Grand Theft Auto: Vice City
Clerical Work

Authour's Notes: I realise I may have left some of you hanging with the ending off the last chapter. It was a tad abrupt. So, I will treat you with the next chapter. There is some actual action in this one! For all you action addicts out there, I suppose. Also, I've done away with the Mission Objectives. They seem too obtrusive on the plot. Anyway, on with the story.

Mission III - 'Boarding Call'
The outdoor lights of 1102 Washington Street flicker on as they do every night, on cue, at 11:20 PM. The neon red and green colours illuminate Tommy Vercetti's tired face as he passes through the front doors.

Most of the hotel is vacant and quiet, save for the noise coming from a bar, set off to the side. Tommy, as usual, drags his feet over to the frosted glass office door, which is has strangely been left open. Tommy is bathed in flourescent light upon walking in. Alexa is already waiting in a spindly chair, looking rather impatient, per usual.

Tommy runs a hand through his hair as he takes the regular seat. "What the Hell is so urgent that you drag me out of bed at friggin' eleven 'o clock at night?"

"There are alot of things that urgent, Mr. Vercetti," she says, standing up. "You just don't give a damn about most of them. But I think this may concern you. Nana will be in to see you in a second. Would you like a cup of coffee?"

Tommy declines with a hand gesture. At this moment, Ms. Cassandra Vegas bursts through the steel bulkhead at the back of the room, unusually nimble.

"Take the damn coffee, boy. You're gonna need it," she says hurridly. Tommy rolls his eyes. Alexa nods and disappears from the doorway.

Tommy brings his fist down onto the oak desk. "Okay Grandma. What the Hell is so Goddamned important?!"

"It's the Haitians, Tommo. The damn Haitians. They raided the building about an hour ago. Stole some payrole documents from Accounting. Now, lets just say that a buisness woman has to do what she needs to keep the buisness running. I've been paying certain employees 'under the table,' if you know what I mean."

Tommy nods. "So that's what Roberto was talking about."

"Who?"

"No one."

"Well, anyway, okay, so, they took the stuff. From what our security guard overheard -- the one that lived -- they're shipping 'em on a barge for San Fierra and the Decent Buisness Inquiry Board. Damn pricks'll get us shut down."

"So let me guess. I have to go stop the barge and get the docs back. Yeah, heard it a thousand times before..."

"No. I want them blow to Hell! Get a car, rig a bomb in the thing, and BLOW THE SHITHEADS TO PIECES!" Ms. Vegas lapses into a fit of uncontrollable laughter.

Tommy stands up quickly, knocking the chair to the floor and storming by Alexa who has just reappeared in the doorway.

"Oh!" she exclaims. "Mr. Vercetti! I have your coffee!"

Tommy doesn't turn around as he makes a beeline to the door. "Sorry, no time. Maybe next time honey." He exits.

"Goddamned pricks. Can't take care of themselves," mutters Tommy to himself.

He notes the approaching Mesa Grande and puts on a show of flagging it down. The driver stops immediatly and gets out of his vehicle.

"What's the matter man!? You okay!?" yells the man, with an obvious show of concern.

"I am," Tommy begins, withdrawing his Mac-10. "But you won't be for long."

"Shit!"

The man's expression goes blank. He drops to the pavement. Tommy hops into the driver's seat and crosses the Leaf Bridge. From there he heads south into Viceport, and into the bomb shop. He puts a few hundred dollar bills into a machine, which promptly extends an arm under the vehicle. With a reassuring 'clunk,' the bomb is put into place.

Tommy then drives the vehicle through utter darkness to the cargo ship, which remains strangely unguarded. Vercetti parks the car near a container marked: "HAITI SAN FIERRA FOR IMMEDIATE DEPARTURE INTERNAL DOCU."

"Could they have made it anymore obvious?" he chuckles, getting a safe distance away from the car. "Well, here goes nothing." He ducks away and presses the button on the remote detonator. Nothing. He presses it again. Nothing yet again. "Piece of shit!" He throws the detonator into the sea and ducks under the vehicle.

The bomb reads: FOR MANUAL DETONATION: TURN SWITCH. Tommy does so. A red LED timer appears on the face of the explosive and ticks down from eight.

"Crap! Eight seconds!" With that, Tommy makes a run for his life. He makes a courner around a container marked: EXPLOSIVES: 100 KG. Six seconds. The gangway off the ship is now in view. Five seconds. Halfway there. Four seconds. Tommy's foot hits the aluminum. Three seconds. Two. One.

Zero. The containers behind Tommy turn to flame. The resonant shockwave blasts through support posts and the like as the explosives filled container explodes. The blast is enough to knock Tommy off of his feet.

The explosion does not go unnoticed. Ship security immediatly calls in the S.W.A.T. team before opening fire on Tommy with Colt .45's.

"Shit! You badge wearing fruit!" Tommy runs to the Boatyard to seek shelter. From here, he witnesses three fishermen on a Rio spot him and head off to East Vice City -- and most likely, the police.

Tommy runs from his shelter to the Squalo speedboat parked at the dock. Almost immidiatly, a hail of gunfire from a V.C.P.D. helicopter ignites around him.

"This is Vice City S.W.A.T! You are completely surrounded. Drop your weapons and surrender!"

"Like hell I will!" Tommy flips the chopper off while retrieving an M60 assault rifle from the boathouse. He fires three -- four shots at the chopper's rotor blades. The helicopter begins to lose control. Tommy drops his rifle and makes a beeline for the Squalo.

The speedboat has no trouble catching up with the slower Rio. Once parallel, Tommy takes the driver and his passengers out with three shots from a Colt Python. Then, picking up the rocket launcher stored on board, he turns the boat into a floating mass of twisted steel. With a sigh, he takes a seat in the boat.

Then, startlingly, his mobile phone rings. Reluctantly, he answers it. It's Alexa on the other end of the line.

"Tommy, Tommy, thank God you answered."

"What's up. You sound stressed."

"I am damn stressed Tommy. Get back to the hotel now, we've a major situation."

Click.

Mission Complete!

Authour's Notes: We are basically reaching the climax of the story. Well, the climax of the hypothetical 'Act I.' I like to think it peaks when this chapter leaves off and when the next one picks up. Have I whetted your appetite? Are you on the edge of your seat? No? Oh well. Tune in next time!