Meanwhile Tommy had returned to his hotel room and was slumped in front of the TV with a glass whisky in his left hand. He had wrapped a bandage around his bullet grazed arm soon after his return to the hotel suite. He knew that he had little time left to conquer Liberty City. Especially now that the gangs were getting wise to his presence.

Tommy looked at his watch and rolled his eyes. He had ordered room service almost half an hour ago and nothing had happened. He scowled and poured himself a fresh glass of whisky.

There was a sharp knock at the door. Tommy looked up lazily, "Its unlocked" he called out. He then returned his attention to his glass. The door swung open and a smartly dressed waiter entered the room pushed an elegant trolley laden with food. Tommy didn't say anything or even look up. The waiter walked over to Tommy, the silver platter was balanced on his hand. "You Vercetti" he said in a deep and upper class tone of voice. He quickly lifted the lid from the platter as Tommy looked up. The waiter grabbed the gun that rested on the platter and aimed it at Tommy's head. Tommy merely raised an eyebrow and finished his glass.

"Get up" the waiter ordered as he aimed the gun. Tommy stood up slowly setting his glass down firmly on a small coffee table. He sighed and crossed his arms in an irritated fashion. The door swung open once again and two burly men in dark suits entered. One of the men raised a crowbar, "Salvatore wishes to see you," he said in a deep voice before smashing the crowbar into Tommy's face, breaking a bone in his cheek. Tommy staggered back his vision slipped away quickly as he tripped, landing heavily on the floor.

Tommy's face ached and throbbed. He could hear distant voices ringing in his ears, yet he struggled to understand the words. He felt dry blood set against his skin and tried to raise a hand to wipe it aside. However his hands merely hit something wooden as a piece of metal dug into his wrists. He cursed under his breath but the words were slurred and incoherent. Finally with great effort Tommy forced his eyes open. He found himself in a spacious living room, his arms bound behind the back of a heavy antique mahogany armchair. He looked ahead his eyes gazing out of a large patio door and the cliff top view that lay before him.

Tommy squinted as a figure moved in front of the patio doors. A cigar rested in the figure's hand, wisps of smoke danced towards the ceiling. He stubbed the cigar out and stepped towards Tommy, his arms open in a welcoming gesture.

"Ah Mr Vercetti" Salvatore said warmly as he moved his arms behind his back, "I hope your journey wasn't too painful" he said with a smug smile. Tommy looked Salvatore up and down silently. He started to speak but pain shot through his cheek. Salvatore frowned, "I must apologize for my grunts behavior, it appears he has yet to learn of tact" Tommy raised his head and spoke slowly, his words slurred slightly, "What do you want Salvatore?". However Tommy knew what he was doing here, he was also aware of the trouble he was in. Salvatore laughed casually. He clapped his hands and a bald muscle bound grunt appeared in the room. A heavy suitcase in his tanned hands. The man slammed the suitcase down onto a coffee table in front of Tommy. He opened it letting Tommy see the contents. The case was filled with shinning sharp metal tools.

Salvatore smiled, "This is my dear friend Rowley. He is a master of torture," he said in a mocking yet proud voice. Rowley looked up, "My record is three days" he hissed with a cold smile. He pulled a scalpel from the suitcase and examined it with sickening pride. Salvatore smiled smugly and sat down ready to watch Tommy suffer. Rowley pulled a metal instrument that resembled a corkscrew. He grinned proudly as he noticed Tommy watching it carefully. "I'm going to save this until last, to ripe your heart from what remains of your body" he said twisting the cork skew in his hand.

Salvatore crossed his legs, "So Mr Vercetti any last words before Rowley cuts your tongue off?" he asked casually. Tommy looked up a cold and bitter smile appeared in the corner of his mouth, "Don't screw with Tommy Vercetti," he said threateningly. Salvatore merely laughed.

Rowley picked up his scalpel and headed calmly towards Tommy. With one swift action Rowley brought the scalpel down slashing him across the eye. Tommy blinked as the blood ran from the wound down over his eyelashes. He scowled, "That's all you got," he muttered as the pain finally set in. Rowley shook his head and stared at the blood-coated scalpel, "No Mr Vercetti, this is only the beginning". He then drew the scalpel slowly over Tommy's torso. The blade sliced through his shirt and skin as if it was nothing but air. Tommy flinched slightly before cursing furiously as Rowley slashed his chest again.