Tommy looked around inside the van. "Who are you people? You working for
the Leones? Diablos? Triads? What?"
One of the men looked at him and laughed, "We don't work for none of them people you idiot. We work for one person, the boss. He don't work for no one but himself."
The silent man in the leather jacket and cargo pants sat behind the wheel driving. Tommy assumed he was just another one of the hired thugs, he didn't suspect in the least that he was 'the boss' the man spoke of.
"What do you want from me then?" Tommy asked, still fuming with anger.
"You're tearin apart our city, we can't have that. It's bad for business, very bad." The man replied.
"This will be my city, not yours!" Tommy yelled, he tried to reach for the mans gun, but he was held back by two more men.
"Don't make this difficult!" The man yelled.
Tommy settled down into his chair. "Where you taking me?"
"Shoreside Vale, to HQ." He replied.
"If you're going to kill me, I suggest you do it now before I have time to kill you all." Tommy said calmly.
The men in the van laughed except for the driver, who remained silent, as if he couldn't hear any of the conversation. He never looked away from the road. Finally the van pulled to a stop.
"I can't risk you struggling while we're getting you into the house, so goodnight." The man pulled his gun out and clubbed Tommy in the face. His world immediately went black.
Tommy awoke tied to a chair. He heard voices around him, slowly he lifted his head and surveyed the room. Directly in front of him was a desk, sitting at it was the silent man who had been driving the van. Standing around the desk were three men, one of which Tommy recognized as the man who had clubbed him. He heard one of the other men calling him Lance. Lance was a clean shaven man, around 40 years old Tommy guessed. He had messy brown hair and a long scar above his left eye. He was wearing a black suit, as were the other two men. The man sitting at the desk still wore his leather jacket and cargo pants. Lance looked at Tommy.
"And he awakes!" Lance said sarcastically.
Tommy struggled against his ropes, they were too tight, barely enough slack for him to breath.
"Where the hell is this 'boss' you talked about!" Tommy yelled in anger.
The man sitting at the desk stood up. Slowly he walked over to the chair and bent down, so he was face to face with Tommy. Then he raised one finger and pointed at himself.
"You're kidding, this guy is your leader? What a fucking joke!" Tommy spat in the mans face.
The man grabbed Tommy by the throat and squeezed hard, cutting off his air supply. With the other hand he hit Tommy in the face. Tommy felt his nose break, the blood began to gush out of it. Three more times the man hit him.
Lance laughed. Tommy stared through the blood on his face at him, at that moment he knew he was going to kill him.
"You better kill me now, I swear you better kill me now!" Tommy struggled against the ropes again, they began to dig into his wrists.
Lance ignored Tommys words and walked over to him. "Who are you?"
Tommy knew what to tell them, perhaps it would make them respect him more. "The Harwood Butcher."
Lance began to laugh, the other men in the room joined in. Except for 'the boss;, his face reamained as stern as ever. "Who are you?" Lance repeated.
Tommy spat in his face. "I fucking told you."
"You fucker!" Lance screamed as he wiped the spit from his face. He quickly pulled out his gun and pressed the barrel up against Tommy's forehead. Quickly the boss reached out and grabbed Lance's gun. He shook his head, indicating he didn't want Tommy dead yet.
Lance put his gun back into his jacket. "You're not Tommy Vercetti."
"Who the fuck else do you think I am? Some vigilante out for justice? I don't give a fuck about justice! This city is not yours! It's mine!" Tommy tried to lunge out of his chair, but the ropes still held him back. His wrists were dripping blood now.
The boss shook his head and pointed to himself.
"This is his city." Lance growled, dying for an oppuritunity to hit Tommy again.
Instead, the boss walked back to his desk and picked up a small whiskey glass. Quickly he drank the contents and walked over to Tommy. He grabbed his head in one hand and shoved the glass into his mouth with the other.
Tommy tried to spit the glass out but he wasn't fast enough. He was hit by a fierce uppercut, the glass shattered, the pieces of glass made several openings inside of his mouth. Tommy spit out as much of the glass as he could, blood poured out of his mouth. The boss smiled, turned around, and left the room. Lance smiled.
"Not so fucking tough now are you?" Lance asked mockingly.
Blood ran down Tommy's chin as he tried to mumble. "You fuck... you stupid fuck..."
Tommy looked up as he heard the door open again. He didn't believe who he saw. Standing in the doorway, holding a baseball bat, was Nick Cortez.
One of the men looked at him and laughed, "We don't work for none of them people you idiot. We work for one person, the boss. He don't work for no one but himself."
The silent man in the leather jacket and cargo pants sat behind the wheel driving. Tommy assumed he was just another one of the hired thugs, he didn't suspect in the least that he was 'the boss' the man spoke of.
"What do you want from me then?" Tommy asked, still fuming with anger.
"You're tearin apart our city, we can't have that. It's bad for business, very bad." The man replied.
"This will be my city, not yours!" Tommy yelled, he tried to reach for the mans gun, but he was held back by two more men.
"Don't make this difficult!" The man yelled.
Tommy settled down into his chair. "Where you taking me?"
"Shoreside Vale, to HQ." He replied.
"If you're going to kill me, I suggest you do it now before I have time to kill you all." Tommy said calmly.
The men in the van laughed except for the driver, who remained silent, as if he couldn't hear any of the conversation. He never looked away from the road. Finally the van pulled to a stop.
"I can't risk you struggling while we're getting you into the house, so goodnight." The man pulled his gun out and clubbed Tommy in the face. His world immediately went black.
Tommy awoke tied to a chair. He heard voices around him, slowly he lifted his head and surveyed the room. Directly in front of him was a desk, sitting at it was the silent man who had been driving the van. Standing around the desk were three men, one of which Tommy recognized as the man who had clubbed him. He heard one of the other men calling him Lance. Lance was a clean shaven man, around 40 years old Tommy guessed. He had messy brown hair and a long scar above his left eye. He was wearing a black suit, as were the other two men. The man sitting at the desk still wore his leather jacket and cargo pants. Lance looked at Tommy.
"And he awakes!" Lance said sarcastically.
Tommy struggled against his ropes, they were too tight, barely enough slack for him to breath.
"Where the hell is this 'boss' you talked about!" Tommy yelled in anger.
The man sitting at the desk stood up. Slowly he walked over to the chair and bent down, so he was face to face with Tommy. Then he raised one finger and pointed at himself.
"You're kidding, this guy is your leader? What a fucking joke!" Tommy spat in the mans face.
The man grabbed Tommy by the throat and squeezed hard, cutting off his air supply. With the other hand he hit Tommy in the face. Tommy felt his nose break, the blood began to gush out of it. Three more times the man hit him.
Lance laughed. Tommy stared through the blood on his face at him, at that moment he knew he was going to kill him.
"You better kill me now, I swear you better kill me now!" Tommy struggled against the ropes again, they began to dig into his wrists.
Lance ignored Tommys words and walked over to him. "Who are you?"
Tommy knew what to tell them, perhaps it would make them respect him more. "The Harwood Butcher."
Lance began to laugh, the other men in the room joined in. Except for 'the boss;, his face reamained as stern as ever. "Who are you?" Lance repeated.
Tommy spat in his face. "I fucking told you."
"You fucker!" Lance screamed as he wiped the spit from his face. He quickly pulled out his gun and pressed the barrel up against Tommy's forehead. Quickly the boss reached out and grabbed Lance's gun. He shook his head, indicating he didn't want Tommy dead yet.
Lance put his gun back into his jacket. "You're not Tommy Vercetti."
"Who the fuck else do you think I am? Some vigilante out for justice? I don't give a fuck about justice! This city is not yours! It's mine!" Tommy tried to lunge out of his chair, but the ropes still held him back. His wrists were dripping blood now.
The boss shook his head and pointed to himself.
"This is his city." Lance growled, dying for an oppuritunity to hit Tommy again.
Instead, the boss walked back to his desk and picked up a small whiskey glass. Quickly he drank the contents and walked over to Tommy. He grabbed his head in one hand and shoved the glass into his mouth with the other.
Tommy tried to spit the glass out but he wasn't fast enough. He was hit by a fierce uppercut, the glass shattered, the pieces of glass made several openings inside of his mouth. Tommy spit out as much of the glass as he could, blood poured out of his mouth. The boss smiled, turned around, and left the room. Lance smiled.
"Not so fucking tough now are you?" Lance asked mockingly.
Blood ran down Tommy's chin as he tried to mumble. "You fuck... you stupid fuck..."
Tommy looked up as he heard the door open again. He didn't believe who he saw. Standing in the doorway, holding a baseball bat, was Nick Cortez.