As the Forelli’s expanded throughout Vice City, the police department held its breath for the inevitable violent response from the Diaz Gang. They hadn’t even considered how the Vance Family would respond. Jack Blake had relayed some of his plans to his captain who seemed to be running out of ideas himself because he accepted Jack’s plans with no complaints. He relocated to Downtown’s apartment section and put his plans into action. First things first, he was going to pay an old friend a visit.
Jack pulled up in his Cheetah to what appeared to be a junkyard remade to house a shell-shocked soldier. A strong stench of what was either paint stripper or stale hooch permeated the air in thick invisible smog. Covering his mouth, Jack walked up to the biggest trailer and knocked on the door. A small crash followed by a slurred ‘Ah fuck, fuck fuck’ and the door swung open to reveal the dishevelled Phil Cassidy who was gripping onto a gun in one hand and a bottle in another.
“S’problem officer? Can I helps ya?” Phil said, barely standing straight.
“It’s me Phil. Christ man, what are you drinking?” He responded, still covering his mouth. Phil was known to be two shots away from being an alcoholic but even this put the AA to shame.
Phil however fell over and passed out. Jack picked him and threw his body onto his spread he guessed was his bedroom. However, he was only out cold for a few hours and thus, one cold shower and he was back to his old self. Jack had left, got a magazine and a pack of smokes then waited patiently for him to wake.
When he left the shower, Phil sat down to talk to Jack outside his trailer. His mullet was a tangled mess still waiting to dry. Obviously, the man didn’t even have a hairdryer.
“Now” Began Phil, his voice still holding a heavy alcoholic edge. “I’m sure as Hell those pigs in Washington Beach didn’t send you down here to cuff me or I’d already be in a cell. That can only mean you wanna question me or you wanna favour.”
Very perceptive, thought Jack. If Phil had laid off the alcohol, he could have been someone in the army. Instead, he relied on bad action movie plots to mask his history of crime.
“Yeah” Jack said simply. He finished his third cigarette of the afternoon and looked around. A surprisingly clean and well maintained Patriot stood out among the scrap metal that littered the yard. “That yours?” He said, pointing to the vehicle.
“Yup. Gift from the army.”
Jack doubted that very much but busting people for small crimes was pointless. He had bigger fish to fry.
“I’m gonna need some help from you. I’m planning to take down the Vance Family but the pencil pushers at my precinct are afraid of what will happen. I want guns; every damn weapon you can get me.”
“You’ve got the guns but they have the numbers.” Phil said. “You can’t take him down alone. Trust me.. I used to the work with the guy.”
Jack agreed but he wasn’t deterred. “Don’t worry. I made some connections here a while back; Vance may have hired hands but I have the real deal.”
“Who you have on your side except a bunch of useless cops?”
Jack laughed before lighting another cigarette. Phil’s blunt honesty was ever-present even on the day when they met. Jack had pulled him on a drunk-driving charge. At the time, Jack was suspicious of him until he realized he was driving a lawnmower through Cuban territory while howling about the Australia-America war. Since then, he’d been the one to reign in his antics while gaining insight on the criminal activity of the Vance Family.
“Mitch Baker. He’s an old friend of mine. Ever since I helped take down the White Stallionz in Little Havana, he told me he owed me one. I saved Cougar’s ass from them. All puns intended.”
“Well... if you say so, Jack.” Phil remained unconvinced but as he trusted Jack, he had no choice but to agree. “Now, I can get you your guns either tonight or early morning tomorrow. If you don’t do the cowboy cop thing and leave me in a lurch, that is.”
Jack sat back in his chair and looked at his watch. It was early evening; he had plenty of time to meet with Mitch Baker before his shipment of guns came in. True, he was working with minor criminals and it disheartened him knowing he could trust them more than his own precinct. If he could just gain the upper hand on the gangs that ruled the city and pulled in the cops at the pivotal moment, then maybe he could wrench back the power from the drug lords and back to the good, honest cops again.
The visit to the Greasy Chopper was short and sweet. Mitch Baker’s biker, already beleaguered by Vance’s goons, agreed to join up with him and Phil. They had not forgotten his help in the past (particularly Cougar) and so they didn’t mind. Mitch had lost too many of his own men in Downtown because of Victor’s cold, ruthless rule.
First things first, Mitch and Phil decided on having some of his own men guard Phil’s Place as not to invite attackers. Jack decided, after gearing up appropriately, Mitch’s men were going to attack various businesses belonging to the Vance Family as false flag operations before Jack decided to take down Victor himself as, he hopefully guessed, he’d have less protection and would be easier to attack.
Then he’d take down the Forelli and Diaz gangs. All in a day’s work.
Author’s note: One thing of note: Mitch Baker’s Bikers aren’t powerful enough to sell out Jack (neither is it in their code) so don’t feel too anxious about them being geared up by Phil.