12 years ago.
'The Grands' Tennis Club, San Fierro.
Dark office. Windows are covered and won't let a tiny ray of sun reach the floor of the room. The whole interior is designed in rich manner - you can see redwood furniture and expensive pieces of art around the office. Columns in room's corner have golden decoration on its edges, which looks perfect for a richman's taste. In the middle of the room there is a table made of exact the same redwood the column are. Another glance around the office would reveal to you a tennis racquet that once belonged to infamous Serena Williams.
A table lamp is turned on, enlightening the visitor sitting by the table in the office. The person is twenty six years old. He faces someone who sits in some expensive swivel chair and whose face is in the dark and can't be recognised. It seems like the person the agent looks at owns more than just 'The Grands' tennis club, since his jewels and two-piece suit are worth way more than the whole tennis club itself.
The person we just described has a bodyguard behind him. The bodyguard looks typical for his kind - a dark suit, white business shirt, black tie, short hair and shave. He has Colt 1911 holstered on his right thigh. He seems to be ready for any action taking place in this office, be it his boss's order or SWAT assault. The bodyguard seems to have pledged loyalty to the club's owner a long ago since he understands every motion or facial expression the club owner does. He is obviously talented in his craft.
But what about the visitor? He seems to be mexican man, wearing leather jacket, dark t-shirt, denim jeans and dark sneakers. Nothing special can be told about him aside from him having some holsters worn on him and well-hid under his leather jacket and a body armor integrated in his leather jacket. His equipment clearly is not suitable for the henchman he seems to be acting.
The visitor relaxes on the chair as he speaks:
- Mr. Hudson, I understand your concerns, but all I've done is what you asked. I just stole that truck and moved it to the depot of yours which is by Pier 69.
The one who he called Mr. Hudson, who appears to be this club's owner, exhales some smoke and puts his cigar in the ashtray, as he responds:
- Yeah, you just moved the truck to my depot by the pier. Also, while doing it, you managed to cause so much attention to the depot I had to make my boys move the whole shipment in three minutes, which is very, VERY hard to do when there is a whole squad of the cops by depot's gate. How would you explain it?
The visitor expresses a light grin as he continues:
- It was a set up, boss. One of your men is a rat.
- Do you happen to have any information on that?...
The wanna-be henchman stands up slowly, as he expresses even wider grin, crossing his arms.
- Most certainly, Eugene. You are facing him.
As the visitor says it, Eugene Hudson, the founder of 'The Grands' tennis club and 'San Fierro Grands' mafia, motions to the guard as he reaches for the shelf under his table. While he was at it, the visitor managed to pull out two silenced compact pistols, shooting both of them twice towards the bodyguard, who falls down deceased. When Eugene takes out the pistol, the visitor says:
- Don't you move a muscle, Eugene. You are busted... Drop it.
Eugene complies as he lets the gun go, raising his head. As the gun falls, the visitor whistles and weapon shots can be heard fired in the hallway.
- What have you done, Emilio? You just destroyed years... I mean, DECADES of work!
- You know how this goes, Eugene. When you get enough confidence in yourself, your self-esteem blinds you and lets the others to take over. That's how you became the Don yourself, don't you remember? It happened less than five years ago.
- How'd you know that?! - Eugene raises both of his eyebrows, starting to shake.
Emilio slowly holsters one of the guns as he takes some envelope out of his backpack with his left hand, throwing it at Eugene's table.
- Here, check it out.
Don Hudson opens the envelope as he notices there is a whole case file signed 'FBI' about him.
- Y-you was the double agent the whole time? B-but what about R-Richard?
- He sold us out, so I dealt with him. No wonder he decided to stay loyal to you. You pay well.
Emilio reaches for Hudson's cigar as he puts it in between his teeth. The room's door then opens, and a few men dressed in grey suits enter the room.
- We are done, Juan. Are we ready to go? - one of them said.
- Did you leave the evidence laying around as requested by our Chief?
- Yeah.
- Rendezvous point is by Jizzy's club. Be there in an hour. Go!
- Roger that.
Once the squad of fake gang members are gone, Hudson speaks once more:
- Y-you destroy what I build and then you pin it all on my brother, Jerry?!
- Yes, I do.. By the way, my name is Juan Mendez, FBI. At your service.
After 'Emilio' says it, he fires a whole clip to Hudson, who falls off his swivel chair, making a loud noise upon landing.
Juan drops the pistol as he takes Tommy Gun out of his backpack, shooting around twenty rounds all over the room, making it look like a gang attack, throwing the gun in the window afterwards. After he does it, he takes his backpack off, dropping it on the floor, doing the same to the cigar he had in his teeth.
- Well, it's time to go, - Juan said. - Soon this office will be on fire. And a bit later it'll be mine...
Special Agent Juan Mendez turns around as he walks away in fast motion.
Two days later.
Bureau Headquarters, San Fierro.
Two days after the 'incident' in 'The Grands' tennis club, Juan was asked by his chief to come to his office. Juan complied and went there.
It was a standard issue office adjusted for Chief's needs. It had a shelf with some antic statues' replicas on it, a cupboard with some of Chief's personal rewards, and some tasteless painting behind Chief's chair. Chief might have tried himself in design, it seems. Obviously enough, his design wasn't good since 'design' of his consisted of showing off his personal rewards and tastes instead of actually having some kind of beauty in his office.
As Juan entered, Chief waved to him in careless manner, offering him to take a seat. Juan nodded back, taking a seat in one of the chairs opposite to the Chief.
- Hello, Mendez.
- Hello.
- As far as I know, you had an undercover duty within San Fierro Grands mafia?
- That's true, sir.
- Well, how comes 'The Grands' club was set on fire?
- I don't know anything about it, sir. It must have been some gas blowing up or something...
The Chief then stood up and hit the table, raising his tone:
- You know that's not true, yet you dare spell these words right into my face without any emotion whatsoever? You WERE there at the exact time when that happened.
- Yes, that's true, but I got evacuated from there.
- And their boss stayed there with lots of gunshot wounds in his head? Do you expect me to believe that?
- Look, I saw some gangsters in grey suits around there storming the place. Was I supposed to stay and die there?
- You were supposed to act on your behalf, but you've dropped the act! I assume you FAILED!
Juan raises himself, shouting:
- Is that how you care about your employees? You just assign them to act on mafia's behalf, claiming it will be elimination task, but all I saw is serving to some God damn drug lord!
- It was not the proper time for eliminating their boss! You know we were awaiting for them to start a war against another illegal organisation!
- Awaiting for a YEAR?! Y-..
Juan's phone rings. He lowers his tone as he continues.
- May I pick up the call? It's urgent for me.
- Sure, get out of my office and come back when you're done.
Juan steps out of the office as he accepts the call.
- Hello.
- Hello, Juan. This is Smith.
- Did you research per my request, Smith?
- Yes. The verdict is positive. He seems to be related or associated with San Fierro Grands mafia. I've dug up some archives and it appears that the fact that Eugene Hudson took over San Fierro Grands organised crime group is a bit wrong. He didn't do it solely; and the one who helped him is the one you asked me to do the research on. Also, he became an FBI Chief with some of Hudsons' help.
- Funny enough, he is raging in his office about me starting the gang war myself.
- Well, that doesn't matter. My men are not far away and are going to come to the place and detain him. Keep him busy.
- I got you covered.
Juan hangs up the phone, as he pockets it and enters the office again.
- That was my friend calling. His girlfriend is pregnant and is going to hospital now.
- That doesn't concern me... Where were we?
- We were 'discussing' San Fierro Grands.
- So you claim there were grey suits around?
- Yes, I do. I also would like to state that it seemed like a start of a gang war. So I suspect they caused the blow-up there, then they rushed in, murdering everything they saw, including Hudson himself.
- Why would Jerry Hudson do that? They're brothers.
- Hell knows, maybe Eugene wanted a bigger slice of a pie to himself, if you feel me.
- Well, due to my knowledge, I can say it's false. Around twenty five years ago, when I was their good friend and when they didn't yet become the 'crime lords' as you labeled them, they had warm relations.
- That was twenty five years ago, not yesterday, sir.
- But I certainly doubt tha-...
The door was busted open, interrupting the speech, and three armed men in SWAT gear rushed in, pointing their guns at FBI Chief. He raised his hands, shouting:
- What the actual **** is going on?
A person steps out of the doorway, flashing his badge to the Chief.
- Agent Henry Flint, Internal Affairs. You are now under arrest for corruption and relations with San Fierro Grands mafia.
- You have no right, and, besides, you have no proof!
- We do. You will get to see the evidence we have yourself once we detain you to our interrogation room half of city away from here... Hands behind your back.
- Nobody takes me downtown! - Chief said, falling down on the floor. As he done it, SWAT shot towards him but missed.
Juan reached the cupboard, taking cover behind it. Once he've done it, the Chief shot his MP5K (which seemingly was hidden under the desk) blindly towards one of the SWAT members, wounding him.
- ****, that's not going well... - Juan said in low tone, as he reached for his compact pistol and started crawling towards Chief's table. While he was doing it, Chief kept trying to shoot SWAT down, so they were unable to do anything.
Juan reached the corner of the table as he peaked towards the Chief. He was looking another side, so that was the perfect moment. Juan jumped on the Chief, kicking his right hand, so the Chief dropped the gun out of pain.
- Oh ****, you **** motherfucker!
- Now we all see your true face, you piece of corrupt, backstabbing ****!
A few minutes later, when ex-Chief was taken away, Juan was outside of the building, talking with Smith.
- That went nuts, Smith.
- True, but at least this son of a **** is getting the gallows he deserves.
- Well, given Hudsons will still think that he assigned his agency to destroy one of their branches in SF, that might be true.
Two buds expressed grins and went to the local bar they used to go to.