Morning arrives, and you're dressed and ready for action. Your next targets: eliminate Marcus Hammond and Franco Carter, two members of a European gang planning a bank heist. As you approach the jewelry store, you spot Hammond and Carter in a Bobcat car, their eyes scanning the area with a sense of unease. You take cover behind a nearby building, observing them from a distance. Your instincts tell you that something isn't right.
You see them passing a small package between them, their expressions guarded and secretive. Your mind races as you try to piece together what's happening. Are they planning something bigger than just a bank heist? You can't let them succeed, no matter the cost. You slip closer, your heart pounding in your chest. You can feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins, making your hands shake slightly. But you steady yourself, focusing on the task at hand. You take a deep breath, inhaling the salty sea air mixed with the faint scent of exhaust fumes. You're just a few meters away now, close enough to hear their muffled voices.
"Everything's in place," Hammond says, his voice low and tense. "We just need to wait for the signal." Carter nods, his eyes scanning the area nervously. "And what about our backup?"
Hammond's expression hardens. "They'll be here when we need them. Don't worry."
You clench your fists, your nails digging into your palms. You can't let them carry out their plan, whatever it is. You take a step forward, your foot scraping against the rough concrete.
Hammond's head snaps up, his eyes meeting yours. He reaches for his gun, his movements quick and fluid. But you're quicker. You raise your own weapon, firing off a series of shots that echo through the narrow alleyway. Hammond's body jerks with each impact, his gun clattering to the ground as he falls backward. Without hesitation, you pivot and sprint after Carter, who's now bolting down the alley, desperation etched on his face. Your shoes echo on the pavement as you gain ground, your muscles straining with the exertion. The gap between you narrows, and you can almost feel the warmth of his panic. You see him glance over his shoulder, his eyes wide with fear.
Suddenly, he veers to the right, disappearing into a maze of narrow side streets and darkened doorways. You curse under your breath as you lose sight of him, your senses on high alert as you navigate the labyrinth. The sounds of the city fade into the background, replaced by the pounding of your heart and the sharpness of your breath. You're close, you can feel it. Your instincts are honed, your instincts are screaming.
As you round a corner, you spot him, darting into a dimly lit alley. You take off after him, your footsteps heavy on the damp pavement. You charge into the alley, gun raised, your eyes adjusting to the dim light. Carter is there, cowering against the wall, hands trembling. You feel a pang of sympathy for him, but you quickly shake it off. This is business, and you can't afford to let emotions cloud your judgment.
"Please," he whimpers, "I don't want any trouble."
You take a step forward, your shadow looming over him. "It's too late for that," you growl, your voice low and menacing. The cold, unforgiving barrel of your gun presses against Carter's temple, and his breath hitches as fear washes over him. He knows there's no escaping this encounter, no reprieve from the brutal reality that has become your world. You are a force to be reckoned with, a cunning and ambitious criminal mastermind who will stop at nothing to achieve dominance in Vice City's underworld.
A sinister smile spreads across your face, the thrill of the chase and the power you wield intoxicating you. BANG!!! The shot echoes through the alley, and Carter's body slumps to the ground. You stand over him for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest, adrenaline still coursing through your veins. But there's no time to linger. You've completed your mission. You exit the dimly lit alley, stepping back into the bustling streets of Vice City. The sun beats down on the pavement, creating a stark contrast to the grim scene you just left behind. You scan the area, your eyes landing on the ocean in the distance. The blue waves call to you, offering a momentary reprieve from the ruthless world you inhabit. But you know you can't afford to rest, not when there are still targets to eliminate and rivals to vanquish. You hail a taxi, the driver eyeing you warily in the rearview mirror. You offer him a cold, hard smile, your eyes betraying the lethal predator lurking beneath the surface. The driver swallows nervously but says nothing as he pulls away from the curb, merging into the chaotic traffic of Vice City.
As the cityscape blurs past the taxi window, you can't help but reflect on your actions. You've eliminated Hammond and Carter, two more obstacles in your path to dominance. You step out of the taxi, your eyes scanning the area around Avery Carrington's construction site. The familiar hum of Vice City's traffic fills your ears as you search for any sign of Nick Kong. Your gaze lands on a Tropic boat anchored near the construction site, and you spot a man resembling Kong's description, lounging in a deck chair and soaking up the sun.
You approach the boat cautiously, your senses on high alert. As you climb aboard, the boat rocks gently beneath your feet, and the man looks up, squinting in the bright sunlight. You can see the resemblance to the photos of Nick Kong, but you need to confirm his identity before making your move.
The Tropic boat is a modest yet well-maintained vessel, its white paint gleaming in the harsh Vice City sun. A small table laden with an array of tropical drinks sits near the man, who looks to be in his early thirties. He wears a loud Hawaiian shirt, his skin glistening with sunscreen. A few other people lounge on the deck, their eyes hidden behind sunglasses, seemingly oblivious to your presence. The atmosphere is relaxed, a stark contrast to the tension coiled inside you.
"Enjoying the weather?" You ask, your voice low and casual, as you step onto the boat, your boots making a soft thud against the deck. The man looks up, squinting in the sunlight, a slight frown forming on his tanned face.
"Who's asking?" he replies, his accent thick and vaguely European. He takes a sip from his drink, his gaze never leaving yours, assessing you with a mixture of curiosity and caution. You can sense the wariness in his body language, the slight tension in his muscles as he waits for your response. You flash a disarming smile, your eyes cold and calculating beneath your shades. "Just a fellow traveler looking to enjoy the sun. Name's Tommy." You extend your hand for a brief, firm handshake, watching him carefully for any signs of recognition or deception.
He hesitates for a moment before taking your hand, his grip strong and sure. "Nick," he replies, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studies you. "You're not from around here, are you?" "No, I'm not," you reply, your tone casual as you release his hand. "Just passing through on business." You glance around the boat, your gaze lingering on the other passengers. "Mind if I join you? It's a beautiful day, and I could use a break."
Nick hesitates, his eyes flicking towards the other passengers before returning to you. "Sure, go ahead," he says, gesturing to the empty seat across from him. "But be warned, we don't take kindly to strangers around here." You nod, understanding the unspoken warning. You take a seat across from Nick, your back to the other passengers. You maintain a relaxed posture, but your senses remain heightened, every muscle coiled and ready for action. The boat rocks gently beneath you, and the sound of laughter and chatter fills the air. You can feel the heat of the sun beating down on your skin, a stark contrast to the cool, calculating thoughts swirling in your mind.
"So, what brings you to Vice City, Tommy?" Nick asks, taking another sip of his drink. "Just some business matters," you reply nonchalantly, your eyes never leaving him. "And you? What brings you to these waters?"
Nick shrugs, a slight smirk playing on his lips. "Just enjoying the sun before heading back to Europe. You know how it is."
You nod, understanding his need for a break from the harsh realities of their line of work. "Indeed, I do."
The conversation lulls for a moment as you both sip your drinks, the tension between you palpable. You decide to probe further, needing to confirm Nick's identity before making your move. "Nice boat you've got here," you comment, your eyes scanning the deck for any signs of weaponry or additional crew members.
Nick's smirk grows wider, a glint of pride in his eyes. "Thanks. It's a family heirloom. Been in our gang for generations."
Your instincts are screaming at you now, the pieces falling into place. This man is Nick Kong, and he's planning something. But what? You lean back in your seat, taking another sip of your drink as you subtly scan the area for any potential threats. The sun beats down on the boat, casting a warm glow over the passengers. The atmosphere is almost serene, the calm before the storm.
"So, what's the plan for today?" you ask, attempting to sound casual, despite the adrenaline coursing through your veins.
Nick glances around before leaning in closer, his voice low and confidential. "We're planning a heist. A big one." "And why would you tell a stranger like me?" you ask, your voice low and laced with skepticism. You keep your eyes locked on Nick's, studying his every movement for any hint of deceit.
Nick leans back, a sly smile spreading across his face. Nick's smirk widens, a triumphant gleam in his eyes. He pulls out a gun from under the table, pointing it directly at you. "I know who you are, Tommy Vercetti. And I know why you're here."