The cold sensation at the back of his neck was the large barrel of a Desert Eagle. It buried itself in an inch of hair, ready to blow his head off. The wind became fiercely cold, as if they were on the peak of a mountain. The air became spotted white; the snow had started to come back whilst the sun still shining through a giant hole in the frozen clouds which floated above.
There were five Yardies: two gunmen, Butabi, Courtney, and the thug holding Hillary hostage. Tommy's Single Action Army was eager to shoot and tear the head of the thug who had Hillary. The old man from the hotel stood like a statue; his right hand extended to the back of Tommy's neck where the Desert Eagle rested in his hand. Under his black trench coat lay two more firearms; .45's. Everybody upon the rooftop were eyeing each other, sending warnings and threats through their eyes.
Tommy was confused; the shotgun hit him, no one could have survived that shot. And even so, why didn't he turn the photographs in? Well, it wasn't worth dwelling on the past, what mattered now was in the present. He was in a sticky situation and had to get out.
"Andrew Castillo." The old man spoke, his voice rough and raspy. "You killed my wife you asshole."
"Wow." King Courtney said. "Tommy had made a few enemies." Andrew drew out a .45 with his left hand, pointing the weapon towards Courtney. The gunmen switched targets; they were now aimed at Andrew. "Your making a mistake, old man."
"Who the hell are you?"
"Don't," Tommy warned, "Andrew, if you want to live past today, I would strongly suggest you put your weapons down and leave this place."
"No! Fuck you! You killed my wife. She was all I had left," his voice became teary. "God damn you. I swore that night you'd pay. I swore you'd pay!"
"What did you do with those photos?"
"I destroyed em'. Told the cops you took em'. I had to kill the little bastard- you, myself. But now, you must die." He pulled back the hammer.
Tommy pushed backwards, pulling up his left arm and slamming it down on Andrews, knocking the .45 out of Andrew's hands, both guns he held fired. One bullet, the one aimed towards Hillary, drilled into the thugs forehead producing a small crimson squirt as he dropped to the floor.
Tommy Twisted his hand and the Desert Eagle was now aiming into Andrews stomach. He was forced pulled the trigger and then the life left Andrews body. Tommy pulled the corpse in front of himself; it shocked every time the Yardies bullets hit the body. Through the cross fire, Hillary forced herself towards Tommy. She bent over to retrieve the .45 which was in Andrews other hand.
The gunshots stopped. Tommy's revolver was still lethal in his hands; aimed at the gunmen. The two groups exchanged threatening words and no shots were fired. A helicopter's propeller blades were swishing in the background along with the wind. To check on Hillary, Tommy shot a look back at her, she was holding up the .45 and looking more menacingly than ever. Deadly beautiful.
He moved towards Hillary, still keeping his revolver aimed at the Yardies ahead who were waiting expectedly for something to happen; not firing and not even blinking an eye. "Hillary, run. Go now, I'll take car of this."
She pulled the hammer back; pointing the gun at Tommy. "No."
"What?" Tommy's looked back, his eyes widened, his voice cracked. "No." He stood shell-shocked, "No." His eyes were getting watery, "No, no. Not you. No. Not now" An evil grin grew from ear to ear upon Hillary's beautiful face.
The small pistol's shot echoed through the silence; traveling through the air throughout the city. Just under Tommy's left shoulder a small red hole exploded, the blood staining his clothes. His body became numb, his injured arm clammy. She was about to shoot again, Tommy made the hard choice of shooting his love. The Single Action Army mangled her head.
He collapsed under pressure; his eyes filling with tears. He was over, ruined. His body refused to move as he attempted to. He sat on his knees, the Yardies staring him down a few yards ahead, ready for him to attack. He never did. The large six shooter dropped from his hands, clanging loudly against the roof.
The large white Maverick appeared, it moved slowly, gaining enough height to lower onto the building. King Courtney motioned for his men to get onto the chopper. Tommy still sat dazed from the shock, the helicopters wind blowing in his face. He wasn't going to go out like this.
With all of his anger, all of his hatred, he would kill Courtney if he had to die trying. The revolver returned to his hand, the Desert Eagle Andrew had also joined. The Maverick was about to lift off when Tommy arose from his seat. His scream exploding with anger; he emptied the clip of the desert eagle and the revolver at the helicopter. One of the gunmen dropped from the chopper as if lifted off, bouncing lifelessly off the rooftop.
The large man, Butabi, leaped from the Maverick; his landing shaking the ground around him. Tommy discarded the empty firearms. His shoulder was numb with pain, but that wouldn't stop him from killing them. All of them. They had to die.
The chopper disappeared below and Butabi was approaching Tommy, and intimidating look on his face. He cracked his knuckles as he neared, Tommy raised his fists, the tension could be cut with a knife. The grin drew from ear to ear upon Butabi's large circular face. It wasn't long before Tommy attacked with all of him might on the first punch, screaming with rage as the fist flew into Butabi's face. He didn't move, and he did not flinch. Tommy's fist remained embedded within his face when Butabis oversized left hand wrapped around Tommy's wrist.
He was caught and he couldn't break free. Unable to escape, Butabi's right fist flew through the air. Tommy's head bounced back and his vision blurred; he could see Butabi's fist moving away in slow motion, a small stream of blood flying through the air out of his nose. He almost fell. The fist charged up and came again, the sound of the punch pleasing Butabi. He loosened his grasp, Tommy wearily stumbled away, his face numb and bloody. He grabbed his wounded shoulder, the pain worsening with every breath. When his focus came back he retreated a few yards back. Butabi charged, his had in front of him. Without any defense, Tommy was trusted back from the head-but. His chest throbbing in pain, it was hard to breath. Butabi stood still, preparing his next move.
Next to Tommy, on the ground, was Andrews dead body. A small metal handle visible under his corpse. The old man arriving was fate; Tommy could kill Butabi with the extra firearm Andrew was carrying. Tommy reached for it. It was a the other .45, loaded and ready to fire. He raised the handgun, firing three shots into Butabi's chest, then a few more towards his head. He stumbled a foot or two, coughed up blood, then fell over and died.
The Maverick was still hovering around the building, awaiting Butabi to finish his business. Butabi was dead; the Maverick was still hovering around. The gunman opened fire. Tommy strafed across the rooftop, emptying the clip of the .45 into the Mavericks metal frame while dodging the MP5's gunfire.
Now out of weapons, Tommy had to dodge the oncoming gunfire for roughly three more minutes. That was when he spotted the other dead gunmen. The shots stopped firing, probably to reload. He sprinted to the body, picking up the sub machine gun. He emptied the gunman's pockets of ammunition, ready to fight back he stood up.
The Maverick hovered in place over the roof. Tommy felt invincible; he felt no pain, only anger. They were about to leave. "No!" he shouted. "No yet! It's not over yet!" he coaxed.
He raised the MP5, opening fire on the Maverick. It was a game of dodge, fire, reload and then repeat. The battle continued five minutes later. With two clips left, Tommy continued to fight, screaming the entire time. The gun clicked, time to reload. He dashed towards a ventilation box, taking cover while he shoved the metal clip into the chamber. It clicked, he cocked it, and returned to strafing to the other side of the building. About halfway through this clip, two bullets hit his leg, tearing through the flesh, splattering blood upon the roof. He continued to fight through the pain, stumbling along the way. At the end of the clip the Maverick began to emit smoke and sparks. As he reloaded he could hear the arguing between the pilot and Courtney. They didn't leave. That was a stupid decision.
More bullets sprayed over the area where Tommy was, he had been hit again and again. Tommy was blood covered but he kept shooting. Finally he saw fire upon the Maverick and kept his gun pointed at it. At last it clicked empty, he tossed the weapon aside with great force. "The final shot." He grinned as he dashed to the other side of the roof, stumbling due to his pain; he had been hit, he didn't know how many times.
The chopper was behaving erratically, spinning around and lowering it's height. Coal black smoke puffed out of the engine of the helicopter; the computers beeping out of control and it was making stalling noises; it wasn't long before fire engulfed the entire aircraft. The screams satisfied his thirst for revenge.
The taste of blood in Tommy's mouth; it overflowed his lips. He watched through his pain as the flaming chopper dove towards a nearby office building. It shattered hundreds of window panes as it clashed into the side of the building, tearing up the guts of the building. Spectacular sparks and flames shot from the crash into mid air along with propeller blades and debris.
The flame and smoke trailed off. It left a burning hole in the building; civilians screaming and fleeing the area below. Just another normal day in Liberty City. A final explosion roared through Staunton Island. It engulfed a few floors of the office building in flame.
Tommy slowly made his way towards Hillary's body, almost collapsing from the pain and fatigue. Blood was dripping from his mouth and chest and legs. His constant cough was always filled with blood. The pain went away.
He stared down upon Hillary's body, his blood dripping over her. A tear dripped down upon his cheek. He spat upon her mangle corpse, and continued to the edge of the roof. Inside of the burning office building were the charring bodies of Kingpin and his gunman. The last remaining 'super' power in Liberty city had fallen.
A smile came upon his face. His legs collapsed, giving up on Tommy, finally. His body fell off the side of the building. A loud metal clang. He landed upon a scaffold a few floors below, unconscious. His body was draped in blood. Sirens below, Liberty's never ending fire department and police squads heading towards the conflict zone.
Tommy Vercetti had survied; through the pain and suffering, he is now the last remaining figurehead in Liberty City. He would surley be arrested; sent to a prison hospital but he would easily get out. And then it would be time to go for mayor O'Donovan. He would own Liberty City, as he did Vice City. Once this was completed, it would be time to rid the city of petty rivals i.e. the yakuza, South Side hoods, the last of the Yardies, and the last of the weakened Cartel. The Triads and Diablos were in the city no more, making Tommy's job that much easier. Liberty City would be his.
A/N: So... what did you guys think? An extras page will be posted; it will list the characters, the reasons for the name changes, the tie-ins, which characters died and how, possibly an epilogue, the special thanks, and a few more goodies I might put in.