The night was young, not so young that there was still light from the sun, yet not so old that true darkness had overcome the city. Middle-class workers returned home from work, shifts started and ended, and criminals began capering in the night.
Tony didn't care, though. His unmarked Sentinel was parked opposite a Mob-run bar, called Danny's Place. The bar's clientele consisted of people from all walks of life: business executives, young clubbers, small-time criminals, and big shots from Vercetti's Outfit.
But he wasn't interested in the comings and goings of the customers. He was more interested in the alley next to the bar. That alley contained the side entrance to the bar, known to be used by Mafia couriers and lieutenants who needed to meet inside the bar for whatever reason and had to beat the crowds.
Through the window glass, he saw a pair of men, dressed in business suits and clutching open umbrellas, walk into the alley, and stop at the door. Tony grabbed the camera in his lap, and zoomed in.
The suits stood some more. A second later, the door opened, and a man stepped out. Tony started taking photographs of the faces he could see, recognizing a couple of mid-level Mob lieutenants. A bright orange lamp mounted above the door illuminated the alley, showing the faces clearly. After a brief conversation, the men entered the bar. The last man extracted a piece of paper from his pocket, crumpled it up, and threw it into a nearby garbage can.
Tony waited for a few minutes, ensuring that the area was clear. Then, he exited the car, ran across the street, and entered the alley. Looking around, he saw no one, and reached for the garbage can. He picked up, lugged it across the street, and placed it in his car before driving off.
Tony DiMilo's home, in the suburbs of Vice City…
Tony's new home was deliberately situated in the suburbs, as it had been statistically proven that there was less crime in the suburbs of VC than in the city centers. Going home always made him feel that his job was worth it.
But not today. Today, he had work to do.
He brought the garbage can into the kitchen. All around him, any number of modern appliances were set into the walls and connected to sockets, signs of progress. Tony removed the lid of the garbage can and upended it, causing its contents to spill all over the floor. Chris was in the shower, fortunately; the mere sight of the mess would shock her into silence.
Tony began the distasteful task of sifting through the trash with gloved hands, examining everything. Fortunately, there was no decaying food or other unpleasant items, but the smell alone was nauseating.
Twenty minutes later, Tony found the piece of paper. On it was typed the words 'VC Ports, 2 pm, Wednesday'. At this point, Chris entered the kitchen, seeing her husband crouching amidst a pool of rubbish. She gasped, opening her mouth in a silent scream, before rushing off.
Tony walked out of the kitchen, and grabbed the telephone mounted on the wall outside the kitchen. After dialing a specific telephone number, he brought the receiver to his ear. Chris reappeared, a handkerchief tied around her nose and mouth, and a large pair of tongs from God knows where. She disappeared into the kitchen when the phone on the other end was picked up.
"Hello?" a voice asked.
"Captain? This is Inspector DiMilo. I've completed surveillance on Danny's Place. I've found a scrap of paper with the words 'VC Ports, 2 pm, Wednesday'. I think they're planning to do something tomorrow afternoon."
"Good job. Type out the surveillance report, and hand it in to me first thing in the morning," Captain Jonathan Burrows replied.
"Captain, we have to act. We may be able to bring down Vercetti's illegal import/export business with one stroke. Let me handle it."
"Tony…you're a good cop. But you jump to conclusions too fast. No intelligent member of the Vercetti gang would do something this stupid. It's probably a ruse."
"We still have to investigate it. Give me a chance," Tony pleaded.
"No, at least without proper evidence. That piece of paper is not enough; the judge may say that you got someone to type it out for you. We can't perform a legal search. So, type out the surveillance report, and hand it in to me tomorrow."
"But—"
"Good night."
Burrows hung up, wondering what the hell Tony was doing. He was getting too reckless, too jumpy at work…hell, Ames should've given him some leave…at least he'd be recharged.
"Dammit!" Tony swore. Then, he walked over to his work desk, some distance away. His table held stacks of blank paper, some reports, a battery-operated lamp, and an electric typewriter, the kind that uses electricity to work instead of manual application of force. On the wall in front of it were photographs and certificates, of himself, of Chris, of his job. He furiously tore them all down from the wall, letting their crashes dissipate his frustration.
Meanwhile, Chris had cleared up the garbage from the floor, and removed a package from the refrigerator in the kitchen. Bringing it over to the dining room, she opened it, revealing a birthday cake, with two large candles and six smaller ones. She lit every candle with a match, and smiled inwardly.
She sat at the table, which had a clear line of sight to Tony's desk. She caught her husband typing away at his desk, and frowned. Getting up, she strode over to the light switches nearby and flicked them all off, leaving the house in darkness, the only light source being the candles.
She returned to the table, and waited.
A few seconds later, there was a snap, accompanied by a flash of light from the desk. Tony had activated the battery-powered lamp, and was using it to see and type his damn report instead of—
Chris angrily stood up, and marched over to Tony, blissfully unaware of his wife's presence.
"Tony! Have you forgotten today's my birthday!" she demanded of him.
She received a noncommittal grunt. Christine fumed, and turned around, arms crossed.
Tony stood up from his desk, reaching into his pocket and removing a small box. Walking to her, he tapped Chris lightly on the shoulder.
"Chris. Happy birthday. I didn't forget."
She turned around. Tony opened the box, revealing a pair of gold earrings, with diamond studs. They were simple, yet elegant in their simplicity. She beamed at him, instantly forgetting her anger. She hugged him tightly, and he reciprocated.
A second later, they walked over to the dining table, hand in hand. They sat down and snuggled up to each other.
"Make a wish," Tony whispered.
She closed her eyes, and did just that. Then, she opened them, and blew the candles out in one breath. Tony kissed her on the cheek, inhaling her scent: a light, yet heady, sweet feminine fragrance that intoxicated him deeply.
"What did you wish for?" he asked.
"I won't tell."
"Please?"
"You'll get angry," she answered with a small smile.
"Just tell me," he replied, a hint of persistence creeping into his voice.
"Well…I want you and Andy to patch up."
A moment of silence followed, as Tony's brain caught up with his ears.
"What!" he exclaimed, his face contorting into a snarl.
Grabbing his face, she kissed him deeply on the lips, and his anger melted away. He returned the kiss, letting everything he felt about Chris flow through and into her mind with that one action.
The doorbell rang. Christine broke away, and walked to the wooden door. Unlocking it, she swung it open.
"Yes?" she asked.
Andy was standing at the door, clad in a brown aviator's jacket, brown shirt, and blue denim jeans.
"Hello, Chris."
She remained frozen, stunned by his appearance.
"I want to talk to Tony," Andy continued.
Christine regained her composure, and brought him to the door. Telling him to stay outside, she walked into her home. Tony looked up at her.
"Who is it?"
"Promise me you won't get angry."
"…Okay," he replied, nodding.
Chris smiled, and let Andy in.
Andy walked over to his shocked brother, and smiled.
"Hello, Tony."
Tony scowled, stood up, and walked over to his desk. He rummaged through its drawers, found a packet of cigarettes, and lit one up, facing away from Andy.
"Today's your birthday?" Andy asked. Christine nodded.
"Ignore him!" Tony shouted.
Andy walked over to Tony, his mouth set.
"Tony, I don't care what you think of me, but I have to pass you a warning. Michael DeFrantz is in charge of Tommy Vercetti's gang here while Vercetti is in New York. He wants to neutralize the police force, and is specifically targeting you. If he won't bribe you, he'll target you. You must be very careful these days, Tony."
Tony stood up and walked even further away from Andy. Who was a gangster to tell him how to live his life? Shit, not even a gangster, he's worse than that. He killed his own father!
"Trust me!" Andy cried.
"No," Tony coldly rejected.
"Tony—"
"LEAVE!"
Andy sighed, and left the room, wishing Christine a good night. He walked out of the house, and back into the city.
"Tony, can't you give him a chance?" Chris demanded.
He turned to face her.
"Chris, because of him, my dad died! He killed him, even though he didn't pull the trigger, you understand? Can you trust a guy like him? I'm a cop; he's a criminal, and the two of us go our own ways! We have chosen a road for ourselves, and they will meet only when I arrest him!"
"Tony, please…"
He didn't listen. He was too busy thinking of what to do.
Author's Note: Again, I apologize for this chapter's shortness, but there's no way to fit in the next scene and still end it properly. I have plenty of homework, I need to study for tests, exams, and prepare for my 'O' levels this year…and I still have to help out with the NCC. That leaves me little time for writing…and I'm working on multiple stories at once. I hope you can understand. Okay, most of what happened is taken from the movie. Of course, there are other changes, notably Tony's conversation with the captain, several changes in dialogue, and Tony's extended final speech.