At the other end of the city, a group of men stood as glistening weapons crisply shone in the afternoon sun. They were inside a large abandoned warehoue which once used for ship construction. The gentle sounds of seagulls chirping and waves breaking filled the echoing area as the various people stood about. They were all dressed in apparently the same way; cut-up denim jackets, headbands, styled hair, and rolled-up semi-tight jeans. Their bottom-of-the-barrel Adidas shoes squeaked insistently with every movement of their feet. They were the Sharks, but everyone knew them as the Streetwannabes.
Their leader, who stood in the center, wore a massive crown of primped hair, adorned fluently with streaky dirt. His maroon tank top fit so snugly that his large pectoral muscles rippled like the waves rolling behind them. He wore a rusted watch on his wrist, and he checked it firmly once again.
"Alright, according to our insiders, this new guy should meet Vercetti at 5 o'clock." His watch read 3:46, and he tapped on it demandingly.
"That means that we head out now, and we head out determined."
As the gang cheered and loaded up their weapons, a single member stood wary. Greg was his name, and he was the newest recruit to the Sharks. After his older brother and only guardian, Dylan, was killed while defending the Shark's leader, Greg was instantly took in. His hair was caked in spray, and he was completely unaware he could easily slice a cinder block in two with the massive pillow of hair that sat on top of him.
Before he could snort the snot that was falling out of his nostril back in, a gang member grabbed him from behind, slapped him with an Tec-9, and ushered him across the deck. The leader of the Sharks stood proudly wielding an M-16, and he hustled himself along as his apparent girlfriend followed close behind.
Greg, sitting fearfully in the backseat of a Cuban Jetmax, desperately tried to avoid even looking at the weapon he held. The leader and his girlfriend hopped in and sat across from him, and the pilot of the boat quickly sped off. Four Jetmaxes in all sped out from that warehouse, and little did they know what awaited ahead.
Rosenberg pulled the car up to the main park road, and put the car across from the main stairwell entrance. Kevin was moments from heading up the stairs, when Ken instructed him to head around the back. Miguel and Kevin both headed across the side lawn of the mansion, as Rosenberg showed them the correct path. As Rosenberg strutted across the grass, heading towards the main garden, Kevin pulled Miguel over to him, and began to speak.
"Look, I should've told you this before, but --"
Without warning, three men armed with Uzis and dressed in crisp Hawaiian shirts and polo slacks approached the two. After forcefully frisking them, they allowed them to enter the back garden. From here, a beautiful view of the bay and the two surrounding islands encompassed them, and the sun gently reflected off the immeasurable water. Vercetti Estate was the centerpiece of Starfish Island. Vice City itself consisted of the mainland city, and the rest of the city coninued on an island across the bay connected via causeways/ In the middle of these two sections Starfish Island sat connected to the rest of the city via two bridges. The island mainly consisted of the more fortunate citizens of the city and Vercetti Estate sat at the helm of the area
Foilage and pools lined the area, and a delightful cozy setting shone out brightly. Across from them, the massive mansion stood boldly, as beams of light shattered onto the windows and snapped back outwards in a dazzling reflection.
Kevin looked and saw three more armed men suddenly step out from the main exit, and with them Mr. Vercetti trailed. His hair slicked back beautifully, and Kevin found himself surprised at how little hairspray he had to use. His pink pin-striped black suit jacket waved softly in the ocean breeze, and his ruffled pink shirt bristled with expensivity.
Vercetti pushed the men aside, and stood across from Kevin. Vercetti himself seemed surprised when he found how tall the new guy was. He was almost six inches taller than him, and the new man appeared not to notice. Vercetti grinned, and flapped around with the numerous pockets on Kevin's jacket.
"We need to get you some new clothes," He finally said.
"Yesiree, those Cubans sure know how to make a boat." The leader of the Sharks said.
Greg sat across from him, as he tried to wipe the moisture off from his hands. The water splashed itself about as the four boats soared through the water. Up ahead, their destination lie, waiting.
"You're the new guy, right?" He said.
Greg shook his head, shakily. The leader smiled, and put his M-16 down on the seat. His girlfriend smiled as he gently brushed his hand through her dark long hair.
"You like Colombian women?" He said.
His woman crawled across the boat, and sat next to Greg. She softly made a purring sound in his ear, and stroked his chest vigorously.
"How 'bout cats? You like cats?"
The leader apparently saw that his girlfriend was enjoying Greg, and quickly pulled her away. The woman of apparent Colombian descent giggled, and leaned back against the seat. The leader put his hand out, and shook Greg's hand firmly.
"I'm Cameron, and you are?"
Kevin pushed Vercetti's suntanned hand away, and cut his finger against his highly reflective gold watch. Vercetti smiled, and slowly slid his gold sunglasses on. Vercetti ushered one of his goons over, and obtained a set of brass knuckles from him. He casually slipped them on, and went on to punch Kevin forcefully in the jaw.
Blood sprayed, and Kevin fell hard onto the grass below. Miguel pulled out his Beretta, and pointed it at Vercetti's head. Instantaneously, the men surrounding them pulled their weapons out, as well as hundreds of other men within the house and on the roof wielded rifles from above. Miguel choked, and slowly put his gun away.
"You don't touch me, unless I tell you to," Vercetti commanded to Kevin.
He slowly stood back up, nursing his jaw, and found himself spitting out gobs of thick blood. He grinned, and shrugged the entire incident off. Vercetti snickered, put his arm around Kevin's shoulder, and began walking with him through his back yard.
Their leader, who stood in the center, wore a massive crown of primped hair, adorned fluently with streaky dirt. His maroon tank top fit so snugly that his large pectoral muscles rippled like the waves rolling behind them. He wore a rusted watch on his wrist, and he checked it firmly once again.
"Alright, according to our insiders, this new guy should meet Vercetti at 5 o'clock." His watch read 3:46, and he tapped on it demandingly.
"That means that we head out now, and we head out determined."
As the gang cheered and loaded up their weapons, a single member stood wary. Greg was his name, and he was the newest recruit to the Sharks. After his older brother and only guardian, Dylan, was killed while defending the Shark's leader, Greg was instantly took in. His hair was caked in spray, and he was completely unaware he could easily slice a cinder block in two with the massive pillow of hair that sat on top of him.
Before he could snort the snot that was falling out of his nostril back in, a gang member grabbed him from behind, slapped him with an Tec-9, and ushered him across the deck. The leader of the Sharks stood proudly wielding an M-16, and he hustled himself along as his apparent girlfriend followed close behind.
Greg, sitting fearfully in the backseat of a Cuban Jetmax, desperately tried to avoid even looking at the weapon he held. The leader and his girlfriend hopped in and sat across from him, and the pilot of the boat quickly sped off. Four Jetmaxes in all sped out from that warehouse, and little did they know what awaited ahead.
Rosenberg pulled the car up to the main park road, and put the car across from the main stairwell entrance. Kevin was moments from heading up the stairs, when Ken instructed him to head around the back. Miguel and Kevin both headed across the side lawn of the mansion, as Rosenberg showed them the correct path. As Rosenberg strutted across the grass, heading towards the main garden, Kevin pulled Miguel over to him, and began to speak.
"Look, I should've told you this before, but --"
Without warning, three men armed with Uzis and dressed in crisp Hawaiian shirts and polo slacks approached the two. After forcefully frisking them, they allowed them to enter the back garden. From here, a beautiful view of the bay and the two surrounding islands encompassed them, and the sun gently reflected off the immeasurable water. Vercetti Estate was the centerpiece of Starfish Island. Vice City itself consisted of the mainland city, and the rest of the city coninued on an island across the bay connected via causeways/ In the middle of these two sections Starfish Island sat connected to the rest of the city via two bridges. The island mainly consisted of the more fortunate citizens of the city and Vercetti Estate sat at the helm of the area
Foilage and pools lined the area, and a delightful cozy setting shone out brightly. Across from them, the massive mansion stood boldly, as beams of light shattered onto the windows and snapped back outwards in a dazzling reflection.
Kevin looked and saw three more armed men suddenly step out from the main exit, and with them Mr. Vercetti trailed. His hair slicked back beautifully, and Kevin found himself surprised at how little hairspray he had to use. His pink pin-striped black suit jacket waved softly in the ocean breeze, and his ruffled pink shirt bristled with expensivity.
Vercetti pushed the men aside, and stood across from Kevin. Vercetti himself seemed surprised when he found how tall the new guy was. He was almost six inches taller than him, and the new man appeared not to notice. Vercetti grinned, and flapped around with the numerous pockets on Kevin's jacket.
"We need to get you some new clothes," He finally said.
"Yesiree, those Cubans sure know how to make a boat." The leader of the Sharks said.
Greg sat across from him, as he tried to wipe the moisture off from his hands. The water splashed itself about as the four boats soared through the water. Up ahead, their destination lie, waiting.
"You're the new guy, right?" He said.
Greg shook his head, shakily. The leader smiled, and put his M-16 down on the seat. His girlfriend smiled as he gently brushed his hand through her dark long hair.
"You like Colombian women?" He said.
His woman crawled across the boat, and sat next to Greg. She softly made a purring sound in his ear, and stroked his chest vigorously.
"How 'bout cats? You like cats?"
The leader apparently saw that his girlfriend was enjoying Greg, and quickly pulled her away. The woman of apparent Colombian descent giggled, and leaned back against the seat. The leader put his hand out, and shook Greg's hand firmly.
"I'm Cameron, and you are?"
Kevin pushed Vercetti's suntanned hand away, and cut his finger against his highly reflective gold watch. Vercetti smiled, and slowly slid his gold sunglasses on. Vercetti ushered one of his goons over, and obtained a set of brass knuckles from him. He casually slipped them on, and went on to punch Kevin forcefully in the jaw.
Blood sprayed, and Kevin fell hard onto the grass below. Miguel pulled out his Beretta, and pointed it at Vercetti's head. Instantaneously, the men surrounding them pulled their weapons out, as well as hundreds of other men within the house and on the roof wielded rifles from above. Miguel choked, and slowly put his gun away.
"You don't touch me, unless I tell you to," Vercetti commanded to Kevin.
He slowly stood back up, nursing his jaw, and found himself spitting out gobs of thick blood. He grinned, and shrugged the entire incident off. Vercetti snickered, put his arm around Kevin's shoulder, and began walking with him through his back yard.