Chapter 32: Steel Siege

You dial Cortez, irritation boiling over. "Colonel, you didn't mention it was a goddamn TANK!"

Cortez's voice remains calm. "Ah, Tommy, every job has its surprises. Adapt and overcome. Do you need assistance?"

"Yeah yeah whatever, send me some men to create a distraction. I can't get near it with all these soldiers running around."

"Understood. Reinforcements will be there shortly."

You hang up and wait, your mind racing through possible scenarios. Soon, a group of Cortez's men arrive, blending into the crowd watching the convoy nearby. You give them a nod, and they spring into action. One of them starts an argument with a soldier, telling them that they are blocking the way, while another sets off a small explosion in a nearby trash can, it explodes drawing the soldiers attention. The commotion quickly escalates into a full-blown brawl, with soldiers trying to control the chaos and Cortez's men adding fuel to the fire.

With the soldiers distracted, you seize the moment. You slip through the chaos and make your way toward the tank. One of the soldiers spots you, and a firefight erupts. Bullets zip past you as you take cover behind a nearby car.

"Fuck! That dickhead almost hit me, this is getting intense," you mutter, returning fire.

You manage to take out the soldier and continue your approach. Just as you reach the tank, another soldier appears, swinging the butt of his rifle at you. You dodge, countering with a punch that sends him sprawling.

Climbing into the tank, you start the engine, feeling the immense power of the machine. A smile creeps on your face. The noise of the brawl and gunfire outside fades as the tank's armor encloses you.

"ALRIGHT!!!, big guy," you mutter to the tank, "LET'S DO THIS!!!."

As soon as you drive the tank out of the restaurant's parking lot, the wanted level shoots up to three stars. The radio in the tank blinking rapidly "There's a 10-71 in north Little Havana near Calleggi Delicatessen. Respond immediately.". Irritating, you give the radio a smack and it stops working. Then police cars swarm the area, sirens blaring. You bulldoze through the barricades, the tank's might turning obstacles into debris. The soldiers realize what's happening and open fire, but their bullets bounce harmlessly off the tank's armor. You fire the tank's main cannon, the explosive shells creating chaos and clearing your path as vehicles and barriers are blown apart.

"Beautiful!!!", your wicked smile blooming.

5:45 remaining.

With the police in hot pursuit, a helicopter appears overhead, shining a spotlight on you. The tank's treads crush the spike strips laid out by the cops as if they were mere twigs. You fire the tank's cannon at the police cars, but your first shot misses, hitting a nearby building.

"Ah shit!, almost crush me, have to handle this thing carefully", you sweat pouring out like a river.

The structure collapses, sending dust and debris into the air. The next shot finds its mark, and a police car explodes in a fiery blaze, increasing your wanted level to four stars.

5:00 remaining.

SWAT units show up, their Enforcer trucks barreling down the street. The SWAT officers, equipped with SMGs and bulletproof vests, open fire. Three trucks follow you, peppering the tank with bullets. You crush one under the tank's treads and fire at the others, the explosions cutting the tail.

4:30 remaining.

Your wanted level skyrockets to five stars. Now, the FBI joins the chase, their cars sleek and fast. The agents wield specially modified SMGs, and their relentless pursuit pushes you to the brink. They ram your tank, trying to force you off the road.

"These guys are tough," you mutter, gripping the controls tightly.

4:00 remaining.

You maneuver the tank through narrow streets, the FBI agents on your tail. They manage to box you in, their cars ramming the tank from all sides.

"This is not gonna work, i have to find a way out" you frantically look around to find a solution. Desperation fuels you as you fire the cannon, blowing up one of the FBI cars. The explosion creates a gap, and you power through, narrowly escaping the trap.

3:30 remaining.

With the lockup in sight, you bulldoze through the final barricade. The tank's self-destruct timer is ticking down, but you manage to drive it into the garage just in time. You leap out and sprint out of the garage as the door closes behind you, sealing the tank inside.

Breathing heavily, you hear the tank's self-destruct mechanism deactivate. You made it.

"Ten years have just passed before my eyes," you sigh with relaxation.

You make your way back to Colonel Cortez's yacht, adrenaline still coursing through your veins. Cortez greets you with a pleased expression.

"Excellent work, Tommy. I knew I could count on you," Cortez says, handing you a thick envelope of cash. "Consider this your reward."

You take the thick envelope of cash from him, feeling the weight of the reward in your hands. As you tuck it away, a question nags at you.

"Who's buying the tank, Colonel?" you ask, curiosity getting the better of you.

Cortez's expression remains inscrutable. "I don't know much, Tommy. The buyer is very discreet. But I do know it's a man."

You nod slowly, processing the information. "A man, huh? Guess that's better than nothing."

Cortez chuckles softly. "In this business, we take what we can get. Be careful, Tommy. This hellhole city is full of surprises."

You give him a tight smile. "Always am, Colonel. Always am."

As you leave the yacht with the satisfaction of a job well done on your mind

You go back to your safehouse, your mind drifting back to the recent thefts. You wonder if Ken's own bank account or Lance's personal warehouse had been robbed like yours. You decide to call them. To your surprise, none of them have experienced any theft.

You end the call, sinking into deep thought. You think back to who your enemies are: Diaz, but he seems not to remember you, and if he does, he's a fucking Oscar-talented actor. Then there's the corrupted detective Killpatrick. When he almost spilled the beans, he got shot by a sniper. Why? He must have been hiding something very important. Then there's the Colombian cartel boss Alberto. You killed him at the Viceport. Why did you kill him there? Because you robbed one of his shipments to slow him down, to cripple his strength while you strategized a plan to infiltrate his mansion and kill him.

But, there was a big "BUT." Why was he there? At the port, he supposed to be holding out in his mansion, waiting for you to strike? He showed up so fast that you thought he was always there. What if someone told him you would mess with his drugs? Someone who knew about this? A goddamn rat? A traitor! You start to recheck who knew about that drug information. You, of course. Lance? He was there with you. It might be him, but you have no evidence...

Then there was Reno, a big shot in the Cuban gang, protected by Umberto Robina – the Cuban leader. When you tackled Reno, could it have been him? Or even Umberto? Their reach and influence are vast, and they've never liked outsiders meddling in their affairs.

And then there's the fat lady, who is she? Always appearing in your dreams, haunting you. Every time you close your eyes, she's there, a looming figure handing you a bowl of some ugly liquid. What does it mean? Is she connected to all of this?

Then you remember where you got this information from, Mr. Black. He gave it to you after you finished his assassination requests. It might be him, but, why? What would he achieve by sabotaging you? The details, the questions and answers swirl like a tangled ball in your mind, giving you a pounding headache. You feel like you're on the brink of realizing something critical, but it remains just out of reach

Frustration bubbles up inside you. The thoughts swirl faster, an endless cycle of suspicion and paranoia. You decide to leave it, temporarily. You grab a few bottles of alcohol, downing them one after the other. The burn of the liquor numbs your thoughts, but not enough. You drink until you pass out, the world fading into a blur as you succumb to the darkness.

In your dream, the fat lady appears again. Her presence is oppressive, her eyes piercing into your soul. She hands you the bowl of ugly liquid. You reach out, but before you can take it, you wake up in a cold sweat. The dream lingers, a shadow in the back of your mind.

You sit up, the weight of everything pressing down on you. You need answers, but they seem just out of reach. The questions gnaw at you, but for now, there's nothing more you can do. You lie back down, staring at the ceiling, wondering who you can trust and who is pulling the strings in this deadly game.