THE CREW:
The entire Vice crew shifts, like they got the seven year itch dead in the center of their backs. There was no escaping the tension, one member was hospitalized in an old mansion another dead. From one job alone, on top of that, now they were going to have to simultaneousley raid and hit one of the Countries biggest Cartels. Tommy Sr.'s tip source was the real deal, not only had he found the location of over half of Augustus' safe houses, but he was making a deal with the Russians in the Vice City area on the freighter. It wasn't just for Colombian coke though, a Cartel rarely makes a bodily visit for something so amazingly simple in his business, he'd send his lackey's to look after the coke for him. So why in the world was Augustus' Armando suddenly so interested in the Vice City frieght coke deal? Because a certain individual had come to collect the bounty on all of the Liberty City mob organization hits. With evidence to the proof of their deaths.
The 'evidence' were actually fabricated pictures of Liberty City's finest in Hollywood movie makeup. The idea was to stir up the belief that the mobsters were dead and walk away with the half million dollar bounty on each and every one of them. The bounty was collected by an outsider earlier in the day, brought straight to Tommy's desk via a Bitchin' Dog Foods factory truck. Vice was apperently Augustus' favorite place to stay, they'd gotten a tip that he was staying to look over the deals on his boat 'til four a.m. the next morning. The frieghter was equipped with an 'escape yacht' that could be dropped into the water with three other speedboats, the precaution was to protect a fat lounging Cartel, from the fire of enememies. It was the crew's job to make sure that these little precautions weren't good enough.
Trent sits tense on a couch in Tommy's office, his hands running through his hair. Fidelio next to him, calm and peaceful. Fido next to him, patiently sitting in his chair, he wipes dirt off of his pants legs. Amaya stands, pacing back and forth through the office. Tommy leans back in his black leather easy chair, a cuban cigar between his lips. Tommy Jr. sits the same way, but with his legs up on the desk, he also has a large cigar in his mouth.
Tommy turns to a pacing Amaya Kaida, "Want a Cigar?" His father leans forward and smacks the cigar out of his mouth, ash flies through the air and the cigar lands on the carpet in front of the desk.
"What the fuck you doin', you're not old enough for that shit anyway."
"Hey thanks for lookin' out for me dad?" he says sarcastically.
"Ah, shut up... smart-ass. Hey Tony? Pick that up for me will ya'?" Tony comes in from the hallway outside and drops the cigar in an ashtray.
"There you go Tommy."
"Thanks a lot Tony." he says respectfully. "A'right, let's get to it, my guy just came back from the frieghter in Vice City docks, he says that Augustus' is definately on the boat."
"So why didn't he take him out?" Fidelio asks.
"I don't want anyone else taking him out..." Amaya says angrily, afterwards she stomps over to the bar, and begins to pour herself a drink, she stops, "Oh I'm sorry Tommy, may I?"
"Oh, yeah sure, of course." Then he proceeds to answer Fidelio's question, "He's certain Augustus's in there but, he didn't meet him face to face. Augustus stayed in a back room were the pictures were shown to him by some of his men."
"Which back room?" 8-ball asks standing behind Fido in back of the couch.
"We don't know," Tommy replies, "they sent pictures through the entire back rooms of the frieghters. From one end of the hallway to the next.
"So he could be in any one of the those back rooms?" Fidelio asks as Amaya slides an entire cup of vodka through her.
"Yeah, no one said it would be simple. -"
Trent's phone rings, and Tommy Jr. looses it, "Ah FUCK... This is the second time, turn it off or I swear to god..." he says loosing his cool.
"No," Tommy Sr. says, "I don't think anyone calls Trent unless it's important... let him answer it."
Trent gives Tommy Jr. a look that says 'I would have answered it anyway,' and stands up answering the phone. "Hello... Samantha, What? What is it? What's wrong?....... Oh shit, fuck, Jeesuus fuckin' christ! What about you... Oh god, I know I'm sorry. Holy shit. How long ago was this.... You didn't try to go anywhere did you?" He asks torn and scared, "Okay... Alright," he says readjusting, "I'll call you back in a couple of minutes." He sinks back into his chair.
He sits in silence for a minute then 8-ball finally asks, "Who was that?" Trent lifts his coat off of the armrest and heads for the door, "I've gotta' go." Tony stops him. "Get out of my way Tony... NOW!"
"Trent, what happened?"
"I have to go to Liberty City."
"Why?" Tony's question causes Trent to sink back into his seat on the couch.
He puts his head in his hand and exhales deeply with his face hanging towards the floor, "Agostino and Sal Nico are dead." The room seemed silent before but now it was dead quiet.
"What?" asks Fidelio.
"You heard me..." Trent snaps back rudely, it wasn't out of anger, but frustration, he'd barely even turned to look at him.
"So why the hell do you want to go to Liberty?" Tony asks.
"JESUS CHRIST! Does this not make any sense to you! She's my fuckin' daughter! A-a-a-nd she's stuck -" He stands up "-she's stuck in a fuckin' house with her godfather, and his brother, and the men who killed them both, with no one watching her! You don't think I'm just a little bit concerned with my daughter safety?!" He says with his hand to his chest, "Well excuse me for giving a shit! I'm just her fucking father!"
"Sounds like your her fucking mother..." Tommy Jr. says under his breath.
"What?" Trent says glaring at him, "What was that?" He explodes, slamming his fist into Tommy Jr.'s face just under his nose,"FUCK YOU!" Tommy's chair crashes to the floor and so does the back of Tommy's head, Trent sends to more right hands flying to Tommy's face before he's pulled away by Tony and Tommy Sr.
"Listen Trent," Tony says reassuringly "You're not going to make it down there as fast as you want and that's a fact." Trent straightens his hair and nods his head, "and you sure as hell don't want to have to leave her there alone. I mean come on Trent, we're getting on a flight back to Liberty right after this next job. You might as well bag the bastards that killed the Nico brothers right?"
"You said I don't want to leave her there alone and your right, but what did you mean by that?"
"What?" Tony asks confused.
"What about from now until then!" He gestures a fake timeline with both hands impatiently. "Who stays with her?"
"I'll call a few of my guys, none of them are like the Nico's but I'll have to make sure she doesn't get a real asshole. How 'bout Fox?"
"The doctor guy? Can he protect her."
"Of course he can..." Tony says, "I'll call him right now." Tony gets on the phone and dials Fox. "Hey Fox....... No, no, no, no, no, I'd never ask you to do that. I've got a little job for you right down there... No it's easy. Look after Trent's little girl Sam, take her to a safehouse somewhere nobody knows about then call me when you get there... That's it.. alright bye.
Trent has his own phone to his ear, Samantha on the other end, "Yeah..." he says awkwardly "Fox is coming to pick you up, he's going to watch over you 'til this whole thing blows over. I should see you sometime tommorrow afternoon. Love you, good bye." He hangs up the phone, "Shit..." he drops the phone on the floor and sinks into the couch.
"Let's get this son of a bitch." He says to Tommy with a cold stare in his eyes, "Let's finish him off."
Personal Blood Money:
8-BALL:
Stalks through the cold Vice City winds with his back to the armrest of a ramp to the the main deck of Augustus' freight ship. A ski mask pulled over his face, he weilds a combat knife about the same as the one Fidelio had earlier fell victim to. A pistol with a silencer tucked in his coat pocket. For the occasion, just as the bank the day before, he was wearing all black. He crouches slowly, shifting his head, looking up the ramp. Nothing, so he continues up.
'Crrrk' he swerves around and fires a shot, the shot was muffled beautifully, but the gun was so much heavier. The bullet penetrates the throat of a Cartel, his blood sprays across his finger and the ramp below, and he hits the ground with a force. 8-ball, swallows, but his throat is dry, and his hands are numb. His heart was racing fast enough to beat a man to death. Doing this kind of thing alone was not calming or impressive, it was insane. 8-ball was against it, but like the others he saw no other way. He makes his way slowly up the wooden ramp, he felt like it was rotting underneath his feet.
He gets to the top, the moon full above his head, he could see dozens of huge metallic crates, likely filled with drugs or some form of decoy. He puts his gun back in his pocket and takes up his knife. He hears a silent, "What the fuck..." Come from behind him. He swerves around and springs forward launching the blade at the man, slashing his throat open, his blood sprays out across, 8-balls face and hands, even his chest. 'Jesus Christ, I didn't think there'd be so much of it.' he pushes the man, still struggling towards the railing of the boat the man comes forward grabbing 8-ball's face, as he does the mask slides off 8-balls head into his hand. The man's head hits the boat before he plunges into the water. 8-ball realizing how much noise the splash had made hides in the shadows of too four towering crates, two on each side of him stacked like legos and two more stacked behind him. He didn't know how many more were surrounding that area. All he knew was that he'd boxed himself in, but the way he saw it was that, he only had to shoot in one direction if he was spotted. He was sure he wouldn't be, he couldn't even see his own hands.
Two more Colombians appear near the one he'd killed, at first their technique was nearly impenitrable, but soon they broke, foolishly. Now both of them were straining to see what had fallen into the water, side to side. 'They're making this too easy.' he was thinking it but he was persperating, his heart was pounding, and he constantly wanted to jump into the water and rid himself of this responsibility. He doesn't, instead he sneaks up behind the two men, a gun in his left hand and the knife in his right, the gun pointed at the back of one man's head and the knife pointed at the side of his second victims neck. He stands behind them patiently like a statue, he prepares to strike on instinct.
The 'gun victim' spins around this causes, 8-ball to flinch, but instinctively he also reacts, the gun goes off hitting the man obscurely in the head, ripping through him, the knife in his right hand jerks towards him and pierces through the front right of the Cartel's neck, he pulls it out and his two victims fall overboard.
He he blows on the barrel of his smoking gun, at the same time wiping blood off of his knife, 'Solid Snake eat your heart out.' he thinks to himself, 'I'm a multitasker' He pulls a radio from his left pocket. "These are getting closer and closer as I go along, I can't stand this much longer. It'll take a miracle if I can get this done without killing anyone else. He sneaks into one of two small rooms at the top of the frieghter, he picks the one closer to the back of the boat. He finds a doorway leading downstairs. "I found it..." He says speaking into his radio. They'd agreed that it would be better if they didn't respond to what he says.
He had found it, Augustus' Yacht and the three other security boats. As he gets through the small arched opening of the stairway, his arm swings swiftly to the right and he hears the clang of metal on metal. His blade had gone all the way through a Cartel's neck and hit the wall behind it. His Colt Commando, still pointing at 8-ball's leg. The dying man tries to squeeze the trigger, but he's powerless. "Motherfucker..." 8-ball pulls his knife and the man falls to the ground, he hangs his head for a second turning away from the corpse. Then he get an idea and his attention shifts back to the body. 'The gun' he pick up the Cartel's Commando and slings it over his shoulder. Then he takes his silenced pistol and, walks through the room. He walks through the room, he plants a timebomb on the Yacht, as he walks to the next boat, inbetween the yacht and the boat he spots another Colombian all the way on the other side of the room. He puts to bullets in his chest and plants the next bomb. No time to loose, he moves on to the next to boats, finishing off a final Colombian in the process. The room harboring the three small boats - and the smallest yacht 8-ball'd ever seen - was farely big. There were probably more men in the room than 8-ball could see, he takes a final look around the room, but he doesn't want to know how many people could possibly be hidden in that room. Then he takes a remote from his pocket, and flicks the switch, the timer says: 2:00:00 and the milliseconds start to count down rapidly. He bursts up the stairs and opens fire at point blank range on a Cartel, using his Commando. He flies forward sprinting to the ramp. He fires at two more Cartels and hits them both, he makes it to the ramp so fast gunfire is never returned in his direction. He jumps into a bus parked out back with everyone inside.
THE CREW:
"What do you think?" Tommy Jr. asks 8-ball.
"I think..." he
says his lungs burning, "I think it was too fucking easy, they
didn't even shoot back."
"Too easy is what we were
going for" Trent says holding his shotgun.
"-No," Fidelio says, "They're just being cautious, they don't know where you are so they're not wasting bullets, their being smart."
They hear the boom of three explosions rip through the inside of the bus, their ears seem to cave in from the noise, like someone had wrapped plastic over their heads and turned a jet engine on. The whole bus rumbled, as well as the ground below their feet, their heads shaking uncontrollably, the boat was on fire, the entrance would soon be guarded and Augustus would be trapped like a bug in a roach motel... it was just where they wanted him.
Trent moves in with a shotgun full of both single and 'M&M's' shot shells alternating. Amaya has two Micro Uzi's with hollow-tipped bullets. Tommy follows behind them as they travel to the top of the freighter, his weapon of choice; an AK47 with a bayonette on the end.
The three of them storm up the ramp, firing like crazy. It was mostly Amaya's job to make sure that the ramp was kept clear. The other three behind her were to help keep any Colombians from getting off the boat alive.
8-ball runs into the street as traffic moves back and forth on either side of him, a garbage truck rides towards him and he fires a shot into the air. The truck swerves and slams into a striped sports car in front of it. The back of the truck faces the ramp, which convieniently was what 8-ball needed. He fires a couple more shots, and most of the streets pedestrians get out of their cars running for the hills. 8-ball jumps into the garbage truck, he slams the door shut and reverses into the ramp. Now he had a blocked entrance for the Colombians and a loading dock for him and the boys, they could take Augustus' money and load it into the back of the truck.
Amaya starts to pick off Colombians easy enough but there's a ton of them, her gun being lighter and quicker on the draw, made the Colombians huge Colt Commando's seem ridiculously oafish to carry around. Her reflexes and grace, were just a few things that got her where she was, her opinion was; no one could kill her - she had too much shit to do.
Fidelio and Fido, again both have Spaz twelve shotguns. They fire at Colombian on deck, they were smart enough to know not to aim straight for them, so most pellets landed in some pretty unusual places but they didn't care.
A whole army of them seems to charge on deck. Fidelio fires a shot and spreading pellets hit two Colombians, one in the forehead of a Cartel, two in the face of another, who falls in pain. Fidelio smiles, "I got an idea!" He runs over to 8-ball, "Is the boat sinking?"
"Those bombs were perfect man, no sinkin', the plan was to trap Augustus in the freighter."
"What about a grenade will that sink it?"
"This big mothafucka' HELL NO! 'Least I doubt it." 8-ball fires repeatedly at the Cartels on board the ship but doesn't hit many. "Fuck there's tons of them, they got the advantage up there!"
"Start throwing these me and Fido'll be right back." Fidelio hands 8-ball a shoulder-holstered grenades.
"What do you mean you'll be right back!"
Fidelio runs over to Fido and grabs him by his leather jacket, "Come on man." Fido looks confused, "Come on!" The two of them jump into a busted up Bullet and roar forwards at top speed. They swerve through traffic like a breeze and make it to an allyway in downtown Vice City, Condos on one side and a few huge garages. The total driving time was less than five minutes.
"Tommy's dad told me about this, here get in the elevator." They go through the front door and bolt past the lobby into a vacant elevator. Fidelio pushes the last floor and the elevator shoots up faster than Fido would ever want it to. The doors swing open, and Fidelio's surprise is slowly revealed to Fido.
"Well come on get in man, I know how to fly it. Some thug from Los Santos taught me." He hands Fido both shotguns, he holds the heavy shotguns firmly in both hands. The two of them get inside a blue and black chopper. They fly it back to the tanker, a warzone bellow them. It appeared that by turn of chance Amaya was in a simple position of power. Most easy shots, including one's on top of crates put the Colombians in position close to flammable barrels. They didn't want to get to close to Amaya so she was gunning them down like the son of sam.
Fidelio leans over in his seat, rotating the helicopter, it moves in a half circle, then he stops, Fido's door facing the carnage, he Fidelio screams to him, "SO, WHAT'DYOU SEE!? - OH SHIT! THAT'S RIGHT, YOU'RE NOT GOING TO ANSWER ME!" he smiles, "ANYTHING YOU NEED JUST GESTURE!"
Fido is crouched with a vary serious look on his face, he waves his palms toward himself. Fidelio understands and gives a small salute gesture, "RIGHT!!" the helicopter backs up slightly. Fido reaches in his pockets for single round shots, he tears a bunch of them from his pocket spilling them onto the floor of the helicopter and quickly loads them into the Spaz-twelves. He cocks them both and sticks them out of the helicopter's open door.
The tiny figures of Trent and Tommy Jr. sit on the boat, hiding behind two big steel crates, protecting them from a hail of gunfire by an apposing Cartel group of roughly twenty people. Fido immediately sees that taking the helicopter was a good idea, if they hadn't, there's no way that Trent and Tommy would have survived.
'Come on you fuckers...' Fido squeezes the trigger, and feels the gun recoil, pushing on his shoulders, the force was stronger than he expected but he hits a number of them. They scatter around and start firing at the helicopter. This of course leaves them open for Trent and Tommy, who come out of hiding and blast away. A group of about seven remains, Trent and Tommy descending back into hiding.
"WE CAN'T TAKE MUCH MORE OF THAT SHIT, YOU GOTTA' TAKE 'EM OUT!"
The top of the tanker shoots through the sky, and a majority of the Cartel group is wiped out. The few remaining are - of course - gunned down.
"GRENADE!" Fidelio smiles, "8-BALL YOU MOTHERFUCKER!"
They hear the sound of grinding metal churning, the helicopter erupts into a spasm, violently destroying itself. Sparks fly in through the door, and the copter tumbles like an acorn, twisting, the two of them hit the entire inside including the roof. They only catch glimpses of things, red metal, blue sky, green water, a constantly changing image, channel surfing through their minds. Fido slams into the corner where the roof bends to create the top of the door opening, his spine folding into the same bend. His head is spared injury but his back jolts, stinging numerous parts of his body. His teeth grit as the water swims violently towards hims, filling the spaces between his teeth, flowing through his mouth. Around him he can hear the sound of scratching metal. His head bolts frantically searching for any sign of Fidelio. Nothing - no wait... A red liquid cloud spills through the water towards him, dying the water. 'Goddamn it... Fidelio.'-
-Fidelio had lost control of his helicopter, he couldn't figure out what was going on, it all happened to fast, as the helicopter begins to tumble, he slips accidentally through the doorway, floating slightly above the falling helicopter as it descends he...panicks. He twists around, his left arm explodes blood spills across his face, from his chin to the top of his head. 'OH MY GOD!' he screams in pain, incoherent. His whole body becomes numb, and he falls into the water between the tanker and the street, his left arm torn away from him.-
- Tommy and Trent hide behind a huge metal carrier, who know's what was inside, but whatever it was, it was the only thing keeping the two of them alive. Tommy on Trent's right screams in his ear. "What the fuck's you're problem, run in there and shoot 'em!"
Trent leans over and tries to fire a barradge of bullets barely misses his face. He shoots Tommy a very confused look, "Why don't YOU DO IT!" he says sarcastically.
A blue and black helicopter tears through the sky, beating rythmically in their ears.
"Fuck!" Tommy says, "It's the Feds!"
"I don't think that's the feds..." he points as the helicopter backs up, and he watches Fido shove bullets methodically into the shotguns, then he leans out the window aiming, with an aggressive look on his face, he seems to blink and brace every time he fires. Trent turns to Tommy, "GO!"
"WHAT!" By the time the words were out of his mouth he's firing at the apposing Cartels, Trent standing next to him. He fires moving the gun horizontally back and fourth hitting the midsections of six Cartel's, their blood his prize, bolting across the floor of the tanker. Trent pumps the shotgun and it rips through the chest of a single Cartel, then he slides it back again, the shell clanging, the next spray is razor sharp pellets it rips through the faces of two Cartels. Another Cartel wisens up and aims his gun at Trent - he's not quick enough - 'BOOM!' he legs shoot back and his chin slams into the floor his crotch flowing blood. The two of them duck back into hiding.
"How many left?" Tommy asks reloading the AK.
"Like... ten... I think."
"We can take 'em!" Tommy stands up, Trent pulls him back down. "No, no, no, no, no. Look, look, look." He says pointing to 8-ball, who leans back and shoots his whole body forward hurling a grenade it clears, Trent entirerly flying next to him he hears it clang. 'BOOOOOOOM!'
The two of them slip from their hiding spot, 'BROTOTM!RTTRTTRTT!' their guns fire at the same time, hitting the last two Cartels of that group. They look at their guns, then at each other. A flash of light above their heads, sparks were raining above them, the helicopter's propeller had gotten caught in the tanker's crane. The superior structure of the crane tears the propeller to peices, and it starts to twist like a tornado. 'Holy shit.' the two of them watch someone com flying out of the helicopters door twisting dangerously close to the propeller, a wall of blood spews up and suspended in freefall, slowly rains down as the hellicopter falls between the boat and the street. Scratching the side of the tanker.
"Jesus Christ." Trent says in aw, "Who was that?"
"I don't know..." They hadn't moved they were frozen their, mouthes open.
"Oh my god... - Pull them both from the water - get 'em back to your dad's or something..."
"Yeah..." Neither one of them had looked at the other once, eyes fixed on the helicopter that was no longer visible.
Tommy starts to move away, Trent lifts his head, "TOMMY!"
Tommy turns to look at him, "What?"
"Get Amaya."
TRENT & AMAYA:
Descend into the inside of the tanker, a handful of their enemies blocks the entrance, their gunned down easily. They get to the back rooms, they move to the third to last door on the left side. "This one." Trent says to Amaya.
"How do you know?" She asks bracing her gun at the door.
"I got a feeling." They swing the door open, it moans, and nothing. -
'BOOM!' the wall explodes behind Amaya's head on the right, her hair is pushed back by the blast. Her hands push forward and she pulls the triggers, the Cartel, is torn down, and the shotgun slips from his bloody hand. A small group of men haul ass up the hallway away from them without firing. They fire at the men but don't hit any of them. The two of them go into the room. They see Augustus, in a Cowboy-ish hat packing a suitcase full of high dollars. He turns, as his eyes meet Trents, 'BOOM!' the flesh of his kneecap is ripped away. He falls on his ass, too painful to crouch on his knees. Trent aims the shotgun at his head.
Augustus peers at him a sorrowful gaze locked within' his eyes, "Why?"
Trent feels the anger build, "Besides the obvious." He says gritting his teeth, his muscles tightening. He pauses and loosens up, "You made this personnal."
"My son's got away, you can't kill me without giving yourselves into them eventually, think about it..." he says pleadingly, "I can make you rich, I'll forgive you for this if you spare me. Please."
"No one is spared, there are men outside right now Augustus. Your sons are dead." Trent watches Augustus' heart and hope sink.
Amaya takes a strong look at him. "Now you know how we feel." the last sentence before the two of them put an end to Augustus' reign as top cartel, spreading his blood.