"The road ends here for you Vince Corleone"
Somehow this man knew Vince. He realized that these men weren't chasing after him for what he had in his wallet. Someone wanted him dead, now. He made a diving jump away from the man, trying to get behind the huge air conditioners for cover.
He heard it in mid air. It was one of the most terrifying things for a mortal to hear. The noise of the shot echoed in his ears, tormenting him. He once again found himself on the ground.
After several minutes, Vince was awoken from his state of unconsciousness by a jabbing to the side. He found himself staring straight into the eyes of a Liberty City Police officer.
"It looks like you had quite an ordeal there, son"
Vince was unable to talk. He was sure that he was going to die after the thug had shot him. He got to his feet and saw his attacker, lying cold on the roof. He owed his life to the police officer.
Vince knew that whoever was looking for him was never going to stop. He packed his bags that night. He did not sleep at all. He held steadfast by the door, baseball bat in hand, determined to survive the night.
Vince Boarded flight T-109 en route to Vice City at 9:30 Friday morning.
"Would you like a drink sir," inquired the flight attendant.
Vince had to resist. He knew that if he had one drink he would tumble down the wrong path again. He kept to himself for most of the flight, reading magazines and watching the in-flight movie.
Vince had been itchy all morning. Every snap, bang, or load noise set him off. He couldn't bear it. He swore the first thing he'd do when he gets to vice city, is take a long needed rest on the beach.
