Diaz saunters through the crowd, his beady eyes scanning the room with that familiar, calculating look. He spots Colonel Juan Cortez and makes his way over, the two of them engaging in what appears to be a friendly conversation.
A thousand thoughts race through your mind. Did someone else survive? Was there a double you didn't know about? The memory of the night you took him out flashes vividly before you — the gunfire, the chase, and finally, Diaz falling to the ground. It had to be real. But here he is, larger than life, and you can't shake the feeling that something has gone terribly wrong.
You clench your fists, the tension rising in your body as you watch Diaz closely. This isn't the place for answers, but it's a start. One thing is certain: Diaz's unexpected return is a twist you didn't see coming, and it complicates everything. You study him intently, noting every move, every word. This mystery will need unraveling, and when it does, you'll be ready to deal with it, just like you always have.
Just as you're processing the shock of seeing Ricardo Diaz alive, he spots Mercedes. "Hey, Mercedes!" he calls out, his voice cutting through the party's chatter.
Mercedes turns, offering him a polite smile. Diaz's gaze shifts momentarily, locking onto you. His eyes glint with recognition, and a smirk curls on his lips. It's a silent taunt, an acknowledgment that he knows you're here. Then, just as quickly, he looks away, dismissing you as if you're of no consequence.
The brief exchange leaves you bristling. He's not just alive; he's confident, almost cocky, as if he has the upper hand. This isn't over, not by a long shot. You make a mental note to dig deeper into how Diaz managed to survive and what he's planning next. For now, you'll play it cool, but the game has just become a lot more interesting. Mercedes yanks you out of your thoughts with a firm tug on your arm. "Tommy, let's go," she says, her voice laced with urgency. "Take me to the Pole Position Club."
You nod, trying to push the encounter with Diaz to the back of your mind. "Sure, let's get out of here."
She leads you to her sleek, red Infernus parked nearby. Sliding into the driver's seat, you fire up the engine, the powerful roar of the car a reminder of the control you're used to wielding. As you pull out of the driveway and onto the streets of Vice City, the neon lights blur past, and the adrenaline starts to pump through your veins again.
Mercedes looks at you with a mix of curiosity and concern. "You alright, Tommy?"
"Yeah," you reply, gripping the wheel tighter. "Just a lot to think about. Let's get you to the club."
The Infernus glides through the city streets, and despite the turmoil in your mind, you focus on the road ahead.
As you navigate the neon-lit streets of Vice City, Mercedes leans closer, her sultry voice cutting through the hum of the engine. "Tommy, you're quite the enigma, aren't you?" she purrs, her fingers lightly tracing the edge of your sleeve. "Always so composed, so... in control."
You smirk, glancing at her briefly before returning your eyes to the road. "You have to be in this line of work, Mercedes."
She laughs softly, a sound that's both alluring and dangerous. "So, tell me, Tommy. Will you be working with my father? He speaks so highly of you, you know."
The way she says it, her voice dripping with seductive charm, makes it clear she's not just asking out of casual curiosity. You can feel her eyes on you, studying your every move, her interest piqued by the mystery you present.
"Your father and I have a good understanding," you reply, keeping your tone measured. "We both want to make things happen in this city."
She leans in even closer, her breath warm against your ear. "I bet you do. Just promise me one thing, Tommy."
You raise an eyebrow, glancing at her again. "And what's that?"
"Don't let him down," she whispers, her lips brushing your ear ever so slightly. "You wouldn't want to disappoint me, would you?"
You chuckle, the tension in the car thick enough to cut with a knife. "I'll keep that in mind, Mercedes. Don't worry."
As you pull up to the Pole Position Club, the neon lights cast vibrant hues on the sleek lines of the Infernus. The club, an adult entertainment venue located in the heart of Ocean Beach, is known for its lively atmosphere and diverse clientele seeking a night of fun and entertainment. Situated amidst neon-lit hotels, bustling cafes, and trendy nightclubs, it exudes an energetic vibe that draws people in from all corners of the city.
Mercedes turns to you with a playful smile. "Well, Tommy, this is my stop," she says, her voice still carrying that sultry edge.
She leans over, giving you a quick kiss on the cheek. "Thanks for the ride," she purrs, her eyes lingering on yours for a moment longer than necessary. "Don't be a stranger, okay?"
You nod, watching as she gracefully exits the car, her movements smooth and confident. "See you around, Mercedes," you reply, keeping your tone casual.
Mercedes glances back at you one last time, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Goodbye, Tommy. Stay out of trouble."
You chuckle to yourself as she disappears into the club, her figure swallowed by the pulsating lights and the throbbing bass. Shaking your head, you put the car into gear and drive away.
As you drive away from the Pole Position Club, your thoughts drift back to the earlier encounter with Diaz. The man you killed, the man you put a bullet into his head, is here, alive and energized. The memory of that moment when you ended his life is vivid, yet now it feels like a twisted nightmare.
You grip the steering wheel tighter, replaying the scene in your mind. How could Diaz be here, laughing and talking with Colonel Juan Cortez? Your mind races with questions and doubts. There's no way someone could survive a direct hit to the head, especially not someone as vile and dangerous as Ricardo Diaz.
Then, another memory surfaces. It was after a tense meeting with Umberto Robina at his café. The conversation was filled with plans and schemes, typical of your dealings in Vice City. As you left the café, you encountered a chaotic scene—a heated argument between the Haitians and Cubans. Their hostile glares and uneasy stares lingered on you longer than usual, as if they knew something you didn't.
Maybe that was a clue. Maybe those strange looks were more than just disdain for an outsider. Perhaps they knew something about Diaz, something about his miraculous return from the dead. You push the thought aside for now, focusing on the road ahead. There are too many pieces to this puzzle, and right now, you need to gather more information.
You make a mental note to dig deeper into this mystery. Diaz's return could mean a lot of things, none of them good.
You pull up to Ken's office, the neon lights of Vice City reflecting off the windows. Stepping inside, you find him pacing, his nerves evident in every step. "Tommy, what the hell is going on out there?" he blurts out, his voice a mix of anxiety and urgency. "I thought Diaz was dead!"
You recount the night's events, the surreal encounter with Diaz, and the strange scene with the Haitians and Cubans. Ken listens intently, his face paling with every detail.
"Bloody hell," he mutters, running a hand through his hair. "This is bad, Tommy. Real bad. If Diaz is back, we're all in deep shit."
He stops pacing and looks at you, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and determination. "You need to find Kent Paul. That bloke's always got his ear to the ground. If anyone knows what's really going on, it's him. He's at the Malibu Club. Go now, before things get even more out of hand."
You nod, understanding the gravity of the situation. Ken's right, Kent Paul might have the answers you need. Without wasting another moment, you head back out into the night, the neon lights of Vice City guiding your way to the Malibu Club. You arrive at the Malibu Club, its vibrant neon lights illuminating the bustling nightlife. Inside, the music is loud and the atmosphere is electric. You spot Kent Paul at the bar, a British music manager with spiky hair and a smug demeanor. He's flirting with a girl, leaning in close, whispering something that makes her laugh. His flashy outfit and exaggerated gestures make him stand out even more in the crowd.
Approaching him calmly, you ask, "Paul, I need information about some missing drugs and Diaz."
Paul smirks, "Sorry, mate. Mr. Black didn't tell me to share any info with you."
Your patience wears thin. You grab him by the collar and slam him against the bar. "I don't have time for games, Paul. Spill it, or you'll regret it."
Paul, visibly shaken, blurts out, "Alright, alright! There's a shady chef named Leo Teal on Ocean Drive. He's been acting smug lately. Check him out."