TOMMY:
Tommy Vercetti sits in snug in his leather seat across a black granite table facing Tony, with his feet on his desk, and a pair of sunglasses with 100 UV protection tag still clinging to the side of it, he looked nothing like an authority figure. That was one of the things he wanted, catch 'em off gaurd, make 'em think you're a loser then come on strong. He knew Tony a little bit already, so he didn't have to act, but in a small sort of way he wasn't anyway.
He remembered back in the eighties when he'd first come to Vice City, his favorite shirt to wear was a Tropical short-sleeve, which he still had, he was a bit of a pack rat, even the chair he sat in was from that time period, he'd had a change of dress though since that time and thank god to that in his opinion . His physical appearance remained only slightly off, he was in good shape for his age and the only thing that looked different about him was his hair, it was gray with black streaks. At this point he could care less, he considered himself to be the Clint Eastwood of American gangsters.
Tommy had a nack for observation, he saw that Tony was a lot more confident than usual. Sitting across from him wearing an expensive black suit, with a long leather coat and a Zip gold watch wrapped around his hairy wrist, sunglasses of his own that he bought at a cheap department store for the trip. Tommy was impressed, it never seemed like Tony was confident in the least.
"So how are our boys lookin' Tony?"
"Mint, these guys are fuckin' animals. You can send them on any job anywhere and they can get it done -" He snaps his fingers, "like that. Especially the mute - he wears the same type a thing every day - can't miss 'em, anyway, he's the baddest. Hand him a knife in a roomful of guys with machineguns, and he'll come out holdin' two of his own. Then I got this guy Fidelio, lets just say if you put the two of them together you're going to have one fucked up crime scene. There's this new guy, Trent he's a badass too, only problem is he's kinda' sensitive. -"
"- Whoa, Whoa, wait! Sensitive, you can't be a badass and be sensative." Tommy says it in denial, because truthfully he almost fit the bill. When his friend Lance had betrayed him some years back he hated him for it, hate doesn't come out of nowhere, he felt cheated, and every time he bought a business he thought he'd give up on crime, but all of them were crooked. Probably the hardest blow was the ice cream place. He figured he was going to get some money - they'd sell ice cream to kids and everything'd be alright. Yeah right, it was a crack house. Even the printing press had a temporary downfall on his feelings for his business choice, the memories of his father made him hate printing dollars on that press. Those feelings lasted until three million dollars was placed on his lap, then he felt a whole lot better.
"Well Tommy I would hesitate to - but - I could call myself senstive."
Tommy stares blankly at Tony for a second then cracks a smile. "You'd probably kill me if I told anybody you said that huh? Tony, I wouldn't exactly call you a badass either, you're good for the business and you're tough, but you aren't a badass."
"You think you are?"
Tommy takes his feet of his desk and walks across the carpet towards his bar, pouring himself a drink, he takes ice cubes from a small freezer in his desk and chucks them into the glass. "Yes."
"Okay whatever, then there's 8-ball. My explosive expert."
"The black guy?"
"Yeah."
"8-ball, how come that reminds me of something?"
"Bombshop?"
"Yeah! You're right, that 8-ball's bombshop place."
"He owns a whole chain of them in North America, for some reason the cops just ignore the place."
"Wow, bombshops, I am impressed. It takes a lot to impress me Tony."
"I know."
"Only kid we gotta' watch out for is this guy Trent. He might show up and turn bitch, I've got to protect my business." Tommy sits back down in his seat in the same positing, tossing his glasses on the table.
"Don't go there..."
"Look at my eyes," He takes his drink in his left hand and with his right uses his index and middle fingers pointing back and forth between his eyes and Tony's, "You think I'm fuckin' around. If this kid screws up, you're a deadman. And trust me, it doesn't hurt me to say that..." They sit in an awkward silence for a moment. Then Tommy finally speaks. "That it? I saw more people."
"Yeah, that was more of a last minute thing Amaya Kaida showed up on my front doorstep."
"I already knew she was coming, I just didn't know anyone was coming with her."
"One of them's her gaurd, the other one's a Forelli."
Tommy raises his eyebrows. "A Forelli? Is he outside right now?"
"Yes. -"
"Outside this door?" Tommy says standing up, seeming only slightly irrate, he points at the door.
"Yeah."
Tommy pulls open a drawer in his desk and sets a black and silver handgun on the desk, then he takes a clip and loads it in, pulling back on the hammer and the slide, he steps around his desk. Tony steps forward and pushes him against a wall with both hands.
"Wha're you doin' Tommy?"
"What the fuck does it look like I'm doing I'm gonna' kill'm now get the fuck out of my way."
"Why're you gonna' kill him? 'Cause he's a Forelli? He's got no problem workin' with me. Maybe we can trust him you know? Besides if we can't... Keep your friends close right?"
"Yeah right." this seems to calm him down he puts the gun in his belt and straightens his hair, as Tony lets go of him. "You're right, he's not Sonny, he's just a relative. Pre-judgment is bad for business."
Tommy walks past Tony and swings open one of the giant wooden doors. Then he kicks Lucio Forelli in the stomach knocking him onto the wooden railing of his staircase, he pulls the gun from his belt and sticks it in Lucio's face. Lucio is in the sitting position, staring down the barrel, holding his pulsing abdomen.
Tommy gets in his face, "What the fuck're you doing here huh?! Come to get revenge for your family you little snake, I should blow your goddamn head off!"
"Fuck you! I don't know what you're talking about."
"Listen to him." Amaya says from his right, the gun momentarily shifts to her.
"Shut the fuck up Amaya! This is private."
"Well you're certainly making it a public spectacle." Her bodyguard says from his left.
"Who the fuck asked you?" Tommy can just feel the squeeze of he trigger, but he hesitates, "Why should I trust you? I want a serious and straight answer right now."
"Because I'm going to be working with Tony!" He blurts out almost instantly. "Why would I work with him?"
"To get to me!"
"No! No! I swear I swear to god. I'm the blacksheep of the family Mr. Vercetti. They treat me like dirt, I'm just trying to make a name for myself man. You know? No one ever has to know I worked with you, when they respect me. I'll walk away and forget about you, Tony, and Amaya. But right now I'm in such a big hard place that I just need to get out of. PLEASE! Don't kill me while I'm this misirable, give me a chance to fix things! I got nothin' left."
"Alright... ALRIGHT!" he says again stopping his banter, "You're one lucky motherfucker but I'll trust you for now... If you get respect and decide to come after me... there'll be nothing of you left."
Lucio nods his head and stands up, Tommy presents an outstretched hand and Lucio becomes hesitant.
"Can I trust you or not?" Tommy says.
Lucio reaches over and shakes Tommy's hand, Tommy takes a second, wondering about pushing Lucio off the side. The feeling fades and he lets go. "Alright kid, welcome to my place. I want to talk to You alone in my office, then the other two after."
Lucio turns his head giving Tommy a sideways glance, the 'are you up to something?' look. "I'm not going in there, alone, with you, after what just happened."
"What just happened... was that; we started to trust each other... but fine, if it'll make you feel any better, here. Take the gun, you can have it." He truthfully hands the gun to Lucio, who takes it without blinking, keeping it drawn at his side as he walks into the room.
Makoto, looks at Amaya as the doors close. "Do you think he'll kill him?"
"I don't know what to think Makoto. The man is unpredictable."