Scarface...Returns

PRELUDE:

At 12:00 midnight, September 20, 1983 Alex Sosa recieved a phone call. He had been pacing around his lavish bedroom, taking angry sips of Scotch and wine all night. His surroundings were clouthed in silence and unnerving tension. As he picked up the reciever, he anticipated the news of his former business partner.

"Hello?"
The voice on the other line spoke low and deep, his tone void of any expression or emotion.

"It's done," he said simply. "Montana is dead. And his sister as well."
Sosa was surprised by the assassins last statement. He paused a moment. He wanted the motherfucker dead, for double-crossing him and threatening the end of his empire, but he had not expect, nor intend for his sister to share the same fate. It's a shame, he thought.
She was a lovley girl. Though Alex Sosa thought this casualty unfortunate, he quikly dismissed it as a minor one. Business had yo be done, no matter what. That was something Tony didn't understand.

The assassins voice soon broke this moment of thought.

"Alex?" the man said. "You there?"
"Yes of course I am", replied Alex sharply. "Now how many bodies are there?"
"Quite a bit", replied the man mildly. "The little bastard put up quite a fight." Alex had no doubt that he did.

"Alright", he said "Now you can get out of there".

The man on the other line gave a disturbingly amused chuckle.
"Oh yes", he said.
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At 1:45 am, half of the Miami Police Department arrived at Coral Gables Masion. 15 and 20 police and ambulance vehicles pulled into the front yard. Among the many officers, that enterd the main room, was Detevtive Charles Robenson. Although what he saw was one of the bloodiest scenes in his 28 year career, he wasn't fazed as much as he was thouroghly weary of it. "God, it's a fuckin' mess in here", he groand.

At that instant, Police Cheif Garrett Norton stepped in, along with a cluster of crime scene photographers.
Robenson turned to him, and asked him about the number of bodies.

"23", replied Norton with a grimace of discomfort.
Nortons crew spred out into every room of the place, bringing streachers and bodybags, and lifted bodies apon bodies from the now blood soaked floor, as cameras snapped away.

"I don't believe it, they finally killed the sonofabitch", whisperd Robenson.
Robenson and Norton watched as the parametics lifted the mans dripping body out of a pool of blood filled water,placing it into the bag. An officer appeared from upstairs to adress the two.
"We found a woman".
"A woman?" repeated Norton.
"It's his sister", replied the cop.
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Of course, pictures were taken of Antonio and Gina Montana just like the others were. Their bodies had been thouroghly bloodied, given no mercy.
A damn shame, thought Robenson. That a young woman like that, should lose her life in such a way, so violent and terrible. As all of the bodies were wheeled outside and into the trucks, Norton and Police Chief Norton talked.
"No doubt this will make fucking history", mumbled Norton.
"What'd you expect?" Robenson said, grinning. "The biggest cocain lord in Miami, offed after a failed assassination attempt. I can already see a TV movie in the works", he mused.
Once again, he thought about that pitiful crime scene.
"You know it's a shame that girl had to die because of a piece of shit brother" finally said, contemptfully. Then Norton replied with the unfortunate truth. "You get mixed up with those people, they can take you down with them.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Bradford Bardoux sat at his desk quietly, as the night drew on.
He had only moments ago ruled a womans death as a suicide. Of course his job as a coroner was not easy, but having done it for so long and being surrounded by death all his life, he was able to preform each task in a habitual haze. He couldn't help but constantly think about his childhood these days, as he grew older and things were so simple. Those days when you lived forever, he thought to himself.
Although it had been 23 years scince he and his father moved to Miami from New Orleans, to Bradford it seemed like yesterday.He sat, thinking of those days, removing himself from the present. The things he and his father left behind, the things his father had been so eager to forget. But Bradford could not discard those things so easily.
There were things inside him, the spirit of the Bayou that had been with him scince birth, and would never leave.
Bradford checked his watch and saw that it was 1:50 am. He took a drink of Diet Coke. He swallowed hard and held his breath,as if something just hit him.
He felt something. He knew this feeling, what it ment. It was a strong sense, powerful, like prickling heat searing in his bones and in his head. That was the feeling Grandmama had told him about.
The feeling she said people like him would feel. Like destiny approaching.
"I think I'm gonna make a new friend tonight", Bradford whisperd.
At that moment, the body of Tony Montana enterd the doors of Mount Sinai Hospital.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Well this is the prelude to my first fanfic.Hope you like it,and I am doing a lot of editing, so if it seems wonky now, it will improve. Feel free to give pointers and critcism. [Please be nice! ;)]