You drive along Vice Port, bored. You have collected your money from the Sunshine Autos and the Docks. Maurice Chavez is babbling non-sense in Pressing Issues on the car radio. You change the station to Wave 103 and a song start playing that reminds you about some better times, when you have just arrived to town and there was more things to do that just drive aimlessly around Washington Beach.
You're heading to collect the money from the printworks driving north on Little Haiti when a group of five Haitians start shooting your car and bust two of your tires. You step out of the car with your SPAZ shotgun and erase them from virtual reality. A cop is passing by and you shoot him accidentally. Now a squad car pulls over and two cops start to shoot you. You run south as fast as you can into Little Havana. You find a Cuban riding a PSG-600 motorcycle and you shoot him to get it. You ride it and Debrah is still singing ...might like you better if we sleep together... and you think about Mercedes, who seems to fancy you and you are always trying to reach her but somehow you never can find your mobile or use any public telephone.
You take the bike to the Pay N' Spray at Sunshine Autos and spray the bike to green, loosing the heat from the police. From here to where?, you wonder.
You never felt so alone, citizen Kane of Vice City.
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