A/N: Sorry for the lack of updating, I have lots of exams to study for and just didn't feel like writing recently. I hope this chapter was worth waiting for, I think it was. . .

One condo. My condo – spacious, cosy; a fold out bed and a dining table adorning opposing corners. A floor to ceiling window opened out over the crystal blue ocean. The mid afternoon sun beat through the glass making the room seem cheery and warm.

Pity I was just leaving.

I gathered my possessions (it didn't take long – an envelope of money and a set of house/car keys), trudged down the stairs and pushed the door out onto the parking bay.

I could actually choose which car I wanted to drive.

I took the Banshee, my Banshee, and took the sun drenched, glistening highway to Kenji's - awaiting renaming from Asuka, the legal owner, as stated in her brother's will.

They were waiting for me – a march of penguin suited Asian men, one female clad in a black PVC catsuit, zipped up to just above the ribcage waving to me excitedly and receiving strange looks from passer bys.

"A. .Asuka?" I managed, leaning out the car door.

"It's a mission!"

"You look like Catwoman." I joked.

"Just wait 'til you see yours." she answered. "C'mon, ditch the car round back, meet me out here."

I parked the car in the parking lot again and walked out front, trying to avoid eye contact and awkward discussions.

"Who's driving?" I asked the ground at my feet.

"Guess." said Asuka.

I nodded – should've seen it coming.

Asuka pointed up the straight and jumped up and down on the spot. I followed her gaze. A few blocks away, a large van – it looked like a painted Securicar – was gunning down the road towards us. The driver hit the E brake from a few metres away and screeched into position next to the pavement, engulfing us in a cloud of smoke. One of the hubcaps fell and trundled off lazily.

It wasn't a painted Securicar. It was a regular Securicar.

"Okay, okay! Everyone in! Now people, move!" Asuka yelled urgently.

"Didn't you say I had an outfit to put on?" I asked.

"You can do it on the way."

"While I'm driving?"

"Jem will drive then."

"Okay, so who's -"

"Everyone in the truck!"

Like soldiers the men marched into the van. Asuka disappeared for a moment and returned with a bundle of accessories.

"Your spy suit." she said, dumping the bundle on the floor. I picked up the clothes – matching pants and jacket, black/grey in colour (presumably for camouflage), black boots and a black balaclava.

Inside the balaclava was a gun, a .45 that fell into my free hand.

I removed my shoes, and the truck jerked into life, sending me to the ground, much to the amusement of the other men. I picked myself up, pulled the pants on on top of my own, slipped the jacket over my white shirt and tied the boots. Then I sat on the floor, scanning the unflinching, determined expressions of the other men, all standing.

Asuka appeared, crawling through a small gap between the front seats.

"Gentlemen," she said, beginning a steady pacing, "just a quick run through of our objective today.

"As you should all be aware, Donald Love, owner of Love Media and essentially all of Liberty City the way things are going, is involved in some shady dealings. One of ours traced a substantial shipment of new designer drug "SPANK", a key product in our rival organisation – the Cartel's – repertoire.

"As yet we have no information of what it is Love intends to do with this vast quantity of illegal substances, but we aim to find out. This is where you come in. You have been assigned by myself – and I am your boss now, in case any of you had doubts – to learn his plans, by infiltrating Love Media Headquarters undetected. Sounds easy, right? WRONG! Love has an unknown number of patrolmen stationed throughout the many storeys of his complex, with orders to simply shoot first, and ask questions later.

"We have confirmed that CCTV video cameras are positioned in the building and can be viewed from a control room located on the ground floor near the entrance. If we can seize the control room, I will keep watch for signs of danger and keep you all briefed via interlinked radio headsets. These also allow you to communicate with each other. You will find them in the bundle in front of you."

Half a dozen men reached down and scooped up a head set.

"We'll just give these a test. Everyone put theirs on." she said. She picked up a radio and softly spoke, "Test, test, do you copy?"

A thin crackle of static died and the voice came through clear as a bell. I confirmed through the microphone and heard my voice projected a millisecond later through seven radios.

"Excellent." continued Asuka. "Now, we are nearing our destination. Does anyone have any questions concerning our objective?" A pause, no questions raised. "Good. You have all been issued a hat to cover your face and a gun equipped with a silencer. I suggest you take no prisoners, shoot to kill and don't alert any guards. Remember, the bodies of the men you kill won't just disappear. Good luck."

The van slowed to a halt. Asuka grabbed the seats to keep her balance. A few seconds later the doors swung open with a loud creak and the men poured out, fitting their balaclavas and loading their guns.

The van was parked on the same side of road as the building. We ran heads down behind the van out of sight and gathered round Asuka, who was holding a floor plan of Love Media Enterprises.

"There's a camera outside the building so we have to be quick. The control booth is manned by one guard. Someone here must kill him before he sees us and calls attention to us." Her eyes raised towards me, I couldn't avoid eye contact this time. I cursed mentally. "Excellent. So, when ready, run in and the booth will be on your left as soon as you enter."

I got up off the ground, hunched slightly to keep behind the van. I poised – weight on my toes – checked the clip once more – you can never be too careful – and ran.

I sprinted round the front of the van, across the pavement, up the steps – keeping so close to the ground my face nearly hit the stairs – and didn't stop running even when I came to the door.

I wrapped my right arm across my chest, extended my bicep, forced all the weight onto my right foot and dived through the glass door, landing amidst jagged shards, rolling, facing the booth on one knee. I broke down the door with a right kick to reveal the fat man inside searching for a button to call for help.

I smirked a little.

I thrusted his chair from under him with a kick, grabbing his silk tie with my left hand, and held him dangling there, unable to scream, watching his face turn purple and his tongue retch out his mouth. I raised the gun to the back of his head while his flailing arms centred around his neck, nudged him with the barrel to instil even more fear into him and ejected a bullet into his skull, leaving him to slump lifelessly to the floor, as the spray splattered across the booth windows, blood oozing down. I nudged the body under a desk with my foot, a small silver piece of metal floundering in a sticky red pool beside his corpse.

Asuka walked through the shattered doorway – funeral procession speed, pall bearers shuffling to keep in time – clapping slowly but sincerely. The other men were staring at their shoes.

She brushed hair out her face, licked her lips. "Excellent."

She strolled past me into the booth, picked up the dead man's chair and sat at the control panels, adjusting her headset to look "more authentic".

She adjusted the seat, unzipped her catsuit even more, brushed her hair out of her face again, adjusted the chair some more, and spoke. "Gentlemen."

Half a dozen heads looked upwards with a series of muffled mumblings.

"Gentlemen, we are in." She smiled devilishly. "You three – Rin, Ryu, Jan – guard a floor each, including this one. Jan, you stay here with me, you two follow the rest of the group and break off at the first and second floor. The last few floors as we get closer to the top will be the most heavily guarded, so the remaining four of you will be sticking together to the top. Questions?"

One puzzled looking man raised a nervous arm.

"Yes?" questioned Asuka.

"Well. . .why do we have to go to the top? Our floor plan shows many of the facilities, including the laboratory and filing room to be on the tenth floor of this thirteen floor building."

"Very well." Asuka sighed, noticeably disappointed, "New plan. We will make our way to floor ten. There are seven of you, so Jan will remain here to guard the entrance with me. Rin and Ryu will position themselves at key entrance points to the tenth floor to eliminate approaching threats while the rest of you investigate the facilities. Meanwhile I will try to keep you a step ahead of the competition with these cameras and the communicative headsets. Questions? Good."

Seven guns loaded with a series of consequent clicks. Asuka half gasped, half screamed.

"What the hell is that?" She kicked the lump under the table, causing more blood to spew out the mouth.

"Sorry, should've warned you. . ." I said, suppressing laughter. She kicked the body again in disgust.

In the meantime, the question man walked to the elevator to the left of the control booth and pressed the button a few times. Immediately the doors flew open and his head was blown off, pieces of skull and brain dyed red exploding in all directions. The killer stood with an evil grin and flashed a smug wink. The doors started to whir – a sign they were about to close. I fired six – ting ting ting ting ting – metal against metal, doors deflecting bullets – then contact, between the eyes, the back wall painted red. And the doors stayed open just long enough to watch the guard collapse to the elevator floor, his protruding gun arm ripped off by the pressure of the closing doors.

A few wide eyed onlookers applauded, visibly shaking.

"Move out, people." croaked Asuka, averting her eyes. "T. . .take the stairs. Same plan."

We crept to the stairs in front of us, Rin and I ahead, the others behind us three abreast. Both hands firmly gripped around my weapons, I held it slightly to my right side, keeping myself pressed against the left wall in anticipation for the turn at the top. The stairs were grey concrete, the walls plastered white. The cold air and tension bounced off the walls. The steps levelled out onto the first floor, another plastered, off-white wall ahead, a ninety degree left turn with a uniformed hand showing two or three metres ahead. I motioned to the others to stay put, and whispered to Asuka through the headset, "How many guards are on the first floor? And whisper or you'll kill us all, godammit."

A moment's silence and then, faintly, "There's two. One right in front of you, the other guarding the other staircase at the other end of the building. But he's walking your way so he'll see you if you go up."

"Okay," I whispered to everyone, "don't move. Don't say a word."

I pressed my back against the wall, edging closer to the flailing hand, my gun on my chest, barrel pointing straight up. I stopped moving an inch from the edge of the wall, held my breath for good measure. I moved my left hand gingerly from the barrel and tensed the muscles into a claw like shape just above the oblivious man's hand round the corner.

Then in one sweeping movement I pivoted out from the wall while simultaneously yanking his hand towards me; when I found myself facing the man I caught him staggering backwards into my grasp, his face the same colour as the walls.

His pal came running just a little too quick, caught shots in the shoulder, went down hard on the linoleum. My guy writhed, pleaded incomprehensible ramblings, hit the ground running to make it a sport and took a bullet in the leg. I smothered him with my boot, keeping the weight pressed down until the panic ceased.

Four pairs of eyes peered around the corner, horrified. I motioned upwards – next floor. Hurried "yessirs!" and falling into step behind me as we took to the next floor, leaving a trail of dead.

We headed up to the next floor, so close to the ground as to almost be crawling, and stopped facing a double doorway, the second floor corridor behind it and to the left, the building's second staircase away along the corridor, forcing more care to be taken on stealth measures.

A small rectangular window revealed a careless guard's head. I made the signal to the others and covered the rest of the stairs to the door alone, pressing up against the left wall. I timed my actions based on the expressions of the four Japanese men on the stairs.

When their eyes widened, I poised myself. A slow creak filled the air. The door eased open, pulled by the man behind it. I saw a black leather shoe come down hard on the floor – he was running. I extended my leg, hooking his feet around it and sent him hurtling down the flight of stairs into a hail of gunfire, his bullet riddled body leaking vital organs at the bottom surrounded by some blood splattered men. You could hear the heartbeats.

Crackle through the headset: "you guys there?"

"Yeah, what?"

"They have guards positioned on every floor, you'll get nowhere if you keep going this way."

"Then what do we do?"

"Take the elevator – it's safe."

"Roger. Uh, Asuka. . ."

"Yes?"

"I thought you said these guys were highly trained. They just killed a man and they're fucking paralysed with fear."

"Sorry, but you must go on."

"Gotcha. We'll make the stop at floor ten, right?"

"Right."

I turned to the men, covered in droplets of drying blood. "You guys hear that?" A succession of nods followed, and I led to the elevator – along the corridor until about the middle. I stared at the cold metal doors, blood seeping through the crack, a couple of fingers still jammed. I reloaded a clip – safe, verging on paranoid.

I punched the button, waited, shaking a bit, staying focused.

A bell sounded, the door opened, revealing a bright orange cubical with a full size blood speckled mirror. We crammed in uneasily, the last one pushed the button for "ten" and the elevator rumbled upwards. The movement slowed, stopped. Four "men" hid behind me as the doors opened. A leg disappeared from view – a guard on patrol. The bell sounded, followed by a gruff "what?", and a burst of gunfire. Another body hit the floor in a heap.

We stepped out slowly, peering round the door frame for passing guards. The corridor was clean.

"Asuka," I whispered. "Are there any guards on this floor?"

"Some guards are occupying the laboratory and filing area, as well as other rooms that you don't need to go into."

"Okay." I said firmly. "Rin, go left, Ryu, right, stand next to the stairs and shoot the fuck out of anything that comes up. Kay?"

More nods. They ran in opposite directions, stopping at the doors.

Myself and the two remaining soldiers stalked the corridors, checking doors marked with various numbers. We approached a door covered in brightly coloured warning labels, chemical hazard notices, "keep out" signs. We ignored every one of them, and pushed the door open quietly.

Blue suited guards turned to face us with a succession of clicks, four or so guns pointed in our direction.

I glanced around the room – think fast – table by the door strewn with chemicals. Thought fast – grabbed a beaker, flipped the table, hit the deck, chemicals bubbling, fizzing. A disgruntled guard stamped over, I tossed the flask, screams, sizzling eyeballs and flesh. More running – idiots who don't think. I kicked a Japanese soldier, he sprang up shooting, cutting down the guards as they sprinted. Too easy – look around for evidence.

Coloured liquids bubbled, tubes littered desks, curiously marked jars begging to be opened. No powder. No SPANK. Fuck it, try the filing room.

The door read "bureau" with "private" stickers and empty threats about unauthorized access. I peered through the keyhole, seeing rows of filing cabinets stacked like bookcases, guards patrolling the aisles. I raised myself up to the square window, and saw four rows of filing cabinets, and two guards, one between the first two sets, the other between the last two.

I turned to the guys to explain my plan: "Okay, I can take out the first guy from here. But the second, he's up to you. I'll break down the door and run in, take some pot shots to alert the guard, then try and hide from him in the aisles. If he walks in your range, kill him. Got it?"

More scared nods.

I raised myself to the window again, watched the guard walk up and down idly, ducking every time he faced the door. When he started to walk away, I shielded my eyes and broke through the glass with the butt of the gun, spinning it in my grip so the barrel pointed forward. The man turned sharply, catching the first shot in the face, the next two merely to make sure he stayed down.

I ducked back down from the window, kicked at the door with my right leg and threw myself behind a shelf as the words, "hey, what the fuck!" filled the air.

I kept an ear to the floor, listening for footsteps. Repeated thuds came from left, I rolled right, saw a foot under the shelf. I shot, he jumped, started hopping. I vaulted to my feet, spun around the cabinets as the man stumbled round the corner. I peered through the space in the shelves, he was just hobbling into plain view of the men at the door.

"Fucking shoot him now!" I screamed, barging into the cabinet behind me, tipping it over, into the others, causing a domino effect. The guard yelped, the seven foot cabinet, crushed him into the floor. Two Japanese men waltzed by, shooting rounds into his skull.

"Good job." I said.

The radio crackled: "Check the files. Find anything, anything on this drug scam, or anything. . .incriminating."

"Roger."

Ten minutes in, fuck all to show for it. Losing hope, then shouts outside. Foreign yelling – Rin, Ryu – toss the paperwork, dive into the hallway guns ablaze.

An infinite corridor. At one end lay a corpse, at the other Ryu hid behind an overturned trash can. Guards stormed the hallway from Rin's staircase – about a dozen of them with heavy weapons.

Ryu flipped onto his stomach shooting, guards miles away evaded the shots. I slid behind the trash can with him, firing from my last clip – futile, but it stopped them running down this way.

Bullets whizzed by – blink and you're dead.

Heavier shots now – guards with 10 gauge pumps. Shells soared through the air, a grinding noise rose from my side – the two soldiers tipped a filing cabinet with a crash in front of us, blocking enemy fire.

We sat with our backs to the shooting, Ryu was shaking.

"Oh, fuck this!" I yelled, prying a shotgun from the cold fingers of a filing room guard. "I'm going alone. Stay here and for god sake cover me!"

I ripped the headset from my face and tossed it at the still trembling Ryu, and ran, hunched over, past the fallen shelf, to the elevator, shotguns blasting from my front, crappy silencers blasting from behind, deafening as they zipped past me and plunged into friend and foe. I jumped sideways into the still open elevator door, slamming my hand against the button on the way down, the door closing amidst sparks. I jabbed "thirteen" - the top floor, Donald Love's office – still catching my breath.

Low rumbling, droning, a tiny little window showing moving darkness. The movement slowed. . .

Ting.

Straight diving out the elevator door, scraping along the lush carpet on my side, pulling the trigger over and over. Sparks, shells, blood flew all round, three men tumbling to the purple shag clutching bloody wounds. The screams, low key yells echoed off the walls, a succession of muffled thuds as a roomful of corpses hit the ground seeping blood. Frantic gasping for air and heavy panicky breathing – my own.

Search the room – full size window as one of the four walls, a table propped in a wall-wall corner adorning a briefcase and small firearm. A shaking, huddled man, arms over head, rocking gently, tears streaming down his face, sat in the other. I approached with caution, testing my inside pocket for heat. Nothing. Sidesteps to the table – keep watching the nervous Donald Love. I stuck out a careful hand and slid the gun across the table, wrapped my fingers slowly around it – a magnum, six bullets, full clip – carried it over to the now motionless figure.

I raised the gun, aimed, shot into the wall above his head – startled him, he leapt into the corner. I towered over him with a sly grin, made hand motions – point at the gun, hold up six fingers, retract one – six minus one. He backed further into the corner, pressing against the walls until his knuckles turned white.

Ting. Shoot the elevator – automatic reflex – another man down.

Make that four.

Attention back on Love crawling towards the phone. Lucky shot, the phone exploded into a million plastic shards. Easy shot, in the hand – keep him where he is.

Flash another sly grin in his direction, hand gesture - "two", "watch this".

I spun the chamber – Russian Roulette style, two in six chance of death - I thrust the gun into his mouth and gently squeezed the trigger.

Click.

Lucky.

He quivered, pleaded, begged.

Ting.

I pivoted, click, click, click – all duds. Lucky – Asuka strolled out of the doorway, waving optimistically.

Donald's eyes widened to the point where they almost popped out his head. The colour drained from him.

"Nice to see you again Donald." She turned to me. "Let him go."

I thrust a foot into his back and pushed him towards Asuka. He tried to regain his balance but stumbled and fell to his knees in front of her, allowing her to place a knee high boot on his shoulder and further force him to the ground.

She snapped her fingers loudly, and Ryu walked obediently out of the elevator to tie Love's hands behind his back.

"Where are the others?" I asked.

"History." she replied.

"So what do we do now?"

Asuka ignored the question and spoke incomprehensible code into her cell phone.

"Now we wait."

We sat in the uncomfortable silence, disrupted only by the screaming Donald Love, still clutching his bloody hand as the liquid ran down his arm, staining the end of his shirt a dull maroon.

"Take him to the roof." said Asuka, before loudly walking to the elevator.

Ryu took Donald by his good hand and violently dragged him to the door in non-rhythmic jolts. He forced him through the frame with a forceful kick, and we went up, until the scrolling blackness from the window became broad daylight.

The door slid away to reveal a beautifully well kept garden, luscious greens and brilliantly colourful flowers in blues and reds and lilacs surrounded the courtyard.

"So, what do you intend to do with him?" I asked Asuka as we strolled through the garden.

She sighed, "we intend to interrogate him in surroundings more familiar to us, with high quality interrogation specialists. We think. . ."

A few feet away, Ryu tossed Love onto his front and joined the conversation.

"He would not talk. I put a handkerchief over his mouth so he doesn't scream."

"He shouldn't scream." said Asuka.

"He just got his hand shot!" I yelled.

"Pft. Baby." muttered Asuka. "I will deal with him." She turned on the spot and started a perky walk. "Oh, Donald!" She stopped dead. "Fuck! Where the hell is he?"

"There!" I yelled, spying Donald, bent over backwards due to the cuffs, rocking himself closer to the edge of the building.

"Fucking catch him!" yelled Asuka, jumping up and down frantically on the spot.

I lunged forward, landed on my left foot, and threw myself to the ground, inches away from the edge, where I extended my arm, hooking it around the cuffs as Donald took a plunge.

The weight pulled me, dragged me closer to the drop, I yelled in terror, and I knew Donald was yelling, his screams muffled by the bright red handkerchief covering his face. My legs ploughed through the grass, I tried to grab on with my free hand and found myself pulling lumps of dirt and flowers from their roots. And we kept sliding.

I couldn't feel anything supporting my legs, I started to tip, panicked, one of my flailing legs caught in a drainpipe, swinging me face first into glass. But we had stopped falling. We hung there – it felt like my arm would come out my socket, but I hung there, Donald's cuff's around my hand, both of us swaying in the breeze.

One look down was all it took – I saw the millions of brightly coloured specks and black dots that made up the bustling Staunton Island High Street – and I was paralysed. Below me was a thirteen storey drop, and I was already on the verge of plummeting.

"Fucking help!" I shouted, drowning Donald's muffled pleas.

"Hang on!" yelled a female voice, although I could barely hear it, the blood rushing to my head was affected my hearing.

Just then a low pitched whirring , each one throwing a blast of wind towards us, became audible, and increased in volume.

I decided to open my eyes – a chopper was hovering below us.

I could just about make out Asuka saying "You're saved!"

"How am I fucking saved? Because I get to be chopped to pieces if I fall?"

A hazy reply said something about a window cleaner platform. I should jump to it, just below us, and take it down to the chopper.

"Fucking kidding!"

I sucked up some courage, started swinging myself from side to side, gaining momentum. If I could just reach out a little further I could grab the ropes, and shimmy down to the platform.

I kept swinging, reaching, swinging –

I dropped the cuffs.

It all just slowed down, I was stiff with shock, as this limp body fell, hand still bound together, from my still reaching hand, down, down to the cyclone of the propeller blades with an agonising, blood curdling scream. Gallons of blood shot back up, bits of flesh and bone, shards of metal from the cuffs – it splattered all over my clothes, my chalk white face, the windows, everything.

Then slowly, carried only by the wind, the bright red handkerchief floated away.

"Oh. . .holy shit. . ." I whispered, still lost for words.

I heard footsteps coming from above, Asuka and Ryu popped their heads over the side of the building.

"I. . .I fucking dropped him. . ."

"Agh!" yelled Asuka, "Now how will we find out what he wanted the drugs for!"

"I. . .I saw a briefcase on the table in his lounge. . . maybe it's there." I whispered, taken aback by Asuka's lack of emotion concerning Donald Love's mutilation.

"I'll go see. You get to the helicopter."

I took the platform down adjacent to the chopper, and climbed aboard, and we ascended up the side of the building to pick up the survivors with the briefcase. The chopper blades flicked blood with each spin.

The journey away from the place was in total silence. I was still speechless after what I had witnessed and caused, Asuka was busying herself with the files she had stolen, and Ryu hadn't said much all day and didn't appear to want to start now.

The pilot lowered, and dropped me off near my condo.

Asuka muttered her thanks and they took off just like that.

I was glad to get in. My clothes stank of blood and sweat, and I really had to lie down, and drink to forget what I had seen, even if only for the night. . .

A\N: That'll be probably my last update til around Christmas. Sorry, but exams really suck.