A/N: this is finally up, sorry for the delay, especially to Kris. Neway, enjoy, and if you have any ideas, CALL MEH!


Chapter II:

Alex Wren's Disguise

The man was sitting alone, holding up a can of coins to any random person to walk by, getting smug looks from most people, considering most people in San Andreas were assholes that always decided they were too rich to give up their money. The man continued to beg and all he got after his first day was $3.67, not nearly enough to get him anything. He sighed, and hoped it would all be worth it someday.

I came home and sat at the table, with the note in my hands, under my cote making sure no one saw it. I looked again on the letter.

To Stanley…

I tore it open, struggling a bit at first, so by using my teeth.


If you are reading this, then you've done great, man. I knew I could count on you to be witty enough to take this out of my back pocket. I now hope you will only make sure to get this list of this done.

For you, I leave a Colt and an assault rifle, along with my entire secret stash of money ($30,000) behind my desk, which you may use this to buy better weapons, or anything else you need. Clothes, anything, really. Doesn't matter. It's what money is for, especially such a vast amount. For the others, you may give them more missions since now, you are now in charge. Make sure they don't fuck things up, either. It pisses me off when I give something to someone and they don't do it right.

OK you may think this all sounds fine and dandy but there is ONE CATCH. You have to kill someone for me. Below is a picture of him, pasted to this paper. I have attempted to kill him many times but failed. I know since you are better than me, you can take him down. Now go…I leave you a sniper rifle in the drawer of my desk, folded up nicely for you, use that…that's what I tried to use. Now, without further delay, you must go and kill Alex J. Wren.

"Well Jesus fucking Christ Jim!" I thought to myself. "If I am supposed to kill the Alex J. Wren, I don't need a fucking picture. Well… Nothing else I can do than … well do it."

I was walking out of the house with the stuff and saw the guys watching TV. I told them I was going out for lunch and all they did was wave and mumble. "Bah screw 'em, I'm out." I thought.

I came out of a store an hour or so later with new clothes, which I bought with the money. I used this in order to disguise myself as someone that wasn't in a gang. I looked good, with a white T-Shirt covered over with a black leather jacket and some green cargo-pants. I must say myself, I look really fuckin' good.

You may wonder why I freaked earlier about Alex Wren, well that's cause he was one of the most famous hitmen in all of Liberty City, until he moved to San Andreas, in which time they say he "disappeared" from Liberty. He was one of the most stealthy and silent hitmen in the entire city, and he had more than 15 successful contracts in a row. That's when he got tired of it, deciding to quit. I come in at the part where he's a disgruntled civilian, being an asshole to everyone and making sure he was the loudest, most annoying jerk off in the entire city of SA. You can probably guess why, as well. See, after leaving LC he wanted to forget EVERYTHING. So he changed his looks, his ways, and his voice (by using some useful-in-that-occasion drugs) in order to cover up his memories of his past self.

He still couldn't hide the fact that he stuck out like a sore thumb, Hawaiian shirt, blue jeans, and I may say the shirt looks like shit anyway. But, meh, everyone has a style, so…whatever. It's not the clothes that matter, it's only if their they're covered in blood or not by the time I'm finished with this little side-dish, the main course being the gang, obviously.

So I grabbed my sniper and loaded it up. 3 bullets, in case the first shot missed, in which it never does anyway. But it's good to be safe. I entered my car, and took my cigar out of my mouth, tossing it to the ground, as it burned into ashes as the sun blared onto it like the fiery burn of love.

Love…yes again, I thought of what she was doing…and hoped still I would someday see Sheila… but no time for it now, have to go assassinate.

I still had lots of time to kill so I decided to leave my gun on the dashboard of my car, and after driving a few miles, went into a Cluckin' Bell for something to eat. I ordered a few big meals, just to make sure that when I was blown to shit by Alex, I was going to be able to see my lunch, laugh my ass off, and die, happily.

I was eating and something outside began to blare. Gunshots. I decided to pull out a couple of 9-mm's and help out a bit. I got outside and saw what looked a bit like Hell, Satan, Anarchy and Armageddon in a vicious scrap. Thank god it was only in the parking lot. It was a nice little war between the Ballas and the Jetz.

I wanted to do something about this, but Ballas hated me and so did Jetz. So…which to help? I decided I could pick off a few if I grabbed the sniper from my car. I did, and it was a good thing, too, because right afterwards, I climbed to the roof of the Bell and BLAM! There goes my ride. But hey, there are plenty of cars in the city. I could take one. When I was up there the Ballas were winning. Well, this looks unfair…so I picked off three Ballas, knowing I had 1 more bullet to spare. I was relieved when it was over and no one noticed I had helped. In fact, every one of the Jetz held up one fellow, thinking it was him that took out those 3 people.

Now, about that car…

I arrived an hour later at Alex's mansion. Mr. Wren's car would be pulling in any minute now, because this is when he is usually sighted home. I decided to wait a while in a bush, with my sniper. I sat there casually, smoking my cigar, and keeping the scope to my eyes. I narrowed my eyelids so I could focus only on what was in front of me.

Suddenly the car rolled up. I got ready… "This is it," I thought, "One bullet, I HAVE to make this work." He came out of his car and went to check his mail, when he looked over, and spotted me. He actually spotted me. Can you believe that? One in a MILLION odds. So I came out and pointed the sniper straight at him, when all he did was raised his hands up.

"Ah, Mr. Wren." I began, and paused a moment to think of something smart to say, "Let's just face the music. You had a mansion, the women, the cars, and the money, not to mention. And now, you must face that your time has come. Well, I know I know, you're probably thinking, 'what? I'm only 42!" And yes, I can believe that, because obviously there is a lot you haven't done yet. But, everything happens for a reason my friend, as a good buddy of mine, The Truth, once said. And-bah! Forget it, you probably want me to just shoot you, and knowing you, all you wanted when you first looked down that end of a sniper rifle, was an extra pair of pants, right? So…pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wren. Godspeed." I pulled the trigger.


Oh, shit. Suddenly everything was slow motion, as Alex began taking out his DE, I dropped my sniper and pulled out my twin Uzi's, diving behind a flipped lawn chair. I felt all the bullets penetrate the chair. I began to fire wildly over the chair and as I was almost empty of my clips,

"OW, SHIT!" came his slightly raspy, slightly scruffyish voice. "Okay kid, Okay! You got me, just…ummm…what the fuck to I do…TRUCE!"

I climbed back over and went over to him. I pointed the gun to his head and said, "I'm sorry, but this is strictly business."

"If you shoot me, you're killing the wrong target." He yelled to me. I looked at him, puzzled, and lowered my gun.

"Want the truth?" he asked. I nodded. "My name isn't Alex Wren and all those tales about me weren't true. Well, except for the money, the mansion and the ladies…but anyway, my name is Tommy Vercetti, and I want you to work for me." I scoffed. "Me, work for you? After I almost just killed you? Hah!"

"You're really intimidating." He said to me. "I could use you, and I need a fellow shooter to help me on a few last errands before my big suicide. Come, come."

I, slightly puzzled, followed him, and then he showed my around his tiny three-bedroom house. "You see, after a big assassination of my lawyer by a man named Salvatore Leone, I was failing. Thankfully, some 'Claude Speed' guy did my doings some years ago anyway, but I still went down to shit. My car's a crappy barf-yellow fuckin' Oceanic for god's sake. And my house is tiny, and my girlfriend, Mercedes, died recently, in order to get payback on me from Joey Leone. I lost the lady, the cars, and the money. So here I am in this shithole trying to live, engagement ring still on."

This touched my in some way that I just needed to help him. I nodded for him to go on, because I knew there was more to this, or else he wouldn't have offered me this job in the first place. He took a breath…

"If you can help me with these last errands then I can help you to the top." I didn't exactly know what he meant, nor did I care, but I thought this'd be interesting. I nodded, "when do I begin?"

"Tomorrow, now go home before I change my mind and kill yo- on second thought, there's no need to resort to violence, just put your gun away and leave."

I did.

I got home later and saw that everyone was gone, and there was a note on the door. "LUNCH."


I went to sleep on the couch and woke up the next day.