It had been almost three days since Kat had left the office in a foul mood. She sat in a battered armchair; foam was starting to slip out of a couple of holes. A tatty book lay open on her lap although Kat herself had fallen into an uncomfortable slumber.
The doorbell rung dully. Kat opened one green eye and sighed. She hauled herself out of the chair; the book fell on the dirty green carpet with a soft thud. She stood on an empty yet greasy pizza box. A tiny bit of melted cheese stuck to her trainers. She moved down a narrow hallway, the pale blue wallpaper had started to peel at the top. She reached the front door of her apartment. Next to the door hung a supposed ornamental curved dagger. She rested one hand on the handle of the dagger as she opened the door.
Tommy stood there silently, his arms crossed in an impatient gesture. Kat sighed and took her hand off the dagger, Tommy pushed past and entered the filthy apartment. Kat turned on her heel, she slammed the door, "What the hell are you doing here?" she said bitterly. Tommy looked down the narrow cluttered hallway. His eyes looking over the run down flat.
"Checking on my staff", he whistled as he noticed piles upon piles of old books and boxes cluttering most of the rooms. He noticed a small kitchen at one end of the hall and a bedroom off to the right. "Nice place" he said in a sarcastic tone, "not used to visitors" he said as he glanced over at the dagger by the door. She smiled a weak forced smile. "Cut the crap Vercetti" she said bitterly as she pushed past him and entered the kitchen. She pulled open a dated fridge and looked through the bare shelves. She managed to find two cans of larger. Tommy leaned over and snatched one of the cans. He opened it and took a mouthful from it, his eyes catching sight of a small handgun on the kitchen side. Kat opened the other can and walked swiftly into the living room, not wanting to hear whatever Tommy had to say. She sat down in the armchair and picked up the book that she had knocked off her lap earlier. She placed it on another pile of books which sat as high as the chair itself. Tommy pushed some books and dirty plates off an old oak table as he sat on it. He looked over the mess with some interest.
"Money problems I take it" he said as he caught sight of a stack of bills threatening to cut off its supply. Kat didn't reply for a minute, "I'm not in the mood to play games Vercetti" she said as she took another mouthful of the cool beer. Tommy frowned; he glanced around the room, his eyes no longer focused on the mess but the number of elegant swords and daggers that hung on the wall. "Its Tommy" he said coldly, "and I believe you have some work to do". Kat sighed and put her can down; she was about to hurl verbal abuse against her terms of work but something made her pause. "Shit" she whispered. She had heard the slam of a car door but more importantly the hushed tones of some of Forelli's men. Tommy got up and moved over to the window opposite Kat. From there he saw two black cars, both empty except for the driver. The pair nodded as a silent thought came into both their minds. Tommy moved swiftly into the kitchen taking the handgun from the counter. Kat grabbed a sword from the wall. Its deadly blade shimmered slightly under the cheap light bulb.
There was a sinister knock at the door, Kat nodded to herself as she moved towards the door. Her grip on the sword tightened as she opened the door. Eight burley men smashed through the door, each dressed smartly in a suit, a gun concealed under their jackets. The apparent leader suddenly noticed Kat's weapon and drew his gun. In one swift move Kat cut his very hand off. He screamed as his hand hit the carpet and the blood spurted from his wrist. The other men looked alarmed. Tommy stepped into the hallway and fired, hitting two of Forelli's men. Kat swung the sword again slicing the dying leaders throat. She snatched the gun from blood soaked floor. She swiftly peeled the cold lifeless hand off the handgun and fired at another of Forelli's men. Kat dived behind a stack of boxes as the intruders fired. She curled up and waited for a break in the gunfire. Tommy fired, managing to take out another man. Kat took his opportunity to stand up and fired two bullets into the necks of two shocked men.
Now only two of the gang remained alive. The two men continued to fire as they backed out of the doorway. One of them muttered something into a phone. Tommy and Kat fired at the same time, finally taking out the last of the Forelli gunmen. The man's phone dropped onto the floor, landing it a pile of dark blood. Kat could hear someone yelling down the other end of the phone. The agitated voice belonged to Sonny, however no one answered him. Kat stood on the phone, letting it shattered beneath her feet. She looked down at her once blue t-shirt; it was covered in quickly drying blood. A drop of blood was splattered over her cheek; she tried to wipe it off but only smeared.
"Looks like the Forelli's have worked out who you are" Tommy said coolly as he looked out of the window to see the pair of cars speed away. Kat tossed the gun on the floor and looked at her blood-coated sword, which she was still holding. She raised the blade slightly. "And who's fault is that" she said dryly, too tired to threaten him. She grabbed a large black rucksack and started to pack a few things. Money, weapons and a spare change of clothes where packed quickly. She tossed the bag by the door and proceeded towards the bathroom. "I need a shower" she muttered looking at the blood. Tommy crossed his arms, "So I take it that you're leaving" he said totally un-amused with her cowardly behavior. Kat bit her lip and forced herself to ignore him as she took a bundle of clothes into the bathroom and locked the door.
Tommy rolled his eyes and paced up the blood soaked hallway. He sighed and wondered into the kitchen, browsing through the cupboards and shelves. He heard the boiler click as Kat turned on the shower. He opened a small cardboard box, packed inside was several files and folders. He picked a couple of the folders up. Scrawled neatly on each folder was a name. One was labeled Ken Rosenberg, another said Kent Paul. He flicked through the folders, noticing the attention to detail and professional research. He smirked as he noticed an old photo of Rosenberg from his college years. The boiler clicked off suddenly, the pipes squeaking and groaning as the water-cooled. Another minute passed before the bathroom door opened slowly.
Kat stepped into the hall; she was now dressed in a pair of black jeans and a black halter neck. Her wet hair hung around her face. She grabbed her rucksack and slung it over her shoulder. She caught sight of Tommy nosing through her boxes in the kitchen. Tommy dropped the files back into the box and paced over to the door. The door was ajar still, Kat simply slipped through it. Tommy followed swiftly; he caught the back of