Grand Theft Auto Vice City Tommy Vercetti Novels & Stories

Marty snarled. "Don't lie to me Marty! You were seen in a heated argument with her before it happened!" Raine warned. "I wouldn't harm your mom. I knew how much you loved her." Marty replied. "The black F150 was registered to Tommy, who I know is your gun for hire. How many times have you introduced me to him in the past? I know you've used him to do your dirty work." Raine retorted. "I see someone has been doing their homework." Marty amused.

His eyes were enough. --- In, Monica laid out their first lead: a man named Carter Graves. Ex-intelligence. Now off-grid. He had info—physical evidence of Veronica's underground dealings. "Last spotted in a border town south of here. You'll want aliases. And guns. You still shoot, Voss?" Damien nodded tersely. Monica's eyes flicked to Asher. "You?" "I shoot," he said, voice cold. "But I never miss." She smirked. "Then maybe you'll both make it through this."

Just like everything else the department's tried to pin on the guy. "Not this time, partner," she murmured huskily, finishing her coffee and staring out the dirty window into the busy city street beyond. She carelessly shoved long bangs off her face and behind an ear. "The department never had me before. This time he's mine." After a further ten minutes of bantering they finally pushed away from the table and headed back to the station to face the baddest bad guy to ever grace their offices. Vladimir Sitnikov was royalty among the city's underworld, and he was stewing in their dingy interrogation room thanks to the dogged persistence of Officer Jane McKinley.

Even though Tommy and Mason were twins and both 26 years old, you wouldn't know it from the way they looked. Tommy was large and strong, a truly tough guy with the type of reflexes you only get from military training, whereas Mason always appeared professional and intelligent behind his spectacles. Jett had made arrangements for Felicia to be followed. that am as she departed the motel. Tommy had immediately noticed. He hit the person in the tail's car head-on. He then grabbed the man's phone and dialed 911.

“See, it worked! He can hear just fine now.” “I think you missed your calling, Doctor Clutch,” I said. “You asshole, you almost cut my fucking ear off!” Phil snapped. “Come on, Philly Cheese Steak, I barely touched you. Now, where’s the money?” Clutch asked, once again leveling his pistol to Phil’s head. “A dude named Viper hired my crew to steal a car. That’s it!” he squeaked. “I swear I didn’t know there was money in the trunk until the car got here and they opened it up.”

Every corner of the Vercetti world I touched felt like it was slowly strangling whatever small piece of me was still left. The door swung open behind me. I didn’t need to turn to know who it was. Tomika. Of course. If she wasn’t here to laugh, what else would she want? She stepped inside, heels clicking sharply against the tile, and let the door swing shut with a soft thud. I watched her reflection slide into the mirror—arms crossed, lips curled in that smug little smirk she always wore when she thought she’d caught me bleeding. “Wow,” she said, dragging the word out. “You really fucked up tonight, didn’t you?”

His face was a mottled, suffocating purple, his fingers frantically clawing at my wrist, but my grip was an iron vice. "I... I don't know, Silas! I swear to God!" Tommy choked out, tears of absolute, paralyzing terror mixing with the blood pouring from his broken nose. "The cousins... Marco, Sandro, Enzo... they went dark after the Bronx! They didn't tell the street crews anything!" "Wrong answer," I whispered. I didn't hesitate. I didn't blink. I reached down with my free hand, grabbed his left arm, and snapped it at the elbow with a sickening, wet crack that echoed off the high ceiling.

“You better start talking or I'm gonna shove of fucking hearing device so far up your ass, you would hear the sound of your small intestine as it produces shit.” “I—I swear, I know nothing, Vex–” “It's Jordan.” “Sorry. Jordan. I—” “Free him, Jay.” Tommy's voice wasn't so difficult to recognize after having heard it for over two decades. He's also the only fucker that choose to freestyle with my name. The younger guy sitting next to me had that redeeming look upon spotting Tommy walking towards us. Alas, he'll live this day without a scratch. Tommy strolled over like he had all the time in the world, not rushing, not panicking—just calm in that way that made me want to break something. Even i

Tommy tells Tia, "I'll be right back, I need to talk to a couple guys. Two minutes." Tia looks nervous but nods. Tommy kisses her cheek quickly and then bolts inside. He grabs a couple of his fellow mechanics, some big guys with unusual tattoos. They walk out together so Tommy could be in Tias' sight while the three talk quietly. Tommy shakes both guys hands with a smile and hops back into the cab.

Brody stepped forward and kicked Zack. He was a specialized police unit officer and thus had greater strength in his kick. Zack tumbled a few times on the ground. However, he did not dare to complain and got back up to kneel. Tommy became arrogant and walked over confidently. He approached and squatted down in front of Lucy. Then, he lifted her chin to raise her head. “Do you remember spitting on me, Lucy?” he said with an undisguised smugness.