GTA Connections

Portland Police Department, Portland

Dectective Burton's life just became one hell of a lot more complicated. He rushed down the hallway to the office of the lead dectective on the case, Dectective Lee. He burst throuhg the door, slamming it shut behind him. He tossed the file on the desk of the reclining detective. "We have a problem. A big problem." Lee casually picked up the file and looked it over, then looked more closely. "Aw shit, is this true?" He sat up and pointed a finger at the file in his hand. Burton nodded. "Just came in an hour ago. We didn't expect that, did we?" Lee shook his head. "No, we didn't. Ok, i'm going to go look a little more into this, you head on over to Staunton, there's a crime scene there that might have a connection to our boy." An hour later Burton was again shaking his head. His detective's were trying not to retch. This was nothing like the other one. This one screamed personal. The other one was a case of survival. He looked at the body on the stretcher. No, the guy they were looking for didnt do that one. The others, most definately, but not that one. He sighed. Time to get to work. "Ok boys, let's go through this..."

Mercedes Apartment

He heard a gunshot and kicked the door down in time to see four more hit mercedes' chest. The first thing he saw was mercedes laying in a pool of her own blood, with three men standing over her. The one with the gun was a large man who looked like a body builder. Jack glanced at the other two, standing slightly forward and to either side of the gunman. He charged forward, the gunman trying to raise his arm to shoot him. Jack slammed into the gunman with all of his strength, lifting him up and throwing him into the couch in the living room. He heard the other shout and start to move. Spinning, he shot out with a right fist to the first ones face. The mans nose shattered and blood spurted everywhere. Jack followed with another spin, planting his foot in the smaller mans midsection, sending him to the floor gasping for breath with several broken ribs. The third man, the one closest to his own size, had a blackjack out and swung it at him. It hit him in the head and the room darkened as he fell. He almost lost consciousness when he turned his head and was staring into the eyes of the only sibling he had ever known. He felt the rage boil and he surged up. The gunman had recovered and was walking to where his gun had fallen. The one with the new face was being helped to the couch by the blackjack man.

He screamed and threw himself at the two headed for the couch. He grabbed the one who had hit him by the head, and twisted with all of his strength. The mans neck snapped like a toothpick. The small one with the broken ribs shrieked as Jack planted his foot in the screaming mans face, grinding the mans broken nose further into it. He felt a sting in his left arm and slowly turned his head. The large goon was beginning to reload his revolver. Jack's eyes stopped him in his tracks, their murderous gaze causing him to stare in disbelief. Jack leapt backward and shot his foot out, connecting with the mans jaw. For some reason he couldn't use his left arm, so he grabbed the man by the shirt and started bashing his own head into the goon's face, until he no longer drew breath. He still heard screams of pain and looked back at the smaller goon. He grimaced and walked over...

Burton looked up at the ceiling, where previously a body had been hanging. "He didnt do that one," He whispered. "Hey boss, how do we know that he didnt pop the woman too?" McGavin asked. Burton waved absentmindedly at him. "Because, detective, only one set of prints were found on the gun, and they belonged to a low level thug who previously worked at the Forelli's dockhouse. No, he knew this woman, and he cared for her. Otherwise this scene would have most likely been a lot cleaner. Besides, he likes to kill with his hands, i'm not even sure he knows how to use a gun." McGavin snorted. "He sure as hell knows how to fight then." Burton chuckled. McGavin didnt always catch on quick, but his ability to understate thing was unparalled. He walked over to the woman, who was barely alive. She was moving, albeit weakly. He looked down at her, and could barely make the words out when she whispered, "Save him."

Unknown Frozen Room

He awoke to searing pain. Looking around, shivering from the cold, his almost glowing blue eyes sent information to his brain, trying to tell it that he was in trouble. So cold. His surroundings were unfamiliar. All he remembered was fighting some mafia thugs, and all of a sudden the front door exploded. He tried to cover Mercedes with his body, but he blacked out. Now he was in some sort of warehouse, there were chains hanging from the ceiling, and large sides of meat hanging from them. A meatlocker. His face was burning, and he didnt know why. Trying to move, he found he was stiff, and his left leg was chained to the wall with thick chains that looked strong enough to hold king kong. He was naked, freezing, could barely move, and then the light came on.

It was bright at first, and when his eyes adjusted, he puked out everything he had eaten the day before. The chunks and slabs of meat hanging from the hooks were human. Skinned, and most missing limbs. He thought a couple were children. Fear clutched his heart. He was going to die. He looked around frantically for something to use as a weapon, or a tool to get the chain off of his ankle. It was then that the door opened, and someone came in. Jack couldnt see anything but his legs. He was wearing a jumpsuit of some sort. Jack waited, holding his breath. When the person came around the corner, Jack couldnt breath. The man was nearly seven feet tall, and built like a bodybuilder. He had no hair, and his face was criscrossed with scars of varying shapes and sizes. He had a large meat cleaver in his hand, one that Jack would have had to hold in both hands. The dark eyes stared at him from a pale, protruding brow. He raised the cleaver, and a plan suddenly formed in Jack's mind. He got his feet beneath him, and as soon as the scarred man swung the giant cleaver, Jack jumped to the right. The cleaver missed where his head was, instead hitting the chain holding him to the wall. To Jacks surprise, the chain broke, freeing him. He looked in shock for a second, then his eyes were drawn to the large man in front of him. The man grunted and hefted the cleaver once more. Jack took off through the hanging slabs of dead bodies, trying not to touch them. He ran for the front of the locker, which was fairly long. Once he hit the door, he realized that it wasn't a locker, but a semi trailer. He tried to lift the door latch, but it was either stuck, or he had lost a lot of strength. He had been getting injured alot recently, this last one had nearly killed him.

Not being able to lift the latch, he turned to face his would be undertaker. He saw him coming, walking slowly, savoring what would be his next kill. Jack was freezing, naked, and about to die, so he did something he hadn't done since he was a child. He tried to talk his way out of it. "Look, I don't know what your problem is with me, but, um, maybe we could work something out?" The massive man shook his head. Jack sighed. "Figures." He looked around, wondering if there might be something he could use as a weapon, temporarily, at least. The only thing he could find was a meat hook hanging from the railing on a length of chain. He reached a shaking hand out and tugged on it. To his surprise, it came loose in his hands. Grinning, he swung it in a brief circle before launching it at the big man. He was aiming for the neck, but his strength was low, and he was almost frozen. As a result, it hit the palm of the walking monsters outstretched hand, and before Jack could let go of it, the man pulled him hard. Jack flew a few feet, then slid on the floor.

It was then that he realized that the floor was frozen over as well. At least the part of it he was currently sliding on. Using the momentum from the scarred man's pull, he straightened his body and slid through the mans legs. Once behind him, he jumped up and turned, kicking the man in the nuts. The result was the same if he would have kicked a bag of fat. There was nothing there. "Oh shit, no wonder you're pissed," he said before he could stop himself. The large enuch roared angrily and spun, backhanding Jack and slamming him into a semi frozen carcass. Jack slumped to the ground, and something fell into his lap, hitting him in a very sensitive spot. Amidst the pain of that, he grabbed the object and found himself holding salvation. It was a handgun. More accurately, a cannon. Jack looked up briefly to what he had hit. It was one of the thugs from Mercedes' apartment. He had been gutted, but for some reason hadn't been completely stripped, like most of the others in there. Maybe he had been interrupted, but Jack was grateful. He pointed the gun at the big guy. He wasnt the best at using these, but at this range, he couldnt possibly miss. The man regarded him with a look resembling scorn, and Jack squeezed the trigger.

Nothing happened. "Aw, come on already!" Jack yelled as he bolted towards the front of the frozen room. The trailer lurched and began to move, and Jack's heart sank. This wasnt going to end well at all. He turned and steadied himself against the wall. Glancing quickly at the gun, wondering why it hadn't fired, he noticed something and wanted to smack himself in the face. Aiming it at the giant, scarred mountain of a man, he flicked off the saftey and fired a single shot. It hit the large man in the chest, and he collapsed. Blood began to spread from the chest wound, and Jack watched him a moment more. He wasnt moving, or even making a sound. The hole in his chest was monstrous. He had no doubt that the giant was dead. He turned his attention to his current situation. He was stuck in a frozen meat trailer, naked, with a leg woung and a face wound. He wasnt going to survive long. Looking around, he found a radio. It had a CB style handset, and he turned it on. To his immense relief, it flickered on, and he grabbed the handset, pushing the button on the side.

"Hey, driver! Stop the truck, im stuck in the back of it and freezing to death!" He yelled into it. After a minute, the radio crackled to life. "You're still alive? Damn, I could've sworn the freak was in there. Well, looks like you're going to freeze to death kid, sorry, bosses orders are that you die." The radio went silent. Jack started to shed tears of pure frustration. Ever since he'd arrived in Vice City, only one good thing had happened. The rest? He screamed and started firing shots into the trailer, aimed at where the driver would be sitting. He fired six shots, and on the last one, a click. He didnt know much about guns, so he couldnt have known that his last shot had managed to pierce the trailer, the freezer motor on the other side, the back panel to the cab, and finally, the driver himself. The driver, a man who had never really done anything worthwhile in his life, decided in his last moments on earth, he didnt want to go to hell, and killing someone else because a very scary man had told him to didnt really seem like much of a reason to do it anymore. He put his foot down on the brake, and died against the wheel.

Unfortunately for Jack, the driver hadnt put his foot on the brake as he had intended, and instead landed on the accelerator before dying. Jack fell backwards as the trailer suddenly lurched forward and began swerving. He let go of the gun and scrambled for purchase on the smooth sides of the trailer, but to no avail. The truck and trailer suddenly went sideways, flipping and spinning. In the chaos, Jack hit his head on the wall of the trailer, and blacked out. He felt warmth, and wondered if his next breath would be his last.

He awoke to blurred images, and felt hands holding him underneath warm water. He struggled and struck out against the blurred image holding him down. The person let go and Jack exploded out of the water, swinging as hard as he could, connecting with someone's face. He still could barely see, and fell over as soon as the slight adrenaline rush left him. The person got up and snarled. "Little shit!" Jack could almost feel the man's foot being lifted to stomp on him, when another voice sounded throughout his ears. "Bob! Stop! He is not to be harmed." Then darkness claimed him once again.

Asuka's Club

Jack looked out of the large double sided mirror overlooking a nightclub. It was a lively night, with hip hop currently pumping out of the speakers. He had been rescued by Miya's older sister, Asuka. The family resemblance was fairly close. He had been in the river, south of where they currently were. Bob apparently was kept out of jail and off of the police radar by Asuka, and due to Miya's phone call, Asuka had told him to keep an eye out for someone fitting Jack's description. He ran the pierfront operations asuka had, and found Jack in the rear of the meat trailer. He had been covered in blood, the big scarred man's blood. The scarred man had not been there. Jack had woken when Bob was trying to get him warmed up, to keep him alive. Jack had apologized profusely, but Bob only laughed and complimented him on his left hook. He caught his reflection and winced at the scar forming on his face. It started on the inside of his right eye, went down across the bridge of his nose, and ended under his left eye. It had apparently happened when Bob had kicked in Mercedes' front door. It had been three days since then. Asuka was arranging for him to go back to Vice City. They were still trying to find out who had ordered him brought here, the driver was dead and the scarred man gone. He had wanted to call Miya, but Asuka forbid it, as she was currently under police supervision. They had been staking out her club for weeks, hoping to catch her in some shady buisness. She wouldnt tell jack what it was, and he was fine with that. He had found out that Mercedes was alive, barely, in the ICU of the local hospital. Once he found out who was responsible for sending those thugs to her place, he was going to find him and hurt him. Badly. He wanted to visit her, but she was under police protection.

Asuka had bought him clothes she thought fit him better than his normal jeans and tee shirts. So he was wearing black cargo pants with a blue tank top underneath a red long sleeve button up silk shirt. He refused to wear a tailored suit, like she had originally planned. His shoes were outside of the office door, they were regular running shoes, like he had requested. He sipped his tea. For a gangster, Asuka was surprisingly traditional. He had only known Triad growing up, and they weren't that traditional. Not in Las Venturas anyway. The office he was in was very nice, with soft and thick dark red carpeting, dark mahogany chairs with a matching desk in the shape of a semi-circle. It looked like the walls were wood paneling. There was a bar, and two big black leather couches. Asuka was currently behind the desk, going through some apparently run of the mill standard paperwork. Jack grinned a little at that. It had come under the protection of two armed japanese men who had eyed him like a hunter eyes a ten point buck.

"How many do you see?" She asked him. He counted. Two at the bar, pretending to ignore each other. One on the dance floor, sort of just walking around, not really dancing. One more over by the front door, one standing by the kitchen. "Five," he responded. She chuckled. "Thats three more than usual. Probably because of you." He turned and went over to the couch, sitting on it and looking at his tea. It was good tea. "Sorry. I know how a new face tends to rile up the locals." Asuka put her pen down and looked at him. Then came around her desk and sat down on the edge. "You know, Miya speaks very highly of you. I thought she was going to turn out to be gay, she turns down every single guy who hits on her. But you, you were the first to actually want to know her instead of her body. The two of us, her and I, we dont get along very well. Differences in opinion. But she will always be my sister, and I trust her judgement in people. If she loves you enough to call me and ask for help, then I can't say no to her. You will never become a burden to me, or our family. I already consider you a part of it." She laughed quietly. "Actually, I didnt know what to think of you, at first. When I first heard of you, and who you're father was, I pictured some fat spoiled kid. Not the muscular, good looking young man I see here before me. Then I heard about the bodies that have beeen showing up recently. The way they died, I saw the crime scene photos. My plant in the precint helped with that. I made sure any evidence of you, like blood samples, disappeared. After that, I had still expected something else. But seeing you, now, as you are sitting there on my couch, from the look in your eye and the sincerity in your voice when you apologize, I know my sister has made a good decision. Thats all i'm going to say on the matter, except for this, if you hurt my sister, I will kill you myself." Jack nodded. He had expected some sort of sisterly speech.

Vincent's Home

Vincent hefted the baseball bat, swinging it against the punching bag, hearing a solid hit. "Wooden bats are so much better than aluminum," he said to the few poeple gathered about, watching him with interest. None of them had seen him like this before. "They have more weight, swing harder, hit harder. But it's so much more than that. The smell of the bat reminds me of growing up, playing baseball in the local park with my friends." He swung the bat again, connecting once more. "The first bats, used by the pioneers of baseball, were wooden bats. Babe Ruth, Jackie Robinson, Sandy Kaufax, all of them. They all used wooden bats." He swung the bat again with each name, and it broke against the bag on the last one. He sighed, dropping the bat on the floor. Wearing a suit, peple would think him chubby, if not fat. However, in a tee shirt, the muscles of his arms straining the fabirc, he looked anything but fat. He motioned to two of his bodyguards, and they pulled the bag down from its hook, unzipping it and letting the body inside fall out. "Not in here, do it somewhere else!" He snapped at them. "Yes sir!" They sounded in unison. He sighed, then turned to the people gathered around him.

"I'm sorry you had to see that. Now, i'm to understand that you have some questions for me?" There were four people there, three male and one female. The three men wore typical business attire. All wore dark blue. The only real difference between them was age. Antonio Leone was the oldest of the three, being older than Vincent by at least twenty years. The other two were his son and grandson, Thomas and Jason. Antonio had named his son after a saint, and Thomas had named his son after his favorite movie monster. Jason was the smartest of the three, and knew that Vincent was in charge. He was the ultimate diplomat, always managing to get his way while at the same time making it seem like it was someone else getting their way. Vincent didnt trust him, but knew he was good. Thomas was disappointed in his son, because Thomas favored the straight forward, leg breaking approach. Anotnio simply wanted to live in peace, and was a stickler for the old ways. They all looked similar to each other, like seeing what each one would look like at different stages if his life. Short, dark hair, light eyes, thin build. They each ran a part of the city, and thus had a say in the meetings.

Jeanette was another story. Long light brown hair, baby blue eyes, a very well endowed figure, she had begun her career as a model. Doing playboy, among various other magazines. She managed her own career, however, and was a lot smarter than anyone gave her credit for. At thirty one, she was the second youngest of the five of them. Jason being the youngest. She took over part of the city almost overnight a few years ago when everything went to hell. After repeated attempts to get her to give her part back to the families, ranging from negotiations to assassination attempts, they finally decided that she would be a better ally than an enemy, and invited her to the council. She accepted graciously, and has been the one that no one knew much about, but always came through. The others simply attributed her rise to luck, but Vincent thought different. There was something there, in her background, that had helped her gain her position. He wished he knew what it was, but so far has not been able to find it.

They were in Vincents house, the former Leone estate. Antonio had given it to him as a peace offering, and he loved it. The gym he had built in it, where they were currently standing, was his pride and joy. Everything was state of the art. He spent several hours in here each day.He ran a hand through his hair, and wiped his brow with a towel hanging from a nearby weight bench. Antonio was the first to speak. "We have come to offer our help, should you need it." Vincent shrugged. "I dont." Thomas spoke up then, "We think you do. There has been a number of dead wise guys showing up here recently. Most of them yours, some of them ours, sent to reinforce yours. There was also a large wreck down at the shipping yard a few days ago. One of your trucks. Inside of it was also a few wise guys, and a lot of dead people. Most of the missing persons cases for the last year were solved when those bodies were autopsied. Several of them people you had been placed in charge of disposing of, this doesnt look good." Vincent held out his hand, and one of his bodyguards handed him another wooden bat. Thomas reached into his jacket, and Jason finally began to speak, walking in between them as he did, almost casually. Vincent simply inspected the bat, and Thomas pulled a cigar out of his inside pocket.

"We are just offering our services, should you need them, thats all. Besides, we havent had a meeting in a while, what with all of us being involved in our own business ventures. However, we cant help you very well if we dont know whats going on, can we?" Vincent looked at him. He still didnt trust the kid, but he had a point. "Alright, fine. There is a guy who was sent up here by a family down in Vice City. He's causing hell and trying to make us look bad. I simply want him put out of the picture. He's good, but not good enough. We havent been giving him much time to rest, so its only a matter of time until we kill him, thats all." He didnt want to tell them who the guy was, or more importantly, who his father was. That would most likely end in disaster. They might find out in the course of looking for him, but he could claim he didnt know, and that would be that. Jeanette was the only one who didn't say anything, just looking at each of them in turn. Vincent really didnt like her. She had eyes as cold as a vipers, and despite having a body hotter than an eskimo in hell, he was sure her heart was colder than a polar bears nutsack.

Jeanette's Limo

Jeanette looked at her two guests in amusement. She had just picked them up from the airport, and she had never seen two people who loathed each other more. Ken Rosenberg was a lawyer, and apparently was here on behalf of Tommy Vercetti. She knew who Tommy was, he was one of two people to ever kill a Forelli and get away with it. Like the other one, he had been deemed too much of a risk to go after. So he had been left alone to build an empire down in Vice City. The other one, he only introduced himself as Frank, was a cop. He didnt have his badge, but the way he carried himself, she knew. If he was on the Vercetti payroll, then he was also a corrupt cop. She despised them. She took oaths very seriously, and as such, never swore one if she could help it. She would do anything to keep her word. It was one of her points of pride. The wording was important, of course, but with a lawyer here, any oath she might have to swear would be worded very carefully.

"So, this kid, he is very important to the Vercetti family, and it's of the utmost importance we get him back in one piece, or my insides will be christmas decorations. That why we came to you, you owe us a favor from a few years ago. Tommy Vercetti remembers who he helps, and helps those who help him. If you do this for us, not only will you not owe us anything, but we will owe you." Rosenberg was at the point of babbling. Frank simply looked at him and shook his head. "Shut the fuck up, Ken. Just shut up." He snapped at him. Turning to Jeanette, he spoke clearly, seeming to punctuate every word. "This is not someone as important as this asshole seems to think. We need him, and we need him alive. Thats all you need to know about him. Ken will give you a picture of him, and I will go to the precint here and see what I can dig up." Jeanette regarded them with a careful eye, and hid a slight smile behind her hand. This guy's resemblance to Vincent's lawyer was unmistakeable. He had less hair, but the same last name? What are the odds of that. She couldnt help but wonder if the man from Vice City and the guy they were looking for were one and the same. It was too much of a coincidence to be anything else. "Alright," She said, "I'll help you find him, but i'm also going to send one of my guys with you. His name is Claude."