Chapter 24: Chainsaw Massacre

As you finish straightening your shirt, your phone rings. It's Colonel Juan Cortez. His tone is laced with a superficial sympathy, barely masking his indifference.

"Mr. Vercetti," he begins, "I heard about your unfortunate incident with the drug deal. Truly a shame. Rest assured, my men are investigating it with utmost attention. We will get to the bottom of this."

You grip the phone tightly, your frustration barely contained. "Yeah, Colonel, I appreciate that. What's the next step?"

Cortez's voice remains calm. "Why don't you come to my yacht? We can discuss this in more detail. I have some interesting information that might help you."

You sigh, realizing you have no choice but to follow his lead. "Alright, I'll be there soon."

"Excellent. I look forward to our meeting, Mr. Vercetti," Cortez says, ending the call with a tone that suggests he's more interested in the spectacle than the resolution.

At the yacht, Colonel Cortez greets you, his voice smooth as ever. "Ah, Mr. Vercetti," he begins, extending a drink. "I have a small matter that requires your... expertise. Diaz, a man I've trusted for years, has become a liability. He owes me, and now, he must be dealt with." Cortez hands you a chainsaw, his eyes glinting. "Take care of him, and you'll be rewarded". You accept the chainsaw and set off to Diaz's penthouse in Vice Point.

While driving to Diaz's penthouse, you find your mind drifting back to that fateful confrontation with Diaz. You remember pressing your gun nozzle to his temple, the trigger pulling with a smooth, deadly click. The bullet tore through, his eyes wide with fear, his blood splattering in a gruesome display. That final, terrified expression is etched into your memory. Yet, there he was, smirking on Cortez's yacht. How? you wonder, as a headache begins to throb. Images flash – a fat woman, a small wooden house – then nothing. Shaking off the confusion, you arrive at the penthouse.

The penthouse is a testament to opulence, with its grand entrance and luxurious decor. As you enter, you navigate through lavish hallways adorned with expensive art and chandeliers. Reaching the top floor, you find Diaz and his bodyguards in a spacious room with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the city. The bodyguards, alert and armed, immediately react to your presence.

Diaz spots you and bolts for the door.

"Stop right there, slimeball!" you bellow. Diaz shouts to his bodyguards, "Stop him, you motherfuckers!" then runs away.

You chase after him, weaving through the luxurious penthouse, the roar of the chainsaw echoing off the marble walls. The chase is frantic, with Diaz overturning furniture in a desperate attempt to slow you down.

"Why are you doing this?" Diaz gasps, breathless.

"Already forgot, you scum?" you shout back.

You dodge obstacles and cut through the opulent surroundings, finally cornering Diaz near the stairwell.

"How are you still alive, Diaz?" you shout, the anger in your voice palpable.

Diaz, eyes wide with fear, stammers, "I... I don't know. You seem familiar, but I can't remember."

"Don't remember?" you growl, your grip tightening on the chainsaw. "You should be dead!"

As you swing the chainsaw, Diaz's bodyguards rush forward. You fight them off, the chainsaw tearing through flesh and bone. Blood splatters the pristine walls as you dispatch them one by one. Their screams fill the air, but you remain focused, your mind set on the task at hand.

Diaz, now cornered, pleads, "Please, I don't remember! Just let me go!"

But your rage is uncontrollable. "You don't remember? You should be dead!"

In a fit of fury, you raise the chainsaw and bring it down on his neck, severing his head from his body. You cut his head into pieces a few times to make sure... and a few times for good luck. "Guess you could say you got the chainsaw end of the deal this time, prick!" you mutter.

As the chainsaw falls silent, you take a closer look and realize with a jolt that the man you just killed is Gonzalez, not Diaz. Police sirens wail in the distance, and two- wanted level for you.

You quickly navigate the chaotic streets, weaving through the throng of vehicles with the police hot on your tail. Sirens blare behind you as you take sharp turns, your tires screeching. You narrowly avoid collisions, each maneuver buying you precious seconds. A sudden sharp turn cuts off the police, giving you a brief respite.

You spot the nearest Pay 'n' Spray and race towards it. The garage door closes just as the police cars speed past. Inside, the mechanics work swiftly, changing your car's color and plates. The transformation is seamless, erasing any trace of your pursuit. With the wanted level cleared, you drive back into the night, wondering if fate is playing with you.

While on the way back to Colonel Cortez's yacht, you find yourself lost in thought. You recall the chaotic drug deal where you, Cortez, Diaz, and all of your respective gang members were present is a fragmented memory—who shot first? No one knew for sure. But certain faces, some Cubans and Haitians, stand out in your mind.

When you met Cortez on his yacht before, he didn't seem to recognize you, as if the three of you had never been in that fight together. The inconsistencies gnaw at you as you drive, deepening the mystery of the events that transpired.

"What the hell is happening to me?" you grunt. "Am I crazy or... am I being controlled?" you ponder, the unsettling thought lingering in your mind