AN: Well, here it is, my very first GTA story. Only a few minor things before we begin. Alexander Fediro is my own character. I own him. Everything else, including characters, groups, locations, and items belong to Rockstar Games. That out of the way, here we go.

He sat quietly in his office, going over yet another budget adjustment. What a boring life. He yearned for adventure something to do besides sit behind a stuffy old desk.

He glanced sideways at the small clock on his desk and frowned when he saw it read 12:30 A.M. He had been working late. Well at least he didn't have a disappointed wife to go home to like some of his coworkers.

He shut the book he had been working in and stood up, stretching his back. With two quick strides that seemed to be the way he often walked he was at the door. He snatched his coat and pulling it on he left the office, flicking the lights out and locking his door.

There was nobody outside at this time of the night. With rising crime within the city too many people were afraid to go out. It was understandably dark and lonely as his car continued down the road, lights turned on.

He had been listening to the dreary sound of his radio as Maurice Chabez continued his tirade about some idiotic thing. The stupid spic never shut his damn mouth.

Alexander Fediro had lived in Vice City for 7 years now. Unbelievable happenings had taken place in his time there. As a two-year residence middle-aged psycho named Tommy Vercetti gunned down a dozen or so men before killing the local Drug Baron.

Alexander didn't see anything wrong with that, so what if those grease balls wanted to shoot each other to death. The only issue he had with it was that so many people got caught in the crossfire. His annoyance soon turned to something akin to horrified respect however when he read a few weeks later that that same man who had taken over had shot another few dozen men to death before killing his partner and a mob boss all the way from Liberty City.

After those incidents Vice City had been pretty decent. The Cuban/Haitian war had ended when both sides bloodied each other so badly they couldn't even attempt another war. Things had settled down. Avery Corrington was rebuilding the city.

What Alexander didn't know was things were going to be getting a lot more interesting for him. His pale blue Washington made it's way across the bridge onto Starfish Island. He had lived in one of the smaller houses on the island but even so, it was truly palatial compared to what the rest of the island looked like.

As his car made it's trek down the road it was quickly cut off by a dark black Patriot speeding down the wall. Alex spun the wheel quickly, trying to avoid a car accident, he had just gotten his car repaired from the last one, and ended up skidding into the sidewall of Vercetti estate.

He leaned over quickly and opened the glove box. He was smart enough to carry a gun, and his hand closed around the Beretta he practiced with every weekend.

He kicked the door open and slid bodily from the slightly smoking car. He made his way out onto the side walk and then stood up as well as he could, his legs aching from when they had smashed into the steering wheel. Unfortunately he hadn't been going at a high enough speed for his air bag to pop out and his rib cage ached as well.

He could see the bright spit of gunfire as men dressed purely in black poured from the patriot. Normally he wouldn't have thought going anywhere near that but….he felt a chill thrill of adrenaline rush through his veins as he made his way down the side walk.

The attackers had really powerful weaponry so he moved with slow, careful thought. They had already broken through the out defenders and from what he could see they were fiddling around with the front door. Seconds later the door flared up and exploded into splinters.

He moved quicker after that. He had no idea what was urging him forward, he should have just went home, barred the door and got out a few of his hunting rifles for protection. Instead he was racing over a split in the wall, moving quickly across a blood stained lawn.

He watched as men poured through the forcibly opened door, watched them get cut down in a shower of bullets. At least these Vercetti guy's could hold their own. He winced slightly as another loud bang echoed from inside and five men were thrown from within the building. He watched them roll down the stairs and he saw a moment of opportunity.

Alexander rushed forward quickly, pistol raised. He didn't really have to bother though. None of them were looking his way. He put the Beretta in his pocket as he picked up a much larger and far more deadlier M60 and MP5. He slung the lighter weapon over his back with the attached sling, checked the action on the M60 and then slowly made his way up the stairs.

At this point any living man from the attack force was inside. He mumbled a quick prayer before standing up. His hand pressed the trigger down and the heavy weapon thudded against his shoulder as bullets spewed from it. The heavy hot lead met flesh often enough as he rained fire down and across the entrance way, men dressed in black going down quickly.

Alex moved from his place behind the white column and stormed in through the doors. He could here fire off in the distance. It was of no matter however. Not right now. At the top of the stairs he could see flashes of light, here the sounds of a Spaz-12 shot gun barking at those who'd come to silence it's master.

He slowly moved forward up the stairs and his heart thudded as the sound of the shotgun stopped. There was a clattering and shouts and he quickly looked up. A man in a blue Hawaiian styled shirt was fighting with two attackers. Neither had their weapons. Alex dropped the M60 and quickly pulled the Beretta from his pocket. The pistol was a lot less powerful so there wasn't much chance of it piercing through the attackers with enough force to hurt the man, who he assumed, was Vercetti.

Alexander moved quickly forward and shoved the barrel of his pistol into one of the attackers back's and pulled the trigger 4 times. The man fell backward and hit the floor even as Alexander brought his pistol down on the second attackers head.

Alexander was looking up, just about to speak to the man who literally ran Vice City when he felt a sharp pain go through his back. He fell over backwards, his vision fogging and slowly going black as he saw Tommy Vercetti heft his Spaz-12 from the floor and fire, blowing the man dressed in black across the floor and sending him spiraling down the stairs, ass over end. Then all went dark.

AN: Well, here it is, my first chapter of my very first GTA story. Hope you like it. Review. And to end off this section of author's notes, any racial discrimination was not intended, the view of the character's in this story are the character's views, not this author's.