Upon landing, I sneak off the plane and walk away. I notice the man who ratted me to the papers. I guess he was really doing me a favour, no sense in following ludicrous orders from Salvatore any more. The man looks at me, and his face turns pale as a ghost. He produces a 9mm and fires a few shots. I dive behind a pile of suitcases, out of the man's firing range. Looks like I'll have to kill him after all, I think with a smirk. I hear shots being fired, some of which I feel penetrating the cases. I load my own gun and hop over my cover. I fire at the man as he runs off, catching him in the leg. He buckles for a second, allowing me to get within easy firing distance. He limps to an empty baggage handler, starts the ignition and screeches towards me. I ready myself, and when the timing is right, leap over the man and into the tray on the back of his vehicle. I put the gun to his head, and cock it.
"You had to open your mouth, didn't you. Sorry, but this is the price you pay for messing with the mafia."
I pull the trigger.
I realise that I could be in the same position. One of Toreno's clowns could have been after me in the same way. But I'm free now. I have a second chance. Revenge will be in order, but I ought to establish reinforcements. But first, I have to find out where the hell I am.
I steal a nice car and drive around my new "home". The city is overrun with skyscrapers. No one is obeying traffic laws, but the police don't seem to care. I locate the hospitals, police stations, weaponry retailers, "Pay N' Sprays" and one place, which catches my eye. I enter.
I am greeted with a shotgun pointed at me. I stare along the barrels, into the eyes of an old friend of mine, Gator, who's name's origins were long forgotten. As always, he wears his dark sunglasses, so it is hard to tell his expression. His hair is cut short, and has clearly been died black. He is wearing oil stained overalls. He looks like a mechanic.
After a lengthy discussion in which I explained our past friendship, we start to talk about our current situations. Apparently after we went our separate ways, he enlisted in the army, but deserted after training and changed his identity. He used his knowledge of explosives and firearms to open the shop, where he will gladly acquire and build anything today's homicidal maniac needs. He says he wanted to make it his slogan, but decided to keep the business discreet, which explains the sign outside, which reads;
"Gator's PET Shop"
Meeting The needs of today's Armed Lunatic
The words "Bomb, and gun" were faintly legible.
"I'm running a bit low on staff at the moment though. How would you like to work with me?"
As soon as he used the word "with" instead of "for", I knew I was on to something. "Sure buddy, but first you gotta do something for me." I shake his hand, and begin my first real business relationship.