Picking up the pieces
Disclaimer: I don't own GTA.
A/N: I made Tommy be in the prime of his life. His twenties (I think that's the time when a man's in his prime). If I'm wrong, he's still going to be in his twenties. CJ too is in his twenties.
Chapter One
Ugh… Where am I??
Tommy Vercetti, kingpin of Vice City, was not a person who experienced fear so easily. Yet, this time, he instinctively curled up in a ball. Slowly, the mist cleared up in his mind.
Okay… That is the last time I let Mike serve me vodka before bed.
He stood up, and he saw that he was on a raft. A wooden raft, with a sail and rudder. There was a city nearby, just a few meters away.
Oh, no. Water. Ever since I fell in the ocean as a kid in Star Island, Water's made me nervous ever since. I hope those swimming lessons I got pay off. Along with gym sessions, fighting sessions, workouts, bla, bla, bla… I got nothing to worry about… I hope…
He jumped and swam to shore. After getting up and shaking the water out of his clothes, he looked for a sign that gave an indication as to where the hell he was. He crossed the street and looked around.
There were people of all kinds walking around him, wearing clothes not in the same style in Vice. There were signs that indicated that he was in a city called Los Santos.
"Yo, where the hell did you get those duds? The stone age?" A voice called out to him.
Tommy turned and saw a black man inside an alley wearing a tank top, a hat, and jeans, mocking his shirt. He was even-headed, but mocking his clothes was a short cut to the red hot eruption.
"Oh, you're dead bitch." Tommy moved quickly, and in a second, his foot connected with the man's throat, sending him spinning towards the ground. Tommy wasted no time. He sat down on the man's back, grabbed the sides of his head, and twisted.
The crack was audible. The guy was now facing Tommy's smirk. Tommy searched the pockets and found crack, a pistol, a knife, some magazines, and a lot of money.
So this guy's a drug dealer.
"Hey!" Another guy just appeared, with similar garb to the first. "Do you realize what trouble you in, busta?! You realize that the guy you just wiped was the biggest drug dealer in Los Santos, bitch?!"
Tommy stood up and faced the guy. "Guess that explains the ten grand in his pockets." Without hesitation, he stabbed the man with the knife. The dealer choked up and let out a moan. Tommy withdrew the knife and wiped it on his shirt. He searched the man, and got more magazines and cash.
I better get out of here.
He ran out of the alley, and walked for hours. He wound up staring at a shop called Victim. He went on and saw another shop called Didier Sachs. He flagged down a passing jogger.
"Hey, what are these places called Victim and Didier Sachs?"
"Dude, those are like, the best shops around! And no offense man, but you need to change clothes. And get a haircut. Those two places are for clothes. Get the haircut at that place over there. Later."
He did as he was told. Hours later, a new man stepped out on the sidewalk, holding a cane. He wore sunglasses, and a dark outfit (The black jacket, black pants, a silver Crowex watch, and black shoes. He's also got hair similar to Woozie).
Tommy walked over to a nearby computer shop. He entered and opened a terminal.
"Hey, pay first!" Tommy threw the knife in the direction of the man's voice. There was a gargle. Fortunately, the place was deserted.
Now, let's see… Shit! What the fuck?! It's the 90's?! Tommy was stunned. God. What had happened to him? He should be aged by now, and yet he felt young. He left the store.
A car was driving by. A black Cheetah, to be exact. It parked next to him, and a man got out. As soon as he was out of sight, he hijacked the car and sped off.
Calm down. Alright, so you don't know what happened. This isn't a dream, since I can feel pain in my foot. Shouldn't have kicked so hard. So what do you do when you start out in an unfamiliar city? Do what you did in Vice.
Tommy nodded. He will find out what happened to him, at all costs.
He stopped after a while. He was in a place called Ganton. He got out of the car, and started walking. He saw a black man in with the same height and body as he had (The outfit, don't know. Let's say he was wearing a military-style for now. Combat jacket, camo pants, and green shoes).
"Hey, man, you look out of place here." The guy said, looking at Tommy.
"Guess so."
"Wait a minute. Are you a Ballas OG?"
"No. One, Who the hell are the Ballas? Two, Why?"
"Oh, shit, dog, where have you been? They're drug pushers, and enemies of us Grove Streets. I'm CJ and this is my-- Oh shit, here they come again!" He raised a Desert Eagle and pointed it behind Tommy.
"Do you need a hand?" CJ nodded. "I guess so, man."
Tommy turned and saw two cars. Whipping out his pistol, he shot the front tires out. The two cars careened out of control and crashed into a wall. With quick precision, he shot the gas tanks. The cars exploded.
"Oh dude! You ice cold, man!" CJ was shocked.
"Hey CJ!" Another guy was running towards them, wearing a green cap and a green shirt.
"Hey Sweet." Sweet?
"Did you cap those two cars? Well, little man, that makes them your five hundredth kill!"
"Nah, this dude did. I didn't even get to fire a single bullet, man." Sweet looked at Tommy. Tommy saw wariness in his eyes.
"Good evening. Call me Tommy."
"Same as well. Call me Sweet. Are you a Ballas?"
"Ballas? What are they, a gang, or a company, or what?"
"You gotta be kidding me. You don't know?"
"No, I don't. To be honest, you wouldn't believe me if I told you why."
"Hmm… I guess… Come inside." CJ and Sweet walked into a house and Tommy followed.