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42.25% GTA: Vice city / Chapter 30: Chapter 30: Heights of Fury

章 30: Chapter 30: Heights of Fury

You step into Ricardo Diaz's mansion, the tension palpable. Diaz, with a mix of anger and irritation, turns to you. "Tommy, those Streetwannabe's punks have been stealing my money. Where are they hiding?"

You respond, "I tracked them to a hideout on Prawn Island."

Diaz nods approvingly. "Good. I want you to go there and retrieve my money. Lance will help you."

Surprised, you glance over as Lance Vance steps into the room. "Lance? Didn't expect to see you here."

Lance shrugs nonchalantly. "Heard about the job, figured I'd tag along."

As you walk to the helipad, you ask Lance, "So, why are you really here?"

He smirks. "Just listening around. This seemed like a job worth doing."

You board the sleek helicopter, the wind whipping through your hair as you strap yourself in. The M60 machine gun is secured beside you, a heavy and powerful weapon. The helicopter lifts off, and the city of Vice City stretches out below. You pass over neon-lit streets, the bustling Ocean Beach, and the serene waters of Vice Point.

Approaching Prawn Island, you see the gang members' hideout—a decrepit mansion surrounded by armed thugs. The helicopter hovers above, and you grip the M60, ready for action.

"Alright, let's do this," you mutter.

As the helicopter descends, you open fire, the M60 rattling in your hands. Bullets tear through the air, striking gang members and sending them sprawling. The rooftop becomes a chaotic battleground, oil barrels exploding and adding to the carnage. Lance curses beside you, "Damn, Tommy! These bastards won't quit!"

The gang members retaliate, their shouts of anger mixing with the roar of gunfire. "You're dead, Vercetti!" one yells, firing wildly.

You and Lance clear the rooftop, bodies littering the area, blood pooling around the debris. The helicopter hovers lower, and more gang members pour out of the mansion. You mow them down, Lance shouting obscenities as he maneuvers the helicopter.

"Take that, you fuckers!" Lance yells, his voice filled with adrenaline.

With the lower floors cleared, you signal Lance to fly to the next building. As you approach, gang members in vans chase you, bullets whizzing past. Some gang members shoot from a nearby basketball court, adding to the chaos.

"Damn it, Tommy! We've got company!" Lance curses, weaving the helicopter to avoid the gunfire.

You return fire, the M60 blazing as you take out the attackers. The helicopter reaches the last building, and you repeat the process, clearing it with relentless efficiency. The rooftop is a bloody mess, oil barrels burning and bodies strewn about.

"We can't tackle this heat much longer," Lance shouts, panic creeping into his voice. "You gotta finish this on your own!"

You glance at Lance, noticing the strain on his face. "What's the condition of the chopper?"

"It's bad, Tommy. We can't take another hit," Lance responds, his voice tight with worry.

You nod, steeling yourself as you jump out of the helicopter. "Alright, I'll handle it."

You land on the ground and immediately rush into the building, gun blazing. As you move through the narrow hallways, a gang member tackles you from the side, sending you sprawling. The impact knocks the wind out of you, but you recover quickly, grabbing a nearby chair and smashing it over his head. The gang member crumples to the ground, unconscious.

Regaining your footing, you advance further into the building. Suddenly, bullets rain down from the second floor. You dive behind a table, flipping it over to use as cover. The wood splinters under the barrage of bullets, but it holds. You return fire, picking off the shooters one by one.

"Come on, you bastards!" you mutter under your breath, inching forward.

You move to the staircase, using the wall for cover as you exchange fire with more gang members. The sound of gunfire echoes through the building, mingling with the shouts of your enemies. You fire a few more rounds, taking down the last of the shooters on the second floor.

Finally, you reach the rooftop. The gang leader stands there, waiting, a sneer on his face. "So, Diaz sent his lapdog, huh? That prick deserves everything that's coming to him."

You raise your gun, eyes locked on the leader. "I get it. But a job's a job."

"Let's see if you can finish it," he taunts, drawing his own weapon.

The two of you exchange fire, bullets flying through the air. You dodge behind a vent, returning fire and forcing him to take cover. The rooftop becomes a chaotic battleground, each of you trying to outmaneuver the other.

When your guns run out of bullets, you both discard them, charging at each other with fists raised. You trade blows, the impact of each punch reverberating through your body. The fight is brutal, each hit pushing you closer to the edge of the rooftop.

"You're tough," he grunts, swinging a wild punch that you barely dodge.

"You're tougher than I thought," you reply, landing a solid hit to his jaw. The impact sends a shockwave through your arm, but you press on, fueled by adrenaline.

The fight continues, both of you bloodied and bruised. Each punch feels like it could be the last, but neither of you backs down. You swing a right hook, connecting with his cheekbone, sending him staggering back. He retaliates with a brutal knee to your ribs, knocking the wind out of you.

"You know..... Diaz is a...dead man walking," he grunts, spitting blood. "Everyone.....in this city....HATES HIM."

You dodge a wild swing and counter with an uppercut. "I.....don't give a fuck....bout him to do my job," you retort.

"You're just...another one of his....DOGS," he sneers, throwing a punch that grazes your cheek.

You grapple near the edge, your feet slipping on the loose gravel. The rooftop is a maze of obstacles – vents, pipes, and debris. You use them to your advantage, ducking behind a pipe and surprising him with a quick jab to his gut. He doubles over in pain but quickly recovers, grabbing a metal pipe and swinging it wildly.

"YOU DON'T GET IT DO YOU....?" he yells, the pipe whistling past your head. "This city eats people like YOU, EVEN Diaz....ALIVEEEE!!!."

You catch his wrist mid-swing, twisting it until he drops the weapon with a clang. You both pause for a moment, panting heavily, staring each other down.

"I get it just fine," you say, your voice cold. "But right now, you're my problem."

With a final burst of strength, you manage to trip him, sending him teetering over the edge. He grabs onto a ledge, hanging on for dear life, his eyes wide with fear. You step closer, looking down at him, the desperation in his eyes clear.

"You're gonna have to do better than that!" he hisses through gritted teeth.

For a moment, you hesitate, the gravity of the situation sinking in. But then you remember Diaz's orders, the danger of leaving loose ends.

"You're right," you say, your voice firm. "Let's finish this."

With one final, firm push, you dislodge his grip. He hangs on for a split second longer, his fingers scraping against the rough concrete, before losing his hold and plummeting to the ground below. The fall seems to last forever, his scream echoing in the night. "YOU WILL REGRET.....THISSSS!!!!"

You watch as his body hits the pavement with a sickening thud. Blood pools around him, a stark contrast to the dark asphalt. The scene is gruesome, a reminder of the brutal world you inhabit.

"A brave soul," you mutter, the words barely audible over the sound of your own ragged breathing. You take a moment to collect yourself, the adrenaline slowly ebbing away, leaving you feeling both exhausted and triumphant.

With the leader dealt with, you grab the briefcase of money and signal for Lance. The helicopter descends, and Lance helps you climb aboard.

"You did it, Tommy! Hell of a job!" Lance shouts as you fly back to Diaz's mansion, the mission complete.

Back at the mansion, Diaz greets you with a rare smile. "You did good, Tommy. Real good."

You nod, feeling a mix of satisfaction and the ever-present unease that comes with the job. "Just doing what needs to be done."

With the mission complete, you step back into the night, ready for whatever comes next.


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