Grand Theft Auto: Vice City (Rewrite)

Chapter 4: Back Alley Brawl

Minutes later, after dressing back into his usual attire, Tommy arrived in Ken's office to find the neurotic lawyer sitting behind his desk.

"Ah, well, I hope you're having a good time!" Ken answered. "Because I'm going out of my mind with worry here. What did you find out?"

"That there are more criminals in this town than in prison," Tommy answered dryly. "We need a lead from the streets..."

"Ok, let me think, let me think, let me think," Ken said, tightening his eyes shut and resting his fingers against his head. He finally opened his eyes as if he was a scoreboard lighting up.

"I've got it!" he finally said. "Ok, There's this limey, some music industry slimeball, goes by the name of Kent Paul. Anyway, he's got his nose so far up most of Vice City's ass that if anybody knows the whereabouts of 20 keys of coke, it's this guy, all right? He's always at The Malibu."

"I'll go pay him a visit," Tommy answered.

He turned to leave the office. "Take it easy now," Ken called.

Tommy left the office and entered his vehicle parked outside. He drove through the streets of the town, where many of the vehicles were moving smoothly. It was a nice drive through the summer breeze, and Tommy was strangely feeling the vibe.

Tommy made his way through Vice Point, where he saw a familiar club up ahead. That must have been the Malibu Club. So Tommy drove straight ahead, parked right on the side of the building, and exited the vehicle.

He made his way inside the Malibu Club and looked around. Inside the club, there were colorful spotlight flashing around the dance floor, and very many people were either sitting at tables drinking or dancing in the middle of the floor. Tommy saw the same British brunette wearing a red shirt he saw earlier at Colonel Cortez's yacht party talking to a brunette woman. That must have been Kent Paul.

"Where'd you pop up from?" Paul told the woman in a thick, British accent. "I've been looking for a bird like you for ages, mate..."

Meanwhile, Tommy had come across a guy standing at the door. "I'm looking for some English guy... " Tommy asked the man, who pointed to Paul up ahead.

"Kent Paul, mate," Paul told the woman. "Yeah, I'm the governor 'round here. I sort things out, you know what I mean? I'll treat you. Whatever you want, I'll get you, girl. Don't you worry about a thing, mate."

Tommy had just approached the two from behind and stared at the woman. "Get lost, honey," he told the woman kindly. The woman obeyed Tommy's command and walked away.

"Oi oi oi oi oi!" Paul called to the woman amorously. He then turned to Tommy.

"You Kent Paul?" Tommy asked as Paul nodded. "I'm a friend of Rosenberg's... "

"Rosenberg... " Paul said, thinking carefully, " ...Rosenberg... Oh, that bonkers ambulance chaser! That guy could defend an innocent man all the way to death row! Give us another drink, bruv."

"Everybody's a comedian," Tommy muttered. "Listen to me, I'm missing twenty keys and a lot of cash..."

"Drugs, mate?" Paul asked. "It's a mug's game."

"What do you know about it?" Tommy asked curtly as he shoved Paul to the ground.

"Oi oi!" Paul answered, sounding rather stunned. "What I was coming to was, there's some chef-cum-trumpetshifter who deals out of a hotel kitchen on Ocean Drive. He's been looking real pleased with himself lately. You could go and check him out...?"

"I will - and I'll be seeing you around," Tommy told Paul coldly. He then began to walk away.

"Yeah, that's right," Paul called, climbing back onto his feet. "Go on - walk away, you mug. I'll knock you spark out! Give me a drink - and where's that slut?"