Tony Montana

Scarface: Part 2

Chapter 1: Rebirth

"Dr. Alexander Marco, please report to room 116."

Dr. Marco looked up at the intercom from his cup of coffee. He hadn't been expecting to go to that particular room for some time. The guy in it was screwed up pretty bad. Police had been able to identify him, and if it were not for his condition, he would have been in a prison somewhere, possibly serving life.

"Dr. Alex Marco," repeated the intercom, "please report to room 116."

"Yeah, I'm coming," Marco said to himself. He put the coffee down on the glass desk in front of him and got out of the chair. He walked down the shiny white hallway, taking in the smell of disinfectant. At the end of the hallway was the employee elevator. He called for it, and when it arrived, he stepped on, pressing the button labeled "2" as the doors closed. He fell the small movement in his stomach as the elevator went up. With a ding, the doors opened, and he stepped off.

Room 116 was just to his right, and he pushed open the door and walked in.

"What is it, Janice?" Marco asked the nurse in the room.

"Sir, the patient is waking up," she replied.

"Seriously?" he asked, although it didn't sound like he was too surprised.

Janice nodded. Marco took a look at the form lying on the hospital cot in front of him.

The man had been in bad shape when he arrived at the hospital 5 months ago. He had suffered numerous bullet wounds to his back, arms, legs, and chest. Most had passed clean right through him, but there were a few left over in his body to identify what had happened to him.

He had been hit with numerous automatic weapons, assault rifles most likely. And six shotgun pellets had been buried in his lower back, many more than that having passed through and out his stomach. The pellets had broken 12 bones, cracked a few vertebrae, and yet somehow managed to miss any and all vital organs. In short, it was a miracle that this man had lived.

If lived was the proper term. He had been in a coma and on life support ever since he had arrived. They had been debating on whether or not to pull the plug. Considering who the man was, there was enough legal evidence to tip the odds against him. But the courts were still debating it.

Now, however, he had finally awakened, and it was time to find out what had happened.

"Antonio Montana?" whispered Marco. "Can you hear me?"

Tony could hear the man, but he couldn't see him. He tried to reply "yes", but he couldn't get his mouth to move. The whole room was dark and blurry, and he was aware that he couldn't feel many parts of his body, nor could he move them. He strained to at least lip sync "yes" and after a few tries, managed it with some difficulty.

"Janice, he's responding," said the man, and then Tony's mouth seemed to loosed up, as well as his throat, and he said, "Yeah."

"And he's already gotten his voice back."

Slowly, Tony's eyes focused. He started to regain feeling in his body, but it was a painful feeling, and he half-wished he couldn't feel again.

"Who...are you?" moaned Tony, and the man, who Tony could now see, was scribbling something down on a notepad. Then he turned to a woman standing there and told her to leave the room for a moment. She disappeared from Tony's line of vision, and then it was just Tony and the man.

"I am Dr. Alexander Marco," he introduced himself.

"Where am I?"

"You are in the Bay Island Hospital in Miami, Florida. Do you remember anything?"

"Sosa."

"Who?"

"A-Alejandro...Sosa."

"Alejandro Sosa?"

"F-fucking prick. Kill him."

"Um...Mr. Montana," said Marco quickly trying to change the subject, "you do realize that as soon as you recover, you are probably going to have a trial. The police all know who you are and what you've done."

"Fuck it."

And then Tony fell unconscious. Marco sighed, and then left the room, scribbling down random notes.

For the next 8 months, Tony was either lying in a bed, or being visited by a psychologist. They thought that maybe they could find out what had happened that night, and how Tony had survived. They thought that it was some kind of medical miracle. Tony actually seemed to enjoy these sessions, and answered all questions well, having fully regained his ability to speak, although he was in his bed, his muscles having started to atrophy. One of the conversations went like this:

"Tony, do you remember what happened that night?" asked the psychologist.

"My sister was shot by the hitmen comin' after me, so I killed em'. Or tried to," he answered very matter-of-factly. He also did so with a slight smile, which was very unnerving.

"Yes, we found and identified the bodies of at least 30 men in your mansion. Most of them were known criminals and drug smugglers, and nearly all had military records."

"I don't give a shit about any of that."

"Tony, do you know who sent the hitmen after you?"

He paused for a second, as though debating whether or not to answer. Finally, he spoke. "Alejandro Sosa."

"That was the name you mentioned when you first woke up to Dr. Marco, correct?"

Tony nodded.

"Tony, Alejandro Sosa has been on the run from the authorities for at least four months. Ever since his cocaine smuggling ring was exposed to the world, he's been running from one place to another. But they'll get him. That must make you feel better, doesn't it?"

"Fuck no. Sosa deserves to die, and I'm gonna' be the one to send him to hell."

"Let's not talk like this Tony. As soon as you're well, you'll be heading straight to the courts. You will not have revenge, so just burn it into you brain."

Tony's face suddenly took on a contorted mask of rage. If he could have moved, he probably would have tried to strangle the psychologist. But after about a minute, he calmed down, and was silent.

"Well, Tony, how do you think you survived all of you wounds?"

"That? The rage, chico. Well, that and tons o' yeyo, you know what I'm saying?" And then he laughed. He was getting too much of a kick out of these questions, determined the psychologist after another 3 months of sessions. He suggested that Tony might have mental problems, perhaps caused by the extreme trauma of the event. But all tests proved that he was relatively sane.

Then, when the hospital declared that they would release Tony into the custody of the police in one week, he mysteriously disappeared from the hospital. Police searched all of Miami for him, and all of Florida. But it was as though Antonio Montana had disappeared from the face of the earth...

"Hey, Pablo," said Tony over the table, "don't fuck with me man. I know what you selling to me. And I need it bad. But you ain't demanding a fair price."

Tony was sitting in an abandoned building with one of the dealers who had been faithful to him during the time of his rise to power. Ever since he got out of the hospital, Tony had been about recruiting everyone who was still loyal to him, and knew how to use a gun. He was gonna' get an army together, and then go to war with Sosa, just like he had planned. Sosa had been on the run from police ever since the truth about him had been spoken about, but Tony's underground sources knew that Sosa still returned to his chateau in the jungle every now and then. And Tony was gonna' nail that fucker. But he needed men, money, and guns.

Pablo was now selling him 50 crates full of rocket launchers, machine guns, shotguns, magnums, sniper rifles, grenades, ammunition. Everything Tony would need. But Pablo apparently didn't see fit to haggle his outrageous price.

"Tony, I need this money bad. I'm in a shit load of debt, man."

"Then I tell you what. You sell these to me for the price I'm offering, and fight with me when we get Sosa, and I'll pay you out of any of your debts, man."

Pablo considered. He was pretty good with a gun, and confident that with the weaponry behind him, plus Tony and his little army, he had a decent chance of surviving. Finally, he agreed.

"Don't think I won't protect my investment, man," said Pablo as they shook hands.

"And don't think that I won't protect mine. I'll get the money to you by Friday, and then we see what we can do."

"When you gonna' need these delivered Tony? Where? The cops are all over your mansion. You got a safe house yet?"

"Yeah man, I do. I'll give you the address when I need the guns. See you later man."

Tony got out of the chair and walked out of the building. It was a warm night, and Tony enjoyed the sensation of the air blowing around him as he got into his car and drove off, ignoring the pain in his back when he did so.

The wound in his back had never fully healed, and never would. It would always hurt whenever he bent or flexed it, but not so much that he couldn't take it. He would do fine, he figured. He had grown accustomed to pain, and could easily shake off most of it. And if worst came to worst, a few painkillers and some coke always fixed him right up.

Tony had not gone 20 blocks when he noticed that there was a blue Cadillac behind him. It had been following him for the past 9 blocks, and continued to do so. Tony knew that something was wrong. He finally reached his safe house. Getting out of the car, he checked the handgun in his pocket to make sure he was ready. Then he hid in some nearby bushes, just as the Cadillac pulled up to the side of his house.

Suddenly, machine gun fire ripped through the night, tearing holes in the safe house walls. Windows shattered as bursts of flame exploded rapidly from the Cadillac. More hitmen. How had they found out where Tony's safe house was? Never mind that. He'd have to get a new one now.

The hitmen stopped firing, and all but the driver got out of the car. They walked up to the house and kicked down the door, filing inside one by one. Tony crept after them, taking special care not to be seen by the driver. When he was in the house, he moved into the living room, and hid behind the sofa. The hitmen were turning everything over looking for him.

"Dammit man, he ain't here!" declared one of the hitmen.

"You sure about that, chico?" shouted Tony. They all turned around just as Tony got up and fired. The handgun bullet hit the closest hitman in the head, and he fell backwards onto another. The rest opened fire, all of them carrying Uzis. Tony dived through the nearby doorway into the kitchen. He hid behind a counter top, firing a few shots into the living room, and managing to kill another hitman. Bullets ripped across the counter top and the tiles in the floor, and Tony fired back. He missed more, and ducked out through the back door. He ran into the street, firing at the doorway. Two more hitmen, the last of them, were killed as they tried to leave the house.

"Fuckers," muttered Tony as he reloaded the gun. Suddenly, he heard the screech of tires, and looked up. The Cadillac had rounded the corner and was speeding straight for him!

"Shit!" screamed Tony, and he fired two bullets at the car before diving out of the way. They cracked the windshield, but the car kept on going. The driver pulled up along side him. He was holding an assault rifle. Tony hid behind the side of the house as the shots ripped into the already bullet-ridden walls.

"DIE, DIE!" shouted Tony as the car drove off and spun around to make a second pass. But this time Tony was ready. He snatched up one of the dead hitman's Uzis. He opened fire on the front tires of the car as it drew nearer.

The tire was shredded by the bullets, and the car sped out of control. It flipped over and slid into a lamp post, and blew up.

Tony was just about to let out a victory cry, when he noticed that the driver of the Cadillac was still alive, and was crawling out of the burning car. He still had the assault rifle clutched firmly in his hand. He tried to get to his feet, and managed with some difficulty. But this small accomplishment was short-lived, as Tony finished the job and fired the rest of the clip into the driver. The assault rifle clattered to the pavement, and the man fell backwards, onto the wreckage, and lay there, his body slowly being devoured by flames.

Tony heard police sirens in the distance. He wasn't going to get caught now. He quickly ran back into the house, out the other door, and leaped over the fence. He ran down the dark alley, hoping that that was the last of the hitmen, but knowing that it wasn't.

Author's Note: There's the first chapter. It's got some action, so I hope you all like it. Please R&R!