Vice City: 1996
The moon cast a damning glare upon the sand and sea, where an undefined object had been rejected by the waters, lying silently on the dunes whilst the final remnants of the waves withdrew. The skies, clear of clouds yet polluted by the illuminating glow of countless neon fixtures, watched in awe. Events had come to pass that would doubtlessly change the face of Vice City forever. Picked out by the flashing lights of Ocean Drive and dull radiance of a billion stars were the ragged and sodden tatters of a Hawaiian shirt, still gripping tightly to the figure of a fallen man. The shape dared not twitch, sigh, or gasp. Or rather – it couldn't.
A criminal in life, a victim in death. This was no ordinary cadaver. This was all that remained of the most feared man on the streets of Vice City. This was Tommy Vercetti. The tides that brought him back to shore had now receded far down the beach, leaving Tommy to take one last look upon his humble beginnings. Across the sands and street sat a familiar hotel. Though his eyes were clouded with the despair of a horrific demise, one could only imagine the former crime lord was watching his younger self pulling up and emerging from that ghostly car. What a sad end to the life of a remarkable man. His body laid in wait for hours, with the sun gradually creeping up above the watery horizon.
The news had spread rapidly, reaching every corner of the City within hours. Some were stunned; others delighted. The passing of the man who had ruled the metropolis for the last decade meant many things to many people. But to one person, it meant an opportunity like no other.
Davie Lonergan looked down upon the newspaper, grinning from ear to ear. Staring back up at him was none other than the printed face of Tommy Vercetti. His pose looked smug and confident, though under the circumstances, it was possible to see an innocence in those eyes that few people had ever recognised. Behind the cunning and violence was a man. A man just like any other. None of this had even the slightest impact upon Lonergan, as he brushed the newspaper aside to make room for a glass and a bottle of Whiskey. He poured himself a copious amount, downed it in an instant, and proceeded to take another long drag straight from the bottle. Yet all the while, he found his attention drawn straight back to the front page.
"Pah!" spat Lonergan, swiping the newspaper and surrounding stationary from the desk. He span in his chair, then stood bolt upright at his seat rotated to face the window. The window itself was more than a typical window; it constituted an entire wall. From the carpet to the ceiling, and from one wall to the other, an enormous pane of glass allowed for a truly phenomenal view. From this height, even the tallest nearby buildings looked like minuscule huts. Davie Lonergan peered out, his hand stroking his gristled chin, as his glare rolled across the entire Downtown district.
Despite a view of the world people only ever dream of, Lonergan's mind was anywhere but on the panorama laid out before him. Instead, he began to contemplate what a Vice City without Tommy Vercetti could mean. This was more than an extra slice of business or a chance to build upon a grand portfolio. This was a big break – the biggest. It was an opportunity to take Vice City, a thriving, economically sound paradise, and impose a new reign upon the streets. To tear down the legacy of the Vercetti name, and build a new reputation in it's place. To step up from minor league criminal status and become as feared, if not more so, than his predecessor. This was exactly what Lonergan had been hoping for.
"This is it…" he muttered to himself, unsure who he thought he was addressing. "Time to take this bull by the horns."