original

GTA: Vice city

Autor: ETsnomx

Capítulo 1: Chapter 1: Thomas "Tommy" Vercetti

The neon lights of Vice City reflect in your eyes as you step out of the white Admiral car. Fifteen years in a cell have honed you into a weapon, and now you're unleashed. You look at the car rear view mirror and admire yourself. You stand tall and imposing, a figure of undeniable toughness forged through years of hard living. Your dark hair is kept short and practical, perfectly framing a face that's seen its share of fights and come out the other side tougher for it. Sharp eyes that have witnessed more than their fair share of Vice City's underbelly peer out from under a furrowed brow, always on the lookout for the next challenge or threat.

Your choice of attire is iconic: a bright turquoise Hawaiian shirt adorned with palm tree patterns, exuding a sense of casual coolness that belies the deadly skills beneath. It's untucked, relaxed, but the look is purposeful, a part of your image. Around your neck hangs a gold chain, glinting subtly in the light, a testament to your success in this city's dangerous game.

Your jeans are well-worn but sturdy, fitted perfectly for mobility and endurance – essentials in your line of work. Scuffed white sneakers complete the ensemble, built for running, fighting, and everything in between. On your wrist, a sturdy watch ticks away, keeping you on time for whatever task lies ahead.

The city buzzes with danger and opportunity, every corner a potential conquest. Tonight, you have a meeting with a jittery lawyer and the beginning of your empire to plan. As you light a cigarette, you smirk. Vice City doesn't know what's coming.

You follow the lawyer, Mr. Hamilton, through the seedy streets of Vice City's downtown. Your boots echo off the wet pavement as he leads you to a dilapidated building, ushering you inside. The air is thick with the smell of sweat and fear.

A man sits at a rickety table, his face obscured by shadows. "You must be Tommy Vercetti," he growls, extending his hand. "I'm Juan Garcia Cortez. I've heard a lot about you."

You take his hand, feeling the roughness of his calloused palm. The grip is firm, the shake deliberate. Cortez seems to be sizing you up, searching for any hint of weakness. But he won't find any.

"Have a seat," he says, gesturing to the chair across from him. The table is cluttered with documents, photos, and maps. Cortez slides a manila envelope toward you. "This is the deal you're here to oversee."

You open the envelope, revealing stacks of cash and small bags filled with a white powder. "Cocaine," Cortez explains. "High-quality product, straight from Colombia. Your job is to distribute it to the buyers and make sure the exchange goes smoothly."

A moment of silence hangs in the air before Cortez continues. "But there's been a change of plans. The deal is going down tonight, here in Vice City. You'll be working with some local contacts, but don't worry - they're reliable."

You nod, closing the envelope and sliding it back towards Cortez. "I can handle it," you say, your voice low and confident. You've dealt with worse before, and fifteen years in a cell have only sharpened your skills.

Cortez grins, showing off a set of crooked teeth. "That's what I like to hear. The buyers will be arriving soon, so we don't have much time."

As if on cue, a loud knock echoes through the room. Cortez's grin fades, replaced by a cautious expression. He nods at you, signaling for you to answer the door. You push your chair back and stride toward the door, your footsteps heavy on the wooden floorboards. As you reach for the doorknob, you glance back at Cortez, who gives you a subtle nod of approval.

You open the door to reveal three figures, their faces obscured by the dim light spilling out from the room. The man in the middle steps forward, his hands in his pockets. "Are you Tommy Vercetti?" You nod, your eyes locked on his. "That's me," you say, your voice even.

The man studies you for a moment before speaking. "I'm Ricardo Diaz, and these are my associates, Lance and Victor." He gestures to the men on either side of him, who nod in turn. Diaz's tone is casual, but there's a hint of tension in his voice. "We're here for the deal."

You step aside, motioning for them to enter the room. Diaz and his associates stride past you, their footsteps echoing off the worn wooden floorboards. You can't quite put your finger on it, but something about Diaz makes you uneasy. Maybe it's the way he carries himself, with a confidence that borders on arrogance. Or perhaps it's the cold, calculating look in his eyes. Whatever it is, you make a mental note to keep a close eye on him.

Cortez rises from his chair as Diaz enters, extending a hand in greeting. "Ah, Ricardo!" he exclaims, grinning widely. "So good to see you again. I hope everything is well with your operations." Diaz's expression remains neutral as he shakes Cortez's hand, a slight tightening around his eyes the only indication of his thoughts.

"I can't complain, Juan," he replies, his voice laced with feigned cheerfulness. "But let's get down to business, shall we? I understand you have a deal for me tonight." Cortez nods, gesturing to the table laden with cash and drugs. "Indeed, I do. This is the product, high-grade cocaine, ready for distribution to your buyers." Diaz's eyes narrow, and he steps closer to the table, scrutinizing the contents.

You remain on high alert, watching the exchange between the two men, assessing their body language and searching for any sign of treachery. Your hand rests on your waist, close to your gun, just in case. Diaz nods in approval and turns to you. "Vercetti, I've heard good things about your work. Cortez tells me you're the man for this job." You meet his gaze, your eyes unwavering. "That's right. I won't let you down."

Cortez claps his hands together. "Excellent! Then let's proceed. Diaz, your men can unload the merchandise from the van outside while Vercetti and I handle the exchange with your buyers." Diaz nods, signaling to his associates, who exit the room to retrieve the merchandise. The tension in the air is palpable as you and Cortez wait in silence. Your mind races, considering every possible outcome, every potential threat. You've been in situations like this before, but something about this deal feels off.

Victor and Lance return, carrying large duffel bags, which they place on the table with a thud. Diaz opens one of the bags, revealing stacks of cash. "Here's your payment, Cortez." Cortez nods, satisfied, and signals for you to count the money. As you leaf through the bills, you can't help but feel a twinge of unease. Something about Diaz's demeanor has shifted; he seems more tense, his eyes darting around the room. You exchange a glance with Cortez, who seems to have noticed it too.

"Everything seems in order," Cortez says, breaking the silence. "Shall we proceed with the exchange, Diaz?"

Diaz nods, his expression tight. "Indeed, let's not waste any more time."

As the exchange begins, you can't shake the feeling that something is amiss. You keep a close eye on Diaz, watching his every move, trying to decipher his intentions. But before you can make a decision, everything erupts into chaos.

Gunfire rings out, shattering the tense silence. Diaz and his men draw their weapons, taking aim at you and Cortez. In a heartbeat, the room is filled with smoke and the sharp scent of gunpowder. You react instinctively, your hand shooting to your waist and grabbing your gun. You dive to the side, taking cover behind a flimsy wooden table as bullets whizz past you. Cortez returns fire, his shots ringing out in quick succession. You steal a glance at Diaz, who seems to be orchestrating the attack with cold precision.

The room is a cacophony of gunfire and shouts as you and Cortez fight back against Diaz and his men. You feel a surge of adrenaline, your heart pounding in your chest. In the chaos, you catch a glimpse of Lance Vance, who seems to be hesitating, unsure of where his loyalties lie. You lock eyes for a brief moment, and you can see the uncertainty in his gaze. Seizing the opportunity, you shout to him over the din of gunfire, "Lance, get out of here! This isn't what you signed up for!"

Lance hesitates, torn between his loyalty to Diaz and his instinct for self-preservation. You can see the internal struggle playing out on his face. Lance glances at Diaz, who is too preoccupied with the fight to notice. In a split second, Lance makes his decision. He drops his gun, raising his hands in surrender. "I'm out!" he yells, making a break for the door. Diaz's men briefly pause their assault, taken aback by Lance's sudden betrayal.

Seizing the moment, you and Cortez push forward, taking out Diaz's men one by one. The room fills with the smell of gunpowder and the sound of grunts and curses as the last of Diaz's men fall. You and Cortez stand, panting slightly, amid the wreckage of the once-tidy room. Diaz is nowhere to be seen, having made his escape during the chaos.

"Well, that didn't go as planned," Cortez mutters, shaking his head. "But at least we survived." You nod in agreement, your heart still pounding from the adrenaline of the fight. "We need to find Diaz," you say, your voice low and determined. "He can't be allowed to get away with this."

Cortez nods, a steely look in his eyes. "You're right. But first, we need to get out of here. The cops will be on their way any minute now."

You survey the damage, your eyes lingering on the bags of cash and drugs still sitting on the table. "What about the merchandise?" Cortez glances at the table, his expression thoughtful. "We'll have to leave it for now. It's too risky to try and take it with us. We'll send someone to retrieve it later."

You nod, understanding the urgency of the situation. "Alright, let's go."

As you and Cortez make your way out of the building, you can't help but feel a sense of unease. Diaz is still out there, and you know he won't rest until he's taken his revenge.