As you turn your attention back to the battle, you notice Alberto slipping away, using the chaos as cover. You curse under your breath, "Not fucking again". There's no time to waste. You can't let Alberto escape. You signal Lance to hold the line, to keep Alberto's men at bay. With a surge of adrenaline, you push forward, the taste of blood in your mouth as you take down one of Alberto's henchmen, his body crumpling to the ground. The air is thick with the smell of gunpowder, and the sound of bullets whizzing by your ear. As you reach Lance's van, you wrench open the door, your movements hurried but precise. Your fingers wrap around the cold metal of the machine gun, the weight of it comforting in your grip. You load it quickly, the sound of bullets clinking together filling the van. The adrenaline coursing through your veins dulls the pain from your previous injuries, allowing you to focus on the task at hand.
With a grim determination, you leap out of the van and scan the area for any sign of Alberto. Your eyes narrow as you spot him darting towards a black sedan parked at the edge of the lot. You grit your teeth, your pulse pounding in your ears. There's no time to waste.
You fire your way through Alberto's men, each shot precise and lethal. The first henchman barely has time to react before your bullets tear through his chest, sending him sprawling. Another lunges at you from the side, but a quick burst from your machine gun sends him crumpling to the ground. The air is thick with smoke and the acrid smell of gunpowder, the chaos around you blurring into a tunnel of singular focus: Alberto.
As you push forward, a third henchman tries to flank you. You pivot smoothly, your machine gun roaring as you mow him down. The sound of gunfire is deafening, but you can still hear Lance shouting orders, keeping the rest of Alberto's men occupied. You press on, your path cleared by sheer force and determination.
Finally, you see Alberto reaching for the car door. "Not so fast," you mutter under your breath. With a final surge of adrenaline, you sprint towards him, your machine gun blazing. Alberto turns, his eyes wide with fear as he sees you closing in. He fumbles for his own weapon, but it's too late.
You fire a burst at his legs, dropping him to the ground with a scream. The sedan's door swings open as Alberto tries to crawl inside, but you're on him before he can escape. You kick the door shut, standing over him with your machine gun aimed at his head.
"End of the line, Alberto," you say, your voice cold and steady. He looks up at you, terror etched on his face. The once confident criminal now reduced to a quivering mess. The adrenaline coursing through your veins begins to subside, replaced by a grim satisfaction.
You don't give him a chance to beg or bargain. With a final, decisive squeeze of the trigger, you end it. Alberto's body slumps lifelessly, the chaos of the battle fading around you. You take a deep breath, the taste of victory mingling with the lingering scent of blood and gunpowder. You glance around at the carnage, the remains of Alberto's men scattered across the docks. Lance and his crew stand triumphantly, their faces a mix of exhaustion and relief. You allow yourself a brief moment of satisfaction before turning your attention back to the task at hand.
The drugs need to be secured and transported back to your safehouse. You quickly organize your crew, assigning them various tasks to ensure the safe and efficient transfer of the shipment. As they work, you can't help but feel a sense of pride. You've not only intercepted a major drug trafficking operation, but you've also eliminated a significant threat to your dominance in Vice City's underworld. But there's no time to rest on your laurels. You know that the fight for control of the city is far from over. only reno - a big shot in cuban gang left that you have to kill in order to shutdown Diaz's operation With Alberto's operation dismantled, you turn your attention to the remaining threat: Reno, a formidable figure in the Cuban gang. You know that taking him down will be a significant step towards shutting down Diaz's operation.
You lean back in your chair, lighting a cigarette as you consider your options. Lance enters the room, his arm still bandaged from the earlier shootout. "What's the plan, Tommy?" he asks, a hint of exhaustion in his voice.
You exhale a cloud of smoke, your eyes narrowing. "We need to draw Reno out, make him think we're vulnerable," you reply, a sly grin spreading across your face. "I have an idea."
You explain your plan to Lance, who nods in agreement. "It's risky, but it might just work," he says, a hint of excitement in his voice.
You gather your crew, laying out the plan in detail. They listen intently, their faces hardened with determination. You can see the fire in their eyes, the desire to take down the last remaining threat to your dominance. "Alright, here's the plan," you begin, your voice low and intense. "We're going to make it look like we're moving the drugs, but we'll use a decoy. Lance, I need you to lead a small team to create a diversion at the docks, draw Reno and his men out. Make sure they think we're transporting the drugs."
Lance nods, understanding the gravity of the situation. "Got it, Tommy. We'll create a scene that can't be ignored." You glance at Lance, who's pacing back and forth, a worried expression etched on his face. "What's the plan for dealing with Reno?" he asks, his voice tense. "And what about Umberto Robina? We can't afford any surprises."
You nod, already mapping out the strategy in your mind. "First, we need to make sure Umberto Robina doesn't interfere. He's the head of the Cubans, and we don't need him sniffing around while we deal with Reno. We'll start by finding his known associates and usual hangouts. We need to know his movements, his weaknesses, and his strengths, but we're not going after him. Not yet."
Lance stops pacing and looks at you, his anxiety momentarily replaced by curiosity. "So, what's the plan?"
You lean forward, the wheels in your mind turning. "We focus on Reno. He's been a key contact with Diaz, and with Diaz out of the picture, he's vulnerable. We need to isolate him, make him feel the pressure. I've got a few contacts who can give us the scoop on his movements. We'll track him, find out his routine."
Lance nods, his face setting into a determined look. "Got it. And once we have the info?"
You smirk, confidence radiating off you. "Once we know his routine, we set a trap. We lure Reno into a location we control. Somewhere we can isolate him from Robina's men. Then, we make him talk. Reno's the key to getting close to whatever operations Diaz had left behind. We lean on him hard enough, and he'll crack."
Lance chuckles darkly. "I like it. And if Reno won't play ball?"
Your smirk turns into a grim smile. "Then we make an example out of him. Send a message to anyone thinking they can fill Diaz's shoes that we're not to be messed with. But trust me, Lance. Reno will talk. They always do."
Lance nods, the tension easing from his shoulders. "Alright, let's get to work. I'll keep tabs on Reno and report back."
You clap him on the back. "Good. Stay sharp. We're playing for keeps now."
As Lance heads out, you start making calls, ready to pull every string, call in every favor, and use every piece of leverage you have. In Vice City, information is power, and you plan to wield it like a weapon. Reno won't know what hit him. With Lance on Reno's trail, you focus on gathering intel. The first call you make is to an old friend who runs a bar in Little Havana. He owes you a favor, and it's time to collect. "Yeah, I've seen Reno around," he says, his voice low. "He likes to hang out at the club on 8th Street. Always with a couple of Diaz's old goons. I'll keep an eye out and let you know if he shows up."
Satisfied, you hang up and dial another number, this time reaching out to one of your informants in Viceport. "Reno's been trying to make some moves," the informant says. "Word is, he's looking to pick up where Diaz left off. I'll dig deeper, see what I can find."
You spend the next few hours coordinating with your contacts, piecing together Reno's movements. By the time Lance checks in, you've got a clear picture of Reno's routine. "He's got a meeting tomorrow night at the docks," Lance reports. "Looks like he's trying to set up a new deal."
"Perfect," you say, a plan forming in your mind. "We'll hit him there at the Viceport docks. Make sure he knows he's not untouchable."