User:Silver Infernus/Blood Brothers

Introduction

Blood Brothers is a fanfiction in the works by Silver Infernus. It will be set in Vice City, taking place in 1989, after the events of Grand Theft Auto: Vice City and Grand Theft Auto: Vice City Stories. The protagonist will be Pete Vance, the brothers of Victor and Lance Vance.

Story

Prologue

ESCOBAR INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT, TERMINAL A
JUNE 1989

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are arriving at Vice City," The female announcer's voice rang over the intercom. "Please unfasten your seat belts when prompted and secure all your belongings. We do not assume responsibility for any lost artifacts. If you require assistance, please contact the staff at Escobar International Airport. Thank you for choosing Plummet Airlines."

Pete Vance looked out his window as the airplane began to approach the runway. It had been a long flight, least of all the reasons being several delays during takeoff, but they had finally arrived in Vice City. The view outside showed palm trees, clear weather, and other things typical of a tropical island. He wondered if it was a metaphor for the city or a mask hiding its corruption. If to be judged by the climate, it would be a fairly decent place to live, although he knew it held the secrets as to the disappearances of his brothers.

Pete had been very sick with asthma for years, and with their mother Janet spending all the family's money on cocaine, his older brother, Victor, had joined the army to pay for his medical bills. Vic had run into trouble in 1984 and had to find employment elsewhere. Lance left for Vice a bit later too to help him, and two years later they both disappeared.

Vic and Lance had been vague as to how they obtained money, but Pete had managed to keep his condition mild with the money, and now he was going to find out what happened to them. It was the least he could do.

A rumbling was heard through the interior of the airplane as it touched down. As it slowed and finally came to a stop, Pete stood up and took his few belongings. As he left the plane and took the rest of his bags from a conveyor in inside the airport, he cleared customs a few minutes later and stepped out onto the street. There were many people piling in and out of taxis around the terminal. Almost immediately, a yellow cab pulled up on the opposite end of the road and the driver beckoned to him. As Pete began to move towards it, a second cab stopped next to him.

"Go away, I'm taking this one!" the second driver shouted.

"Asshole!" the first driver yelled as he drove off. The second driver stepped out of his cab and opened the trunk, Pete put his bags inside, and climbed into the taxi. The driver closed the trunk and sat down behind the wheel.

"Alright, where to?"

Pete took out a sheet from his pocket and read it. "Dakota Hotel, Ocean Beach."

"Will do," the driver said, and put his foot to the pedal. As they drove away from the airport, he said, "My name's Ted, by the way."

"Pete Vance."

"You look one of those off-the-boats, Pete. So what made you come to Vice City?"

"I'm...looking for someone."

"Aren't we all," Ted grunted, honking his horn at a speeding car. "Goddamn Haitians...think they don't need to follow the road like the rest of us. So, you got employment here?"

"No," Pete said. Was everyone in this town this conversational, or was it just this guy? "I was in a hurry to get here."

The driver thought about it for a while as they pulled onto a bridge and left the island behind. As they approached another one, Ted turned back to him.

"Hey, I know a couple of guys that can help you out. They might be a bit odd, but you'll get used to them."

"I know quite a bit about odd, actually," Pete laughed.

"Not a bad thing, my friend. City's getting crazier every day."

When the taxi pulled to a stop on the side of the road, Ted said, "We're here." Pete retrieved his bags from the trunk, and took out his wallet. He gave Ted a handful of bills, and as the latter climbed back into his taxi, he added, "Drop by the cab depot some time, Pete. Look for Kaufman Cabs in Little Haiti." As he drove away, Pete looked around. A beach stretched from across the street to the distant ocean, and many buildings flashed with neon lights. Cars were squeezed into every available parking space, and people walking by didn't spare him a second glance.

Welcome to Vice City, Pete thought.

Chapter 1

1 WEEK LATER

"You've been standing outside for twenty minutes now," Dan, the concierge said, stepping out and lighting a cigarette.

"I'm waiting for someone," Pete replied.

"Wouldn't happen to be a whore, would it? Cuz usually you're supposed to pick them up."

Pete chuckled. "No, someone coming in from the airport. He'd be here today."

"Escobar?" the hotel employee frowned. "The airport is in the mainland, isn't it? The bridges closed yesterday because of a storm coming in."

"Really? Why would they close the bridges because of a storm? From the one week I've been here, the government isn't too protective of its citizens."

"You're right there, Mr Vance," he said, offering Pete a cigar. "There's a very thin line that borders on what's legal and what's not in these parts."

Pete declined it. "I'd rather not. Asthma." Dan shrugged, and put the tube back in his pocket.

The former frowned. "I was hoping to meet someone over in Little Haiti today."

"Well, if it's important, you can take a boat over to Viceport," the concierge said. "You ain't allowed, of course, but no one really gives a shit. The VCPD won't be looking for you, but you'd better run fast if they do spot you. Here, I know someone down at the docks who can take you to the mainland. His name is Keith Jamison, he's down by the piers. Tell him I sent you. Oh, and his bike is parked in the alleyway, I meant to return it to him." Dan handed him a set of keys.

"Thanks," Pete said, "Sign me out." He walked into the alley, spotted a Streetfighter, and placed the keys in the ignition. The motorbike hummed to life, and he eased it out onto the road.

When Pete reached the pier, he stopped next to a worker loading crates onto a speedboat. "Could you tell me where Keith Jamison is?"

"Are you a cop?" the worker asked, squinting suspiciously.

"No, I need to get to the—"

"How do I know you're not trying to put us inside?"

Pete was slightly thrown off. "Well...are you doing anything illegal?"

"Why do you want to know?" the worker began stepping towards him. "It ain't your business, is it?"

He was considering leaving when a second man walked up a ramp from a parking lot. "Gus, who're you talking to?"

"Some guy looking for you, Keith," Gus said. "I'm thinking he's looking for trouble."

"Oh calm down," Keith said. "Just finish loading that stuff up. Come here," he added to Pete.

"So, what do you want?" the man asked.

"Dan sent me," Pete said. "He said you could help me get to the mainland."

"Dan returned my bike, I see," Keith said. He paused for a moment. "Yeah, I can get you across the water, but it's gonna cost. You're lucky I'm about to leave right now."

"I don't have a whole lot of money." Was everyone in this town after the same thing? And what for?

"I ain't talking about money, boy. There'll be those Haitians waiting for us at Viceport. Those scumbags are always trying to rip off my merch. Can you handle a gun?"

"Yeah," Pete said. "Well, I'm not a soldier like my brother, but I've done a few odd jobs before."

"Good," Keith said. "I'll need you to help look out for us while we're crossing. If those bastards don't kill us, and if I like how you run things, maybe I can keep in touch look out for you."

"All done here, Keith!" Gus called.

"Get on the boat, boys. Just give me a second," the latter said. He wheeled his bike into the parking lot.

Pete climbed onto the Squallo, and stood across from Gus.

"Something to bear in mind," the worker said, not looking at him. "Don't hurt to be too careful in this town."

Keith came back, and climbed onto the boat with them. He reached under the seats and pulled out two Micro SMGs. He handed one to Gus and one to Pete. He ignited the boat's engines. "All set? We're out of here, boys."

Pete felt the night wind blowing against his face as the Squallo churned over the waves and away from the pier. He could tell that Keith was involved with a lot of illegal stuff, and couldn't help but wonder if he'd get caught up in it as well. Was this what Vic and Lance had been doing for two years? Was it why they disappeared? And if he stuck around long enough, there was no doubt he'd find out where they went, but the problem would be getting out.