puts his hand up, stopping him mid-sentence.

 

Tommy: No need to apologize, my friend. You’re new here, and mistakes happen; that’s understandable. Now let’s put that behind us and get back to what you were saying.

 

Frank: Well, there’s just one problem we have to take care of before we can establish a presence.

 

Tommy: Oh yeah? What’s that?

 

Frank: There’s a few threats we need to take care of; the Triad presence in San Fierro, a small Mafia presence in Las Venturas, and the huge threat of the Grove Street Families in Los Santos.

 

Tommy turns back around and stares outside his window again. Clearly pondering and weighing his options, Frank doesn’t interrupt him.

 

Then, suddenly, the door opens again. “Big” Mitch Baker enters the office, with blood covering his leather outfit and a bloody meat clever clutched in his hand.

 

Tommy: What’s the problem, Mitch?

 

Mitch: The problem? The fu*king problem is these fu*king pigs, man! You know what they did to James? They fu*king killed him in the alley behind the Greasy Chopper! So I took sh*t into my own hands, and now these fu*king cops are coming down on the gang, hard! I need your help, Tommy.

 

Tommy: That’s not a problem, Mitch. I’ll get some of the boys and we’ll meet up at the bar.

 

Mitch nods his head and walks back out the door, cursing under his breath.

 

Tommy: Look, before we can look into things on the west coast, we still need to make sure things are locked down tight here in Vice. Until that happens, we’re not going anywhere.

 

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

 

Los Santos, San Andreas

December 31st, 1992

13:54

CJ, Sweet, and Cesar sit in Sweet’s living room, planning their next course of action.

 

Sweet: Man, ever since the Ballers got ran out of Los Santos, sh*t’s been smooth sailing.

 

CJ: Yeah, but ain’t that what we want.

 

Sweet: Of course it is, CJ. It’s just that sh*t don’t seem right, you know?

 

Cesar jumps in the conversation.

 

Cesar: Yeah, I know what you’re saying, ese. Me and the Aztecas haven’t had a run in with no one; the cops, gangs, nobody.

 

CJ: Well sh*t, you think something’s gonna happen?

 

Sweet shakes his head, trying to make sense of his feelings.

 

Sweet: I’m not sure, CJ…Maybe sitting on all this dough is just getting to me.

 

CJ: Don’t worry about it, man. We ain’t Smoke or Ryder; it ain’t drug money.

 

Sweet: Yeah, but you know the feds are watching us close now.

 

Cesar: Sh*t yeah they are. Fu*king choto-pigs are scoping us from inside abandoned buildings near the docks. But they’re not cops; they’re agents so we can’t do anything without the government getting involved.

 

CJ: Yeah, I’ve seen the choppers have been swooping over the Grove way too often. But don’t be jumping to any conclusions, guys. Right now sh*t’s been cool, so don’t blow it by wasting some worthless cop.

 

Sweet: I got you, CJ. I’ll have a word with the boys about this; can’t have any ignorant motherfu*ker messing things up for the whole family.

 

Cesar stands up, grabbing his keys off of the coffee table.

 

Cesar: Well I got to go, guys. Kendl needs me at the house.

 

Sweet(laughing): The old ball and chain told you it’s past your curfew, huh?

 

Cesar: Yeah, I guess that’s what happens when marriage happens... But I’ll hit you guys up in a couple hours. We’re heading to the Green Bottle, right?

 

CJ: Yeah, Madd Dogg's performing in Las Venturas for New Years on channel 69. So make sure you bring all the homies.

 

Cesar nods his head as he heads out the front door, leaving both Johnson brothers alone.

 

Sweet: Hey CJ, remember when you said the world was bigger than the hood?

 

CJ: Yeah I do now that I think about…But what you getting to, Sweet?

 

Sweet: I don’t know, I’ve just been thinking, that’s all, forget about it.

 

 

(It's only the beginning, people! I promise you the posts get longer, the plot thickens, and things get more interesting through the next couple of chapters.)

 

[silvermanblue]

Wow good stuff I cant wait for the next chapter!

[TonyZimmzy]

Oh this story looks in-f*ckin-credible, I will be following this one Good opening chapter

[beanmachine43]

Thanks, guys. I'm trying to place each new chapter daily, but I have to edit for language and scripting, so it may take somewhat longer than daily for another post. I'll try to have chapter deuce up later today.

[Gaja 90]

Nice oppening, verry verry nice oppening

Rating -

And for you

Don't drive when you finish those or

[beanmachine43]

The Man

 

Alley behind the Greaser Chopper

December 31st, 1992

23:48

Tommy Vercetti walks into the alley, with a couple of the Vercetti Mafia right behind him. Each equipped with a pair of brass knuckles and blunt instruments, they were ready for war.

 

Tommy: So where’s this pig motherfu*ker at?

 

Mitch appears from the crowd of bikers, bloody knuckles and all.

 

Mitch: Well Tommy, looks you came just in time! Look fellas, Tommy’s here! We got another guest I think you should meet.

 

Tommy peers behind Mitch, a Vice City Officer is lying face down in a pool of his own blood. He signals both of his soldiers to grab the beaten and battered Vice City officer. They position him in front of Vercetti, face exposed for more beating. Bruised under his eyes and mouth, blood seeps through each cut as it covers his face.

 

Mitch: Don’t worry about going easy on this one; he’s the one who ratted out and killed James.

 

Tommy: Well, well, if it isn’t Officer Dickhead.

 

Dickhead: It’s Dick, Vercetti. And don’t think that you’re going to get away with this!

 

Tommy laughs, fitting his brass knuckles on.

 

Tommy: Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this? You’ve been harassing my business for years, and now I have you right here.

 

Dick: As soon as I get out of here, this whole place is gonna be shut down!

 

Tommy: Let me run you through the current situation, Dick. We have well over a dozen intoxicated bikers, two of my associates, and of course me and the notorious Big Mitch Baker. Do you honestly think you’re going to live?

 

Dick: I swear to God that I won’t stop breathing until all of you are dead.

 

Tommy(laughing): God can’t save you, my friend. Now take what’s coming to you like a man.

 

The officer coughs up some blood and spits it on Tommy’s brown leather shoes.

 

Dick: You know what? That James motherfu*ker screamed like a bitch before I -.

 

Mitch grabs Dick by the throat, lifting him from the ground. His limp body hangs several feet from the ground, and Tommy can tell he’s running out of oxygen.

 

Mitch: That was a big mistake, Dickhead.

 

Dick: …Fu*k…You…

 

Mitch slams Officer Dick’s head against the concrete wall, cracking his skull upon impact. He immediately drops, fading out of consciousness.

 

Mitch: Let’s go, fellas. Nothing else to see here.

 

They begin to head back inside, leaving Tommy and his goons outside.

 

Mitch: You guys coming in for a beer?

 

Tommy shakes his head, staring at Dick and his blood-soaked uniform.

 

Tommy: We’ll take care of this for you.

 

As they begin to load the body into Tommy’s limousine, fireworks begin to light up the night sky. Tommy peers down the nearly abandoned road, and in the distance trouble draws nearer.

 

Tommy: Sh*t, you guys hurry up with that body; cops are heading here quick. Probably looking for any New Years hoodlums. But I don’t want anymore blood on my hands today. These guys are just doing their jobs, so act cool.

 

A single police cruiser pulls up alongside the curb, inches from hitting the bumper of the limousine. Two officers emerge from the car, with suspicious looks on their faces. The black officer observes the limo, while the white one begins to interrogate Tommy.

 

Officer: We’ve been hearing complaints of suspicious activity coming from behind this bar, you know anything about this, sir?

 

The lit up sky still wasn’t enough for Tommy to distinguish any features of the officer’s face, so he figures he is in the clear if he doesn’t get too close or say something stupid.

 

Tommy: No sir, I’ve stopped by for a couple lottery tickets.

 

Officer: I know the kind of bar this is, sir. It’s not like the other bars or exactly the most legit place in Vice City. Are you sure you purchased these lottery tickets?

 

Tommy: Well, like you said, this place isn’t the most normal bar in Vice City.

 

The officer eyes Tommy, then finally signals his partner to head back to the cruiser.

 

Officer: Alright then, have a nice -.

 

The sound of someone banging on the trunk is heard, and both officers draw their weapons.

 

Officer: Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to step aside while I inspect your vehicle.

 

Tommy throws his hands up.

 

Tommy: Of course, sir. I understand completely.

 

The second officer slowly makes his way back to the trunk, flashlight out. As he nears the trunk, Tommy signals for his men to act quickly. They draw their weapons, freezing the black officer in his tracks.

 

Officer: Freeze! Drop you weapons and let Officer Foxx go, or I’ll be forced to open fire.

 

Tommy: Not gonna happen!

 

Tommy grabs the officer’s pistol, tossing it aside and wrestling the officer to the ground. After an exchange of poorly-coordinated blows, Tommy head butts the officer, knocking him out. He stands back up, asking for the other officer’s weapon. The officer complies, and Tommy tosses the firearm to his man.

 

Tommy: You tell no one of this, alright? Or you’ll go home to see your wife and kids murdered in their sleep, you got me?

 

He nods his head, clearly nervous out of his mind.

 

Tommy pats him on the back as he walks back to his limousine. Before he leaves, however, he tells one of his men to slash the cruiser’s tires.

 

Tommy: Just in case you’re feeling brave…

 

He walks over to the trunk, opens it, and draws his deagle.

 

Dick: Shoot me and you’re a dead man.

 

Tommy: I got news for you, Dick; I’m already dead.

 

Dick: You wouldn’t.

 

Tommy: Happy New Year.

 

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

 

The Green Bottle

January 1st, 1993

07:13

CJ wakes to the sound of the jukebox blasting the song “One” by Metallica. On max volume, he plugs his ears before they explode as he rushes to find the plug. When he finally rips the plug from the wall, he realizes he isn’t the only one awake in the bar.

 

Toreno: Carl, how are you doing, my friend?

 

CJ: Aw sh*t, Toreno. I thought you said you was done with me. I haven’t told anyone about you if that‘s what you wondering.

 

Toreno: C’mon Carl, don’t greet an old friend like that. Don’t you have any manners? I thought you mother taught you better…Oh that’s right, she’s dead, I’m sorry for your loss.

 

CJ shakes his head, rubbing his eyes to wake up.

 

CJ: What the fu*k do you want, Toreno?

 

Toreno: Well, it seems we have a teeny little problem on our hands. Remember that rival agency who tried to steal that cargo at the airbase a couple months ago? Yeah…Well this time they managed to steal it right under our noses.

 

CJ: What do you mean “our” noses? You working with somebody now?

 

Toreno: Carl, you’re now looking at the head of homeland security of the United States.

 

CJ: Oh sh*t, now we don’t got to worry about anyone going and blowing up our country with you in charge.

 

Toreno: Exactly, and that’s why I need you to come out of retirement.

 

CJ: And what’s on the line if I don‘t?

 

Toreno: Um, well, your existence.

 

CJ: That’s a good point you got there…Alright, what the fu*k you want, Toreno?

 

Toreno: That’s the spirit, Carl! Now it’s nothing you got to worry about. All you have to do is infiltrate the former train yard in San Fierro that’s now turned into a FBI outpost, steal a couple documents, kill the commanding officer, load up the cargo, yada yada yada.

 

CJ: What?

 

Toreno: Carl, Carl. I wouldn’t have contacted you if I didn’t think you could do this. Plus, if you pull through, there could be some, well, “bonuses” for you in the near future.

 

CJ: What you mean?

 

Toreno: Don’t worry about it, we’ll get to that later. Now I got to go, forgot to get the wife and kids Christmas gifts. Plus my girlfriend’s always complaining about not spending any time together and some other bullsh*8t. Anyway, see you later, Carl.

 

The jukebox turns back on, the song resuming play. CJ looks over to the plug, still out of its socket. He looks back and Toreno is gone.

 

CJ: Quit fu*king doing that!

 

Sweet awakes from his face plastered to the bar counter, staring at his brother.

 

Sweet: Who the fu*k were you talking to?

 

CJ: No one, just some niggas down the street.

 

Sweet: Well I’m fitting to head back to the Grove, you down?

 

CJ: Na, I got some sh*t I need to take care of. You mind if I borrow the Greenwood?

 

Sweet: Again? Nigga, you always be crashing into sh*t. Can’t go longer than a week without going to Pay N Spray.

 

CJ: C’mon, I got you out of prison.

 

Sweet glares at his brother, pulling his keys out of his pocket.

 

Sweet: You know you’ll only be able to play that card so many times, right?

 

He tosses the keys to CJ.

 

CJ(laughing): Yeah, but you know I’ll be using it until my credit runs out.

 

Sweet(smiling): Get the fu*k out of here, I’ll see you in a while I guess.

 

CJ walks out the door, momentarily stunned by the blast of sunlight. He walks to the parking lot and hops in Sweet’s car. Turning the radio before pulling into traffic, he finds Radio Los Santos.

 

CJ: Yeah, got to have some tunes for I go deal with things.

 

[Cuse510]

Good to see you back, beanmachine. I remember your old GTA-based story (must've been about a year ago) was quite good, and this one is also very good so far. Just don't dissapear and stop writing again

[Gaja 90]

Dick: Shoot me and you’re a dead man.

 

Tommy: I got news for you, Dick, I shoot you and you are a dead man. -

 

Nice one

[TonyZimmzy]

I'm loving this story to bits, I can't wait for the next Chapter

 

Topic rated good

[beanmachine43]

On Seperate Pages

 

Vercetti’s Mansion

January 2nd, 1993

11:43

Tommy gathers all of his men into the mansion dining room, sitting were the only the big-timers. Avery Carrington, Umberto Robina, Mitch Baker, BJ Smith, and Steve Scott among them.

 

Tommy: All of you have helped the Vercetti Mafia in a way that I can not fully repay you; without you this would not be possible. I would also like to congratulate BJ for yet another amazing year in the NFL since his .

 

BJ: Thank you, I’d like to add that I had over 1,500 yards this season, but who’s counting?

 

Tommy(laughing): Yeah, why don’t you sit down before you nut all over your own greatness…Anyway, I’ve called this meeting of powers, regardless if you are crime lord, or just make money. I’ve been notified that a potential gain of profit is waiting for us on the west coast.

 

Avery: Can you say real estate, fellas?

 

Umberto: No way, man. We need to get a presence by clearing out all those cabrons before we start anything.

 

Steve: You know how many ladies are just thriving for a movie role in San Andreas? We could make millions!

 

Tommy: Quiet! We’re not going to get too deep into it before we even decide. We need someone to stay back and maintain the power of Vercetti, the Cubans, and the Biker Gang before we move out.

 

Umberto: I can do that, I’ve still got the cojones to lock down this city!

 

Tommy: I can always count on you, Umberto. Alright, now that’s decided, we need to a plan. Obviously strolling in won’t work, Frank suggested that we need to establish an operative to report back to us.

 

BJ: Like a spy, right? That’s what my second career choice was. Think about it, an undercover spy that’s an all-pro football player; genius!

 

Avery: Now that I think about it that’s one hell of a idea you got there, kid.

 

BJ: Well, my mama always said that great minds think alike.

 

Avery(laughing): That’s what I said, but Donald wouldn’t hear it. He insisted that I was the crazy one. Haven’t seen the bastard since. Wonder if he’s skipped town or what…

 

Tommy: Don’t mind if we stay on topic, do we guys?

 

They apologize, realizing the seriousness in his voice.

 

Tommy: Thank you, now back to what we were saying. We need a guy who isn’t afraid of danger or getting exposed. Someone who has little background, but who?

 

They remain silent, no one coming up with a suggestion. Then a familiar face walks through the front door.

 

Tommy: Colonel!

 

Cortez: Tommy, my boy! I’ve heard you’ve made quite a name for yourself here. Can I have the honor of resuming business here in Vice City?

 

Tommy: Of course! Even if I denied, would you really take no for an answer?

 

Cortez(laughing): Well, I would obviously have to make a corpse out of you, but we don’t have to worry about that now do we?

 

Tommy: You still have that sick sense of humor, I love that!

 

Cortez: So what’s with the gathering of powers?

 

Tommy: Let me get you up to speed, Colonel.

 

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

 

Doherty, San Fierro

January 2nd, 1993

21:56

CJ begins to park Sweet’s car inside the Doherty garage, but the radio starts to act strange. He tries turning the dial, but nothing happens. A screeching sound pierces through his brain, then a voice comes on.

 

Toreno: Carl, are you there?

 

CJ: What the fu*k? You stealing the radio now?

 

Toreno: Don’t worry, kid. They can only hear me, they’ll probably just think some phone antennas are interfering with the radio, no worry.

 

CJ: So what do you want?

 

Toreno: Nothing really, just wanted to dial you up, chat, gossip - why the hell do you think I called you? Did you complete your given objectives?

 

CJ: Na, I just got here.

 

Toreno: Hurry it up, then! Every hour you’re late, that’s another finger missing from your brother’s hand.

 

CJ: Hang on! I need to ask -.

 

Before he can get his answer, the radio turns back to its original programming.

 

CJ: One of these days, man…

 

 

CJ slowly creeps up to the front gate, now closed compared to when it was open only a few months ago. A single guard sits in the booth, listening to Radio-X. CJ can tell he’s dozing off as he begins to unsheathe his knife.

 

CJ: Time to go to sleep, motherfu*ker.

 

He grabs the guard by his forehead, tightening his grip immediately. With one clean slice, the guard is dead. In mere seconds, he pulls the body from the window and hides it in a couple of nearby bushes. Then, someone yells from the distance.

 

Man: Earl! You want to be relieved?

 

No answer.

 

Man: Alright, I’m going to head to the barracks then.

 

CJ shakes his head, surprised to see actual trained army soldiers protecting the base. He makes his way through the compound, dodging any sentries and unwanted lights that come across his path. Finally, he sees a small tent with sign reading C.O. planted in front of it.

 

CJ: Alright, I got this.

 

Instead of going straight through, he decides to try and find a hole he can fit through. He finds nothing, and decides to make his own entrance. Ripping a whole in the side of the tent with his blade, he’s careful not to make any sudden noises, going very slowly and almost rhythmically.

 

A candle flame dances in the corner of the tent, almost tauntingly daring CJ to come inside. He peers for the bed where he expects the C.O. to be.

 

CJ: Bingo.

 

Asleep on his stomach, CJ can tell this is the officer Toreno was talking about. On top of the computer tower, black folders lay stacked on top of each other. These were obviously the ones Toreno was talking about.

 

CJ: Where the fu*k is the cargo?

 

He grabs the folders and stealthily makes his way to the sleeping man. Swiftly, he lifts his head by his long hair, cleanly strikes his throat, and slowly drops him back to the bed.

 

CJ makes his way back out the way he came, not before he blows out the candle. He freezes when he hears a conversation between two soldiers only feet away from the entrance of the tent.

 

Man: You think Simpson’s going to mind if I ask for a restock of batteries?

 

There’s a short pause.

 

2nd Man: Look, his candle’s out, he’s done for the night.

 

CJ: Damn I’m good.

 

Man: You hear that?

 

2nd Man: The wind, Marty. How many times do I have to tell you; only a suicidal, psychotic, insane idiot with a death-wish would try to come in here.

 

Man: Yeah, guess you’re right. I think I’m gonna go get some coffee…

 

CJ quickly makes his way to the small warehouse where he expects the cargo to be. Sure enough, boxes are lined up on the side of the building, and a delivery truck is parked on the other side.

 

After ten minutes of heavy lifting, he loads up all the cargo. Hoping the keys were in the ignition, he’s disappointed to find that he has to hotwire the car.

 

CJ: Sh*t, what was it? Green to red? No, blue to red? Wait, there’s no blue wire, what the fu *k? f*ck it.

 

Magically, the truck starts, but it’s only seconds before CJ is under fire.

 

CJ: Sh*t! I’m fu*king out of here!

 

He slams his foot on the accelerator, ramming a soldier’s head into the bumper.

 

CJ: Whooooooo!!!

 

He finally busts out of the front gate and makes his way back onto the train tracks. As he reaches to turn on the radio, Toreno chimes in again.

 

Toreno: Good job, I knew you could do it!

 

CJ: How’d you know I was on my way back?

 

Toreno: I would’ve figured you would already know, Carl. I guess you still have a lot to learn about the government and their conspicuous ways. Anyway, just stay on the tracks and the law won’t be able to track you. Meet me back at the Green Bottle and we’ll talk things over. Toreno out.

 

[GSF_Membuh]

Excellent story! Here are some cookies! Topic rated GOOD!

[S1l3nt V1p3r]

Man, I love it!

 

Chocolate Chip Cookie for you!

[TonyZimmzy]

Great chapter dude, I hope GSF wipes out the Vercetti Family Mafia

[beanmachine43]

Business

 

Vercetti’s Mansion

January 2nd, 1993

11:43

Tommy gathers all of his men into the mansion dining room, sitting were the only the big-timers. Avery Carrington, Umberto Robina, Mitch Baker, BJ Smith, and Steve Scott among them.

 

Tommy: All of you have helped the Vercetti Mafia in a way that I can not fully repay you; without you this would not be possible. I would also like to congratulate BJ for yet another amazing year in the NFL since his .

 

BJ: Thank you, I’d like to add that I had over 1,500 yards this season, but who’s counting?

 

Tommy(laughing): Yeah, why don’t you sit down before you nut all over your own greatness…Anyway, I’ve called this meeting of powers, regardless if you are crime lord, or just make money. I’ve been notified that a potential gain of profit is waiting for us on the west coast.

 

Avery: Can you say real estate, fellas?

 

Umberto: No way, man. We need to get a presence by clearing out all those cabrons before we start anything.

 

Steve: You know how many ladies are just thriving for a movie role in San Andreas? We could make millions!

 

Tommy: Quiet! We’re not going to get too deep into it before we even decide. We need someone to stay back and maintain the power of Vercetti, the Cubans, and the Biker Gang before we move out.

 

Umberto: I can do that, I’ve still got the cojones to lock down this city!

 

Tommy: I can always count on you, Umberto. Alright, now that’s decided, we need to a plan. Obviously strolling in won’t work, Frank suggested that we need to establish an operative to report back to us.

 

BJ: Like a spy, right? That’s what my second career choice was. Think about it, an undercover spy that’s an all-pro football player; genius!

 

Avery: Now that I think about it that’s one hell of a idea you got there, kid.

 

BJ: Well, my mama always said that great minds think alike.

 

Avery(laughing): That’s what I said, but Donald wouldn’t hear it. He insisted that I was the crazy one. Haven’t seen the bastard since. Wonder if he’s skipped town or what…

 

Tommy: Don’t mind if we stay on topic, do we guys?

 

They apologize, realizing the seriousness in his voice.

 

Tommy: Thank you, now back to what we were saying. We need a guy who isn’t afraid of danger or getting exposed. Someone who has little background, but who?

 

They remain silent, no one coming up with a suggestion. Then a familiar face walks through the front door.

 

Tommy: Colonel!

 

Cortez: Tommy, my boy! I’ve heard you’ve made quite a name for yourself here. Can I have the honor of resuming business here in Vice City?

 

Tommy: Of course! Even if I denied, would you really take no for an answer?

 

Cortez(laughing): Well, I would obviously have to make a corpse out of you, but we don’t have to worry about that now do we?

 

Tommy: You still have that sick sense of humor, I love that!

 

Cortez: So what’s with the gathering of powers?

 

Tommy: Let me get you up to speed, Colonel.

 

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

 

Doherty, San Fierro

January 2nd, 1993

21:56

CJ begins to park Sweet’s car inside the Doherty garage, but the radio starts to act strange. He tries turning the dial, but nothing happens. A screeching sound pierces through his brain, then a voice comes on.

 

Toreno: Carl, are you there?

 

CJ: What the fu*k? You stealing the radio now?

 

Toreno: Don’t worry, kid. They can only hear me, they’ll probably just think some phone antennas are interfering with the radio, no worry.

 

CJ: So what do you want?

 

Toreno: Nothing really, just wanted to dial you up, chat, gossip - why the hell do you think I called you? Did you complete your given objectives?

 

CJ: Na, I just got here.

 

Toreno: Hurry it up, then! Every hour you’re late, that’s another finger missing from your brother’s hand.

 

CJ: Hang on! I need to ask -.

 

Before he can get his answer, the radio turns back to its original programming and music begins to play.

 

CJ: One of these days, man…

 

 

CJ slowly creeps up to the front gate, now closed compared to when it was open only a few months ago. A single guard sits in the booth, listening to Radio-X. CJ can tell he’s dozing off as he begins to unsheathe his knife.

 

CJ: Time to go to sleep, motherfu*ker.

 

He grabs the guard by his forehead, tightening his grip immediately. With one clean slice, the guard is dead. In mere seconds, he pulls the body from the window and hides it in a couple of nearby bushes. Then, someone yells from the distance.

 

Man: Earl! You want to be relieved?

 

No answer.

 

Man: Alright, I’m going to head to the barracks then.

 

Stunned, CJ realizes that the people guarding the base aren't agents, instead actual soldiers. CJ shakes his head, realizing how much more difficult the situation has just gotten. He makes his way through the compound, dodging any sentries and unwanted lights that come across his path. Finally, he sees a small tent with sign reading C.O. planted in front of it.

 

CJ: Alright, I got this.

 

Instead of going straight through, he decides to try and find a hole he can fit through. He finds nothing, and decides to make his own entrance. Ripping a whole in the side of the tent with his blade, he’s careful not to make any sudden noises, going very slowly and almost rhythmically.

 

A candle flame dances in the corner of the tent, almost tauntingly daring CJ to come inside. He peers for the bed where he expects the C.O. to be.

 

CJ: Bingo.

 

Asleep on his stomach, CJ can tell this is the officer Toreno was talking about. On top of the computer tower, black folders lay stacked on top of each other. These were obviously the ones Toreno was talking about.

 

CJ: Where the fu*k is the cargo?

 

He grabs the folders and stealthily makes his way to the sleeping man. Swiftly, he lifts his head by his long hair, cleanly strikes his throat, and slowly drops him back to the bed.

 

CJ makes his way back out the way he came, not before he blows out the candle. He freezes when he hears a conversation between two soldiers only feet away from the entrance of the tent.

 

Soldier: You think Simpson’s going to mind if I ask for a restock of batteries?

 

There’s a short pause.

 

2nd Soldier: Look, his candle’s out, he’s done for the night.

 

CJ: Damn I’m good.

 

Soldier: You hear that?

 

2nd Soldier: The wind, Marty. How many times do I have to tell you; only a suicidal, psychotic, insane idiot with a death-wish would try to come in here.

 

Soldier: Yeah, guess you’re right. I think I’m gonna go get some coffee…

 

CJ quickly makes his way to the small warehouse where he expects the cargo to be. Sure enough, boxes are lined up on the side of the building, and a delivery truck is parked on the other side.

 

After ten minutes of heavy lifting, he loads up all the cargo. Hoping the keys were in the ignition, he’s disappointed to find that he has to hotwire the car.

 

CJ: Sh*t, what was it? Green to red? No, blue to red? Wait, there’s no blue wire, what the fu *k? f*ck it.

 

Magically, the truck starts, but it’s only seconds before CJ is under fire.

 

CJ: Sh*t! I’m fu*king out of here!

 

He slams his foot on the accelerator, ramming a soldier’s head into the bumper.

 

CJ: Whooooooo!!!

 

He finally busts out of the front gate and makes his way back onto the train tracks. As he reaches to turn on the radio, Toreno chimes in again.

 

Toreno: Good job, I knew you could do it!

 

CJ: How’d you know I was coming back?

 

Toreno: I would’ve figured you would already know, Carl. I guess you still have a lot to learn about the government and their conspicuous ways. Anyway, just stay on the tracks and the cops won’t be able to track you. Meet me back at the Green Bottle and we’ll talk things over. Toreno out.