A/n: Yet I still don't own GTA, Rockstar does (impotent bastards) Insert
random bitching here blah blah blah.
Liberty City: The New Reign Chapter 2:Welcome to Vice City
8 ball smothered his Cigarette in a standing ashtray next to the terminal stairs.
" So when is this uncle of yours gonna meet us Mike?" He asked.
"Well it isn't as much as meet us. He always sends someone to do his dirty work most of the time." I said. Peeking over the heads of passerby's in the crowded airport.
" Hmm. Well that helps." He said smugly.
" Just look for a guy holding a sign saying Versetti." I said.
Yes by what you can somewhat tell we are in Vice City's Escobar International airport. We kinda got here late for a few reasons 1.) We couldn't call Cassidy and get him to watch my newly acquired house while we were gone(but we eventually did) 2.) A contact (from what we believe to be working for my uncle) in Vice City calling himself Paulo was late booking our plane tickets and 3.) 8-ball never had been on a plane before and he started freakin' out when the plane started Taxing out, so it took a good half hour for stewardess's and the captain to calm him down. That wouldn't been a problem if I had managed to convince him to fly with me in the dodo but 8 ball sometimes is hard to convince.
So here we are in Vice City walking around the Escobar lobby. I had to abandon my leather jacket draping it over my arm and which under it I had a white tank top undershirt and a pair of dog tags. People looked at me funny for not wearing a shirt. Anyway we decided to go catch a cab and get to my uncle's house, but as we neared the front door we saw a flash of a sign reading: VERSETTI. A Black man held the sign in a white suit with graying hair and an eye patch over his right eye. We walked over to the stranger a bit cautious.
" Ah!" He said relieved. " You must be Mr. Versetti's Nephew from Liberty City."
" So we are." I said motioning to 8 ball. " This is 8 ball my right hand man."
8 ball gave me a "look".
"Right, Right." He said a bit hurriedly. " Well I am Mr. Versetti's right hand man La-err…Quentin! Quentin Vance." He said. I held out my hand to him, which he declined.
"We have no time to waste." He said turning away from us. " Mr. Versetti is waiting."
Quentin lead us out into the sun drenched motorway of the airport into a large field right outside. I turned to Quentin.
" Aren't we going to the Versetti estate?" I asked.
" Yes." He replied. "We are waiting for our transportation. It has appeared over the years Mr. Versetti likes to make a good impression."
I glanced back at 8 ball who looked a bit uncertain. As soon as I turned back to Quentin a Maverick Helicopter started to descend upon us. Mr. Vance motioned to us as he climbed into the copter'. 8 ball and I just shrugged our shoulders at each other and climbed in behind Quentin. As soon as I shut the door behind me the copter' ascended into the bright blue sky. 8 ball started freaking out again. So the pilot reached back and back handed him. 8 ball was shocked. He was about to protest but I jabbed his foot with the toe of my shoe and he bit his tongue. We were now speeding over head above what looked like large propane containers in clusters of 4's. When we pulled past the tanks we were over a long stretch of road. We passed a run down ice cream shop, several condemned buildings. When we flew a bit down the road the pilot turned to the right sharply and we found ourselves over water. 8 ball started fidgeting again. I looked out the front window and I found we were approaching a mid size island, it looked as if a part of it was washed away. I looked around. Does my uncle live here? If he did he was a lucky bastard. This place was the Ritz. We know found ourselves descending upon the front lot of a VERY large mansion. This place freaking out did the playboy mansion.
The place looked like it had changed a bit from what I can tell. On the right of the mansion was a large strip of pavement jutting out over the bay. looked like a car track for road tests I assumed. On the left was a large garage. We landed infront of the mansions front steps and got out. As soon as Quentin shut the cockpit door behind us the copter' lifted off and flew over the mansion. Quentin motioned to us and jogged up the steps. 8 and I just shrugged our shoulders. And with my coat draped over my arm and my dog tags jangling against my chest I followed Quentin up the steps with 9 ball.
When we had gotten inside the mansion we jogged up another set of stairs to a partly ajar door from which I could hear a man yelling to what appeared to be himself.
" Whaddya mean you got high again…YOU DID WHAT?!?…Your lucky the cops are dumb bastards that they can tell if someone is hopped up…Rosenburg your one dumb fuck…listen, listen, listen I'll send Lance over to bail you out…yeah, yeah Ken you'd better fuckin' shape up."
Followed by that little interlude was the loud slamming of something blunt against a wall, which made 8 and me jump a bit but not This Quentin guy. Casually he knocked on the door. From inside came a gruff voice saying " Get in here". Vance opened the door and walked inside followed by myself then a reluctant 8-ball. It was a nice room we were standing in right now. Wall to wall shag carpeting, floor to ceiling windows situated on each side of open french doors, the latest Gruppe' security monitoring devices occupied wall next to a glass encased gun rack sporting 4 identical black matte' Spas 12 shotguns. On the other wall of the office sat up against it, a glass case which appeared to be holding several antique, exotic and collector's handguns. Above the case hung several overhead shots of Vice city itself at sunrise, sunset, night and day. Behind the desk was a tall red leather office chair with its back turned towards us. A voice issued from it.
" Lance, explain to me why I haven't fired that prick Rosenberg?" Said in an aging voice somewhat like Ray Liotta's. I gave 8 a look. This guy's name was Lance Vance?
" Lance" Vance straightened up and looked directly at the back of the chair. He straightened his tie and said;
"He manages your smaller less demeaning assets, gets your ass out of jail and makes one hell of a fruit smoothie." He finished a bit smugly.
With that the leather chair spun around to face us. What I saw was a black hair Italian tanned skin man dressed in a black suit with white pinstripes. He appeared to look around 35-ish but I could tell he was probably in his late 50's. Yes ladies and gentlemen I could tell already that this was my Uncle Thomas Versetti. He had the Versetti vibe going off around him like a fuckin' fire hydrant in Liberty City on a hot day. I looked at him. And he looked at me. Finally after a long awkward moment he blurted out." Who's the punk?"
I looked shocked." Excuse me?" I said in a gruff voice.
Tommy pointed at me and in a pissed off voice he blurted "Shut up".
Quentin cleared his voice bringing Versetti's attention. Tommy turned in his chair to face him.
"What?" He said sounding irritated.
" Uh Mister Versetti." He began. " This is Michael from up North in Liberty City."
Tommy sat back placing his fingertips together. " Go on." He said sounding intrigued.
" He's uh your Nephew?" Said Lance. Tommy's eyes widened and his lips pursed together in surprised.
"Oh." He spouted out after a moment. " Well uh Michael I'm sorry for that awkward moment back there. I'm a bit pissed off, you see my Lawyer Ken Rosenberg got high and picked a fight in the greasy chopper." He sat up and straightened his tie. " Uh I remember your mother. She was my favorite sister." He said trying to make light of the situation. He continued. "I'm sure you came a long way from Liberty, and that you have very important business with me." He smoothed back his hair. "But I too have important business to attend to so we'll have to discuss this over dinner." He snapped his fingers and Yelled "Mario!" Stout Italian man with a balding hair and wearing sunglasses walked over to us. He had on a blue and white shirt and carried a deadly looking Uzi.
" Ah Mario." He started." Get my Nephew here a shirt. It looks like he just came off the set of Die Hard."
" Yes Sir Mister Versetti." Said Mario in a voice that made you want to tear your eardrums out. Mario grabbed me by the arm and led me out of the room followed by 8 ball. From inside the room I could hear my uncle's voice again.
" Ya know Lance that prick Rosenberg better shape up. I don't even like Fruit Smoothies."
I grimaced at the shirt Mario Held up to me. It was Orange with Yellow Palm trees.
" Are you fucking nuts?" I asked him. "Do I look like I wanna get shot?"
" Well…" Mario Said. " Mister Versetti told me to get you a shirt…and I don't wanna end up like Sonny Forelli…SO PUT ON THE DAMN SHIRT KID!" He finished a bit irritated. We were standing in a large walk in closet off the main hall. 8 ball sat in a chair against the wall twiddling his thumbs.
" C'mon man it's a Jimmy Buffet Shirt!" I said trying to persuade him. Next thing I knew we were wrestling on the floor. Mario had me pinned down forcing the buttoned up shirt over my head.
" MARIO LAY OFF HIM!" Said Mercedes.
"Fine." Mario said profusely and helped me off the floor, brushing me off. I haven't introduced you to Miss Cortex yet have I? She's ok. Tommy met her through her Dad Colonel Cortez. I heard about that guy on CNN. Apparently he's in hiding because the French Government. Anyway she did some "work" for Tommy back in '86 and has been living in the Versetti estate on and off since then.
She walked over to me carrying a black sleeved button up shirt.
" I think this should fit you." She said putting it on me.
" The sleeves are a bit big." I said rolling them up and putting my cigarettes in the front shirt pocket. I kept The shirt unbuttoned. I never wore shirts for some reason.
Just then Tommy walked past the door. He must have changed because now he wore a faded blue Hawaiian shirt, jeans and tennis shoes. In his hand he carried a stainless steel plated desert eagle with ivory finish hand guards.
"Ah, Lance." He said. Appearing somewhat calm. " You and Mario go ready the Deluxo. Kid your coming with us." He finished indicating me.
" What's the problem Tommy?" Ask Quentin a bit worried.
" The Haitians tried to Tango with us again Lance." He shot back over his shoulder.
TO BE CONTINUED
Liberty City: The New Reign Chapter 2:Welcome to Vice City
8 ball smothered his Cigarette in a standing ashtray next to the terminal stairs.
" So when is this uncle of yours gonna meet us Mike?" He asked.
"Well it isn't as much as meet us. He always sends someone to do his dirty work most of the time." I said. Peeking over the heads of passerby's in the crowded airport.
" Hmm. Well that helps." He said smugly.
" Just look for a guy holding a sign saying Versetti." I said.
Yes by what you can somewhat tell we are in Vice City's Escobar International airport. We kinda got here late for a few reasons 1.) We couldn't call Cassidy and get him to watch my newly acquired house while we were gone(but we eventually did) 2.) A contact (from what we believe to be working for my uncle) in Vice City calling himself Paulo was late booking our plane tickets and 3.) 8-ball never had been on a plane before and he started freakin' out when the plane started Taxing out, so it took a good half hour for stewardess's and the captain to calm him down. That wouldn't been a problem if I had managed to convince him to fly with me in the dodo but 8 ball sometimes is hard to convince.
So here we are in Vice City walking around the Escobar lobby. I had to abandon my leather jacket draping it over my arm and which under it I had a white tank top undershirt and a pair of dog tags. People looked at me funny for not wearing a shirt. Anyway we decided to go catch a cab and get to my uncle's house, but as we neared the front door we saw a flash of a sign reading: VERSETTI. A Black man held the sign in a white suit with graying hair and an eye patch over his right eye. We walked over to the stranger a bit cautious.
" Ah!" He said relieved. " You must be Mr. Versetti's Nephew from Liberty City."
" So we are." I said motioning to 8 ball. " This is 8 ball my right hand man."
8 ball gave me a "look".
"Right, Right." He said a bit hurriedly. " Well I am Mr. Versetti's right hand man La-err…Quentin! Quentin Vance." He said. I held out my hand to him, which he declined.
"We have no time to waste." He said turning away from us. " Mr. Versetti is waiting."
Quentin lead us out into the sun drenched motorway of the airport into a large field right outside. I turned to Quentin.
" Aren't we going to the Versetti estate?" I asked.
" Yes." He replied. "We are waiting for our transportation. It has appeared over the years Mr. Versetti likes to make a good impression."
I glanced back at 8 ball who looked a bit uncertain. As soon as I turned back to Quentin a Maverick Helicopter started to descend upon us. Mr. Vance motioned to us as he climbed into the copter'. 8 ball and I just shrugged our shoulders at each other and climbed in behind Quentin. As soon as I shut the door behind me the copter' ascended into the bright blue sky. 8 ball started freaking out again. So the pilot reached back and back handed him. 8 ball was shocked. He was about to protest but I jabbed his foot with the toe of my shoe and he bit his tongue. We were now speeding over head above what looked like large propane containers in clusters of 4's. When we pulled past the tanks we were over a long stretch of road. We passed a run down ice cream shop, several condemned buildings. When we flew a bit down the road the pilot turned to the right sharply and we found ourselves over water. 8 ball started fidgeting again. I looked out the front window and I found we were approaching a mid size island, it looked as if a part of it was washed away. I looked around. Does my uncle live here? If he did he was a lucky bastard. This place was the Ritz. We know found ourselves descending upon the front lot of a VERY large mansion. This place freaking out did the playboy mansion.
The place looked like it had changed a bit from what I can tell. On the right of the mansion was a large strip of pavement jutting out over the bay. looked like a car track for road tests I assumed. On the left was a large garage. We landed infront of the mansions front steps and got out. As soon as Quentin shut the cockpit door behind us the copter' lifted off and flew over the mansion. Quentin motioned to us and jogged up the steps. 8 and I just shrugged our shoulders. And with my coat draped over my arm and my dog tags jangling against my chest I followed Quentin up the steps with 9 ball.
When we had gotten inside the mansion we jogged up another set of stairs to a partly ajar door from which I could hear a man yelling to what appeared to be himself.
" Whaddya mean you got high again…YOU DID WHAT?!?…Your lucky the cops are dumb bastards that they can tell if someone is hopped up…Rosenburg your one dumb fuck…listen, listen, listen I'll send Lance over to bail you out…yeah, yeah Ken you'd better fuckin' shape up."
Followed by that little interlude was the loud slamming of something blunt against a wall, which made 8 and me jump a bit but not This Quentin guy. Casually he knocked on the door. From inside came a gruff voice saying " Get in here". Vance opened the door and walked inside followed by myself then a reluctant 8-ball. It was a nice room we were standing in right now. Wall to wall shag carpeting, floor to ceiling windows situated on each side of open french doors, the latest Gruppe' security monitoring devices occupied wall next to a glass encased gun rack sporting 4 identical black matte' Spas 12 shotguns. On the other wall of the office sat up against it, a glass case which appeared to be holding several antique, exotic and collector's handguns. Above the case hung several overhead shots of Vice city itself at sunrise, sunset, night and day. Behind the desk was a tall red leather office chair with its back turned towards us. A voice issued from it.
" Lance, explain to me why I haven't fired that prick Rosenberg?" Said in an aging voice somewhat like Ray Liotta's. I gave 8 a look. This guy's name was Lance Vance?
" Lance" Vance straightened up and looked directly at the back of the chair. He straightened his tie and said;
"He manages your smaller less demeaning assets, gets your ass out of jail and makes one hell of a fruit smoothie." He finished a bit smugly.
With that the leather chair spun around to face us. What I saw was a black hair Italian tanned skin man dressed in a black suit with white pinstripes. He appeared to look around 35-ish but I could tell he was probably in his late 50's. Yes ladies and gentlemen I could tell already that this was my Uncle Thomas Versetti. He had the Versetti vibe going off around him like a fuckin' fire hydrant in Liberty City on a hot day. I looked at him. And he looked at me. Finally after a long awkward moment he blurted out." Who's the punk?"
I looked shocked." Excuse me?" I said in a gruff voice.
Tommy pointed at me and in a pissed off voice he blurted "Shut up".
Quentin cleared his voice bringing Versetti's attention. Tommy turned in his chair to face him.
"What?" He said sounding irritated.
" Uh Mister Versetti." He began. " This is Michael from up North in Liberty City."
Tommy sat back placing his fingertips together. " Go on." He said sounding intrigued.
" He's uh your Nephew?" Said Lance. Tommy's eyes widened and his lips pursed together in surprised.
"Oh." He spouted out after a moment. " Well uh Michael I'm sorry for that awkward moment back there. I'm a bit pissed off, you see my Lawyer Ken Rosenberg got high and picked a fight in the greasy chopper." He sat up and straightened his tie. " Uh I remember your mother. She was my favorite sister." He said trying to make light of the situation. He continued. "I'm sure you came a long way from Liberty, and that you have very important business with me." He smoothed back his hair. "But I too have important business to attend to so we'll have to discuss this over dinner." He snapped his fingers and Yelled "Mario!" Stout Italian man with a balding hair and wearing sunglasses walked over to us. He had on a blue and white shirt and carried a deadly looking Uzi.
" Ah Mario." He started." Get my Nephew here a shirt. It looks like he just came off the set of Die Hard."
" Yes Sir Mister Versetti." Said Mario in a voice that made you want to tear your eardrums out. Mario grabbed me by the arm and led me out of the room followed by 8 ball. From inside the room I could hear my uncle's voice again.
" Ya know Lance that prick Rosenberg better shape up. I don't even like Fruit Smoothies."
I grimaced at the shirt Mario Held up to me. It was Orange with Yellow Palm trees.
" Are you fucking nuts?" I asked him. "Do I look like I wanna get shot?"
" Well…" Mario Said. " Mister Versetti told me to get you a shirt…and I don't wanna end up like Sonny Forelli…SO PUT ON THE DAMN SHIRT KID!" He finished a bit irritated. We were standing in a large walk in closet off the main hall. 8 ball sat in a chair against the wall twiddling his thumbs.
" C'mon man it's a Jimmy Buffet Shirt!" I said trying to persuade him. Next thing I knew we were wrestling on the floor. Mario had me pinned down forcing the buttoned up shirt over my head.
" MARIO LAY OFF HIM!" Said Mercedes.
"Fine." Mario said profusely and helped me off the floor, brushing me off. I haven't introduced you to Miss Cortex yet have I? She's ok. Tommy met her through her Dad Colonel Cortez. I heard about that guy on CNN. Apparently he's in hiding because the French Government. Anyway she did some "work" for Tommy back in '86 and has been living in the Versetti estate on and off since then.
She walked over to me carrying a black sleeved button up shirt.
" I think this should fit you." She said putting it on me.
" The sleeves are a bit big." I said rolling them up and putting my cigarettes in the front shirt pocket. I kept The shirt unbuttoned. I never wore shirts for some reason.
Just then Tommy walked past the door. He must have changed because now he wore a faded blue Hawaiian shirt, jeans and tennis shoes. In his hand he carried a stainless steel plated desert eagle with ivory finish hand guards.
"Ah, Lance." He said. Appearing somewhat calm. " You and Mario go ready the Deluxo. Kid your coming with us." He finished indicating me.
" What's the problem Tommy?" Ask Quentin a bit worried.
" The Haitians tried to Tango with us again Lance." He shot back over his shoulder.
TO BE CONTINUED