TRENT & 8-BALL:

"Yo, Trent, wake your ass up man. You feeling better dog." 8-ball slaps his hand on Trent's raised knee, knocking it off the couch.

"I'm feelin' nautious like I got the flue or somethin'."

"I haven't seen Fido in awhile, somethin' mighta' happened to him."

"That guy?"

"Not with that shit again man, isn't that the same shit you was spittin' when they locked his ass in cell."

8-ball doesn't say anything, Trent could be right.

Trent pulls himself up and looks around the room. Total silence, just 8-ball sitting at his feet. "Where the fuck is the rest of the Crew? This place's empty."

"Tony went back to his hideout, he told me he's going to fill your pockets with money, putting him in good with the Red Jacks was obviously good for business. You're a tough bastard man, your the kinda' guy who could retire in a few years and not get blasted for bein' a bitch. Anyway Fidelio went out to look for Fido, he heard some shit and went to go check it out. Agostino went to see Sal in the hospital... Samantha went with'm."

"Shit..."

"You overreact to much man, so she got a little crush on him. He don't seem like a bad guy. I don't think he'd be stupid or fucked up enough to ever touch her."

"Yeah well if your wrong I'm going to wrap my hands around his fuckin' neck."

"On top o' that I been watchin' this crazy shit on the news that says two guys have been fuckin' up Staunton Island Plaza. There's a rumor Donald love's in there too. Man I'm glad we're goin' to Vice for a while. For me that shit'll be half vacation, get away from all this crazyness. You know?"

"You got family 8-ball?"

"Shit..." 8-ball says getting up and grabbing a beer from the fridge, coming back in he opens it and says, "if I where to ask you that, you'd leave all kinds of shit out."

"You know pretty much everything about my immediate family," Trent says putting his feet back on the couch. "over time you've pretty much met or at least heard of everyone."

"I had a brother, but he got dusted." 8-ball takes a sip of his beer.

"... What happened to him."

8-ball's demeanor never changes the whole time, "He got a new guy in his group and the guy wasted him. To shots to the heart right as he was comin' through the front door. Fuckin' ambush."

"Damn... Why?"

"I don't know, he wanted to be king I guess. Fuckin' bastard."

Trent winces grabbing his shoulder, gritting his teeth. The burning sensation was tearing him apart.

"I feel fucked up, you think I'm bleeding to death?"

"No, this things too goddamn tight, here let me loosen it up." 8-ball says.

He sets his beer down and pulls apart the tournaquet then ties it back together. 8-ball's phone rings, he answers it. "Yeah.............."

"Seriously!.......... SHIT! I'll be there in a second.. Alright." 'beep'

"I gotta' get the fuck out of here man Fidelio found Fido behind Stuanton Plaza."

"Your kidding me!"

"No man I gotta' jet, later dog." He sets his beer down on the coffee table, a force pulls his arm back.

"Help me up." Trent says anxiously. "I'm goin' whether you take me or not, so you might as well give me a ride so as you don't look like an idiot."

"Fine, you die, everything you own is mine."

"The feelings mutual." 8-ball gives him a dirty look as they head towards 8-ball's black Rancher.

Looking For Fido:

8-ball and Trent barrel down the streets at a terrifying pace, 8-ball manning the wheel was the only thing that made Trent feel safe. It could also be the fact that he was losing blood. It's hard to be scared when it's difficult to even think. He pulls his nine millemeter from his pocket with his left hand and checks the bullets. As he does he can hear gunfire getting louder ahead of him, and 8-ball doesn't seem to be getting any slower.

"8-ball?" he says looking at him through sunglasses, "I think -" He looks forward. "WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT!?"

'CCCRRRRSSHHH' a dark figure turns the windshield into a cobweb, blood on the windshield 8-ball can't see anything. "SHIT!

'BLLLLAAAMMM' The rancher stops abruptly. The two of them appear to have been saved by their seatbelts. The aftermath the only thought, like the collision never happened. 8-ball stares down at his chest looking at his seatbelt. "Gotta' love 'em!" 8-ball says. Taking out a retractable knife he slits the belt and gets out of the Rancher.

Trent takes off his glasses, examining them he puts them back on his face, then he gets out of the car, his right arm still in a splint he grips the gun in his awkward hand.

"Hoooly SHIT!" 8-ball says looking at the mess. Their Rancher is stopped dead, the front torn into little bits. "Goddamn man, seatbelt is my new favorite crime feature!"

"The only way that could happen is if we hit something."

"What about him?" 8-ball says looking at a dead body in a black business suit.

"Impossible man, he hit our windshield there's no fuckin' way he could have done that to the front of your Rancher. He must have -" Trent sees a familiar dark figure in one of the windows of the building, it stops him for a second.

"Must've what?"

"-have fallen out of the window."

"Look man!" 8-ball says agitated, "I see what your sayin' about the front of the car and everything, but bullets are flyin' every fuckin' where, so lets try to get the FUCK outta' here. 'Right?"

"Alright... Oh could'ja loud a bullet into the chamber for me?" He says smiling tilting his gun over to 8-ball. 8-ball yanks on the guns slide. "I love that sound..." Trent says looking at his gun. "Ready?"

"Fuck do you think?" 8-ball says bringing two Uzis up to his face, "I was born ready, now let's go find Fido."