Yes, Mr. Vercetti

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It's 1987 in Vice City. A young almost sixteen year-old survives a devastating plane crash and is stranded in one of the most crime-ridden, gang-infested cities in the country. How will this lonely 70s child survive? Maybe by the help of the town's self-procclaimed dictator...

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Chapter 1: "Welcome to Vice City"

"Ma, what's happening?" I asked my mother. The jet was trembling and flying towards the ground at a speed not normal for safe-flying planes.

"There's only one left!" said my father to my mom.

"One what? What's going on!" I shouted over the aircraft's blaring sirens and hysteric screaming of the other ten passengers.

"Put this on, babe..." Ma snatched my arm and fitted me with a knapsack of some kind. She held my face and and kissed my forehead with tears streaming down her round face.

"Remeber this...Don't forget who you are, cross your legs like a lady and we will always look after you..." she said.

"And we will always love you." Said Pop, who was crying as well. He grabbed my shoulders and hurriedly pushed me towards a door on the side of the jet. He opened the door and I stood there, looking below me as the earth became nearer and nearer.

"What! Is the plane about to cr--" I was interrupted as ma forcibly shoved me out the door. I fell towards the ground doing somersaults almost. I saw the cord and yanked it with all of my arm's power.

I nearly gagged when the parachute emerged from the knapsack and I had stopped falling. I turned to my immediate right to see the jet...The jet holding my parents and ten other passengers who had jumped out the jet without a chute...Crash into a building.

Watching the jet burst into flames and floating in mid-air, thousands of feet above a nameless body of water, I sobbed quietly to myself. I felt a sudden pain in my chest and clutched it. It was a tight, heart-wrenching pain and it wouldn't go away...Why are my eyes closing? Am I about to die?

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(about half an hour later)

I woke up, dressed in white, in a white bed in a blue-ish room with beeping appliances. Next to me, there was a petite, crimson-headed female, also dressed in white who had a clipboard in her hands and wrote on it while looking at a machine.

"Excuse me ma'am but where am I?" I inquired with a raspy, cracked voice.

"You're in a hospital, hon. Ocean Beach Hospital to be exact." she replied with a Long-Island New York accent.

"Hospital? How'd I end up here?"

"Oh that's right, you're the "Jane Doe From Above". The Police had found you unconsious right outside the hospital, almost suffocated in a parachute. Paramedics say you had a stress-related heart attack. You almost didn't make it hon, you must've had a guardian angel...It's been about one day." she returned to her writing.

I couldn't believe it. I thought all of that was a really terrible dream...That means that...my parents really are dead...I really am stranded in a strange city, alone. I start sobbing hysterically and ended up startling the nurse.

"Now, now hon! What's all the crying for?" she asked as she put her arm around my shoulder in a feeble attempt to comfort me.

"My parents...are dead! I'm all alone! I don't know where I am! I have nowhere to go!"

The nurse got up and approached the door. After looking around and down the hallway, she closed it and sat on the bed with me.

"Just for the record, you're in Vice City, Florida hon." she spoke.

"Vice City?" I calmed down some because I was starting to hyperventilate.

"Now, normally I wouldn't do this but since you have a class-A sob-story, I'll help you out. There's a guy here...Real big-shot, took over the whole city in less than five months and's been runnin' this God-forsaken joint for about a year. His name's Tommy Vercetti." she explained.

"Tommy Vercetti...I've heard of him. My Pop's a big fan of his films. He has a collection but he's never let me seen them for some reason." I said.

"Trust me hon, you'd have NO business viewing THOSE films. But anyways...Here's his numba." she reached into her uniform shirt and pulled out a hot-pink card.

"This is one of his...'estates'. Maybe you could find some work to survive out here but I doubt he's gonna hire a young piece of meat like you to do anything worthwhile. I mean what are ya, fourteen?" She handed me the card and got off the bed.

"Sixteen...In three months..."

"Well, take care hon."

"Thanks..." I guess. She nods her head and exits, closing the door behind her. I look at the card. I says "Pole Posistion Club." I'm suddenly stricken with an ambitious urge.

I jump out of bed and yank the IV tubes from the inside of my arm. It stings, a lot. I then look out the window, open it and climb out (since it's on the first floor). But not before changing into the dingy jeans and my now wrinkled white tshirt I had arrived in.

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As I was standing in front of the hospital, I looked around. There was a man in a red leather jacket running from a police officer, there was a voloptuous, scantily-clad female bent over the passenger-side window of a dirty-brown Sentinel, and there was a Cherry Popper Ice Cream truck surrounded by at least ten limping, pitiful-looking people.

Where was I?

Another man in a black leather jacket speeds past me riding a Faggio scooter being followed by a fast and noisy PCJ-600 occupying two passengers. The Faggio-rider falls off his ride and is run over by the rival bike.

"Should we take his money and bike?" asks one of the occupants on the PCJ.

"Nah, leave that sucka to rot with his dirty money and piece-of-shit bike." says the other and they drive off.

I and several other bystanders approach the lifeless victim.

"Poor, poor boy..." says a man in a black suit wearing a black hat. He walks off and the others follow him. Staring at the deceased, I collect the $100 from his jacket and drive off on his Faggio. What? It's not like he needs it...

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End Chapter 1

How was that? I hope I didn't drag it out too much. Please read the next chapter but review first...Thank you!