The gun was gripped tightly in my hand as I stood in complete darkness. The
rain was pounding ferociously on the windows. Every now and then lightning
would flash through the blinds casting my shadow on the walls of the
apartment.
My assignment was simple: take out the most dangerous and feared gangster in New York: Vincent Vercetti a.k.a. the "Reaper". The bastard had a body count of over three hundred. I, however, did not fear him. To me he was just another assignment, another job that was to be done to earn a paycheck. Oh no, I was certainly not scared of him. Indeed though, I was anxious to meet him. Eliminating him would bring great honor to me. For my reputation would expand far beyond the boundaries of Liberty City into the vast state of New York, or perhaps even further.
A noise outside seized my attention. I placed my cigar in the ashtray on the stand and walked over to the window. Opening the blinds a bit to see, I saw a car pulling into the garage. He had arrived. I got into position beside the door. I could hear the elevator coming up. My hand gripped the gun even tighter.
The door opened and a man walked in. He flipped on the switch, but no lights came on. For the rain must have ruined the power lines outside. I smirked at my luck. This would make my work much easier. The man grunted and continued forward towards the kitchen. I could smell the gunpowder as he walked past me. He stopped suddenly and I thought he had seen me. But he didn't turn around. His eyes were focused upon something in front of him. I looked there, too, and saw what had his attention. Shit! How could I be so ignorant? It was the cigar I had left in the ashtray. Smoke came out from the tip and ascended into the air.
I figured now would be a good time to kill him, so I raised the gun to his head. But before I could pull the trigger he dashed out of the room into the kitchen. Now holding the gun out in front of me with two hands, I crept silently towards the kitchen. No noise or sounds of movement came from the kitchen. I had a distinct feeling he was watching me but shook off the thought. I could see my way around fine, for my eyes had adjusted to the darkness a long time ago. A creak came from the kitchen and I stopped in mid-stride. Then I jogged quietly to the wall. Using the wall for cover I peered into the kitchen. No sign of him.
I pulled back behind the wall again and, to my unfortunate surprise, felt the unfamiliar but all-to-familiar round shape of the cold, hard barrel of a pistol against my temple. I froze instantly. Everything seemed to go in slow motion. I could hear each drop of rain crash onto the ground outside simultaneously like stones smashing onto a sidewalk after being dropped from the top of the Empire State building. I felt a tingle on my back that seemed to travel up my spine and into my brain, causing my eyes to widen with panic.
I knew the guy was about to pull the trigger any second and that I had to act fast. Remembering that I had a pistol in my hand, I swung it and slammed it into his knee, causing it to buckle. As he fell I could feel the barrel of the gun sliding up the side of my head and fire a few inches above my ear. The flash from the gun had caused my eyes to misadjust. I was embraced by darkness that was as black as coal. Gripping my head in pain from the blast of the gun, I managed to grab my gun again and fire blindingly into the darkness. When my clip was empty I reloaded swiftly and scurried for cover behind the couch.
Glancing over the couch, I saw nothing. Then lightning flashed into the room illuminating the man who was standing behind the kitchen counter. For a split second I saw him, his figure was broad. And his eyes, yes his eyes, were dark and ominous, as if seeing into the inner core of a black hole. He fired his gun although I did not hear it, since I was still deaf from the gun blast that had come less than an inch from my ear. I saw the flashes and ducked back behind the couch. I raised the gun above the couch and fired into the kitchen. Not daring to glimpse above the couch again, I peeked around the side of it. Despite the darkness, my eyes were better focused than before. I could see the dark figure of him against the white cabinets behind him. I aimed my gun the best I could at his chest and fired twice.
Blowing the smoke of the gunfire out of my face, I scanned the counter for any sign of him. None. I got up slowly and moved stealthily toward the kitchen, cautiously placing down one foot after the other. Entering the kitchen for the first time, I noticed there was a door leading back into the living room. That must have been how he snuck up behind me. I walked behind the counter and saw his body. It pleased me significantly to see him lying there in his own pool of blood. I squatted down next to him and placed two fingers on the side of his neck. I grinned. The Reaper had taken his last breath.
My assignment was simple: take out the most dangerous and feared gangster in New York: Vincent Vercetti a.k.a. the "Reaper". The bastard had a body count of over three hundred. I, however, did not fear him. To me he was just another assignment, another job that was to be done to earn a paycheck. Oh no, I was certainly not scared of him. Indeed though, I was anxious to meet him. Eliminating him would bring great honor to me. For my reputation would expand far beyond the boundaries of Liberty City into the vast state of New York, or perhaps even further.
A noise outside seized my attention. I placed my cigar in the ashtray on the stand and walked over to the window. Opening the blinds a bit to see, I saw a car pulling into the garage. He had arrived. I got into position beside the door. I could hear the elevator coming up. My hand gripped the gun even tighter.
The door opened and a man walked in. He flipped on the switch, but no lights came on. For the rain must have ruined the power lines outside. I smirked at my luck. This would make my work much easier. The man grunted and continued forward towards the kitchen. I could smell the gunpowder as he walked past me. He stopped suddenly and I thought he had seen me. But he didn't turn around. His eyes were focused upon something in front of him. I looked there, too, and saw what had his attention. Shit! How could I be so ignorant? It was the cigar I had left in the ashtray. Smoke came out from the tip and ascended into the air.
I figured now would be a good time to kill him, so I raised the gun to his head. But before I could pull the trigger he dashed out of the room into the kitchen. Now holding the gun out in front of me with two hands, I crept silently towards the kitchen. No noise or sounds of movement came from the kitchen. I had a distinct feeling he was watching me but shook off the thought. I could see my way around fine, for my eyes had adjusted to the darkness a long time ago. A creak came from the kitchen and I stopped in mid-stride. Then I jogged quietly to the wall. Using the wall for cover I peered into the kitchen. No sign of him.
I pulled back behind the wall again and, to my unfortunate surprise, felt the unfamiliar but all-to-familiar round shape of the cold, hard barrel of a pistol against my temple. I froze instantly. Everything seemed to go in slow motion. I could hear each drop of rain crash onto the ground outside simultaneously like stones smashing onto a sidewalk after being dropped from the top of the Empire State building. I felt a tingle on my back that seemed to travel up my spine and into my brain, causing my eyes to widen with panic.
I knew the guy was about to pull the trigger any second and that I had to act fast. Remembering that I had a pistol in my hand, I swung it and slammed it into his knee, causing it to buckle. As he fell I could feel the barrel of the gun sliding up the side of my head and fire a few inches above my ear. The flash from the gun had caused my eyes to misadjust. I was embraced by darkness that was as black as coal. Gripping my head in pain from the blast of the gun, I managed to grab my gun again and fire blindingly into the darkness. When my clip was empty I reloaded swiftly and scurried for cover behind the couch.
Glancing over the couch, I saw nothing. Then lightning flashed into the room illuminating the man who was standing behind the kitchen counter. For a split second I saw him, his figure was broad. And his eyes, yes his eyes, were dark and ominous, as if seeing into the inner core of a black hole. He fired his gun although I did not hear it, since I was still deaf from the gun blast that had come less than an inch from my ear. I saw the flashes and ducked back behind the couch. I raised the gun above the couch and fired into the kitchen. Not daring to glimpse above the couch again, I peeked around the side of it. Despite the darkness, my eyes were better focused than before. I could see the dark figure of him against the white cabinets behind him. I aimed my gun the best I could at his chest and fired twice.
Blowing the smoke of the gunfire out of my face, I scanned the counter for any sign of him. None. I got up slowly and moved stealthily toward the kitchen, cautiously placing down one foot after the other. Entering the kitchen for the first time, I noticed there was a door leading back into the living room. That must have been how he snuck up behind me. I walked behind the counter and saw his body. It pleased me significantly to see him lying there in his own pool of blood. I squatted down next to him and placed two fingers on the side of his neck. I grinned. The Reaper had taken his last breath.