PART 2

Tommy Vercetti got out of his car to find a muscular man with a worried look on his face awaiting him. "What's wrong?" he asked quietly.

Steve reclined his deck chair and sipped his drink. He flicked over the page of his dirty magazine and gave a loud belch. The sun beat down relentlessly, and the only sound was the occasional rumble of a passing car, and the distant moan of police sirens. All in all, it was an ordinary Saturday. He sipped his drink again. Suddenly a white Infernus sped past, doing at least twice the speed limit, and leaving a long trail of white smoke behind it. Steve glanced up just in time to see a face through the windows. He had only got a glimpse, but that face was unmistakable. Tommy Vercetti. Steve blinked. He could have sworn that the sound of police sirens was getting nearer. He heard a gunshot, less than 100 metres away from him. The sound made him jump out his skin, and before he knew what he was doing, he ran as fast as his legs could carry him. And not in the way he expected to go, either. Something, some sense of adventure, overcame all thought and reason, and he ran down the road, in the same direction that the Infernus had gone. Towards the gunfire.