Grand Theft Auto: After Vice
Epilogue
1990
Liberty City
The Mafia
The house was dark and quiet. It was late in the year, and the Leone business was beginning to wind down on it's fourth quarter. Salvatore himself, the don, sat in his armchair across the room, as the gentle mist of a cigar floated about. Across from him, sitting haphazardly on a couch, the younger man laid back, brushing his hair back necessantly. His neatly combed hair slicked it's way across the man's head, and reflected an almost blinding amount of light throughout the room.
"Seems this Vercetti guy got quite a business going," Salvatore said.
"Yeah, he's quite the celebrity down there." The younger man replied.
Salvatore was beginning to get old. The once spriteful and ambitious leader of the Leone family had already received his obligatory gray hairs, and the effects of his repetitious smoking began to creep up on him.
"After all, he did take care of some of that Forrelli business for us"
The younger man was Sal's complete oppsosite. Instead of crisp, knowledgeable and wise, the younger man was more of a go-getter. He'd served as the big man's enforcer for two years now, and before that had worked minor jobs for his associates. He noticed Salvatore seemed to be going somewhere, and the younger man's dark eyes beseeched.
"Look, I gotta ask you a favor," He finally said. "You know that I don't want this to turn out like Vercetti did with the Forrellis,"
"Don't worry, I'll always be loyal to you, Sal." The young man cut in.
"I know that, but ol' Sonny thought that too about Tommy."
"You can trust me."
"Well, Vercetti got a pretty big protection and drug business going on. The family, you know, they want some of it. . ."
"Just be careful, Kevin." Salvatore seemed genuinely fearful.
Kevin stepped up from the couch, and stretched his back out a bit.
"How much you giving me for it?" He said sternly.
"Believe me, at the end of all this, you will be a made man."
Kevin sat in his house in St. Mark's, and listened as the voice on the other line of his phone spoke speedily.
"Oh come on, man!" He said in a thick Spanish accent.
Kevin's crime-partner Miguel, which he had done numerous jobs with, had always tagged along with him whenever adventured was abound.
"Don't leave me here in this place! While you're having fun in Vice City, I'll be washing the ice off my windshield!"
"Look, Miguel, I just don't think it's that big of a deal." Kevin replied. "I'm just going down there, talking to Vercetti, and coming back, that's it."
"I don't care, just let me come!"
"Fine, alright, I'll talk to Sal about it."
Kevin pulled the phone away from his ears as Miguel shouted in joy. Deep down, Kevin knew Miguel should not come, for what was in store for them down south was not at all what either of them expected.
The next day, the two men sat drove through the city in a Manana, as Francis International Airport loomed ahead. Kevin drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, in nervousness. What he had told Miguel about Vice City was a complete lie. But nonetheless, he sat in the passenger seat as they both pulled into the terminal of the airport. Within a few minutes, they were both heading for the gate, when Kevin's cellphone rang abruptly.
On the other line, a slightly shaky and nervous Salvatore spoke.
"Please, Kevin, all I want is for this all to work out, okay? Do what you gotta do, but in the end, work everything out."
He hung up just as fast as he called, and left Kevin to his own thoughts. He caught back up with Miguel, and found their plane's gate.
"Here you are Mr. Restino and Mr. Hernandéz," the ticket-collector said.
The two men got aboard the plane, and headed for a flight directly towards their ultimate demise. On the plane, Kevinwas deep in thought.
"So how's Sarah been?" Miguel asked.
Kevin sighed. "I guess she's alright, I haven't seen them for a few days now; been busy."
"What about the kids?"
"They're are doing great, what's with all the questions?"
"Dude. We're stuck on a plane for a few hours and I can't even ask you a few questions?"
Kevin sighed, and rubbed his forehead like he usually did.
"So how good are the Mambas anyway?" Miguel insisted.
"Look, I'd like to get some sleep right now, alright?"
Miguel sat quietly, and took a drink from his beverage. Kevin turned his head the other way, and closed his eyes. He dreamed almost instantly, and images of his children, wife, and his overall happy life flashed before him. Almost moments later, the plane touched down, startling Kevin awake. The two men subtly stepped out from the plane, and entered Escobar International Airport's terminal.
"You know, Vice City is a pretty hot place, you gonna keep wearing that jacket?" Miguel said.
Miguel was speaking of the black leather aviator coat that he wore just about everyday. Kevin glared at him, and said no more. The jacket was originally gift from his wife, before they were married, and he treasured it at every moment. Throughout his life, Kevin never imagined he could've been able to find such love, and when he actually did, he felt that some kind of a miracle had happened. He never wanted his wife or children's love to diminish, so he wore the coat. The two reached the main doors, and they both exited.
Outside, along the road, a single silver Phoenix sat with the engine running, and from inside a slick-suited man with curly hair got out and greeted the two.
"Heh-hey, you're the guys from Liberty City, right?"
The two nodded, and handed the curly-haired man their luggage.
"I'm Ken Rosenberg, and I'll be your guy while you're down here in Vice City,"
"So uh, if you ever need anything, I'm the guy to ask!"
The three squished inside the car, and quickly drove off.
As Kevin sat in the back, twiddling his thumbs while watching the scenery float by, Rosenberg couldn't help but to comment on him.
"You know, you're going to see the 'big' guy in Vice City . . ."
"Yeah, what's your point?"
"Well, I miss 1973, too, but this isn't going to be any beer and stripper's club."
Rosenberg slowly scanned the man's grimy pants, and his worn aviator jacket. He sighed slowly, realizing the man wouldn't give in, and turned his attention to the road. Without warning, Kevin saw Rosenberg reach in the glove compartment, and withdraw a sleek Glock pistol. A menacing appearance draped his face, and he grimly chambered around. He rolled the window down on the driver's side door, and put his body out into the open air. Miguel quickly held the wheel and continued steering. Ken aimed the pistol towards the rear of the car.
"This guy's been following us since the airport." He said.
Kevin looked and saw a beat up Bobcat apparently trying to follow them by dragging itself behind, the driver showing a distraught look. The moment he saw Ken's pistol appear, he began veering on and off the road. Rosenberg began firing repetitiously, blasting sonic holes throughout the air. Kevin looked behind and saw the driver apparently did not want to cause trouble, and repeatedly raised his hands up in surrender behind the windshield. Rosenberg quickly took back the wheel and steered the Phoenix off the road and into a side alley.
The Bobcat followed quickly behind, and stopped at the moment Rosenberg did. Ken reached into the glove compartment once more, withdrew two Ingram Mac 10s, and handed them to Miguel and Kevin.
"Kevin, I want you to go and check the driver out, me and Miguel will cover you." Rosenberg ordered.
He heard Ken mumble something about the Feds as he got his new weapon ready, and he stepped out of the car prepared to use his new found gun. Slapping the door shut behind him, he cautiously approached the Bobcat, as the driver shook his head as though frustrated.
"Did he have to blow my windshield out?" He said in a nagging voice.
Kevin pointed the machine gun against his sweaty forehead, pulled him out of the car and threw him to the ground.
"What the hell do you want?" He demanded.
The man, apparently small and scrawny, was dressed in the cheezy '80s 'rebel' attire. His long blonde hair was streaked with dirt, and he was apparently down and out of some good times he had experienced long ago. The man got to his feet, slicked his hair with his hands, and began to speak.
"Look, do you recognize me?" He said.
Kevin stood, holding the machine gun to his head.
"Oh come on, I was on Channel 6 news last night! About the rock concert?"
Kevin sighed.
"I'm Lazlow! Heavy metal DJ? I know that Rosenberg is with Vercetti, I needed some stuff done."
"Look, I'm not from around here, so are you getting anywhere?"
"Here, just take my card, and come over to my place whenever you have some time. I need some help with stuff."
Lazlow handed Kevin a sheet of notebook paper with words scrawled on it and jumped back into his Bobcat. The truck quickly screeched off and disappeared into the distance. Kevin put the gun back down, and headed back to the Phoenix.
"What the hell did he want?" Roseneberg shouted.
"He was just interested in some business, that's all."
Ken shrugged it off, thinking he was in too big a business to worry, and allowed Kevin to get back into the car.
"You know, Mr. V will not be pleased with how late we are."