Harvey pulled up next to the park in Hepburn Heights. He stepped out of the Sentinel into the pale winter sunlight. The wind was strong and brisk. Clouds passed quickly in the sky above him. They sent their shadows scattering across the tarmac. Small children playing in the park ran around in circles, chasing the shadows. When they caught one they jumped on it with yells of victory. Then the shadow moved on and the game began again.

Harvey walked across the park towards his apartment block. He stopped to idly kick a stray ball back to a bunch of older kids playing at the other end of the park. It wasn't so long ago he had been one of them himself. The mothers of the little kids sat on park benches, watching over them and talking to each other. They kept a subtle eye on the older kids across the park.

At night this area was dangerous. Trade from the red light district spilled out onto these streets. Filled with druggies and prostitutes. During the day it was one of the few safe places regular people in liberty could go. No gang had claimed it as their own yet.

Harvey walked towards the block of flats where he lived. Grey concrete and black tarmac never looked inviting at the best of times. In the cold winter light the buildings looked like some kind of industrial complex. A prison, school or factory which hadn't made the grade and so was used to house Liberty's poor. To Harvey it was home. He walked in the main door and started up the long flights of stairs. The lift had arrived at ground floor several years ago and decided to stay. Dirt and wet puddles lined the stairs. Harvey sidestepped them with the ease of years of practice. The stale smell of urine mixed with the sweeter smell of vomit as he passed quickly through the second landing. He moved onwards and upwards.

Arriving on fifth floor he stopped outside the first door on his right. There were several plants in pots outside. Cactus and evergreens, they had to be tough to survive in the harsh environment of the corridor. He unlocked the door and walked in.

"Anna!" he called. He entered to the smell of something good cooking. The apartment was small and cluttered. White walls made the darkness caused by few windows less noticeable.

"You're back, how did it go?" A middle aged woman with greying hair emerged from the kitchen. Anna had been his mothers best friend. Harvey and her son Tuccio had grown up together. Anna and Tuccio had often stayed with Harveys mother when life with Annas husband had got too much. Harveys mother had stayed with them after Harveys father left. After his mother died Harvey had moved in with them.

"Good, real good. Where's Tuccio?"

"He's gone out. He said he'll be back around eight."

"My flight leaves at six."

"So soon?" Anna turned away, moving back into the kitchen. She had never been happy with Harvey and Tuccio going into the business. She had always thought they could do better. She said nothing about it though, they were growing up and moving away from her and she didn't want to push them any further away. It was time for them to make their own decisions.

"Yeah. Did he say where he was going?" Harvey needed to talk this over with Tuccio. He would see this the right way, as something exciting, a huge opportunity. His enthusiasm would transfer to Harvey and break him out of this down mood he was in.

"No, you know Tuccio. Never tells me anything he's doing. We didn't expect you to be leaving so soon. Not tonight."

"Me neither." Harvey stood alone in the room. He wanted to reassure Anna, tell her that he would be back soon, but found himself unable to. He walked over to his room instead. He didn't have much time.

In his room he quickly started to pack. He pulled a bag from under his bed and stuffed a bunch of clothes into it. He walked over to his tape deck and selected some tapes to take with him. He looked around. Well that was pretty much everything he needed. He still had the bag Salvatore had given him in his hand. He shoved it in his shoulder bag and walked over to his bed. He sat down and just sat there, thinking, for a while.

Harvey wished he could say goodbye to Tuccio before he left. He knew he might not see him again. In a way it might be for the best. Tuccio would act like he was happy for Harvey, and mostly he would be. But there would be that edge, that part of him that wanted what he had. It was a competitive business.

Harvey hadn't planned to become a hitman. It had just kind of happened. Tuccio had joined the business after leaving school and it seemed only natural that Harvey would too. He had some skill with guns and had risen quickly. Done well in a few tense situations, kept his cool when it mattered. Made a name for himself through his skill with a sniper rifle. The first hit he had made had been tough. It wasn't like some street battle, where tempers flared and the bullets flew and you had to kill to survive. It was quiet, cold-blooded killing. You could watch your victim, get to know them a little. At first he felt sick at killing another human being, especially in a way that seemed so cowardly to him. But over time he learned to push that feeling to the side and get on with the job. He could lie to himself, tell himself it was ok, pretend they deserved it.

He looked around the place he thought of as home. His bedroom was small, white walls, cold in the winter and too hot in the summer. Everything about it reminded him of how lucky he was to have a room at all. He might never see this place again. He might never see his family again. Anna, the woman he had come to think of as his mother and Tuccio who was his brother and best friend in one. He was leaving them to kill a man, a deed which filled him with revulsion. But he couldn't let this opportunity pass him by. To be part of an organisation such as this, to be accepted as one of them. It was his way not only to a better life but to a life which was significant, which mattered.

He decided to stop thinking and finish packing. When he was done he said his goodbyes quickly and left, not wanting to linger. On his way from his flat to his car he took a closer look at his new ID. Derek Anderson, Michigan, born 1965. It was well-done, very convincing. Even to him, a veteran of fake IDs. He reached the car and started up the engine, sticking a Replacements tape in the tape-deck as he did so.

He arrived at the airport and bought his ticket. He went through the boarding procedure with a mixture of excitement at first, and then boredom as it dragged on. He felt he aroused a little suspicion by paying for such a long flight with cash, but no-one questioned him or attempted to stop him.

On the plane he watched out of the window as it took off. He hadn't been on a plane in a long time. He watched the land grow further away and then the tops of the clouds as the plane climbed higher.

He felt himself falling into sleep. Someone tapped him on the shoulder. "Fasten your seatbelt please. The plane will be landing soon." The flight attendant moved on to the seats ahead of him. Harvey looked around. People were getting ready to land, parents calling their children to them, people putting away books and sitting back, packing away their air-plane distractions and discarding rubbish.

Harvey watched out the window as the plane descended. The scenery looked similar to Liberty. Except much brighter. The sea was a shining blue, there were people on the beaches. The city was filled with the same buildings, skyscrapers and slums, but it seemed somehow cleaner, fresher.

When the plane had landed and people started to disembark Harvey got up. He walked to the front of the plane. He called a cheerful goodbye in response to the air stewardesses who stood by the doors. He walked down the ladder and his feet touched down on hard tarmac. So this was Vice city. The sun almost blinded him as he looked up at the blue sky. He had been here before, as a child, with his parents. He didn't remember it being this hot. He took off his heavy green army jacket. Underneath he wore a white vest which revealed his pale body. Despite his slim frame his musculature was well defined. Another look he stole from Taxi Driver. This one had worked out better. Taken him long enough though. He didn't mind. He liked exercise, he enjoyed running, that change from the mental to the physical. From being trapped inside your body to being purely your body. It silenced the storm of his mind for a while. Gave him a quiet where he did not have to think.

He made his way through the airport, thinking of the last time he had been here.