GTA Connections

Vercetti Estate

"Find him Ken, or so help me i'll gut you and decorate a fucking christmas tree with your insides!" Tommy screamed at him. Ken ran out of the office, dodging a paper weight that had been thrown at him. "I can't find him with my head caved in, Christ," he said quietly. When he got to the bottom of the stairs, he saw Jack's girl, he couldn't ever remember her name, only that she had a killer body, was asian, and belonged to Jack. "Mr. Rosenberg, any news?" She asked him. He sighed and shook his head. "No kid, sorry. We're working on it, but there hasn't been a ransom demand, and we don't know who took him." She nodded, her eyes tearing up. He put a hand on her shoulder. "Look, we're going to find him, if he doesn't just show up at the doorstep, I mean, c'mon, this is Jack Vercetti here, whoever took him doesn't have a clue who they're dealing with." She looked up at him. "What do you mean?" He hesitated, not even Tommy knew this about his son. "C'mon, lets go for a ride, I have some people to talk to anyway."

Sitting in the cheetah, Ken started to explain. "You see, Jackie isn't your typical kid. He grew up in Las Venturas, a place so corrupt that even I hated visiting there. His mom owned a casino with some Triad guys, a joint venture, she kept most of the profit, and they provided security. She was banging the head triad guy, I think. I forget his name, it sounds like a cough though. Anyway, This guy also happened to be Jackie's godfather. He grew up in the triad. He knew how to boost a car before he could walk. He also knew how to take care of himself, those chinese guys don't fuck around. He's a tough kid, very tough. Whoever has him probably has one hell of a headache right now." The girl nodded. "But you're going to find him, right?" She asked. Ken didn't like answering questions he didn't know the answers to. "Well, I know one thing, he isn't in the city anymore. There's no way anyone could keep him here, not in Tommy's city. So we have to start looking for outside help."

The police station was crowded with the usual drunks and disorderlies. Ken made his way to an office on the second floor, Miya, he'd finally remembered her name, was right behind him. He was greeted at the door by Detective Tenpenny. He had been involved in some stuff out in San Andreas and had needed to relocate quickly. Tommy had seen an opportunity in having a cop on his personal payroll and brought him out, using his political influence to get him a job and a promotion. Tenpenny at first was resistant, but eventually saw the possibilities and profit to be had working for Tommy. Now, he was next in line to be chief. "Ken Rosenberg, i'll be goddamned, you haven't graced my office with your weasely presence in at least a year. What the fuck do you want?" Ken handed him a folder. Tenpenny looked at it briefly. "Yeah, Tommy's kid, so what? I already cleared him of that high speed chase last week." Ken shook his head. "He's been kidnapped Tenpenny. We have a witness who saw it happen." Tenpenny sat down on his desk. "Well fuck, a chase then a kidnapping, he really knows how to have a good time, what's this got to do with me? Tommy's fucking rich, pay the damn ransom and leave me alone." Ken raised his voice, "There isn't any ransom! No word, no nothing, just up and gone, taken by some Japanese guy, a big black guy, and a bunch of Italians in suits, Thats all they said. Tenpenny, if he's not found, Tommy will burn this city to the ground, that's his heir, his blood, there's nothing more important to him!" Tenpenny sat thinking. "A japanese guy and a big black guy huh? With a bunch of Italians in suits? Hmm, tell you what, bring in the witness, and i'll show them some mug shots, but i'm pretty sure that I already know who it is." Miya's eyes had widened at the description of what the witness had seen. Tenpenny looked at her. "Who the fuck are you?" Ken interrupted,"She's Jackie's girlfriend,, so who do you think they are?" Tenpenny snorted. "Kyota Saotochi and Derek Boggs, two idiots from liberty city. if they have him, then he's not in Vice City anymore, he's in Liberty." Miya headed for the door. "I'll be waiting outside."

Outside Miya sat on a bench, trying to catch her breath. 'No', she thought. 'Anyone but them, please no, they'll kill him.' She started to cry, then stopped. Liberty City. She was going to be here for awhile, waiting for Mr. Rosenberg, so she pulled out her phone and hit a speed dial. "Hello...look, I know its been a while...but I need your help... Please, your my sister!... I really need it!... No, it's local... Yeah, his name is Jack Vercetti, please, find him...yes, I think I do...ok, then I know I do...please...yes i'm sure, i've never been so sure of something in my entire life, so please,... thank you, Asuka."

Marc's Bistro, Liberty City

Kyota sat at the large round table in the bistro, outwardly calm but inwardly sweating enough to put another oasis in the desert. The man across from him was the only important one. The other four were just there to kill whoever he pointed at, like doberman dogs. He was roughly six and a half feet tall, and he worked out. A lot. Kyota could see his muscles straining the seams of his tailored pinstripe suit. Maybe thirty years old, Vincent Forelli was the sole person responsible for bringing liberty city back under the control of the family. With oiled back dark hair and midnight black eyes, he was not someone to mess with. He had been gone a few years ago when everything had gone to shit, but when he returned, all of that changed. He even found the guy who was responsible for it. Kyota didn't know what he did to the guy, but Vincent wasn't very forgiving. Mercy probably wasn't even a real word to him, just something writers made up to give people hope. Which he absolutely loved to take away from them. If there were one person that Kyotoa was afraid of, it would be him. Kyota began to sweat a little on the outside.

Vincent stared at the little jap in front of him with contempt almost marring his normally calm exterior. "So what you're telling me is this, you kidnapped Tommy Vercetti's son, who none of us even knew existed until last week. Also he is right now, at this very moment, sitting in an apartment over looking the river being drugged up so bad he can barely move?" Kyota nodded. Vincent did not like the current situation. He controlled everything that went on in his city. At least on his part of it. Kidnapping wasn't part of the things he did, too many things could go wrong. Like kidnapping the son of the man who killed his father. Truth be told, he didn't mind that so much, his father had been an abusive asshole, and Vercetti simply did something he himself would have done eventually anyway. Plus, he remembered him. He had been in the room when his father had given him two suitcases full of money to go get some small business started in vice city. He had taken over the whole city, almost single handedly. No, he had never wanted trouble with Tommy, but since it was here, he had no choice. He was going to return the kid, kill the jap and his nigger, and then, hopefully, everything will go back to being normal.

"Ok, then this is what's going to happen, we're going to go see him now. I want to talk to him, i'll decide what to do with you after that." He got up from the table. "So help me, if there's even a mark on that kid, i'm going to kill every single one of your little gang." He turned and walked out the door, while he did, he pulled out a cell phone and sent a text. If the son was anything like the father, he was going to need a little help. He was met at the entrance of the Bistro by his pocket man inside the LCPD, detective Lee. 'Jesus, I can't get rid of these fucking jap's can I?' he thought to himself. It never occurred to him that all things considered, japanese people make up only a small percentage of the race as a whole.

"What is it, detective?" He asked calmly. He made sure that no one ever saw him as anything but a mountain. Mainly because no one could topple a mountain. Mountain ruled everything they could see, dominated, were cold and unyielding. If they saw him as a mountain, then they saw toppling him as an impossible task. No one would try it.

"I got an interesting phone call from another detective down in Vice City today. Seem's the son of a local political power was kidnapped by one of your boys. This wouldn't happen to be true, would it?" Before Vincent could even utter a word, his personal lawyer stepped forward. "Now detective, you wouldn't really want to know the answer to that would you? What if something even this trivial went to court and you were called as a witness? We wouldn't want you to have to choose between your employment with us and your employment with the city, would we? Mr. Forelli has nothing to do with any kidnapping of any politicians children. Now that that's cleared up, here's that lunch order you called in, and please, come again, we appreciate your patronage." Detective Lee took the offered doggy bag and tucked it under his arm. "Very well, have a nice day Mr. Forelli, Mr. Rosenberg."

Vincent looked at his lawyer. "Benjamin Rosenberg, you are a credit to your profession." Ben looked back at his boss and smiled politely. "I'm only doing what you pay me for sir." Vincent let himself have a small smile. The redheaded lawyer was as slick as an oil spill, and could make one look like a fish pissed in the ocean, for all of the bad press it would get after he was done with it. He trusted the young man more than anyone else, which always made him smile. The only person in the world he could trust was a lawyer. He got in the limo, time to meet that kid, probably fat and spoiled. Scared shitless and willing to do anything to go home. Which was exactly what Vincent needed him to be. This was turning out to be an okay day after all.

Meanwhile, Somewhere else

Jack didn't know for sure where he was. He'd spent the better part of the last week drugged and unconscious, but for some reason he had been more aware on the needle man's last visit. He'd turned his arm ever so slightly when the man had injected him, so that the needle missed the vein. The man hadn't been paying attention. The drugs were in his body, but he had only a few minutes to get out of there before the full effects hit him. He sat on the edge of the bed, looking around the room. It was fairly small, with only enough room for the bed and a bathroom, there were maybe three feet of space on either side of the twin sized bed. He would have thought it a closet if it weren't for the bathroom. He went to the door and cracked it. In the other room, which looked to be a living room, were the four guys he had seen at the Malibu. He nodded, closing the door quietly and sitting back on the bed. He didn't have long until the man with the needle would be back, and the drugs were starting to take effect. He took a deep breath, threw open the door, and charged into the living room.

Vincent walked into the apartment, looking around with disgust. There were bullet holes in the walls, blood all over the floor, on the walls from the entrance of the building to the door, and bodies on the floor. he turned on Kyota. "Are you sure you kidnapped his son, and not Freddy fucking Krueger?!" The jap swallowed and nodded. Vincent counted the bodies. eight, all in the room. That meant the blood on the walls outside the room was probably the kids. That made things both harder and easier at the same time. He turned around and walked out. This much carnage guaranteed police involvement. He had to kill the kid now, if he was still alive. He could bring his father right to him because of the thugs on the floor. He wasn't the only Italian family in liberty, but his had history with theirs, and that history was fixing to catch up.

Three hours later, the cops were indeed on the scene, having gotten an anonymous call describing a disturbance. The detective heading the case shook his head as he looked over the crime scene. This was a disturbance like a hurricane was a windy day. Detective Burton had worked homicide in San Fierro before coming to liberty city. He was just under six feet tall, and was lean. He exercised regularly, let his dirty blond hair hang loose, and enjoyed a martini with a pink umbrella. He was a good cop though. He had been denied entry into the FBI because of his sexual preference. The resulting law suit left him with a hefty wallet and a taste for Italian made suits. he couldn't get the thought of so much injustice in the world out of his head though, so he became a cop at his hometowns police station. Soon after he was promoted to detective, and consequently had been fired because he failed to catch the killer of a local kingpin and pimp, who had been killed along with every innocent person there, in his club below the bridge. After that fiasco he had come to liberty, seeking employment. A lot of cops working here were fired from other precincts, but liberty was desperate for law enforcement, so they overlooked most of the background checks. But only then had he seen the type of carnage that was before him now. Eight bodies, some shot to shit, some killed with various kitchen utensils, one had his head caved in, and several with their necks at awkward angles. It looked like Charles Starkweather had come through here. He turned towards the three standing behind him, all rookie detectives.

"What do we know about the bodies?" The first one to speak was a balding man by the name of Kowalski. He liked cheap suits and hard liqueur, but was observant still. "We know that only four of them were local mob, they were thugs working for Forelli. The other four were Salvatore's goons. Looks like they were fighting over whatever was in the room." Burton nodded. "How do we know that?" Kowalski went over to the one bedroom and looked through the door. "There's no bodies or blood in here, this fight went over the whole apartment, but the first blow was struck just outside this door." He pointed to the outline of a body right in front of the door. "Good," Burton said. "Now how do we know that the first body was that one?" Detective McGavin spoke next."Because CSI says that his gun didn't fire a single shot, and his neck was broken. Whoever killed him came from that bedroom, and then made his way into the rest of the place. But why was he fighting both groups?" The third, and the one with the most potential, spoke. "Because whoever was in that room was dangerous, valuable, and worth fighting over." Burton once again looked the young man over. At twenty-six, he was one of the most highly decorated cops in liberty city. Usually he worked staunton, but when he made detective had been transferred to Portland. Burton didn't regret the transfer, because that brought him a young man who showed something that most detective's were lacking in liberty these days. Heart. Also, he was the only black detective in Portland, making a racial connection with several of the gangs that wasn't there before. The younger ones could look up to him as an example of what you can do if you put your mind to it. "Now finally, looking over what evidence we have, what truly happened here? This is what I think happened..."

Four hours earlier

The first person he saw just happened to be walking by the door when he threw it open. "Wha.." Was as far as he got before jack kicked him in his large gut and doubled him over. Before anyone could finish getting off of their asses, he pulled the goon's head under his arm and pulled tight, breaking his neck with the sheer force. He dropped the body and leaped into the closest person, tackling him to the ground. The small man underneath him struggled, but jack was a fighter, born and bred for survival, and although his movements were slowed, his mind was not. He jumped up, using the little Italian as a human shield, and yanked his pistol out of his hand. The first shot hit the man with the shotgun, standing not five feet away. Before he could fire the second, he was hit in the arm. He spun with it, launching the short struggling man he was using for a shield into the shooter, then jumped and rolled over the kitchen counter into said kitchen. He hit the floor and looked at his arm. It went straight through the meat of the shoulder, and he was bleeding pretty badly. He ripped off the rest of his sleeve and tried to plug the hole with it, but it wasn't working very well. He put the pistol on the floor next to him, he didn't want to shoot himself on accident, and looked around for something to hold the sleeve in place. He saw plastic wrap on the table next to some sandwich stuff, and for some reason he thought about making a sandwich. The wood exploding next to him and scratching his face, narrowly missing his eye, reminded him of the current situation. His adrenaline pumped blood and fast beating heart were accelerating the drugs in his system. He grabbed at the gun when the larger Italian goon came around the corner. "Fucking little prick! I'll fucking kill ya!" Jack rolled away as part of the floor where he was sitting disintegrated. He had grabbed the shotgun.

He got up and ran for the door into the hallway, but as soon as he stuck his head out of it, the door frame near his face exploded. He threw himself back into it, slamming into the goon who had begun to chase him. Using what strength he had, he grabbed the shotgun and headbutted the fat man in the nose. He staggered back from the blow, blood spurting. Jack fired the shotgun into his torso at point blank range, nearly cutting him in half. As he turned to the living room again, four more Italians burst through the door, all waving pistols. They saw him and stopped. He turned the shotgun to them and squeezed the trigger. It clicked. Out of ammo. They began firing and he dove over the kitchen table, kicking it up and using it for cover. Unfortunately for him, it was just a table, and unlike the movies, wasn't used as a shield for a reason. Its maybe an inch of wood trying to stop several rounds of lead flying whose speed is measure by the second. The plastic wrap had fallen off of the table, and he went to grab it, but they saw his hand and started firing. The plastic wrap was destroyed. He wanted to cry.

Another few shots came, one of them hitting the toaster and knocking down onto his chest. Then they began to reload, chuckling about how he was most certainly dead. That pissed him off, they couldn't even aim! He jumped up and grabbed the small microwave next to him, throwing it at the closest one. It hit him square in the chest, not enough to really do any damage, but enough to knock him off balance, causing him to drop his gun. The other three cursed. He grabbed the nearest weapon he could find, which was a broom with a wooden handle, and jumped over the table, bringing it down on the head of the microwave victim. It broke, and he stabbed the broken handle through the mans throat. The other three started towards him, trying to load they're revolvers faster. He smiled, finally, some luck.

He stepped sideways and kicked at the one on his left. He connected to the jaw, and upon hearing it break, he focused on the next one. The one he chose had nearly finished loading, so he grabbed a pen that was laying on the floor and leapt at him. The man tried to raise his hands to defend himself, but didn't get them up in time. He stabbed him in the eye, ripping the pen out after twisting it a little. The man shrieked in pain and fell. Jack looked at the third, who had pissed himself he was so scared. The guy looked maybe eighteen years old. Jack surged forward and up, slamming his left knee into the guys face. The guy dropped, bleeding and crying through shards of his shattered nose. The toaster was on the floor next to his feet. Jack grabbed it and started beating the goon in the head with it. When he finally noticed the crying had stopped, the guys head was unrecognizable. He smiled grimly. He had to get out of here before...and that's when he felt an unbelievable pain in his side. he screamed and stood up, swinging his elbow behind him. It connected solidly with the face of the man who's jaw he had just broken. The man howled and fell back, and jack pulled the switchblade from his side. The man charged at him and swung his right arm overhead. Jack blocked with his left and thrust the knife blade through the bottom of the mans jaw, the hilt connecting with the jaw, the end of the blade resting in the bottom of his brain.

"He then stumbled out of the room and was leaning heavily on the wall. We know that from the blood smeared on it, leaving a nice trail to the entrance of the building, now, once out here, he fell down, until someone picked him up and took him away. We need to find out who she was, and why she has him." Detective Burton looked up at the three, who looked back dubiously. "How do we know she doesn't want to kill him?" McGavin asked. Burton stood up and sighed. "Because in that case, all she would have had to do was leave him alone. With the amount of blood he lost, he would have died in an extremely short amount of time. Ok, we're done here, we need to get to the lab at the hospital and find out who's who from among the blood samples. Whoever isn't with the bodies is the guy were looking for."Kowalski asked a final question. "How do you know it was a woman who picked him up?" Burton looked back at him, maybe he had given him too much credit. He pointed to where the blood ended, where there was a small bloody triangle, with a smaller circular print. "That is the imprint of a high heel. I somehow doubt that our rescuer is a cross dresser. Now let's go."

Vercetti Mansion, Vice City

The night was quiet outside on the estate grounds. The guards were relaxed, gossiping about this or that. They didn't notice the small boat come quietly to the dock at the back, nor did they see or hear the five vehicles pull up outside of the outer walls of the perimeter. So when a dozen men came through the gates, they were surprised. That and a wetness on their throats when the unseen men behind them slit their jugulars open. There were now twenty men on the grounds, and the assault began.

Miya was sleeping in Jacks bed when she heard the door open. She jumped up, turning on the lamp beside the bed, thinking, hoping, that it was jack. Tommy flinched as the light came on. "Turn it off!" He whispered harshly at her. She did, not knowing what he was doing. "We're getting out of here, the mansion's under attack, and there's no way I can beat it back. We're going to take you to a friend of mine's house, she will take care of you until I get back with Jack, ok?" Miya nodded, confused. She went into the bathroom with her clothes, she had been sleeping in one of jacks shirts, and came out a few minutes later. Tommy put two things into her hands, one was bag, probably a backpack, and the other was a pistol. "If we get separated, don't hesitate to use it on anyone except for Ken and Myself, understand?" She nodded. "Good, do, out the window, take the ladder to the roof, I have a helicopter up there, with any luck, they won't be on the roof yet." She went to the window and opened it up, going out onto the balcony. She looked down and saw nothing. So she climbed onto the ladder next to the balcony, and slowly made her way up it. As she got near the top, she heard gunfire, and a man screamed and fell over the edge. She hugged the ladder tight, then looked up. She was about ten feet from the roof, and a ski mask with eyes looked over the edge. He saw her and shouted, pointing his rifle. A loud gunshot boomed from below her, she felt the heat of the bullet passing her head, and the ski mask exploded.

Two more almost immediately looked over, then started firing. Miya screamed and let go of the ladder. She fell into the bushes some fifteen feet below, and something heavy landed on her. She started screaming when a hand came over her mouth. "Quiet down, they think we're dead," Tommy's voice whispered fiercely in her ear. She immediately stopped struggling and went limp. After a few seconds he got up and dragged her up with him. They ran towards the dock, and found a single guard. Tommy ran full force and hit him with the giant revolver he was carrying. The hit landed on the guards head and dropped him hard. Tommy kicked the body over the edge and got into the speedboat he had parked there. She got in as well, sitting down and strapping in. Tommy started it and took off at full throttle. He glanced back at his estate and shook his head.