At one am Fred was sitting on his bed, still awake, contemplating his decision. For some reason he didn't want to tell Tommy, but felt like he had an obligation to fulfill. He was confused.

At two thirty he was so drowsy he almost fell asleep standing up. He took a seat, ready to turn the light off. His door slowly opened. His heart jumped. "What?" he whispered.

Tommy stood at the doorway. "Fred? It's two thirty in the morning, what are you doing up? You ain't smoking are that shit you?"

"No, no-Tommy. Just having a hard time sleeping."

"Is something wrong?"

"No-no, no Tommy. Everything's fine."

"Alright, but you should get some sleep." Tommy disappeared from the doorway.

It seemed like an eternity, but the clock slowly passed, it was almost four am. By this time, Fred was passed out against the wall with the lights on, drooling on his shirt.

The door creaked open. A masked man approached the unconscious body. Fred eyes exploded open. He was staring at the face of a killer- blocked by a black wool ski mask. It was too late to scream. A silenced 9mm was pointed at his head; Fred staring down the barrel. The silenced shots were thwips, unheard by the rest of the building.

Fred's body silently shocked after each shot- the bullets drawing dark red holes in his body. Some of the warm red liquid poured out of his mouth as he slid to the side, leaving a stain against the wall- his chest covered in blood soaked clothing.

The next morning Tommy was headed downstairs. Groggy, he stepped into the living area, passing a few men and then heading down the hall. He pushed open the door to Fred's room. "Fred?" Tommy examined the room, checking every little detail. Hillary's bed was empty, she slept upstairs with Tommy. The room was fixed up as if nobody had ever been there. Tommy dismissed anything bad had happened and went on with his day.

Two hours away, next to Carcer City lies a vast wasteland. The sun beats down hard on this sandy valley. About five minutes off of the State Highway, a Green Vincent came to a stop in the wasteland. Butabi and Jonathan stepped out of the car. The heat could be seen rising off of the ground in the distance; Butabi's underarms became wet with sweat.

"I can't take much more of this shit." Butabi announced.

"Just a little more." Jonathan replied.

"So, are you-uh. Sure he saw?"

"Yeah, Hillary said so. I trust her. I have to."

Both men were digging one large grave in the sand. Eventually they finished and pulled a body out of the trunk. It was limp; wrapped up in a black trash bag with some blood gathering inside. Butabi tossed the body into the hole carelessly. Before burying the rest of the body, Butabi put a few more bullets into Fred's lifeless corpse. "Only eleven in the fucking morning and it's already eighty degrees over here?" Butabi mumbled as they finished the job. After the body was covered the two men retreated to their car and sped off- back up the cold mountains and up to sea level where Liberty City waited.

Tommy sat on the couch in his expensive robe. Hillary was tugging at his arm. "Please Tommy?" she pleaded.

"No, sorry babe."

"Please?"

"I can't- I'm not in the mood, I'm not dressed." Tommy dug his hand into a bad of Doritos he had.

"Well then get dressed. Please I'm hungry. Please?" she leaned over and kissed his softly on the lips.

"You know-" he sighed, "You're like a dog, woman. Fine, I'll get dressed."

"Thanks sweetie. I'll be waiting outside." Hillary exited the building. Above, the sun heated up the city, melting a little of the ice and snow. Soon clouds would block the sun and the weather would become freezing again. It was four thirty pm, Hillary waited outside in a fashionable coat-keeping her warm from the still cold temperature.

Tommy eventually appeared at the door. Behind her, Hillary held the thumbs up sign for a few seconds. Tommy was struggling with a leather jacket, his hair was slicked back and had a newly shaved beard. He approached Hillary with a smile on his face. It disappeared.

A Sultan (vehicle) came to a stop, a mysterious man dressed in black and wearing a ski mask grabbed Hillary before she could react. She screamed intensely, hitting the man who was grabbing her. The vehicle sped off.

Tommy reached for the Single Action Army he kept in the coat. He couldn't bring himself to shoot at the car from his position; he could hit Hillary. A rush of adrenaline brought him to action. He dove into the street, bringing a Sentinel to a stop. He forced the business man out of his vehicle and gave chase. The tires screeched as he punched it.

He followed the Sultan, heading towards the Shoreside Lift bridge. "Great. A mother-fucking street racer." Tommy mumbled to himself. He was referring to the Sultan; a classic mod car for street racing. Amazingly, Tommy kept right up with the street racing vehicle. Once every minute or so, Tommy took a shot with the powerful revolver with his untrustworthy left hand.

He cursed as loud as he could. The chase lead off of the bridge and along the freeway towards Southern Staunton Island. As they sped past traffic a black hooded man leaned out the window, holding an MP5. The bullets sparked as they entered the hood. The repetitive pattern repeated itself until the vehicles came to a screeching stop outside of a skyscraper at the northernmost block of urban environment on Staunton Island.

The three armed assailants rushed through the entrance to the skyscraper as Tommy reloaded his Six Shooter. He went in after them. There seemed to be no civilians around. Tommy entered the Lobby. The floors, walls, and columns in the lobby were all made of marble. Through the doors hanging lights lit up the room; showing Tommy his enemies. Three armed men in bullet proof vests wielding MP5's were standing in front of the front desk. They three who had Hillary continued into an elevator on the opposite side of the room. The walls exploded as the gunshots rang out. Tommy dove through the gunfire to take cover behind a column near the front entrance.

And evil glare in Tommy's eyes. There were shouts in the background, then more shots rang out. Tommy gripped the revolver close to his head, in both hands. He cursed with a high level of anger, at such an intensity that he caught one armed assailant off guard. The revolver put a hole in his head. Tommy continued down the lobby, bullets plummeting though the air, coming closer and closer to his body. Some more shouts, "Robs down! Robs down!"

Peeking around a column, Tommy shot again and another man dropped to the floor. "Son of a bitch!" even more shots rang out, coming from the front of the lobby. Tommy quietly waited for the firing to stop. As soon as it did he dashed into the open, the last man attempting to jam a clip into his MP5. Tommy brought him down. The lobby was now covered in the all to familiar battle scars.

He dashed to the elevator, glancing at the one they took Hillary up in. It stopped four floors from the top.

In the elevator, Tommy emptied his revolver, unaware of how many shots he had just used. He reloaded anyway. He took a few large breathes, waiting for the doors to open. Two men stood in a room, in front of a hall as the doors opened. At the second they saw Tommy, they jumped; retreating into the hallway, "Oh shit! He's here!" one of them cried out.

Tommy sprinted down the hall following the men to the stairs. He was close behind them. The stairs were cement, in a jagged 'back and fourth' pattern all the way to the top. Tommy held out his revolver, taking a shot. The stray bullet hit a metal bar, reflecting off it and into a mans back. He stumbled onto the stairs, as Tommy sprinted by him his brains exploded onto the stairs from the shot. Finally they reached the roof. Tommy burst through the door.

The wind was blowing furiously, and clouds were vibrant in the sky and the sun high above them. The city looked cold, as did the ocean, the clouds, the mountains in the background, and Tommy himself. The roof was moderately plain, no railing, a few large AC vent's, and that was about it.

Hillary was in a headlock by a Yardie, a .45 pointed to her head. King Courtney standing to the right of Hillary. Butabi was also to the left. Two Yardie gunmen held MP5s, ready to shoot on Q at Tommy.

Tommy was outnumbered, and outgunned. "You'd better drop it, Tommy." King Courtney warned. Tommy shot an unfriendly look to Courtney, who was smiling. "What are you gonna do? Shoot me? You'd be dead before you could say 'cake'."

"Boss," Butabi spoke, "who the hell is that?" He pointed behind Tommy (who was still aiming the revolver). Courtney shrugged.

The gun cocked. "Freeze, Tommy." That voice was so familiar. Could it be? Tommy's eyes widened, he glanced behind him. His heart rate jumped.

"It can't be!" Tommy cried, "You! You're back!"

A/N: Expect the unexpected and review this fic. Thanks, Aaron