Author's Note: I understand I'm changing things around a lot, but that's purely so I'm not copying the game word for word, which would bore the hell out of everyone. Also, it allows me a greater range of creativity that I can put into the story. For those who speak of action lacking in the story, you need to understand that this story is part drama as well. No offense intended, but not every chapter will overload you on action. Most will though. :) Thanks for the reviews, I hope this'll satisfy.

Chap 9

Bomb da base

Chris headed back to his hideout, and had a night of uneasy sleep. Chris was out the door at 10 in the morning, ready to get his hands on a new job. He was also rather hesitant. Chris walked up to the Leone Mansion in a state between anticipation and fear. The butler answered the door.

"You know who I'm looking for." Chris said, shifting his weight to one leg.

"He's out back, enjoying the beach." The butler motioned to the terrace, once again. Chris jogged out into the beautiful morning and a great view on the terrace. Salvatore had one of those stupid umbrella-hats on. Salvatore was looking at the harbor, reclining in a lawn chair.

"Hey, Chris, good to see you kid. So, what of the rat? Did he squeal?" Salvatore asked, curious as he was.

"Yes. He led me to that huge boat down at the docks. He's told them basically everything. I took care of him. I think the Cartel are pushing out of that boat."

"That's interesting, because my men have confirmed that last night, when they saw huge boxfuls of SPANK getting moved around. "

" So, what do you want me to do?" Chris looked out to the beach.

"Son, the reason I'm out here isn't to get a tan, and you know that. I don't need no suntan. I'm here to enjoy the show. The show you and 8ball are gonna be putting on for me. You're gonna torch that boat, make sure it's done for. 8ball's got the stuff you need. I'm funding the whole thing so I expect it to be good , and I expect to see fireworks....," Salvatore paused to check his watch... "in a half-hour to an hour. You do this for me, you're a made man, anything you want."

* * *

With that, Chris left. Chris headed out to the Kuruma, and proceeded over to 8ball's shop on the west side. He had heard it in passing reference when he was at Luigi's club. He hadn't seen 8ball since he went inside Luigi's club, what seemed like a while ago. Chris figured he lived and worked at the shop. Chris knew it was near a car dealership, and when he got there he knew the route to 8ball's place just by common sense. Chris stepped out of the Kuruma. He saw that 8ball had his own ride. It was a sleek red Banshee. Looks like 8ball was doing good for himself. Chris opened the door to the shop. He rung the alarm bell.

"Yo, my man! Chris! How's it going?" 8ball was in a sleeveless shirt, with jeans and a red bandana.

"Hey, Salvatore sent me. You got the bomb?" Chris asked, surveying the shop.

"Yeah, but I still can't use a piece with these hands. I'm gonna need you to look out for me while I get aboard the ship. Here, this should help you pop some heads." 8ball gave Chris a sniper rifle. "We'll take my ride."

* * *

Chris hopped in the Bansee, while 8ball simply opened the door. They drove with all haste to the harbor. 8ball held on tight to the little black box the bomb came in. When they reached the harbor, they saw the huge boat looming in front of them. Out front were two men guarding the ramp up to the boat, with two SUVS to the both of them. Were they expect this? Chris worried.

"Okay, here we are. I'm gonna take some cover behind those boxes. I'll head in you when you fire the first shot. Get a good vantage point, man." 8ball stepped out, and hid behind three large boxes. Chris pulled turned around rode around the side of the building next to the ship. He saw a group of stainless-steel steps. He got out, walked up, to the top of the building. Perfect. Chris stood on top of the building, examining the ship, memorizing the placement of the Cartel gunmen. Two on the bridge, one at the top near some barrels, two near the boxes 10 maybe 15 feet to the right, one on top of the boxes. And three in front of the entrance to the front of the ship. Chris leveled the sniper rifle, pointed at the first guard near the bridge. BANG! Right through the skull. His friend rushed over to see what was wrong. Big mistake, BANG! Chris's silencer had fallen off, and the full blast was heard. Chris had to reload. This panicked the men on the ship. 8ball charged at the ramp. Chris leveled his rifle, ready for it to rain blood .

* * *

8ball heard two shots, and right then he bolted from his hiding spot. He charged wildly at the ramp, black box in hand. Another shot ripped through the skull of the man at the top of the ship, whose brains splattered on the barrels behind him. 8ball surveyed the top of the ship. Shit! That's not friendly fire! Gunshots rang out, and 8ball ducked for cover. The bullets pierced the box around him, though they never connected. Take them out, white boy! 8ball looked at Chris. Bang, Bang, Bang! 8ball heard the bodies slump to the floor. He jumped up, and saw that there were four gunmen left. He had to run. Chris fired once more taking out the man on top of the box. 8ball ran at the entrance. The gunmen opened fire. Two bullets ripped through 8ball's torso. He didn't feel it; he was too determined. BANG! Chris took out two of them with one shot, and the bullet ripped through the hull next to the last man. He turned to see why his friends had dropped, the black man wasn't armed. He then raised his gun firing at 8ball, but it was too late. 8ball kicked the gun into the air, then roundhoused the poor sap to the ground. He stepped ferociously on the man's neck. Satisfied with himself, 8ball gave Chris a thumbs up. He still didn't feel the bullet wounds. Chris waved back. 8ball ran into the front of the ship, a complex network of buttons and switches. 8ball simply set the bomb down. He armed it.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" A heavily accented Mexican asked as he put the gun to 8balls head. 8ball turned around, praying silently.

"Listen, this is an easy solution. You shoot me and die in this explosion, or we both get off the ship alive. What do you prefer?" 8ball's sweat was pouring. The Mexican looked past 8ball, and his face turned into a twisted expression of fear.

" Let's get the fuck out of here!" the Hispanic man said. 8ball and him headed out the exit. As they headed down the ramp, side by side, they heard the deafening explosion. 8ball turned to the Mexican, and violently pushed him over the edge of the ramp! 8ball got off the ramp just as it collapsed. He hid behind one of the SUVs from the debris. He saw the ship's back end go about fifty feet in the air, and it finally submerged a moment later. The pain of the bullets hit 8ball for the first time.

* * *
Chris headed down the stairs as quick as possible, hopped into the Banshee, and drove quickly to 8ball. He got out.

Chris stooped down next to 8ball. "Holy shit! Man, you're hit! How do you feel?"

"LIKE I BEEN SHOT!" 8ball screamed. "Get to the hospital, dog!" Chris helped 8ball into the Banshee. 8ball was screaming as he covered both of the wounds. Chris fishtailed onto the hospital's road. He helped 8ball out, then proceeded to the front desk , 8balls arms around his neck. He practically drug 8ball up to it.

"Miss, we need help bad."

"Chris....." 8ball said, his voice becoming raspy. "Head back to our place. I'll be fine. Go see Salvatore, he'll be proud." Chris handed 8ball over to two men ready to put him on a stretcher, and left. He headed back to hideout. He was happy 8ball wasn't doing too bad. Ah, a made man in the Leone Family. Life is good. Just as long as Salvatore doesn't hear that goddamn rumor.