User:Silver Infernus/Blood Brothers: Difference between revisions

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A modified Armadillo was waiting on the rooftop, and the Haitians were trying to take off. Tommy and his gang were firing at it, but the driver fired the helicopter's cannons. One of the Vercetti gunmen took a shot in the shoulder, and fell. He screamed as the gun raked him with bullets, and jerked before lying still in a pool of his own blood. Tommy and the other two dove behind some crates, while the cannons fired at their cover, chipping away at the wood.
A modified Armadillo was waiting on the rooftop, and the Haitians were trying to take off. Tommy and his gang were firing at it, but the driver fired the helicopter's cannons. One of the Vercetti gunmen took a shot in the shoulder, and fell. He screamed as the gun raked him with bullets, and jerked before lying still in a pool of his own blood. Tommy and the other two dove behind some crates, while the cannons fired at their cover, chipping away at the wood.


Pete opened the door, firing his rifle at the Armadillo's driver. The window cracked, splattering blood on the inside of the helicopter. Caught by surprise, the last Haitian jumped out, aiming his gun at him. Tommy stuck his AK from over the crate, and shot the gunman. The latter let out a stray shot that missed Pete's head by inches, and collapsed, dead.
Pete opened the door, firing his rifle at the Armadillo's driver. The window cracked, splattering blood on the inside of the helicopter. Caught by surprise, the last Haitian jumped out, aiming his gun at him. Tommy stuck his Ruger from over the crate, and shot the gunman. The latter let out a stray shot that missed Pete's head by inches, and collapsed, dead.


Tommy walked over to the body and picked up the suitcase the Haitian was carrying. Walking back to Pete, he demanded, "What was that all about?"
Tommy walked over to the body and picked up the suitcase the Haitian was carrying. Walking back to Pete, he demanded, "What was that all about?"
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"You'll have to find the answers to Lance somewhere else. There's no good asking me." Pete could tell Tommy was hiding something, but didn't know what his reasons were. As he nodded, and climbed out of the car, the crime lord drove off back onto the street, his headlights fading into the streetlights. Pete turned, saw a light on in Phil's trailer, and walked towards it to tell him everything about what happened.
"You'll have to find the answers to Lance somewhere else. There's no good asking me." Pete could tell Tommy was hiding something, but didn't know what his reasons were. As he nodded, and climbed out of the car, the crime lord drove off back onto the street, his headlights fading into the streetlights. Pete turned, saw a light on in Phil's trailer, and walked towards it to tell him everything about what happened.
"Pete, there you are," Tommy said as he walked into the mansion, once again escorted by the Vercetti gang members. "Get your guns, we're going to jump some Haitians."
"They said the tornado's coming through Vice today," Pete said, surprised. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"
"Starfish is going to be hit worst," Tommy said, shouldering his Ruger and walking down the stairs. "It's better we leave for a while anyway."
Pete took his vest back and followed Tommy and the gunmen back outside. It had rained heavily all morning, and the sky was filled with dark clouds, as if ominously warning anyone outside of the coming gales. He sat down in the Infernus' passenger seat. They headed again towards the mainland, with the gang Sentinel following.
"Now, we're taking out the Haitian leader," Tommy said. "She goes by the name 'Aunt Poulet'. I've been trying to get rid of her for 3 years, but she's got a tight grip on Little Haiti. We're meeting up with another gang, the Cubans, to help us. Their boss, Umberto Robina, has very...explosive ideas. He's run some gangs out of business by planting bombs in their key locations. They'll give us some backup and firepower, because Poulet knows we're going to make a move soon."
They stopped outside a house in Little Havana, where half a dozen vehicles were parked around the street. Tommy waved at a Hispanic man, who grabbed a gun and ran next to the window.
"Tommy! You ready?" Umberto asked, with a detectable Cuban accent. "We'll get two vans coming with you, and the others are going to roadblock any means of escape. You find her and fill her up with bullets!"
Tommy nodded, and the Cubans hurried into their respective Ponies and Hermes, covering themselves from the sleeting rain. Tommy led the Sentinel and the vans towards Little Haiti.
Pete looked out towards the distant bridge. A dark shape was seen in the north, slowly becoming larger. The trees around them bent and swayed. He tore his gaze away when he felt the car stop. He climbed out with the others, and Tommy said, "There's a sniper rifle in the back of the Sentinel, Pete. Use it to take out some of the guards, then follow up and we'll find Poulet." He beckoned the gunmen to follow, and Pete quickly took out a sniper rifle from the car's trunk. Whether the Haitians would be great in number, or because Tommy knew he was better off away from the action, it was a good tactic. As he climbed to the top of a small house, bracing his back against the protruding roof so he would not be affected by the wind, he cautiously raised the rifle.
The Haitians quickly spotted the incoming gunmen, and they immediately engaged. Pete spotted the purple of a T-shirt in the thick rain, and pulled the trigger. The rifle kicked back, but saw blood spurt and one of the enemy gangsters fell. He aimed again, killing another Haitian. He didn't stop until he was out of ammo, discarded the empty gun, and slipped down the roof. Taking out his assault rifle, he stepped up to Tommy, who pointed at a small wooden hut. "She should be in there."
Pete raised an eyebrow. "In that tiny place?"
Ignoring him, the crime lord stooped and walked towards the door. He kicked it in, aimed his Ruger inside, and lowered it. "She's gone!"
"Maybe she decided to leave because of the storm," Pete said.
"Not likely. Follow me." Tommy walked back towards the car. One of the Cubans frowned.
"Hear that, amigo?" Pete strained his ears for sound over the pouring rain. He looked up.
"Who would fly a helicopter in this weather?" Tommy looked up too, and ran inside the Infernus. "Pete! Get in, now!" The former complied, and barely had time to shut his door before the crime lord stomped on the gas, taking them away from Little Haiti. Above them, gunfire chipped at the cement around them. The helicopter took a right and away from the island. Tommy stopped the Infernus at the street, and ran out. "Follow me!"
They were at a police station. Pete followed him down a narrow lane, and up a flight of stairs to a rooftop. Tommy busted the doors open on a VCPD Maverick, and climbed in, hotwiring the helicopter.
"Maybe we should call this off," Pete said.
"Screw that!" Tommy shouted over the splashing of the rain. "If she gets away, we're not going to get another chance at this!" The Maverick sputtered to life, its blades slicing at the rain that fell onto it. Careful not to lean out, Pete looked around at the skies. "There!" They flew towards the speck hovering over a bridge. To their north, the tornado was seen to be closer. Much closer.
"There's a tether in the backseat!" Tommy said, his voice almost drowned out by the sound of rain falling and the helicopter's blades. "Strap yourself to it and take a shot at them!"
Pete tied the tether to himself, took a deep breath, and leaned out, grabbing onto the bracing with one hand and holding his assault rifle with the other. Trying hard to aim onto Poulet's helicopter, which was constantly swerving, trying to avoid them and gain control over the powerful winds. In the window he saw a Haitian piloting the aircraft, and a chubby elder woman sitting beside him. Behind them, 2 more Haitians were standing on the rims of the Armadillo, holding rifles.
"Shoot them, damn it!" Tommy yelled. Pete pulled the trigger, and the rifle jumped in his hand. He couldn't see whether they made contact with the other helicopter or not. Swearing, he tossed the rifle onto his seat, unholstered his Micro SMG, and fired.
The smaller gun was much easier to steady, and he emptied clip after clip into the Armadillo. They were caught in turbulent winds too now, and Tommy was trying to hold them still.
A bullet from one of the gunmen skimmed across Pete's shoulder, and he flinched, nearly letting go. Gripping the bracing tighter, he fired at the Armadillo's tail rotor. Poulet's helicopter jerked, and sputtered. It began to spin, losing altitude. It crashed into one of the bridge supports, its blades still slicing at the concrete. It plunged into the ocean, and a moment later exploded, spraying boiling hot water high into the air.
"Got her!" Pete said. Their Maverick lurched, and his grip on his gun loosened. It fell out of sight and into the water, and without waiting another moment, he pulled himself back into the helicopter.
"Damn!" Tommy shouted, trying to regain control over the aircraft. Pete wiped the water off his face, and was mute.
The tornado was almost on top of them, and they were caught in its winds, slowly but surely spinning towards it. Tommy turned the Maverick as hard as he could. They were constantly being blown around from its horizontal spin to its vertical one, for a sickening moment plunged rapidly towards the ground and towards a fiery explosion. But they finally managed to break away, flying as fast from the tornado as they could. Tommy landed them back in Little Havana, where the others were waiting for them at Umberto's place. Tommy and Pete ran out of the helicopter, and into the safety of the house. Both were breathing deeply. As the storm passed over them, the crime lord wiped himself dry with a towel and looked at him.
"Well done, Pete. You're really something."
Pete took off his vest, and rubbed his finger across the groove where the bullet had skimmed across. "Thanks, Tommy. But don't ever make me do that again."
===Chapter 4===

Revision as of 02:15, 9 January 2010

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.


"Alright, we're approaching Viceport," Keith said as the mainland finally came into sight. "Be ready for anything."

There were a few more moments of silence, broken only by the sound of the Squallo cutting through the waves. Then—

"Haitians, coming up in JetSkis!" Gus shouted, aiming his gun. Pete did likewise on the other side.

"Take them out!" Keith said, "I'll get us onto land as quickly as I can."

One of the dark-skinned pursuers raised a pistol, and Pete pulled the trigger. Crimson stains spread across his purple shirt, and the Haitian fell with a splash into the water. He could hear Gus firing rapidly. The boat lurched as Keith turned the Squallo. Pete saw more Haitians speeding towards them, and he shot as many of them as he could. It wasn't easy, since they were small targets, and the SMG wasn't especially accurate for longer range. But finally, Keith docked the boat ashore, where a group of gunmen waiting for them fired on the Haitians. The man jumped off the boat, followed by Pete and Gus. One of his guys tossed him a gun, and he joined in the firing. "Let's take them out before we unload! Protect the boat!" The Haitians leaped out of the water too, and returned fire. Pete spent the next few minutes killing them, avoid getting shot, and picking guns off dead allies and enemies when he was out of ammunition. Finally, silence reigned over the port again.

Keith looked around. They lost a few men, but the Squallo's contents were still safe. "Guys, start unloading these into the vans. Pete? Can I talk to you?"

Pete, who was still tense after the fight, took a breath. "You did good," the former said. "A little tentative, but you'll get over it once you start doing this again. Hey, what is it you're looking for here?"

"I'm trying to find out what happened to my brothers. They disappeared two years ago."

Keith was silent for a moment. "There's a guy who knows just about everything that goes on in Vice. He's on the other island though, but I can introduce you once we get back. In the meantime, I'll bet a few people here can give you answers. This place," he gestured to the empty garage they were standing next to, "Used to belong to Phil Cassidy when he ran his business in Viceport. He lives in Little Haiti now, I can take you to him. He's a war veteran, but did you say your brother was a soldier?"

"Yeah."

"Then there's a chance he knew him."

"Vans are loaded, Keith," Gus called.

"Alright, Gus, you drive the first van. Pete, you're with me. We're going to drop these guns off at Phil's place. There are probably more Haitians waiting for us, so I'll need you ready for a drive-by maybe." Pete sat in the passenger seat of the Pony, SMG ready. Keith started the engine, and the vans pulled onto the road. Gus' voice came over a speaker as the vans entered Little Havana. "Keith, I see Haitians waiting up ahead. Is there another way across?"

"No," Keith said. "let's plow through them. Pete, try to take out the drivers. The Haitians are the ones in the red Voodoos." Pete rolled down his window, and stuck his gun arm out. He fired a rapid burst, breaking the windshield on one of the Voodoos and splattering blood on the glass. He turned to deal with a second one.

Two bullets hit the van's rim, sparking off the metal and leaving holes. Pete turned back to see the first Haitian car's gunner, and shot him too. There was chaos among the street as the small convoy sped down Bayshore Avenue. But the Voodoos were faster and could easily outstrip them, and the Pony began to shake as it tried to move with a popped tire. Keith grabbed the mike. "Phil, can you hear me? We've got your guns, we need a bit of help here!"

The vans turned onto another road, and off to the left was a blond-haired main holding a machinegun on a tripod. He fired at the Haitians, and several of the vehicles were destroyed by the heavy gunfire. The rest turned and left.

"Thanks, Phil," Keith called out the window.

"No problem," the man replied. "Put them in the garages."

As Keith put the Pony to a stop inside a compound yard, Pete stepped off the van, and noticed that Phil only had one arm. The man seemed to have a naturally cheerful personality, and knew a lot of the guys. As they unloaded the crates from the vans, Keith took Pete over to him. "This is Phil Cassidy. Phil, this is...what was your name?"

"Pete Vance."

Phil suddenly turned to look sharply at him. "Vance? Did you say your name was Vance?"

Pete nodded. He guessed why the man was so surprised. Maybe...

"You...you have brothers, right?"

I knew it. "Yes. Victor and Lance. They...disappeared in 1986. Do you know them?"

"Course I do!" Phil said. "Vic was my brother in arms. We got through a lot together after he got kicked out. Some asshole Sergeant had tried to kill us too, but Vic dealt with him. He was controlling all of Vice's criminal activity in '84."

"Do you know what happened to them?"

Phil paused. "Not personally, no. I've got a lot to worry about I didn't really go snooping. But I know someone who worked with them before. You want Tommy Vercetti. You've heard of him, right? He practically owns this town! He gets around the city a lot. His nearest place is just a block away, it's a cab depot, you can call him up."

Pete returned to the others and helped finish unloading the guns. When they were done, Keith nodded to him before getting back into his van. "I'll be in touch, Pete. See you around." The two Ponies pulled out of the compound yard. Phil closed the garage door and locked it. "Hey, you got a place to stay on this side of the island?" He shook his head. "Here, climb into my truck. I'll take you to my old place. Vic stayed there a couple of nights after Sergeant Martinez got him kicked out of Fort Baxter."

He followed Phil to his Walton, and the latter opened the door. "You mind driving? I avoid it whenever I can cuz of my arm and all." The former nodded and climbed into the driver seat. As Phil sat shotgun beside him, he said, "the address is 101 Bayshore Avenue. It's down by Viceport."

As Pete followed the veteran's instructions to the house, he looked around at the mainland of Vice City. It was certainly very different from the island, and he could see some buildings halfway torn down. "Those are some empire sites Vic built," Phil said, pointing out the window. "Spent a lot of money on them too...shame it doesn't count for much anymore."

When they reached Viceport, Pete pulled the Walton off the side of the road and saw an apartment with the number "101" scrawled over the wall. He climbed out, and Phil tossed him the keys. "I'll catch you later, Pete. Call me up if you need some guns or something." Pete opened the door and up the stairs into the apartment. He walked across the single room and sat down on the bed, thinking things over. Now he knew that Vic and Lance were involved in illegal activity, and it was likely he would join them. But it was rather disconcerting how no one as of yet knew what happened to them. Well, he would find out, sooner or later.

Pete looked down at the bedside cabinet, and saw a picture of a pretty-looking woman. She was smiling and holding a baby, and in the background, Phil's Walton could be seen. There was another man too, balding with narrow eyes. He was looking away from the picture. Who were they?

Pete sighed, and lay down on the bed. It had been a long day, and sleep finally caught up to him.

Chapter 2

6 HOURS LATER

Pete woke up from a restless sleep, looking out the balcony window across the room. It was still early in the day, but he didn't feel he could go back to sleep. Getting out of bed, he took his gun off the cabinet and slipped it under his jacket. He paused, noticing the picture of the woman, and put it in his pocket as well. He carefully locked the door behind him, and stepped out onto the street.

He hailed a VC taxi, and asked to go to the Kaufman cabs depot. The driver scowled, but didn't object. When they arrived, Pete paid the driver, and walked into a yellow building sitting on the street corner. It was a relatively small depot, and an elder lady was sitting in a small room, talking into a microphone. "...better get him there quick, he never thinks we're good enough..." she turned when seeing Pete. "Oh, hi. What are you doing here?"

"I'm looking for Ted," Pete said.

"Sit down over there, boy," the lady said, pressing a button on the microphone. "Cab 11? Ted, there's someone waiting for you at the cab depot. Name of..." she turned back to him. "What did you say your name was?"

"Pete Vance."

"I'm Delores," she said, turning back to the microphone. "Yeah, someone named Pete. Okay. Okay, hurry on back. He's a bit busy right now," Delores said. "He'll be back later in the day, but in the meantime, could you do me a favour? Just take one of those cabs over there, and go pick up this guy over in Downtown? We're a bit short of drivers right now, I'll pay you all and too."

"I've got some things to do right now," Pete said uncertainly. "I'm not sure driving a taxi's the best use of my time."

"Oh come on," she insisted. "You look like you need a few greens, it's not that hard."

"How much?"

"Depends on you. You'll be driving him around to a lot of places, he'll pay up."

He thought for a moment, then agreed. "Okay." He walked over to a cab, and saw that the keys were in the ignition. Before leaving, he remembered something. "Hey Delores. Do you know some guy called..." He tried to remember the name Phil had given him. "...Vercetti?"

"You mean Tommy? Yeah, he's the muscle behind this outfit. His guys hang around here and give us protection."

"Where could I find him?"

"The Vercetti Estate up on Starfish Island. It's the big mansion looking over the east island."

"Thank you," Pete said, closing the door and driving out of the depot.

He pulled onto the road and headed for Downtown, he checked the picture and name taped onto the dashboard. Squinting, he spotted a likely-looking man wearing a red T-shirt standing next to the police station. Rolling down the window, he drove towards him, and called, "Hal Norwood?" The man turned around, spotted the cab, and climbed inside. "About damn time! Take me to the Stadium. I'm meeting someone there."

Pete tapped the location on his GPS, set the fee timer at $0, and pulled out of the lane. "You gotta be kidding me?" Hal said. "You're a damn cab driver, and you can't find your way around the town?"

"I'm new."

"Don't know what the hell Kaufman is doing these days...well if you don't ask too many questions, I guess I'll be okay with you."

When Pete stopped the taxi next to the woman indicated by Norwood, she sat down beside him, and he said, "King Knuts."

"You mean the one we passed by on the way here?"

"No, I mean the one in Little Haiti. Step on it."

As Pete took the cab around a loop and back out of Downtown, the woman said, "This guy is using a GPS. Why don't we just call VC cabs next time?"

"Cuz Kaufman is cheap," Hal said, sliding his hand over. "And baby, you should know—"

"Don't start, Hal. I ain't your wife. If I told Mary how you talk to me..."

"Hey hey, I was just messing around, you know?" Hal said, raising his hands defensively.

"You do that a lot, don't you? I don't suppose she would care anyway. When you get a kid from a damn whore and you marry her, you don't even give a shit that she runs around every night with other guys."

When Pete stopped the cab next to Little Haiti, the woman said, "Impressive. You got us here pretty quick." She stepped out, and entered the restaurant. She came out a few minutes later, walking casually but quickly, holding a box. She climbed back into the taxi, and placed it under her feet. "Okay, we've got it. Get us to the junkyard. It's not too far away."

Pete pulled the cab off the main road, and stopped at the entrance. His blood ran cold when he saw who was standing outside. Five Haitians were waiting for them. He took one hand off the wheel and reached for the SMG tucked into his jacket. "Relax," Hal said. "We set up a meet here. Go ahead, Ruth." The woman picked up the box, exited the cab, and walked up to them. They spoke for a few moments, and gave her a file. She handed them the box, and walked back into the cab. "Okay, take us to 1800 Hoarmount Avenue."

Hal looked out the window. "Oh, shit..." Ruth followed his gaze, and saw three Sentinels pull up, and a dozen men stepped out.

"It's the Vercetti boys," she said. "Step on it. They're after the Haitians, but if we stick around, they won't have a problem killing us."

File:Vcappdt.jpg
Ruth McKenzie's apartment.

Pete accelerated the taxi around them, and as he turned, he saw the gang members open fire on the Haitians. He took them back Downtown, and stopped outside an apartment. Hal and Ruth climbed out, the latter holding the file. "Thanks for your help, kid," she said, handing him some money. "See you around." Hal gave a curt nod, and followed her into the apartment.

"What do your customers usually get up to?" Pete asked Delores as he parked the taxi back inside the depot. "I had a very interesting morning."

"Oh, this and that," she said, giving him a few bills. "Here's for your time. Oh, did you want to see Ted? Ted!" she shouted. A man looking over his taxi turned, and walked over.

"Hey Pete," the driver said, "how you doing?"

"I'm getting places," he replied, shrugging. "You said you could help me out?"

"I recall," Ted said. "Sit down," he added, pulling out two chairs beside a table. "Listen, I've been working at Kaufman's for a long time, and these last 3 years have been, let's say...very interesting. I've seen people come and go, got bullets punching holes in my cab and breaking my window, a few close calls. Say, this one guy, Jimmy Pegorino, came from Liberty City and is just starting a crime family here. They're doing some basic gun running...I hear you've met Keith Jamison, he works for Pegorino. You can find him at 175 Beachside Avenue. He pays, if you pull a few favours for him."

"Thanks, Ted," Pete said, standing up. "Listen, I got to go now, I'm seeing someone."

"Need me to take you?" Ted asked.

"No, it's alright. His place isn't too far off." He said goodbye, and ran off towards Phil's place. The ex-soldier was sitting on the hood of a Patriot and smoking a cigarette. He waved his one arm at Pete when he saw him. "How you doing, Pete? What can I do for you?"

"I'm going to be seeing a lot of people with, erm...connections. I have a feeling I'll be running a few errands for them before they answer my questions. You got any guns?"

"That and more, bud," Phil said, dropping his cigar and stepping on it. He walked to the back of his hummer and opened the trunk. "Usually I charge for it, but seeing as I know you, that wouldn't be decent." He grabbed a handgun, an assault rifle, a knife, and a few grenades. Carrying it to his truck, he said, "Wait here. I've got something for you." He entered his trailer, and came out a few moments later with a blue vest. "It's got gun holsters for basically everything. Bulletproof and everything too, I pulled a lot of strings to get these imported from San Andreas."

"Thanks, man," Pete said, putting it on. He put his pistol and SMG in the holsters underneath the vest, tied the grenades to the rings beside them, and strapped the rifle across his back.

"So, I'm guessing you're going to talk to Tommy?"

"Yes," He was about to climb into the Walton, when he remembered something. Taking the picture of the woman out of his pocket, he asked, "Phil, who is this?"

Phil froze. Taking the picture slowly, he squinted at it, and sighed.

"That's my sister, Louise. Vic took quite a fancy to her. She died a few years ago, cuz of a fight against these crime lord brothers, the Mendezes. Your brother never quite forgave himself for it."

Pete nodded, and started up the truck's engines. There were so many things that connected Vic to Vice City, it seemed. As he pulled onto Bayshore Avenue and headed for Starfish Island, he asked, "You talk about Vic a lot, Phil. But what about Lance?"

Phil laughed. "Oh, Lance was quite a character. Not as hard-core as Vic, but you can tell a joke to him and laugh it over. Lance was loyal, knows how to look out for the empire. He was a good guy, hung out with Louise when Vic was too busy to. He became Tommy's partner in crime too in '86, but I'm not sure what happened to him. Tommy doesn't like to talk about it, I'm guessing something happened during that time his boss arrived on the front door. It was three of them against the Mafiya man, it was a miracle Tommy survived. We're here, by the way," he added, pointing out the window at a mansion up on the right. Pete took the truck onto the driveway, and they were stopped by a pair of gunmen. They were wearing the same colours as the ones whom had attacked the Haitians earlier, and toted Micro SMGs. One of them stepped up to the window. "Yeah?"

"We're here to see Tommy," Phil said. "Tell him it's Phil."

The gangsters nodded, and let them park next to a white Infernus. As Phil was searched for weapons and Pete handed over his vest, they were escorted into the estate. They walked up a set of stairs and into a room directly across the entrance. Inside, a man wearing jeans and a turquoise-coloured shirt was talking to more of the gangsters. "...you did good. Put the package in the safe, and if those Haitians try to come at us again, we'll teach them a lesson about stealing our stuff." He turned and saw the two standing outside his door.

"Tommy!" Phil said, "Good to see you again!" He playfully punched the man lightly in the shoulder.

"Phil, haven't seen you in a while," Tommy said, settling into a chair behind his desk. "Sit down, both of you. Who's your friend?"

"I came into Vice a week ago. I'm Pete Vance."

Tommy looked surprised. "Vance? Do you have brothers?"

"Yes, two."

The former thought for a moment. "So why are you here?"

"There's questions I need answers to. I thought you could help me."

"Alright," Tommy said, standing up. "I'll answer your questions, if you can help me with something."

"I figured as much," Pete said. "Let me guess, you need some firepower to keep things in order around here."

"That's right. I've got a lot more to run now these days, and I can't do it by myself. So, grab your guns, and wait for me outside."

Pete nodded, and walked out of the room. One of the gangsters gave him his vest back, and he exited the mansion.


"Why did you bring him here?" Tommy hissed as soon as Pete was out of earshot.

"I saw what this guy could do, Tommy," Phil said. "He wants to know what happened to his brothers."

"Do you have any idea what that bastard Lance did to me? When Sonny Forelli came here, he sided with him. I had to kill them both. Now his brother's here, snooping around. And his other brother was killed outside your old depot during our first drug trade. But I'm not telling him that. That would only give me something else to worry about." It was clear Tommy had wanted to let this out for a long time.

Phil was speechless for a moment. When he could finally talk, he said, "I don't suppose you're at fault, Tommy. But don't you suppose you should tell Pete what happened? He deserves to know."

"I haven't had a lot of forgiveness in my life, Phil," Tommy said. "There's no doubt he'd try to kill me out of revenge. But look," he continued. "Since he doesn't seem much like his backstabbing brother, and mostly because I've got more pressing issues right now, I'd rather not kill him. I'll try and get him out of Vice, but for now, I'll keep him busy."

"Alright, Tommy," Phil said, walking out of the room. "I hope you know what you're doing."

Tommy grabbed his Ruger off the wall, shaking his head. He followed Phil out of the mansion, and approached Pete, who was standing next to the Infernus. As Phil climbed into his truck, the latter waved goodbye. Tommy unlocked the door on his car, and climbed in. "Get in." Pete sat down beside him, and beside them, four gunmen entered a Sentinel. As Tommy drove them towards the mainland, he said, "We're intercepting a drug trade. We kill everyone, take the money and the drugs, and come back."

"Sounds risky," Pete said.

"Not if we pull it off properly. I got put in that situation once, and it really puts you in a hole. If we wipe out everyone involved, we wouldn't have a problem we can't handle. There'll be a lot of guys there, which is why there's more of my guys behind us. I'm also counting on you to be a good shot."

"In exchange for...?"

"A fair share of the money we take. And some answers, which is what you came here for right?"

"Yes."

"You'll get them, Vance. Just don't expect to like it."

Chapter 3

Tommy stopped the car on the side of the road, with the Sentinel behind them. "Little Haiti Sprunk Factory. The Haitians are doing a trade here with the Sharks. You guys know what to do." The gang walked down the alleyway, weapons ready. Two of the gunmen stood flat against the wall next to the door. Pete pulled out his assault rifle and a grenade. Tommy, hefting his gun, kicked the door in. Pete pulled the pin on his grenade and tossed it through the door.

An explosion sounded inside the factory, followed by the sound of screaming. "Move!" Tommy shouted, dashing through the door. "Pete, you're with me." The occupants inside turned in surprise, grabbing their weapons. Pete aimed at one of the Sharks, and pulled the trigger. The gangster fell as bright red stains appeared on his chest. He turned and shot another who raised an Uzi. The factory was filled with gunfire, muzzle flashes, and shouting. Tommy was shooting down Haitians and Sharks from the upper levels, their bodies falling over the railings and onto the floor.

Pete's vision swam. He was constantly moving to avoid being shot, and his breath was beginning to come up short. He ducked under the stairs, inhaling and exhaling raggedly.

"What the hell are you doing?" Tommy shouted. "Get back out here and kill them!"

Pete shook his head to clear his vision. He reloaded his rifle, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and ran out, firing rapidly.

"Up there!" Tommy shouted. The former saw two of the gangsters trying to escape to the rooftop. The three surviving gang members ran up the stairs, led by Tommy. Pete, clutching his chest, followed as quickly as he could.

A modified Armadillo was waiting on the rooftop, and the Haitians were trying to take off. Tommy and his gang were firing at it, but the driver fired the helicopter's cannons. One of the Vercetti gunmen took a shot in the shoulder, and fell. He screamed as the gun raked him with bullets, and jerked before lying still in a pool of his own blood. Tommy and the other two dove behind some crates, while the cannons fired at their cover, chipping away at the wood.

Pete opened the door, firing his rifle at the Armadillo's driver. The window cracked, splattering blood on the inside of the helicopter. Caught by surprise, the last Haitian jumped out, aiming his gun at him. Tommy stuck his Ruger from over the crate, and shot the gunman. The latter let out a stray shot that missed Pete's head by inches, and collapsed, dead.

Tommy walked over to the body and picked up the suitcase the Haitian was carrying. Walking back to Pete, he demanded, "What was that all about?"

Surprised, he replied, "What do you mean? I just saved you guys."

"You dove under the stairs during the gunfight," the crime lord said, uncharacteristic anger showing in his voice. "What, did you panic?"

"No, I—"

"Were you shot?"

"No. I have asthma."

There was silence. "You have asthma," Tommy repeated.

"Yes."

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Look Tommy, it's not that bad. It only crops up sometimes, but it's nothing serious. These Haitians didn't get away because of me, so if you have a problem with that, you don't have to bring me along next time. I can still get things done decently, I'm not as affected by it so much, thanks to my brothers. I want to find them, and you're going to help me."

Tommy took in his words. "Let's talk in the car," he said. "You two, get back to the mansion." The gunmen headed back downstairs. "Follow me," he said to Pete. They returned to the Infernus, and the former drove them back to Phil's place. "You did good, Pete. Your condition is unfortunate, but you know how to handle things." He stopped the car at the compound yard, opened the suitcase in the backseat, and gave him a handful of money. "That's your share. And about your brother...Vic." Tommy told him everything about what happened during the drug trade in Viceport. When he was finished, Pete was silent. "That was when you were set up."

"Yeah. Diaz decided he didn't need Vic and Lance anymore, and got word of their deal with us through one of Vic's acquaintances, Gonzalez. I killed Gonzalez afterward, and of course Diaz."

"Shit. After all he's done, especially for me..."

"You'll have to find the answers to Lance somewhere else. There's no good asking me." Pete could tell Tommy was hiding something, but didn't know what his reasons were. As he nodded, and climbed out of the car, the crime lord drove off back onto the street, his headlights fading into the streetlights. Pete turned, saw a light on in Phil's trailer, and walked towards it to tell him everything about what happened.


"Pete, there you are," Tommy said as he walked into the mansion, once again escorted by the Vercetti gang members. "Get your guns, we're going to jump some Haitians."

"They said the tornado's coming through Vice today," Pete said, surprised. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Starfish is going to be hit worst," Tommy said, shouldering his Ruger and walking down the stairs. "It's better we leave for a while anyway."

Pete took his vest back and followed Tommy and the gunmen back outside. It had rained heavily all morning, and the sky was filled with dark clouds, as if ominously warning anyone outside of the coming gales. He sat down in the Infernus' passenger seat. They headed again towards the mainland, with the gang Sentinel following.

"Now, we're taking out the Haitian leader," Tommy said. "She goes by the name 'Aunt Poulet'. I've been trying to get rid of her for 3 years, but she's got a tight grip on Little Haiti. We're meeting up with another gang, the Cubans, to help us. Their boss, Umberto Robina, has very...explosive ideas. He's run some gangs out of business by planting bombs in their key locations. They'll give us some backup and firepower, because Poulet knows we're going to make a move soon."

They stopped outside a house in Little Havana, where half a dozen vehicles were parked around the street. Tommy waved at a Hispanic man, who grabbed a gun and ran next to the window.

"Tommy! You ready?" Umberto asked, with a detectable Cuban accent. "We'll get two vans coming with you, and the others are going to roadblock any means of escape. You find her and fill her up with bullets!"

Tommy nodded, and the Cubans hurried into their respective Ponies and Hermes, covering themselves from the sleeting rain. Tommy led the Sentinel and the vans towards Little Haiti.

Pete looked out towards the distant bridge. A dark shape was seen in the north, slowly becoming larger. The trees around them bent and swayed. He tore his gaze away when he felt the car stop. He climbed out with the others, and Tommy said, "There's a sniper rifle in the back of the Sentinel, Pete. Use it to take out some of the guards, then follow up and we'll find Poulet." He beckoned the gunmen to follow, and Pete quickly took out a sniper rifle from the car's trunk. Whether the Haitians would be great in number, or because Tommy knew he was better off away from the action, it was a good tactic. As he climbed to the top of a small house, bracing his back against the protruding roof so he would not be affected by the wind, he cautiously raised the rifle.

The Haitians quickly spotted the incoming gunmen, and they immediately engaged. Pete spotted the purple of a T-shirt in the thick rain, and pulled the trigger. The rifle kicked back, but saw blood spurt and one of the enemy gangsters fell. He aimed again, killing another Haitian. He didn't stop until he was out of ammo, discarded the empty gun, and slipped down the roof. Taking out his assault rifle, he stepped up to Tommy, who pointed at a small wooden hut. "She should be in there."

Pete raised an eyebrow. "In that tiny place?"

Ignoring him, the crime lord stooped and walked towards the door. He kicked it in, aimed his Ruger inside, and lowered it. "She's gone!"

"Maybe she decided to leave because of the storm," Pete said.

"Not likely. Follow me." Tommy walked back towards the car. One of the Cubans frowned.

"Hear that, amigo?" Pete strained his ears for sound over the pouring rain. He looked up.

"Who would fly a helicopter in this weather?" Tommy looked up too, and ran inside the Infernus. "Pete! Get in, now!" The former complied, and barely had time to shut his door before the crime lord stomped on the gas, taking them away from Little Haiti. Above them, gunfire chipped at the cement around them. The helicopter took a right and away from the island. Tommy stopped the Infernus at the street, and ran out. "Follow me!"

They were at a police station. Pete followed him down a narrow lane, and up a flight of stairs to a rooftop. Tommy busted the doors open on a VCPD Maverick, and climbed in, hotwiring the helicopter.

"Maybe we should call this off," Pete said.

"Screw that!" Tommy shouted over the splashing of the rain. "If she gets away, we're not going to get another chance at this!" The Maverick sputtered to life, its blades slicing at the rain that fell onto it. Careful not to lean out, Pete looked around at the skies. "There!" They flew towards the speck hovering over a bridge. To their north, the tornado was seen to be closer. Much closer.

"There's a tether in the backseat!" Tommy said, his voice almost drowned out by the sound of rain falling and the helicopter's blades. "Strap yourself to it and take a shot at them!"

Pete tied the tether to himself, took a deep breath, and leaned out, grabbing onto the bracing with one hand and holding his assault rifle with the other. Trying hard to aim onto Poulet's helicopter, which was constantly swerving, trying to avoid them and gain control over the powerful winds. In the window he saw a Haitian piloting the aircraft, and a chubby elder woman sitting beside him. Behind them, 2 more Haitians were standing on the rims of the Armadillo, holding rifles.

"Shoot them, damn it!" Tommy yelled. Pete pulled the trigger, and the rifle jumped in his hand. He couldn't see whether they made contact with the other helicopter or not. Swearing, he tossed the rifle onto his seat, unholstered his Micro SMG, and fired.

The smaller gun was much easier to steady, and he emptied clip after clip into the Armadillo. They were caught in turbulent winds too now, and Tommy was trying to hold them still.

A bullet from one of the gunmen skimmed across Pete's shoulder, and he flinched, nearly letting go. Gripping the bracing tighter, he fired at the Armadillo's tail rotor. Poulet's helicopter jerked, and sputtered. It began to spin, losing altitude. It crashed into one of the bridge supports, its blades still slicing at the concrete. It plunged into the ocean, and a moment later exploded, spraying boiling hot water high into the air.

"Got her!" Pete said. Their Maverick lurched, and his grip on his gun loosened. It fell out of sight and into the water, and without waiting another moment, he pulled himself back into the helicopter.

"Damn!" Tommy shouted, trying to regain control over the aircraft. Pete wiped the water off his face, and was mute.

The tornado was almost on top of them, and they were caught in its winds, slowly but surely spinning towards it. Tommy turned the Maverick as hard as he could. They were constantly being blown around from its horizontal spin to its vertical one, for a sickening moment plunged rapidly towards the ground and towards a fiery explosion. But they finally managed to break away, flying as fast from the tornado as they could. Tommy landed them back in Little Havana, where the others were waiting for them at Umberto's place. Tommy and Pete ran out of the helicopter, and into the safety of the house. Both were breathing deeply. As the storm passed over them, the crime lord wiped himself dry with a towel and looked at him.

"Well done, Pete. You're really something."

Pete took off his vest, and rubbed his finger across the groove where the bullet had skimmed across. "Thanks, Tommy. But don't ever make me do that again."

Chapter 4