The sun's light was block off by a heavy sheet of clouds. The temperature lowered to about twenty degrees at eleven am. The ice cold water sizzled as the steaming hot, flaming metal of what was left of the Maverick sank into the small pond of water. Black smoke trailed about thirty feet above, showing the path from the choppers decent into the water.

The partially black and charred Maverick hit the bottom. The water was beautiful, a crystallized look from down under along with thousands of tiny air bubbles racing to the top. Tommy's body began to float along with the bubbles to the top. He broke through the top layer of water, coughing vigorously as he hovered over the middle of the pond. Using what scarce energy he had left, he pushed towards land.

He found himself laying upon frozen grass, his body numb, limp, shivering and his skin turning purple. A few more minutes like this and he would be dead. A green Tahoma pulled along the street yards away from Tommy. The driver was dressed in ragged clothing, a black shirt, tan pants and a tan vest. He had one-foot-long dreadlocks, Jamaican-looking. His passenger looked alike, but dressed in large blue jeans and a black jacket. He was huge; his muscle's unreal, but also overweight as well.

The large man exited the vehicle and started towards Tommy. He stared down upon Tommy, who was fiercely shivering upon the grass. Snow slowly covering him, he would die in due time. He grabbed Tommy, putting one of his oversized hands on his shirt, the other completely around the back of his neck. He returned to the Tahoma, carrying Tommy like a stray cat, with no struggle at all due to Tommy's fatigue. He opened the back door and tossed Tommy in like a rag doll. The Tahoma sped off before more LCPD arrived.

Later that day, Tommy awoke to a warm environment. He felt rejuvenated, covered in warm blankets and warm clothes. He opened his eyes and found he was in a very expensive looking, warm house. When he looked out the window, the thought of a house disappeared. A very tall building, an apartment building, due to the extraordinary view of Staunton Island below. The walls were dark brown, the floor a brown carpet with decorative rugs amongst the room. Exotic colored plants, furniture, paintings, even the doors created a warm and welcoming environment.

Not knowing where he was, Tommy arose from the comfortable recliner he was in. He shed off his large wool blanket. He examined his new threads; very blue levis, a cotton white shirt and another brown, white, blue, and grey stripped long-sleeved shirt with a collar. Only three buttons were buttoned and the sleeves were rolled up to just below his elbows. Tommy continued to the red door, opening it to another dark colored room. This one filled with a white couch, a polar bear carpet, a large Plasma screen TV, a brown-themed kitchen, various exotic plants, and a large fireplace. The smell of fire along with the constant crackling seemed oddly warm and comforting. To the left a large window let in bright blue daylight, outside was the now snow-covered downtown Staunton island, a beautiful view in which you could see all the way to the mountains in the North, past the ocean.

The door opposite of Tommy opened. The driver of the Tahoma stepped out slowly, the large passenger after him. He raised his hands as he spoke, "Look. sleepin' beauty has awoken." he spoke just like the Yardies did. The large man took a seat on the couch, examining Tommy. "Tommy."

"Who the fuck are you?" Tommy replied.

"I saved you man, from all of that shit that went down back there."

The large man spoke up, he had a deep Voice and spoke in a different accent than the Yardies did. "Hey, you treat him with respect boy. Or, uh, dude."

"Who are you?"

"Tommy," spoke the driver, "I am King Courtney. Of the Yardies."

"What the hell am I doing here?"

"You are here-to be given a warning man."

"Huh?" Tommy shrugged.

King Courtney smiled. "Butabi, show him what I mean."

The large man who's name was revealed as Butabi, arose from his seat and approached Tommy with a menacing look in his eyes. Tommy took a step back, staring into Butabi's large brown eyes. The attack was quick, less than a second and Butabi had punched Tommy extremely hard on his right cheek, bringing him to the ground. A few seconds passed and Tommy's view retuned. His face already ached, it was numb and felt like it was vibrating.

Tommy pushed himself back up. Butabi again threw his fist, this time cutting the skin under Tommy's eye as he forcefully dropped to the floor. He decided to lay there. Then Butabi's intimidating voice rang out, "Get up! Get up or I'll kill you!"

Tommy surrendered, rising from the floor once more. Butabi grabbed his neck, lifting him a foot off the ground. He held him in that position for thirty seconds before commanding: "Fight back. Fight back or die!" Butabi tightened his grip and Tommy began to struggle more while coughing, gasping for air. In the next few moments, eye lids closed. Butabi opened his hand and Tommy dropped to the ground.

Seconds later Tommy opened his eyes, standing up. "Now, get outta here man." King Courtney commanded, pointing at the door. "And never, never return to Portland or Staunton. We have more troops and merchandise you would ever think of. And if you do, we'll kill Hillary, and everyone you know."

Tommy's world was blurry and the ground shifted. He stumbled out the door dizzily, to return to Shoreside Vale-the only place the Yardies had no interest in.

It was almost ten pm by the time Tommy arrived at the warehouse (in the Esperanto he stole from an elderly woman). Slowly, he parked across the street and crossed the slow moving traffic to the hideout. He entered the back door, catching many looks from his men because of his clothing.

The next day Tommy was sitting at a table in the living area. The living area was a two hundred square foot, square-shaped room with one hallway down to the other side of the complex. It was warm in this winter time, a few cinnamon candles were lit giving off a pleasant aroma. The walls were green with brown trim, the ceiling was grey and had large industrial lights hanging the ceiling which was twenty feet up in the vast open space. There was a TV in the corner of this custom made room and two couches sit perpendicular to each other, across from the medium sized TV. The doors in this room are painted brown, various paintings hang from the walls and plants bring the rooms warmth and comfortableness to life. The guts of the warehouse were put together by Tommy's construction group. Before it was a large, empty warehouse with vast open space, then Tommy's construction team built all of the inside walls and staircases, making it more of a building than the warehouse it looked from the outside (without the windows of course). There were only two floors, but the building was still very roomy and warm with the new heating system which ran throughout the warehouse.

Tommy sat at a large wooden dinning table in a matching, uncomfortable, wooden chair with an amber bottle of beer in hand. "Hey," he spoke, "turn it to channel twenty four." one of his men grabbed the remote. The TV flickered, then a familiar jingle sounded:

"Liberty News"

The screen showed young anchorwoman Michelle Burk; long blonde hair. "Hi, glad your back, we now go to the Mayor of Liberty City at Town Hall."

The screen showed Mayor O'Donovan step up to a podium in front of a large blue curtain. "Residents of Liberty City, I stand before you today, to address a situation that has come before us. This city, could fall to its knees. I fear that an infectious disease has come upon Portland Island, and is needed to be evacuated." This message would be screened and hear throughout all of Liberty City. "Late last night, shortly after the aftermath of a gang shoot-out in Portland, the body count became extremely high. It attracted the Department of Health Services. Due to the large amount of the deceased in Portland, everywhere from rooftops to alleys, inside building to cars, along sidewalks- this is an amazing health hazard, the DHS has already confirmed the existence of three major diseases. You may call this number to learn more. For now, I Mayor O'Donovan, am announcing the evacuation of Portland Island, Liberty City. FBI units will be escorting you to one of three checkpoints. They are: Callahan Bridge, Porter Tunnel, and the Portland Subway. At these checkpoints, you will be tested for the disease. If you test positive, you will be quarantined and shipped to a State of the Art medical facility in Vice City. If you test negative, you will evacuate the city and be transported to Carcer City, where they have a visitors shelter and-" the TV flicked off. By this time, a crowd had gathered in front of the TV.

"They've been playing that message all day." announced Tommy.

"So," spoke of the gang, "that means Portland will be cut off from Liberty."

"Yeah," Tommy agreed, "and what else does that mean?"

"The Triads and Diablos will be gone." spoke another.

Tommy pointed at the man speaking, "Exactly."

"But, do you think they'll leave. They will resist, right?" he continued.

"They're gonna have to go. They have units all over Portland," Tommy began to walk to the other side of the room smoothly and quickly. "I mean, they have all sort of law enforcement here, from every state three hundred miles away."

"The Triads, and Diablos. They're screwed. They won't be back."

"Yes, but I don't think they'll go down without a fight." Tommy pointed out.

The man Tommy was having a conversation with started moving towards Tommy. As he passed, he looked Tommy straight in the eye, "Well see, Tom." he continued by.

With nothing else to do for today, Tommy retired to the couch watching Liberty City Survivor. It wasn't long before Fred took the empty seat upon the solid-white couch. "So, uh Tommy. I was wondering."

"Wondering what?" Tommy spoke aggressively. He seemed to be in a irritable mood, Fred contemplating weather he should ask for a few seconds. Out of the silence Tommy spoke again, "What? Fred."

"About, the-those bruises, and cut. On you face." Fred scooted back a few inches.

Tommy looked at Fred, "Ugh," he glanced back at the TV. "Just another gang trying to scare me from their territory."

"When was this?"

Tommy leaned up to the small end table, taking a drink of the amber liquid inside of a glass bottle. "After the chopper I was on crashed."

"Crashed?"

"Yes, crashed."

"Well, how did-"

"Don't ask."

Fred shook his head and left the couch. He slowly walked down the hallway, out of sight of Tommy. The young and beautiful Hillary passed him in the hall (heading the opposite direction), he continued past her, towards the end. As he entered his room, he glanced out the hallway. Jonathan Léon (The French spy who worked for the Don of the Padrino family) and Hillary stopped next to each other for a split moment. They turned heads towards each other, Fred saw her wink at Jonathan. They leaned close and their lips touched. Fred ducked back into his room. Jonathan passed his room on his way out.

Fred's heart was beating, Jonathan was going to be killed if Tommy found out about this. Curious, he returned to the living area. Just as he suspected, Hillary and Tommy were cuddled on the couch. Then it was true.

A/N: Please Review!