Chapter I - Souvenir
December, 1992
Sweet's House, Los Santos, San Andreas
"Tempenny's dead, as well as Pulaski and the Ballas… Grove kings!" Sweet Johnson cheered. He was celebrating with his brother Carl and drinking wine from a crystal glass.
"And don't forget our cut in the casino, the contacts with Vinewood and the modshop in San Fierro," Carl reminded.
"Yeah… Even though Grove's our home, it's always good to have a backup… Damn, this shit sucks!" Sweet said, looking at the glass of wine and throwing it away, breaking it onto a wall.
"Haha…" laughed Carl. "Hey, what about a couple of beers over at the Green Bottle? You can call your girl and I'll bring Denise over."
"Aight, bro…" Sweet concurred, picking up the phone and dialing his girlfriend's number.
Cipriani's Italian Ristorante, Saint Mark's, Liberty City
"And he dared to fuck one of my employees to get a key card!" said Salvatore Leone, who had just got back from Las Venturas and was talking with Antonio Cipriani while eating spaghetti.
"And what are you gonna do about it?" Toni asked.
"And the security won't give the money because they think I'm faking it all… Fucks. I'll have to sell the Caligula's. Some Avery Carrington guy's already making some propositions…" the Don said, not paying attention to his employee. "Damn, this pasta's great."
"But what about the thief?"
"Antonio, this is special. Carl Johnson's not some small time thug. The prick controls half San Andreas with the Triad. You're my most valuable associate." Salvatore said, looking straight in Cipriani's eyes. "I want you to take care of him yourself. Clean and efficient. I don't trust anyone else for this."
"Triad? "The" Triad?" the associate asked.
"Yeah. Their boss there is Wu Zi something, close friend to Johnson. I've sent a guy check out their protection there, and I think we can take them. The Triad controls the Four Dragons Casino, from which Johnson owns a part, and a gambling house in San Fierro. They're at war with some Vietnamese gang."
"Fine. When do you want this done?"
"Yesterday."
The Green Bottle, Los Santos, San Andreas
"And then he said: "I got caught up in the money, the power…"" Carl said, quoting Big Smoke's last words.
"Shit…" exclaimed Sweet, shaking his head negatively. "I never thought Smoke would do that, man…"
"Yeah… As he said, that's what money does with people."
"Anyway. I heard you been making moves in Venturas," Sweet said, laughing. "That you ripped off some Italian guy…"
"Yeah... Thanks to Woozie and Z."
"Yo, I gotta meet this jap... He's form the Triad, right?"
"Yeah, and Triad means Chinese, dumbass."
"Yeh? Fuck, they all look the same," Sweet said, raising his shoulders. "Shit, where's the girls?"
"I dunno, Sweet… Denise wasn't sure she was coming…"
"Oh, what the fuck. Let's drink."
Sex Club Seven, Redlight District, Liberty City
Toni Cipriani was picking the men to do the job in San Andreas. There were ten Leone thugs in line. He walked to one of them, pointed his gun to the goon's head and said:
"What would you do if I said that I'm going to blow your brains out, with no reason at all?"
"Ah… I don't know, Mr. Cipriani…" said the man, hesitating.
"Get outta here, dumbass."
When Toni was going to aim the gun to the next candidate, the goon pulled his gun and pointed at Toni's head.
"Now that's what I'm talking about," Toni said, smiling. "Get in the car, kid."
A few minutes and candidates later, Toni Cipriani had his group inside two black Sentinels.
"Follow me," he curtly said to the driver of one of the cars. He got inside the second car, filled with mobsters just like the other, and told the driver to go to the airport.
Grove Street, Los Santos, San Andreas
"Dude… What a night," said Carl. He and Sweet were drunk and alone, sitting outside their houses. They had just got back from the Pig Pen strip club.
"Yeah…" mumbled Sweet.
"Hey, what 'bout a race to Fierrosh?"
"Sure about that? I mean, we've drank a little…"
"Yeh, but we ain't drunk!" Carl said, negating his obvious condition. "C'mon!
"Aw, what the fuck, let's do it."
"Let's do it, bro," Carl yelled as he walked to his black Turismo and turned it on. Sweet stumbled to his blue Greenwood. Both Johnson brothers left the Grove Street, ramming their cars on lampposts until they reached the freeway and stopped in the middle of nowhere to sleep.
Las Venturas International Airport, San Andreas
A black limo parked in front of the airport, and a chauffeur in a matching uniform opened the doors, assisting the passengers to put their little baggage in the trunk of the car. Toni Cipriani sat on the backseat of the limo and opened a bottle of whiskey. One of the thugs sat on the front, along with the chauffeur, and the rest of them sat on the back.
"Hey, I'm Roarke," the driver said, opening the inside window. "So, what's the reason of your visit to Las Venturas, Mr…" he checked a paper from his pocket. "Cipriani?"
"Work… I'm visiting a client who lives in Los Santos," Antonio answered, quickly formulating a cover story. "But I have to buy a little something in Venturas…"
"What something?" asked the chauffeur. He had a strong redneck accent. "Maybe I know where to buy it, I know this town like my own hand! I've been living here since it was all desert!" he offered, cheerfully.
"Actually, no. It's a souvenir for my mother. You can stop by the Visage."
"Ah… Ok," finished the chauffeur, closing the inside window.
A few minutes later, the limo parked in front of the Visage Casino. Cipriani asked the driver to open the trunk and got out. He grabbed a square shaped briefcase and walked in Casino. He calmly walked to the check-in balcony and asked for Thomas Hanauer.
"You can find the manager in a few minutes, Mr. Cipriani," said the attendant. "I'll call him."
"Take your time…"
Some time later, a German look alike blonde man, wearing a dark blue suit and appearing to be about forty five years old, came out of an employee's only door and walked to Toni.
"Hey, hey, how ya doin', kid?" said the man, with a strong German accent. Even though Toni was almost thirty years old, lots of people called him 'kid', which annoyed him. "I'm Tom Hanauer. You are…?"
"Antonio Cipriani," answered the associate, who was wearing an informal black suit with a white shirt. "You must've met my mother, Mrs--"
"Ah, yeah, Mrs. Cipriani, yeah! She and I were great friends!" the man said, happily. "Anyway, how can I help you?"
"I need to talk to you," Antonio stated, and looked at the check-in attendant. "Somewhere more private."
"Sure, step into office," Thomas asked, smiling and leading Toni back to the employees door. They walked through a set of metal stairs inside a dark room until they reached a wide room; dozens of small TVs were transmitting from surveillance cameras inside the casino.
"Nice surveillance system you got there," the Italian commented. "Are they all over the casino?" he casually asked.
"Not everywhere, no… Take here, for example," Thomas waved and looked around the room. "No cameras, I have total privacy!
"Well. My mother sent me here to get her a souvenir, she said you would have it."
"Is it something from the casino?" Thomas asked, walking to a minibar and opening it, "Can I get you something to drink? Some wine, whiskey… A glass of beer, perhaps?"
"I'll take the beer," Antonio answered. Thomas grabbed a can of beer from the minibar and opened it, his back turned to the mobster. He started wondering what the woman he argued with more than twenty years ago -a discussion that ended up with Thomas calling her a "mobster whore"- wanted with him now.
Antonio opened his big briefcase. It was empty, except for the 9MM pistol with a silencer attached to its barrel, and an apparently empty black bag.
"She wants your head, Mr. Hanauer," Cipriani said coldly.
"Was das bum--" Thomas exclaimed, having his sentence interrupted by a projectile penetrating through his skull and stopping inside his brain, making him fall dead on the expensive red carpet. Toni grabbed the black bag and took a knife from inside it. He sliced the manager's throat with it and with a kick he broke his neck, making it easier to separate the member from the body. Cipriani grabbed the head and put it inside the black bag along with the bloody knife, putting everything back inside the square shaped briefcase.
"Job done, mom," Antonio said to himself.