Luis helped the man out of the building, glad to be rid of the stale air of the so-called doctor's office. The place reminded him of a doc's office in a western movie. The guy seemed competent enough though, and had patched the man up well.

"So what the hell happened to you?" Luis asked.

The man was still quite weak, his voice tired and husky. "I'm not sure. These guys just started shooting at me."

"Do you know why?"

"I..." The man stared blankly for a minute as Luis reached his Tampa. "I don't know."

Luis shrugged as he opened his car door. He waved for the man to get in also.

"Do you have a name bro?"

"Yeah, Mike."

"At least you remember that."

"I guess. And you are?"

"Luis, bro." The two shook hands and Luis keyed the ignition. "Where's home?"

"I... Where are we?"

"Liberty City."

"Yeah... Home's not here. I was here... Why?"

"Visiting someone?"

Mike snapped his fingers. "Yes!" Luis managed a smile. "But who?"

"Well you'd know, Mike…"

"Yeah, you'd think so. But..."

"The doc did say you'd have some amnesia, but that'd clear up soon."

"I don't like that word. Too serious."

Luis shrugged. "So no idea who these people are?"

"No. I... You think it's best if I leave the city, Lewis?"

"It's Luis, bro. But that might be an idea."

"I... Don't know."

"There was an address in your wallet. Perhaps there?"

"You looked in my wallet?"

"Trying to make sure you weren't a terrorist or a cop or anything. Didn't want to get caught up in anything." He had no idea how wrong he was.

Mike reached in to his pocket and pulled out his wallet, along with his passport. "So you already knew what my name is?"

Luis shrugged. "Was just trying to be polite."

"Or to make sure I was who I said I was?"

"And who are you? What do you do – why are people trying to kill you?"

"I don't know. I don't know what I do or why they're trying to kill me. A mugging?"

"No. You told me they're trying to kill you, and you seemed to really hate the thought of a hospital."

"That sounds weird. Wouldn't a hospital be the best place for me?"

"For some reason, you didn't think so."

Mike looked at the address. "I suppose you'd best take me here then." He handed Luis the piece of paper.

"Alright," Luis said.

Rami hated debriefings. This new guy seemed to want every detail. The Israeli was surprised he wasn't asked the size of the target's genitals. At least his predecessor kept them short.

Finally, however, the man sat back in his chair. Content with the past mission, he changed subjects.

"With guns completely outlawed, and any methods of smuggling enforced, how do you think guns are still coming in to the city? Remember, the docks are watched. Security at the airport's tighter then a vestal pudenda."

"So how do they ship them in?"

"Through backdoors. Backdoors set up by the current mayor."

Niko blinked. "You're saying the current mayor's smuggling guns into the city, to circumnavigate his own blocks?"

"Profit..." Rami wondered out loud.

"Pretty much," their new boss said. "The movement of guns is not restricted in any way, shape or form. There is no moderation or quality control on them. Just the unbridled flooding of guns on to the streets via illicit cut-outs. I'm working with the party who wants to avoid this. By legalizing the sale of guns, they will starve the already-established network of gun smugglers and restrict the flow of weapons."

"Makes sense," Rami said with a nod.

"So what's our action?" Niko asked. Their boss nodded.

"We have to attack the criminal elements of this city. However we do not do this directly."

"How so then?" Rami asked.

"We play them off against each other. That is your job."

"To start gang wars?" Niko asked with a raised eyebrow.

"You've done it before haven't you, Bellic?" Niko nodded his concession. "Plus we have the benefit of the violence between these elements highlighting the current mayor's failure to restrict the movement of guns." Niko frowned. Something didn't add up. "It's a little of a dirty ploy, but one that's necessary. My predecessor was killed because he was working on locating the aforementioned gun smugglers. The mayor is already playing dirty to ensure he remains in office for his own gain." Now Niko understood. But, after thinking about it, did it matter? One side or the other – there were no 'good guys'.

"So first things first: we'll approach the more accessible gangs. The Spanish Lords and the North Holland Hustlers. Hardly best friends, but it's time to make things uncomfortable for them. Also, the Hustlers are connected to the Pavano family. This will make them weary, likely threatening the connection between them and the Hustlers. Also, other 'families' may be concerned. That leaves the door open for a move on the Mafia families."

Niko slowly nodded. "So for now we're attacking the Lords and Hustlers?"

"Indeed." Their new boss went on to outline his 'plan'. Niko and Rami left the building shortly after, with an idea on how to proceed. They both agreed to take some time to prepare. Niko suspected that Rami was ensuring any acquaintances of his were being warned. For Niko though, he had a couple of house-calls to make himself.

What a shithole, Luis thought, pulling his car onto the darkened dirt track. He guided his car to an area that appeared to be a car park, but was likely just unused turf. Both men got out of the car and looked around.

"What number?" Luis asked.

Mike looked at the slip of paper. "Thirteen."

Luis looked at the number nearest to them. "Four."

"We passed two on the way in," Mike offered.

Luis nodded and pointed. "That way then I guess."

Lyle Greenhorn and Marcus D'Amico sat in their car, watching the pair across the road. Lyle had just gotten off the phone, talking to some old friends. For just a little bit of money they'd agreed to help them out. Marcus wasn't sure if their boss would be happy with outside help. He mentally shrugged; He could always eliminate them later.

A minute later an old Cavalcade FXT pulled up behind them.

"He made no effort to hide did he?" Marcus said.

Lyle shrugged, opening the door. "You'd think so, with all that business with the Mafia." Lyle stepped out, shaking his head. "The fool."

Lyle walked to the 4X4 and spoke with the men there. Marcus stared at the photographs of both targets. It had been simple actually. After a rather angry talk from their boss, Marcus had gone on the net and, using the target's surname, found a likely contact that shared the same name. And it paid off.

Marcus stepped out of the car and opened the trunk. He reached in and pulled out an M4. Lyle leaned in and grabbed a street-sweeper shotgun.

"Ready?" Lyle growled at his 'friends'. They nodded and cocked their guns.

Luis wanted to get out of here quickly. They'd just passed a lot with garbage lying inches from the door. In the distance a dog barked, and a train rumbled past. The dog barked again, instigating a shout and a faint smacking sound. The dog whimpered and went quiet.

"Thirteen," Luis said, pointing at the sign ahead.

"Jeez..." Mike whispered.

"So why were you coming here?"

"I don't know. I..."

Luis reached into his jacket and pulled out his .44 pistol. He allowed Mike to see it then hid it again. Mike nodded and relaxed a little. Luis held his hand out, offering Mike to take the lead.

He was used to hearing the odd noise. People would argue all the time here and fights were not uncommon. They did, at least, tend to keep themselves to themselves.

But something had woken him – and that pissed him off. He sat up, was hit by the hangover, then fell back down. Then the bang sounded on his door, pounding on his head like a hammer.

He fumbled around for a weapon – a baseball bat – and rolled out of bed. He stumbled to the door and took a peek through the door. What the-?

The door swung open – outward – almost knocking Mike over. Luis grabbed his pistol in anticipation.

"Michael?!" the man growled, his voice sounding as bad as he looked.

Recognition flashed across Mike's face. A memory returned to him.

"John..." he said with a small smile. Luis cocked his head, attracting Mike's attention.

"My brother. Lewis, meet Johnny Klebitz."

"Got some memory back then?"

"Yeah... So it seems."

"Memory?" Johnny asked.

"Yeah... Can we come in?"

"Shit, yeah, sorry."

Luis hung his head briefly. "I'm gonna go lock my car. I'll be back in a minute." Luis hoped that didn't offend this Johnny. Not bad-mouthing where you live or anything, but...

The first thing Luis noticed was the men's dress sense. The men definitely not live here. Then he saw the guns. He didn't think they noticed him, but he ducked behind a trailer and watched as they approached.

He stood there for a minute, trying to figure out what to do. He moved backward slightly, getting his body further out of sight. As he did so his foot scuffed on the gravelly surface. He froze and looked up, an idea in his head. He peeked round at the men, all holding serious guns. Whoever they were they meant business.

Another give-away that they weren't locals was the fact that they seemed lost. They followed the route that Luis and Michael had taken – Johnny's trailer just visible from the road.

Luis waited until his line of sight was blocked by another trailer and picked up a small stone. He hurled it towards the trailer then, when it hit, turned and headed to his car.

Michael was telling Johnny how he'd escaped – he seemed to remember that – and had gotten to the part where he'd crashed into the night club. He couldn't remember much after that point, or before the ambush.

Johnny was about to say something about amnesia when something hit the side of the trailer.

"What the hell?" Johnny moved to the window and peeked out. "Holy shit."

"What?" Michael blinked.

"There's a lot of men with a lot of guns heading this way."

Michael joined Johnny at the window and swore. "They're the same two that attacked me."

"What the fuck are you involved with?" Johnny darted to his bed and dove under it, returning a minute later with an automatic pistol and an old, battered AK-47.

Michael blinked. "You expecting world war three or something?"

"Don't bullshit me Mike. After the shit that happened a couple of years ago, you think I'm gonna stay here unarmed?" He threw the pistol at his brother. "We can't stay in here. We'd be like fish in a barrel." Johnny looked out of the window again – rather out of the only patch clean enough to look out. The men were close now, but their weapons mostly slung over their shoulders. One of them moved their weapon and adjusted it – locking and loading, as it were.

"Now!" Johnny called to his brother, turning to the door. He checked his gun then swung his door open. He surged out of the trailer and brought his gun up, firing immediately.

Greenhorn and D'Amico flinched and darted for cover. Lyle's men did the same, but slower. They also split.
Johnny moved left, firing at the men and hitting none. Michael followed and moved to the first cover he saw.

Luis heard the gun fire and turned to see the flashes. He caught a glimpse of Johnny through a gap in the trailers but that was it. His line of sight was blocked. He opened his car door and grabbed his gun. Then he turned back. He paused. Was this really his fight? He'd helped the man find his brother...

Luis shook his head and jumped in his car. "You're on your own, bro," he said. He gunned his engine.

Johnny popped up from behind his cover and fired, now aiming at the men, as opposed to just spraying... what was it called, suppressive fire?

One of the men jerked backward, the bullet striking his shoulder. Michael also fired but in a slightly more reluctant way. His bursts came less often then Johnny's and seemed to serve more to keep the attackers back then actually attack them.

I thought you were a soldier, Johnny thought.

Johnny changed targets, missing and hitting the trailer next to them. One of the bullets hit something metallic and the second one spawned an explosion. Greenhorn's men dove from the explosion that took out one of them. Greenhorn himself, along with D'Amico ran for different cover, shouting orders for the men.

"Move!" Johnny shouted.

"Where to?"

Johnny pointed at the small shed made of corrugated aluminum. Billy-Ray would hate him but... fuck it, Johnny thought. He was probably done here now anyway.

Michael ran to the shed, as bullets chipped away at the ground by his feet. Johnny rose and fired at the man shooting at his brother.

"Fuck off!" he shouted. The man who was firing at the shed fell, his gun spewing ammunition into the air before ceasing.
Johnny took cover again while the other men fired. He waited a moment then rose, and fired again.

Nothing happened. The gun clicked but no bullets came out.

It had jammed.

Michael had leaned out of the shed and now fired toward the attackers.

That's more like it! Johnny said to himself.

"Come on!" he shouted. Johnny sprinted toward the shed, dropping his AK-47. He dove in, landing in a sloppy roll just as more gunfire sounded.

Johnny got up and noticed a few cases of Moonshine in the corner of the shed.

"Get on the bike," Johnny said, moving to the moonshine. He grabbed a jug of it and hopped on the bike. "Jesus, it's been a while." He closed up the kickstand and the bike almost fell over.

"You're telling me." Michael said.

Johnny started the engine and tore off a corner of his shirt. He set the scrap alight and stuffed it in the jug. "Hold on," he said as he accelerated hard out of the shed. He swung his arm out and threw the bottle of moonshine toward the attackers.

D'Amico saw the jug coming and knew it for what it was. He sprinted to his side and dove behind a trailer. Lyle was far enough away that the heat from the ensuing splash of flame merely knocked him back.

The men recovered and ran over to the shed.

"They've gone," Greenhorn snarled.

"I can see that," D'Amico snapped back. "What about the nigger?"

Greenhorn shrugged. "He ain't here."

"Probably just a driver," D'Amico dismissed.

"Still maybe we should track him down."

"How? He's just a black guy. We didn't get a good enough look. We can't just take out every hoodie-wearing black guy hoping he's one of them."

"Why not?" Greenhorn enquired darkly.

D'Amico dismissed him with a wave. "Neither of them are here anyway. We'd best vacate the area before the cops turn up."