Yo guys! Good to be back, once again.

The ongoing war between parent and teenager continues, and neither side appears to be backing down. I am, however, receiving more than my fair share of threats from my parents, which could mean I'm on to them.

In any case, you're all wondering what has happened to Woozie, so why don't we get stuck into Chapter 7.

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The Faceless Enemy

Toreno stepped towards CJ, "How do you know this?"

CJ, still short of breath, managed to answer, "His... assistant... phoned me up and told me... he was taken someplace Downtown."

"Shit..." Toreno mumbled.

Tommy came forward, "Then we gotta do something!"

Toreno wheeled on him, "No! I want you to stay low. If this extraction means exposing you to whoever has taken Woozie, then I'm not going to risk it. Capiche?"

Tommy nodded.

Toreno smiled. Tommy always knew there was a time for action and a time for laying low. He liked that, "Go get some rest... unwind... do whatever. Don't worry, we'll handle things."

Tommy nodded. He had hoped to visit his old friend Umberto in Little Havana. He had the time, now.

Toreno exited the room with CJ and told him, "Get as many of the guys together as you can. I'm gonna try and find Phil. He should have the necessary firepower we need."

CJ nodded and Toreno took off down the staircase towards the entrance of the mansion. Reaching into his pocket, CJ pulled out his cellphone, dialed the number he often rang the most, and waited for an answer.

"Cesar Vialpando." came the response.

"Cesar! Glad I could reach you. Listen, man, Woozie's been captured."

"Fuck, no!" Cesar cursed, before yelling something in Spanish, or whatever other language he spoke.

"Yeah. Listen, I need you to round up as many guys as you can. I'm gonna try and get ahold of Sweet."

"Sweet's here, ese. We're down at Sunshine Autos. It's fuckin' hot stuff here, CJ!"

"No time for that right now, man, we gotta rescue Woozie."

"Okay, holmes, but where is he?"

"He's holed up somewhere Downtown. Meet us at the Downtown Ammu-Nation in an hour."

"Got is, ese. See ya there."

CJ hung up. The Truth and his surfer pals wouldn't do much good in a situation like this, and neither would Paul or Ken. Looks like it was up to him.

"Shit..." he mumbled, before heading outside to his awaiting vehicle.

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Woozie coughed. The room in which he sat was smoky, like stale tobacco or something. Smell was probably the only sense Woozie hadn't hyper-developed to make up for his blindness, as he usually had his aide to point out the surroundings. Now, however, he was trapped in an unfamiliar environment with no assistance. Blind, helpless, and vulnerable.

He would have normally tried to feel his way around, try and map out the room in his mind. But his hands were tied behind his back and his feet were shackled to the chair he sat on, so that also was not an option.

He simply sat there, the world around him a mystery. Was he alone? Were there others? His excellent hearing picked up no sounds of breathing, apart from his own. As far as he could tell, the room was empty save for him.

The first main question popped into his mind. Why was he here? How did he get wherever he was? All he could remember was stepping out of his car at the meeting point, feeling a sharp pain in his back, before the world turned dark and he regained consciousness here. Being blind definitely had its disadvantages.

Was he being watched? Had he already been interrogated by people using some sort of truth drug that made him lose his memories? Woozie could barely think straight now, let alone try to remember what might have happened before. He tried to remain calm. He didn't want to lose all dignity by crying out for answers like so many people did in movies.

He didn't have to. At that moment, he could hear the sound of conversation somewhere outside of the room, and the telltale click of a doorknob being turned. He looked up as footsteps entered the room; at least two people by the sound of the erratic pattern. The smell of stale tobacco became stronger. The sound of a chair being backed up before sliding forward again, taking the weight of its new occupant.

The occupant spoke, his voice heavily accented with a tone unfamiliar to Woozie, "It is good to finally meet you, Mr Mu. You are no doubt wondering why you are here?"

Woozie nodded and calmly responded, "An answer to that question would be most appreciated, yes."

The foreign man chuckled. Woozie's jaw tightened as the man went on, "You are new to Vice, eh? It is quite obvious given that you walked into my trap. My assosciate here made sure that you would be made my personal guest at all costs. Isn't that right?"

"That's right." the second man said. He sounded possibly Columbian with the accent of an American. Perhaps someone from the south who had grown up in Vice his whole life.

Woozie coughed suddenly, the smell of the long-smoked drugs causing his lungs to ache.

The first man chuckled, "Sorry about the smell. One of my business partners is keen on his tobacco. I apologize if it makes you a bit... woozy." he paused at the joke, and then chuckled.

Woozie wanted the hell out of the place, so he got to the point, "Who are you? Why am I here?"

"All in due time, my friend." the mysterious man replied cheerily. "First of all, it is only manners that I introduce myself. I am Adrik Nicolai. I run a crime ring by the name of the Sovereigns. My assosciates and I have had many contacts across America. At last, our time to strike is now."

"What do you want from me?" Woozie asked.

Before he could get his answer, though, a third person dashed into the room. The smell of smoked tobacco became much stronger, and it was likely that the newcomer had a cigar of some description in his mouth.

"Hey, hey! Easy, motha-fucka, you don't expect to start the interrogation without me, didja?"

"My apologies, Mr Wilson, I was hasty."

"You fuckin' right you were..." muttered the newcomer, before drawing a breath from whatever kind of cigar was in his hand.

"My assosciates and I-"

"Hey, brother, c'mon!" complained the first cohort, "We got names, y'know."

"Unfortunately, they're both the same, so I do not wish to confuse myself. In any case, my friends here believe you are a close friend of a certain crimelord in this city?"

"More like... new acquaintences, but yeah, friends nonetheless." Woozie responded. Not much point in lying at this stage of the interrogation.

"Well then, I want to know where he is." the accented man demanded directly.

Woozie chuckled, "Uh, Mr Nicolai, I'm not in any position to disclose that sort of informa-"

Suddenly, a gun cocked and one of the guys grabbed his hair, forcing the barrel into Woozie's temple. It hurt like hell, but at least whoever held the pistol hadn't fired yet.

"Then I'll shoot you, you Triad piece of shit!" barked the voice of the first lackey, pressing the gun further against Woozie's skull.

"Don't!" shouted Nicolai urgently, "He is of great use to us! It would be a shame to waste such an opportunity!"

The subordinate growled, before releasing Woozie reluctantly.

"I see that you may not have been our best bet when it comes to gathering information, Mr Mu, however, this is Vice. These are troubling times." Nicolai huffed, "So, I want to know, why do you plan to help Mr Vercetti?"

"I merely have contacts in this city who have information on a mysterious group of individuals who are planning a city-wide takeover-"

"WE," shouted Nicolai, "are those individuals! WE are the people planning the takeover. The Sovereigns are the new gang in town. We have organisations set up around the world, ready to bring the Triads, the Mafia, the Yakuza, ANYONE... to their knees..."

"Even that buster CJ..." muttered the man identified as Mr Wilson.

"You know CJ?" Woozie spat.

Nicolai chuckled, "It seems we have hit the jackpot, here. Not only does Mr Mu here know about the Vercetti Syndicate, but also about the newcomers from across the country. Do not be alarmed, Woozie, we have been keeping track. I have many operatives on the field, monitoring your every move. I have several skilled individuals ready to make their move on Vercetti at just the whisper of a command, but the recent arrival of you and your friends makes my job so much more interesting. It's fun to be at the top. Don't you agree?"

Woozie was the Dai Dai Lo of the Mountain Cloud Boys Triad gang, and he often felt privileged to be in the position he occupied. "Yes, I agree."

"Then maybe, as the leader of your little... how do you put it?"

"Posse?" suggested the first man.

"Yes, yes... your posse. As the leader, you most likely know things others do not. You have seen things other haven't, heard rumours that may have eluded the ears of the lesser members. There is more to my plans than taking down Vercetti. Oh, yes. Far greater plans."

The chair he sat upon slid out, and Woozie could tell that Nicolai was now pacing about the interrogation room, "Too long the Russians have been under the spell and trickery of the United States. Too long has America founded alliances with other powerful nations; Canada, England, Australia-"

"America and Australia are enemies!" Woozie protested, remembering all too well the flamboyance of all those Ammu-Nation ads.

"Wrong, Mr Mu, wrong!" shouted Nicolai, "How little you really do know. They have always been friends. Always! Australia's Prime Minister, Keating or someone... America and Australia are on friendly terms, Mr Mu. The American-Australian War was just a cover-up for what America was REALLY doing! The war in Russia and Iraq... it is never-ending. And not since the 1960s when we shot down an American spyplane has an opportunity of this magnitude been available to us."

Woozie could hear Mr Wilson chuckling in agreement.

"Tell me, Mr Mu, have you ever heard of a government project known as..." Nicolai stopped pacing, "Aurora?"

"No. Never." Woozie answered hastily yet truthfully. He wondered if Toreno knew. Wait, stupid notion. Toreno knew everything.

"Really? Then you have absolutely no knowledge of a top-secret military installation in the centre of the the Las Venturas desert?"

Woozie gulped. Area 69!

"And you have no knowledge of strange noises over the desert? Odd rumbles over San Fierro? Strange lights in the desert sky? Tell me you have NEVER heard of these!"

Woozie was trembling. He wasn't the most easily shaken individual, but Woozie thought this guy was downright scary, "N-Never..." he lied.

"He's lying." growled the first man.

"Perhaps. Nothing a little Sodium Pentothal won't milk out of him..."

The door flew open, "Sir!" came the anxious voice of a man Woozie hadn't heard before.

"What is it?"

"A helicopter has landed atop Ammu-Nation. Our guards are being cut down! There are at least three of them sir, all armed."

Nicolai growled, "Well then..."

Woozie breathed shallowly as he heard the Russian terrorist leader approach.

"Let's finish this quickly."

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Cafe Robina

Little Havanna

"Tommy! It is wonderful to see you again, amigo!" the overweight and balding man by the name of Umberto shouted, rumbling toward Tommy and throwing his beefy arms around him.

Tommy sighed, "Yeah, hi to you too..."

Umberto released him and guided him into the Cafe, "Tommy, it has been a while. What have you been doing? Had you forgotten about the Cubans?"

Tommy rubbed his forehead. He was already regretting his decision to come here. "Believe me, amigo, you're one of the hardest people in this city to forget." It was true. Behind Kent Paul and radio issue-presser Maurice Chavez, Umberto was the most difficult person in Vice to forget. On the other hand, Tommy was having toruble remembering one individual in this city. He could remember a woman, wearing purple, who made a strange blend of tea, but that was it.

"Ah, that is good, Tommy, that is good. Papi! Some beer for my man Tommy." Umberto instructed he elderly father. Tommy kinda felt sorry for the guy, being bossed around by Umberto so much. He didn't look like he had another 5 years left in him.

Tommy sat down on one of the barstools, next to another Spanish-looking man who was heavily tatooed. He pulled up the beer served to him, and chugged down a large gulp. He was glad stuff like this could easily help him forget his miseries. Then again, Mercedes beat all when it came to that.

"Tommy, I'd like you to meet a friend of mine. He is a hard working man, and believe me, he has BIG cojones!"

Tommy rolled his eyes. Did Umberto check to make sure that was true? Some seriosuly whacked shit if that was the case.

"Oh yeah? Who's this guy?" Tommy asked.

The man next to him turned to face him, "Me."

Tommy swiveled on his barstool, "You? Who might you be?"

The man, who had a thick moustache and a somewhat sleazy-looking gaze, chuckled, and introduced himself, "My name ees El Burro, of the Diablos. Eet is good to finally make your aquenntense!" the man had a thick accent, greater than Umberto's.

"Diablos, eh? Some kinda gang? How come I've never heard of you before?"

El Burro chuckled, "I haff come down from Leeberty. I am looking to eeexpand my empire and my gang. You know how eet ees?"

"What kind of empire? Narcotics?" Tommy asked, taking another swill of beer.

El Burro's gaze twinkled, "Eeexoteec."

Tommy almost choked on the beer, which seemed to take on a whole new, vile taste. He forced it down and chuckled, "I... heheh, I know a few places where you might find some success."

"That ees good. I like eet when there are peeeeople I can trust."

Umberto smiled, "Trust me, amigo, when you work with this guy for as long as I have, you won't want to trust anyone else!" he chuckled.

Tommy chuckled, uneasily. He seriously regretted coming here, now. His cellphone rang, and he glanced at Umberto, "Excuse me for a second."

As soon as he left the barstool, Umberto moved over and engaged El Burro in a rather manly conversation.

Tommy flipped the phone on, but before he could answer, a familiar voice spoke.

"Get to the payphone behind the Malibu Club."

The caller hung up, and Tommy's face drained of colour. He slowly turned to Umberto, still chatting with the Diablos leader. Umberto diverted his attention to Tommy just enough for Tommy to mouth the words 'I gotta go'.

Umberto nodded before turning back to his conversation.

Tommy sighed, and left the Cafe, his sparkling white Infernus ready and waiting, a group of white-shirted Cubans nearby having a loud talk. One of them muttered, "Any time witchoo, man...". Tommy slid into the Infernus's drivers seat and sped off, quickly snapping the car into a U-turn and barely avoiding clipping the front bumper of a passing '49 Cuban Hermes.

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"Ey, ese, you got quite an aim for a secret agent!" Cesar shouted over sniper shots.

Toreno fired again, sending a bullet piercing through another guard's shoulder. "Why thank you, Cesar."

"Who are these guys?" CJ asked, AK in hand, "You seen them before?"

"Nah, man." Sweet replied, "I ain't seen those kinds of gang colours before."

The guards were wearing blood-red tops with blue overcoats or jumpers. They all seemed to be carrying Nines with silencers, not enough to reach the awkward position Toreno and the others were in, perched atop Ammu-Nation in Downtown, firing into a lot that had once been used to hide the stolen bike of Mitch Baker.

Cesar shouted over the loud bang of another shot from Toreno's rifle, "They look like the guys who were supplying the Vagos, man! We might have found the guys we've been looking for!"

"These are them? Shit! We gotta take them out, then!" CJ decided.

Toreno held his arm out, signalling him to stand down, "If you storm in there, they'll likely kill Woozie and screw up our chances of getting any kind of information from them. I'd prefer to wait and see what happens."

"How do you know he's not already dead?" Sweet asked.

Toreno shrugged, "I got a feeling..."

Suddenly, two guards emerged from the building. Toreno took aim at one, before a third person emerged from the compound. He pulled the laser sight off the guards and cursed, "Shit! They got Woozie!"

CJ raised his rifle, "I'm going in, man, I'm gonna finish these motherfuckers!"

"Wait a sec, holmes! I think they're gonna do something first!" Cesar interjected.

The two guards shoved Woozie to the ground in the centre of the lot, and to the shock of the four watching, simply turned around and headed back into the building!

Toreno nodded, "Now you can go down."

CJ and Sweet barrelled down the small set of stairs whilst Cesar and Toreno kept watch from up top. Woozie groaned as the two lifted the blind Chinese man to his feet, "Woozie! You awright?" CJ asked.

"Am... fine... please... get me outta here..."

"Will do, man. Toreno!" Sweet shouted, "Fire up the helicopter!" Sweet then turned his attention back to Woozie, "We're getting you outta here."

"What happened, man? Who were those guys?"

Woozie panted, "I think... we should wait until... we get back to the Estate... this is probably what you've been waiting for..."

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"Stupid Florida dickhead!" shouted Tommy as a 1965 Impala Blade lowrider pulled out in front of him, causing him to swerve. Sure, fixing the car at the local Pay 'n' Spray wasn't expensive, but he preferred to keep his own cars in good condition. Sure, if he had jacked it he wouldn't have cared, but his Infernus had been at his bidding for 6 years.

The Infernus sped along Ocean Drive up towards the Malibu. The Chariot hotel could be seen to the right, many lights on the frontal face of the building forming strange patterns. The Malibu was up ahead, the pink neons casting their glowing light across the road in all directions. Behind it, Tommy knew, would be the payphone linking him with the mysterious individual whom he suspected as the man threatening his hold on Vice.

Parking in the small carpark behind the Malibu where the employees (who generally drove Ford Mules and the like), Tommy stepped out of his sleek car and approached the payphone. As long as Black didn't know who 'Mr Teal' really was, then Tommy would be fine. Or so he hoped.

He picked up the receiver and listened.

"The time has come for you to prove to me how well you can do your job, Mr Teal. Today is the day you have been waiting for. I have been having a certain... disagreement with the crimelord of this city. His name is Tommy Vercetti, and he must not be allowed to live if we are to continue. Mr Teal, I am counting on you. If you succeed, you will be rich. If you fail..."

Tommy listened, his palm sweaty as it gripped the phone.

"...then you will die. Details of the whereabouts of Vercetti are taped under the phone."

Black hung up. Tommy slowly placed the receiver back on the hook and reached under the phone. A map of Vice was pulled out, and Tommy unfolded it. To his astonishment, his mansion had been marked by a large red circle in the middle of the paper, with arrows showing his regular movements, such as his regular trips to the Malibu, his stop-offs at Kaufman Cabs and his quickest route to Prawn Island.

"Someone's been watching me real closely lately..."

He folded up the paper and shoved it in his pocket. If he was going to do this properly without Black's men tracking him down and killing him, he would have to fake his own death during one of his trips. He grit his teeth, hoping someone back at the Estate had a good idea as to how he was going to do that.

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End of chapter 7

Well, we covered a bit. Now at least we have some background on who the mystery man is. Also, his two accomplices are probably familiar faces to you, too. I dropped a couple of hints, feel free to take guesses in your reviews.

Ok, guys, see you around soon for chapter 8!

Griddles.