Cornered and running low on ammo, Alex makes the last stand
He shot two rounds as the Italians took a split second to cast their glance away, two rifle shells fired and two pieces of metal seared thru the grunts chest, instant death. The last two shots. It was over now. It wouldn't be long before the Italians got curious and decided to storm the base. And then, he heard a far off roar, just barley audible over the pounding rain. But it was there. Growing louder. And in an instant, they were there. A black Barracks Ol, they tarping over the top moved, and a shadow emerged. Accompanied by others. Men dressed in full black, bulky body armor and sleek helmets, a katana at their sides, holstered Pythons on their armpit holsters and silenced MP5 s in their hands. Twelve in all. The Italians were almost baffled. Didn't have the chance to think as they were sprayed with gun fire. In a second the fire had stopped. They had released a single burst over the crowd, crippling all. Then, in order, three men from the initial twelve proceeded to behead the surviving Mafiosi.
"We were sent by Asuka." one of the men said approaching Alex as he removed his tactical goggles revealing slanted eyes. "We will escort these men, and the packages on the plane to safe location. You are no longer needed. We have one of our men posing as a taxi driver waiting for you up the stairs." he said. "A thanks for saving what was left of your asses would be nice" Alex smirked. "Watch your jokes." the man stepped closer "Not everyone in the Yakuza likes you as much as Asuka." He stepped back and walked away into the rained and helped the rest of the team in heaping the bodies into the Barracks Ol and each manning a mafia sentinel to get rid off. The ride home was an intense one. He got to his 6th floor apartment and stripped off the wet cloths and settled to a warm bath and accompanying cigar. Next to him a loaded Colt 45. Alex glanced over his body. Scars everywhere, from years of intense fighting for families that only betrayed him in the end.
A cut on the chest, bulletin in the stomach, misshapen knee-cap from falling. He was a walking battle scar. He hated this city, and the people in it. He hated himself for getting involved. But most of all, he hated The Leone Family. He wanted to destroy them and everything they had. But the thing was. They had everything. You walk down the wrong sidewalk anywhere in Liberty and say the wrong words about the Leone family, your ass was dead. But then it hit him. Like the craziest idea he'd ever had. But at the same time. Everything was Already planned. His eyes widened as the flame in his eyes grew. Six men. Three groups. Two in Portland, Two in Staunton and two in Shoreside Vale. They would arm the 8 major targets to the Leone's, or any criminal and gang member. Two of the cities credit card mainframes, Two political buildings and two apartment complex housing Italians, one of which will be holding a royal dinner to all Italian family lords of the city, under a oath of peace for one night. A party to be wrecked.
8-Ball would be able to create a carbon, nitron fuel power generators from and old car engine. Injected to the engine intake filters, two plastic tubes connected to a large container of Glycerin. From this the timer was connected. Eight of these would be made, which would take roughly a month to be prepared. This would give enough time to settle things out.
D-day was in 25 days.