Author's Notes: Hello everyone. Sorry for the long wait. I had to rebuild
my momentum to continue on. This chapter will be a little different from my
previous ones. I have added some emotion other than hatred. I guess will
see how it works, let me know what you guys think.
Chapter VIII
The Don of the Mafia had gone on for what seemed like eternity about himself. He reminisced about his childhood in Italy and the ongoing war between the Mafia and Triads. Within a few hours, I had learned the fifty- four years of history about a highly respected man.
When the history lesson finally ended, he yawned and looked out at the ocean. I followed his gaze. The water gleamed in the moonlight like marble. The silent waves were as black as an oil spill. I closed my eyes as the refreshing breeze swept over my face.
Salvatore had grown awkwardly silent. I looked over at him. I noticed the smallest little bit of glittering light in the bottom of his eye. A tear? He glanced up at me from where he stood.
"This place, it's a land of opportunity you know." His voice was choky. "I've spent over two decades trying to build this empire in Liberty City, and look what has become of me. I am a man of old age, still at war with old enemies. It is my deepest desire for this war to be over, I don't want to die without knowing this battle has come to an end."
I gazed into his eyes. He astonished me. I felt sorry for him in a way. It was a feeling I had never felt for anyone. This feeling, what was it? Trust? Kindness? Whatever it was, it hurt like hell in my stomach. Like someone was twisting my intestines in a knot. I placed my hand on his shoulder as a gesture of acknowledgement.
He peered up at the stars, and so did I. They littered the sky like little frosted sprinkles on a dark chocolate cake. The moon, full and glowing yellow, cast a watchful eye over the city's occupants.
"Look, Vincent. I know I don't have much longer to live. I have been diagnosed with cancer for the last four years. Dr. Vittorio says there is nothing he can do. I need this war to end between us and the Triads. I know for a fact they will never surrender, egotistic bastards."
I knew wherever this was going; it was going to be me to fulfill the task.
"Unfortunately, the Triads have negotiated a deal with a new gang in town. They call themselves the Columbian Cartel. They have brought to my city a foul substance, a drug to be more precise. SPANK, I'm sure you've heard of it. It is bad enough they are polluting my city with it, but it is even worse that they are making bottomless funds from it!"
I hinted anger in his voice. I knew this was going to be big. I could sense it. It throbbed wildly in my veins. I tried to keep myself from smirking, so I nodded knowingly instead.
"This new gang from Columbia is much too powerful. If we make an open attack on them, they'll wipe the floor with us. They must be making SPANK on that large cargo ship down at the Portland docks. So we gotta use our heads, or rather one head. Your head. I'm asking you to destroy that floating SPANK factory as a personal favor to me, Salvatore Leone. If you do this for me, you will be a made man, anything you want. Go and see 8- ball, you'll need his expertise to blow that ship sky-high."
He turned rapped his arms around himself as he strolled back to the mansion. This task was going to be difficult. Taking out a whole boat filled with filthy Columbians at night. I was glad I at least had 8-Ball to come with me. My missions could get to be a bit lonely sometimes. I needed someone to share the fun and excitement with.
The trip to 8-Ball's place was a small one, as with every other trip in Portland. I couldn't wait for them to finish rebuilding the bridge, I had to get out of Portland soon; it was driving me insane.
I strolled up to the hard wooden door. I rapped my knuckles on the bright green paint and some of it chipped off.
"Yo, my man! Salvatore phoned ahead, but a job like this is gonna need lot of fireworks. I'll need $100,000 to cover expenses, but you know with me you get a lot of bang for your buck. Come back brother when you have the money."
He went to close the door but I put my hand out to stop it. He looked at me as if to say 'What the hell are you doing.'
I pulled out my wallet and pulled out a handful of cash. He stared on in disbelief. Handing him the money, I nodded to the car.
"Well...yeah...I'll just...um...count this later. He went back in and came out a few moments later.
"Okay, let's do this thing. I can set this baby to detonate, but I still can't use a piece with these hands. Here, this rifle should help you pop some heads!"
He handed me a sniper rifle. I examined it in my hands and put the scope up to my eyes. Hell yeah. I threw the rifle in the back seat of the Mafia Sentinel and got in. 8-Ball got in next to me and held the bomb in his lap.
The short drive came to a halt in front of the huge cargo ship. Two blue Cartel Cruisers were parked diagonally at the ship's ramp, a guard positioned on either side.
"Get a good vantage point then I'll head in when you fire the first shot." I nodded and 8-Ball exited the car. He jogged over to a stack off red crates and hid behind them. I drove around the side of the building were a case of metal stairs awaited. I grabbed the rifle from the back seat and hiked up the steps. The world got a bit smaller with each step, but there sure as hell wasn't any eye candy.
I checked the clip; twelve rounds. There were at least twenty of those fuckers on the ship, and I had no extra ammo! I laid as flat as I could on the cheap scrap metal roof and positioned the sniper rifle to my likings. I aim the gun at the guard on the left, then the one on the right. Which one? Which one was going to be the first to be decapitated? Decisions...decisions.
Bam! The head of the right guard flew into the polluted water behind him, followed by a spurt of crimson blood.
The other guard ran over and checked the guy's body. Bam! Off with the fucker's leg! I was getting a real kick out of this. I could see 8-Ball in the scope running up the diamond plated ramp. A Columbian jumped out from behind a stack of cargo crates, but before his dirty little finger could grasp the trigger, I grasped mine. His head did a 360 degree turn on top of his neck and then fell off. The body fell to its knees and collapsed on its stomach.
8-Ball hid behind some more crates, motioning for me to take out the scumbag in front of him. I got the guy's head in my scope, and pulled the trigger. But the guy had moved to soon and the bullet had hit the propane tank behind him. White smoke shot out with devastating force. The Columbian, seeing this, ran and jumped over the side of the ship into the water to avoid the wrath of my rifle. I tried to motion for 8-Ball to get out of there, since the propane tank was about to explode. I wasn't sure if he just misinterpreted my signal was too damn stubborn, but he continued on. I watched in fear as he kneeled down and placed the bomb under the propane tank.
He finally looked up and saw the smoke. He got up and ran as fast as he could. Another Cartel jumped out and fired his gun before I could. I got the guy, but he had gotten 8-Ball. I watched as my friend collapsed on the dirty floor of the ship. His body was still.
All the other Columbian Cartel members were trying to rush to the ramp. I aimed at the bomb with 8-Ball had brought with him and pulled the trigger. The bomb exploded, sending a domino effect throughout the entire ship as all fifteen of the propane tanks exploded. I saw the fire roar and 8-Ball's body catch fire. It burned away at his flesh, until it was so distorted that he was no longer recognizable. I got swiftly and ran down the stairs. I jumped back into the Mafia Sentinel and drove away from the scene with the echoes of my victims in my ears.
Chapter VIII
The Don of the Mafia had gone on for what seemed like eternity about himself. He reminisced about his childhood in Italy and the ongoing war between the Mafia and Triads. Within a few hours, I had learned the fifty- four years of history about a highly respected man.
When the history lesson finally ended, he yawned and looked out at the ocean. I followed his gaze. The water gleamed in the moonlight like marble. The silent waves were as black as an oil spill. I closed my eyes as the refreshing breeze swept over my face.
Salvatore had grown awkwardly silent. I looked over at him. I noticed the smallest little bit of glittering light in the bottom of his eye. A tear? He glanced up at me from where he stood.
"This place, it's a land of opportunity you know." His voice was choky. "I've spent over two decades trying to build this empire in Liberty City, and look what has become of me. I am a man of old age, still at war with old enemies. It is my deepest desire for this war to be over, I don't want to die without knowing this battle has come to an end."
I gazed into his eyes. He astonished me. I felt sorry for him in a way. It was a feeling I had never felt for anyone. This feeling, what was it? Trust? Kindness? Whatever it was, it hurt like hell in my stomach. Like someone was twisting my intestines in a knot. I placed my hand on his shoulder as a gesture of acknowledgement.
He peered up at the stars, and so did I. They littered the sky like little frosted sprinkles on a dark chocolate cake. The moon, full and glowing yellow, cast a watchful eye over the city's occupants.
"Look, Vincent. I know I don't have much longer to live. I have been diagnosed with cancer for the last four years. Dr. Vittorio says there is nothing he can do. I need this war to end between us and the Triads. I know for a fact they will never surrender, egotistic bastards."
I knew wherever this was going; it was going to be me to fulfill the task.
"Unfortunately, the Triads have negotiated a deal with a new gang in town. They call themselves the Columbian Cartel. They have brought to my city a foul substance, a drug to be more precise. SPANK, I'm sure you've heard of it. It is bad enough they are polluting my city with it, but it is even worse that they are making bottomless funds from it!"
I hinted anger in his voice. I knew this was going to be big. I could sense it. It throbbed wildly in my veins. I tried to keep myself from smirking, so I nodded knowingly instead.
"This new gang from Columbia is much too powerful. If we make an open attack on them, they'll wipe the floor with us. They must be making SPANK on that large cargo ship down at the Portland docks. So we gotta use our heads, or rather one head. Your head. I'm asking you to destroy that floating SPANK factory as a personal favor to me, Salvatore Leone. If you do this for me, you will be a made man, anything you want. Go and see 8- ball, you'll need his expertise to blow that ship sky-high."
He turned rapped his arms around himself as he strolled back to the mansion. This task was going to be difficult. Taking out a whole boat filled with filthy Columbians at night. I was glad I at least had 8-Ball to come with me. My missions could get to be a bit lonely sometimes. I needed someone to share the fun and excitement with.
The trip to 8-Ball's place was a small one, as with every other trip in Portland. I couldn't wait for them to finish rebuilding the bridge, I had to get out of Portland soon; it was driving me insane.
I strolled up to the hard wooden door. I rapped my knuckles on the bright green paint and some of it chipped off.
"Yo, my man! Salvatore phoned ahead, but a job like this is gonna need lot of fireworks. I'll need $100,000 to cover expenses, but you know with me you get a lot of bang for your buck. Come back brother when you have the money."
He went to close the door but I put my hand out to stop it. He looked at me as if to say 'What the hell are you doing.'
I pulled out my wallet and pulled out a handful of cash. He stared on in disbelief. Handing him the money, I nodded to the car.
"Well...yeah...I'll just...um...count this later. He went back in and came out a few moments later.
"Okay, let's do this thing. I can set this baby to detonate, but I still can't use a piece with these hands. Here, this rifle should help you pop some heads!"
He handed me a sniper rifle. I examined it in my hands and put the scope up to my eyes. Hell yeah. I threw the rifle in the back seat of the Mafia Sentinel and got in. 8-Ball got in next to me and held the bomb in his lap.
The short drive came to a halt in front of the huge cargo ship. Two blue Cartel Cruisers were parked diagonally at the ship's ramp, a guard positioned on either side.
"Get a good vantage point then I'll head in when you fire the first shot." I nodded and 8-Ball exited the car. He jogged over to a stack off red crates and hid behind them. I drove around the side of the building were a case of metal stairs awaited. I grabbed the rifle from the back seat and hiked up the steps. The world got a bit smaller with each step, but there sure as hell wasn't any eye candy.
I checked the clip; twelve rounds. There were at least twenty of those fuckers on the ship, and I had no extra ammo! I laid as flat as I could on the cheap scrap metal roof and positioned the sniper rifle to my likings. I aim the gun at the guard on the left, then the one on the right. Which one? Which one was going to be the first to be decapitated? Decisions...decisions.
Bam! The head of the right guard flew into the polluted water behind him, followed by a spurt of crimson blood.
The other guard ran over and checked the guy's body. Bam! Off with the fucker's leg! I was getting a real kick out of this. I could see 8-Ball in the scope running up the diamond plated ramp. A Columbian jumped out from behind a stack of cargo crates, but before his dirty little finger could grasp the trigger, I grasped mine. His head did a 360 degree turn on top of his neck and then fell off. The body fell to its knees and collapsed on its stomach.
8-Ball hid behind some more crates, motioning for me to take out the scumbag in front of him. I got the guy's head in my scope, and pulled the trigger. But the guy had moved to soon and the bullet had hit the propane tank behind him. White smoke shot out with devastating force. The Columbian, seeing this, ran and jumped over the side of the ship into the water to avoid the wrath of my rifle. I tried to motion for 8-Ball to get out of there, since the propane tank was about to explode. I wasn't sure if he just misinterpreted my signal was too damn stubborn, but he continued on. I watched in fear as he kneeled down and placed the bomb under the propane tank.
He finally looked up and saw the smoke. He got up and ran as fast as he could. Another Cartel jumped out and fired his gun before I could. I got the guy, but he had gotten 8-Ball. I watched as my friend collapsed on the dirty floor of the ship. His body was still.
All the other Columbian Cartel members were trying to rush to the ramp. I aimed at the bomb with 8-Ball had brought with him and pulled the trigger. The bomb exploded, sending a domino effect throughout the entire ship as all fifteen of the propane tanks exploded. I saw the fire roar and 8-Ball's body catch fire. It burned away at his flesh, until it was so distorted that he was no longer recognizable. I got swiftly and ran down the stairs. I jumped back into the Mafia Sentinel and drove away from the scene with the echoes of my victims in my ears.