Guy Vercetti placed a cigarette between his lips and lit it, forever maintaining a worried look on his face. He was sat on a cheap red, faux leather couch, staring blankly at a lively portrait of a bustling café that had hung on the wall for what seemed an eternity. He had been in Vice City for mere minutes and his cousin, Tommy, was called out to "business". Guy was very aware of his infamy in the gritty underworld. His cousin had encountered plenty of interfractions with the police. Hell, even Guy himself had to send bail money to assist his cousin. The puffs of toxic smoke grew in the air as the time crawled by in the dingy apartment. Guy walked over to the window, and opened it, allowing a gust of fresh tropical wind to blow in. Guy moved over to the sink and turned on the tap. Icy water gushed from the tap, as he recovered a glass and drank. As the freezing liquid slid down his throat, it slowly eased his flustered figure, calming himself down. He leant forward onto the unit, placing his heavy head into his hands. Guy let out a large sigh. What had he gotten himself into? He had a gut feeling that this was a bad idea, but at least he had the protection of his cousin. But Tommy also had enemies. If they found out that Guy was his cousin, he would be a wanted man. The apartment door burst open, and a panting Tommy emerged with a briefcase. He threw it onto the couch. The door slammed shut with so much force that a single screw from the hinge fell out with a sharp 'ping' sound. The awkward silence was broken by heavy panting from Tommy.
"What's in the case?" asked Guy.
"You don't need to know."
"I'm your cousin, you can tell me."
Tommy looked around, and shut all the windows, and pulled down the blinds. A dim glow from behind the blinds was all that illuminated the room. Tommy hesitated before encroaching the briefcase, slowly undoing the locks on the top. After the two clicks rang out, tearing the silence of the room, the case sprang open.
Guy's jaw dropped, his cigarette falling from it to the floor. Guy extinguished it with the sole of his boot, an unchanging expression of shock pasted upon his visage. What lay before him was about half a million dollars, all in neat stacks, bound by a single strip of card. Guy's eyes widened, and reached forward in ecstasy, and then the case snapped shut.
"It's not for us," Tommy said reluctantly, looking to his right. "It's a bribe. We give it to the Haitians, they give us weapons- illegally- and we bust them for a large sum of cash. Look, I can't explain it to you properly, so I'll take you to Diaz."
Guy Vercetti knew little of Ricardo Diaz, only that he was a wealthy baron that resided in a large mansion on Starfish Island.
The cousins checked out of the apartment block, concealing the briefcase within a bag. Tommy slung it in the trunk of his Blista Compact and hopped into the drivers' seat of the car. A nervous looking Guy got into the passenger seat. Tommy hesitated, casting his gaze over the busy afternoon road. He reached over into the glove compartment and retrieved a .357 Magnum. He handed it to Guy.
"Just incase." Tommy said.
Guy weighed out the weapon, lifting it and inspecting the fine steelwork before being handed a tube similar to that of a small Pringles tube, which housed six rounds of 6 bullets.
"It's a six-shooter," Tommy mentioned before switching on the ignition and driving off into the city streets.
Ricardo Diaz's mansion was nothing short of top-notch architecture and fine 19th century masonry. The Vercetti cousins climbed the marble steps before reaching the front door, laden with a large brass door knocker shaped like a gryphon.
Diaz himself opened the door and gave the two a warm greeting. They entered the foyer, and there stood Ricardo Diaz with his arm outstretched in Guy's direction. He hastily shook it.
"Ah, you must be Tommy's cousin. Charmed. I am Ricardo Diaz. What can I do for you guys?" There was a hint of Latino in his voice, but years spent in Vice City have greeted him with a relatively heavy American accent.
"Guy wants to know about what we're doing." Tommy said, without fault.
Diaz raised his head slightly, suspiciously. "Well, you are a Vercetti, so I will tell you. Tell another soul, I've got the best hired goons at the touch of a button."
Ricardo Diaz made a throaty, sickening noise whilst running his finger across his throat.
"However, Gentlemen, let me tell you about phase 2 of the heist."