Chapter One
Vice Beach
1987
The breeze that rolled in off Washington Beach was a distant reminder of the hurricane that had blown through Vice City a week ago. Cleanup crews from all over the country were working their way through the streets, cleaning up debris from downed trees and damaged buildings, as impatient locals forced their way in between them, horns honking in frustration. One such vehicle pulled off the main drag into a semicircular driveway in front of a building festooned with neon lights. The driver of the white Infernus tossed his keys to a valet at the bottom of the steps leading into the nightclub. The valet snatched them out of the air backhanded and nodded with respect to the driver, who climbed the steps and entered the club.
The music blared as multicolored lights arced and wove across the dance floor. The man walked around the packed floor, moving between the dancing guests without giving way to any of them. Those he bumped looked in his direction with a glare, but quickly looked away as they recognized him. He stopped at the bar and spoke to the bartender, who pointed at the door leading to the back room. The man nodded and headed back.
A muscled goon in a black suit that looked as though it was having difficulty holding itself around his body greeted him outside a door marked "Private".
"He's inside, Mr. Vercetti."
"Where did you say you found him?"
"He was trying to knock over one of the jewelry stores paying us protection money near Vice Point."
Tommy Vercetti nodded, opening the door and striding into the back room. The young man in question was tied to a chair, his back to Tommy. Tommy walked around the desk and sat down behind it to face the captive. His face betrayed a look of shock for a moment.
"Mario, you sure this is the guy? He looks like he's all of fourteen!"
"I'm sixteen, ya prick," the captive shot back.
Tommy's eyebrows climbed his forehead for his hairline. "What did you just call me, kid?"
The captive was unfazed. "You heard me, cocksucker."
Tommy blew out a barking laugh. "That's a hell of a mouth you got there, fella. Do you even know who you're talking to?"
The young man nodded. "I'd be an idiot if I didn't."
"Well, your intelligence is already in question, since you tried to rob one of MY stores, so let's not go there," Tommy advised him. "Now, all sarcasm aside, since we've established who I am, who the fuck are you?"
"What's it to you?" the captive spat.
A sharp backhand. The kid never saw it coming, because he wasn't expecting Mario to move that quickly. The next sound he heard was a snicking of a safety as the barrel of a 9mm was pressed to his head. Tommy was still sitting across the desk, hands folded, impassive. "It's really none of my business, is it? I mean, you try and knock over one of my businesses, take money away from me and my guys, and I have the audacity to have them drag you in here and give you a chance to explain yourself instead of blowing you away on the street like a common thug. How rude of me to ask for your name before I have Mario repaint the room with your brains. Forgive me. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have another appointment to attend to. Mario, please wait until I leave the room to off this kid, would ya? It took the dry cleaner three tries last week to get the grey matter out of my other suit."
"Wait!" the kid cried as Tommy got to his feet. He stopped, seating himself again.
"You got a problem with Mario spraying your head around the room?" Tommy asked.
"Yeah," the young man replied. "I'm fond of it staying on my shoulders."
Tommy half-smiled, but didn't wave Mario off. "Fine. Let's start this over. What's your name, kid?"
"Colin. Colin Fox."
"OK, Colin. Any particular reason why you chose that jewelry store? Better yet, any reason why you're out doing this at sixteen, instead of, say, playing football, doing homework, banging a cheerleader, or any one of a hundred other perfectly normal pastimes that somone your age might be participating in?"
"I don't have time for school, or girls," Colin replied. "I've got to make a living."
"That's what most kids have parents for," Tommy observed.
"Most kids' parents are worth something," Colin shot back. "My father left when I was 6, and my mother's in rehab. They tried to put me in a foster home when they locked her up, but I ran away. I've been living on the streets for three years."
Tommy nodded. "And how have you been surviving all this time?"
Colin shrugged. "A little of this, a little of that. I was doing runs for Diaz, delivering product to his customers, until you came into the picture and ended that for me."
At the mention of Diaz's name, Tommy tensed up. Mario's gun dug a little deeper into Colin's temple. "Hey, you asked, I answered," he protested.
"So, you were loyal to Diaz?" Tommy pressed.
"Not really," Colin replied, trying to be nonchalant despite the gun pressed to the side of his head. "He didn't like me working for anyone else, so I didn't. It was a good gig. My money didn't give a shit where it came from."
"So, if you didn't have any loyalty to him, what the hell makes me think that you'd be loyal to me if I let you go?" Tommy asked. "Hypothetically, I mean. I'm not saying I will, mind you."
Colin shrugged. "Not a fucking thing. I've been on the streets long enough to know that money doesn't buy loyalty in a town like this."
Tommy smiled again, waving to Mario. The gun withdrew from Colin's head and was holstered under Mario's tight-fitting jacket. Colin streched his neck unconsciously, angling away from where the gun had been.
"You've got balls, and you've got honesty, kid," Tommy observed. "Anybody else, in your position, woulda been begging for mercy, swearing allegiance to my snot rag if they thought it'd save 'em. Not you, huh?"
Colin shrugged again. "What would be the point? If I told you that, and you found out I was lying to you, You'da just offed me later, and probably made it hurt more. I figure, let's just get it out of the way now, and you can put one in my skull, and it'll save us time and hassle later."
Tommy shook his head. "Haven't come across one like you in a long time, kid. You sound like me at that age." He just sat for a minute, assessing Colin. Finally, he seemed to make up his mind. "You got any squeamishness about killing people, Colin?"
Colin shook his head. "I've done it once or twice. It's not great if you get any on your shoes, but I can deal."
Tommy nodded, and then pulled a 9mm from inside his coat. Colin flinched, but Tommy aimed around him and fired quickly. Colin craned his neck around to see Mario slumped against the wall, clutching his gun arm and looking at Tommy in surprise. He reached across his body with his good arm to grab his pistol, but Tommy fired again, this time catching him in the forearm. Mario grunted and sat still, bleeding quietly. He continued to stare up at Tommy with a questioning look.
Tommy got up from his seat and pulled a switchblade from his pocket. Deftly, he walked around the desk and sliced through the ropes holding Colin to the chair. Colin rose slowly, uncertainly, as he rubbed his wrists to get circulation back to his hands.
Tommy continued walking, past Colin, to Mario. He reached into Mario's holster and yanked the pistol free. "So, Mario," he began conversationally, "How much is the usual take from the jeweler's?"
"Five thousand," Mario grunted.
"Then why did the new guy bring two K back to the mansion before I came out here tonight? The kid pick your pocket after you caught him?"
Mario shook his head. The new guy wasn't supposed to make the drop, he thought. The story was supposed to have been that the kid got there first, and they caught him after he stashed the money. That stupid...
"Don't bother," Tommy cut him off. "Louis had an attack of conscience. He told me you guys planned to split the money--three for you, two for him. He got smart on the way back after he dropped you and the kid off here. For that, he gets to live. You, on the other hand..." He tossed the pistol back toward Colin, without looking.
Colin caught the gun in mid-air, snicked off the safety, and wordlessly pumped three shots into Mario where he sat. Mario didn't have time to do anything but let out a surprised gasp as the rounds hit him square in the chest. Colin walked over, aimed the weapon again, and fired one more round into Mario's head.
Silence hung in the room as Tommy and Colin stood, pistols in hand, facing each other. Tommy nodded down at Mario's body. "Nice work."
"Thanks," Colin replied. "Now what?"
Tommy shrugged. "I seem to have an opening in my organization."
"That's convenient," Colin replied. "I'm currently between employers."
Tommy holstered the gun, motioning for Colin to do the same. Colin stuck the weapon in the back of his jeans and pulled his loose-fitting T-shirt down over it.
"It's a ten-percent cut on whatever you bring in--protection money, drug profits, whatever."
Colin nodded. "Works for me. Diaz only paid five."
Tommy cocked an eyebrow. "Does that mean I get twice the loyalty?"
"Twice nothing is still nothing," Colin pointed out. "I already told you, money doesn't buy me, just my skills."
Tommy laughed. "I like you, kid. Just don't screw me over. It'd be a shame to have to kill you."
