Capítulo 46: Chapter 46: A New Era

You and Lance burst into Diaz's main chamber, the opulence of the mansion now marred by the chaos of the battle. The room is grand, with high ceilings and red walls adorned with gaudy art. At the top of the staircase, Diaz stands, armed with an MP5, his face twisted in fury.

"Vercetti! I'm going to tear you apart for this betrayal!" he yells, the words dripping with venom.

"Lance, cover me!" you shout as you take aim and fire. Bullets fly in both directions, the sound deafening in the enclosed space.

You advance, ducking and weaving to avoid Diaz's relentless fire. Lance provides cover, picking off Diaz's men one by one. The fight is fierce, each side determined to come out on top.

Just as you think you're gaining the upper hand, Lance takes a hit and collapses, clutching his side. "Tommy, I can't... I can't keep going," he gasps, blood seeping through his fingers.

"Damn it, Lance! Hang in there!" you yell, but your attention is forced back to Diaz, who uses the distraction to his advantage.

Diaz's gunfire intensifies, and you find yourself pinned down. The bullets spray all around you, and you barely manage to dodge them, diving behind a marble pillar. You pop out, trying to take a shot, but Diaz is relentless.

"You think you can end me, Vercetti? I'll kill you again and again if I have to!" Diaz roars, his voice echoing in the grand room.

"You've died once, even twice, Diaz. I can end you again!" you shout back, but Diaz's fury seems to give him unending strength.

He closes in, the distance between you shrinking. With a final desperate move, Diaz tackles you to the ground. You struggle, but he's on top of you, the MP5 shoved in your face. "Any last words?" he sneers, his finger tightening on the trigger.

Suddenly, a loud bang echoes through the room. Diaz's eyes widen in shock, a bloody hole appearing in his chest. He collapses backward, his body thudding against the ornate table.

You scramble to your feet, frantically looking around for the source of the shot. "Sniper!" you mutter, diving for cover behind a nearby statue.

Minutes pass in tense silence. You scan the room, but there's no sign of a sniper. The only clue is the slightly ajar glass doors at the far end of the chamber, now sporting several bullet cracks. They face out of the mansion, leading to the outside world. "Damn it," you hiss, realizing you might never know who took the shot.

You cautiously approach Diaz, who is still gasping for breath on the floor. His eyes are hollow, staring at nothing. "Guess this is the end, Diaz. And you won't come back this time," you say, your voice filled with finality.

Diaz's gaze flickers to you, his lips moving but no sound coming out. Finally, he mutters, "I trusted you," his voice barely a whisper. The life drains from his eyes, and he falls silent, forever.

With Diaz's lifeless body at your feet, you finally let yourself sink down to the floor, exhaustion washing over you. The adrenaline that had kept you going begins to fade, leaving you with a pounding headache and sore muscles.

You close your eyes for a moment, trying to catch your breath. But then, you remember Lance. He's still injured, leaning against the wall, clutching his side and wincing in pain. "Damn, Lance," you mutter, forcing yourself back up. You walk over to him and kneel down, concern etched on your face.

"Lance, hang in there. I'm getting help," you say, reaching for your earpiece. But as you touch it, you realize it's broken, likely damaged during the intense firefight. "Shit," you curse under your breath.

You pull out your phone instead, quickly dialing Cam's number. Your fingers tremble slightly from the intensity of the fight.

"Cam, it's Tommy. We got Diaz, but Lance is hurt bad. I need you to get here and take care of him," you say urgently.

"Got it, Tommy. I'll be there as soon as I can. Just hang tight," Cam replies, his voice steady and reassuring.

You end the call and immediately dial Ken. "Ken, it's done. Diaz is out of the picture. I need you to come over and handle the aftermath. Make sure everything is cleaned up and that we take control smoothly."

"Jesus, Tommy! You actually did it? Alright, I'm on my way. We'll get this sorted," Ken responds, a mix of shock and excitement in his voice.

You put the phone away and look back at Lance. "Cam's on his way. You're gonna be alright," you assure him, though the worry in your eyes betrays your calm tone.

Lance nods weakly, trying to muster a smile. "Thanks, Tommy. I knew you had my back."

You stand up, glancing around the room. The mansion that once symbolized Diaz's power and control now stands as a testament to your victory.

As the chaos settles, you survey the wreckage of Diaz's mansion. The grandeur of the place is now marred by bullet holes, broken glass, and the stench of gunpowder. The opulent decor stands as a stark reminder of the battle that just took place. You think about making this mansion yours. The idea of ruling Vice City from such a grand fortress appeals to you. But first, you need to get Ken to handle the formalities and clean-up.

You look at Lance, who's still struggling with his injuries. "Ken will deal with this later. Let's get you out of here," you say, helping him to his feet.

As you help Lance out of the mansion, his weight heavy on your shoulder, you see Cam arriving. He rushes over, concern etched on his face.

"Over here, Cam!" you call out, your voice strained with effort and pain.

Cam reaches you and takes Lance's other side, easing the burden. "Got him, Tommy. I'll take care of him. You need to look after yourself too."

You nod, grateful for the assistance. "Thanks, Cam. Make sure he gets patched up."

With Lance safely handed over to Cam, you get back into your car. The drive to 3321 Vice Point is a blur, your mind racing with plans for the future and the ache of your own wounds beginning to make itself known.

Once you arrive at your safehouse, you turn your attention to your injuries. The adrenaline that had kept you going is gone, leaving you feeling every cut and bruise. You head to the bathroom and strip off your shirt, wincing as you see the extent of the damage in the mirror.

There's a deep gash on your side from where a bullet grazed you, and your knuckles are raw and bloody from the fight. A bruise is already forming on your shoulder, darkening to an angry purple. You grab a first aid kit from under the sink and start cleaning your wounds, gritting your teeth against the sting of the antiseptic. You bandage the gash on your side as best as you can, then wrap your knuckles.

Each movement sends a jolt of pain through your body, but you push through. Finally, you finish bandaging yourself up and head to your bedroom.

You collapse onto the bed, exhaustion overtaking you. The events of the night replay in your mind as you lie there, staring at the ceiling. Despite the pain and the chaos, you can't help but feel a sense of triumph. Diaz is dead, and his empire is now yours for the taking.

As sleep finally begins to claim you, you know that this is just the beginning. The real work of consolidating your power lies ahead. But for now, you allow yourself a moment of rest, knowing that when you wake up, you'll be ready to face whatever comes next.