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Part I: Rebirth
Chapter 1 ::
Chapter 2 ::
Chapter 3 ::
Chapter 4 ::
Chapter 5 ::
Chapter 6 ::
Chapter 7 ::
Chapter 8
Part II: Reunion
Chapter 1 ::
Chapter 2 ::
Chapter 3 ::
Chapter 4 ::
Chapter 5 ::
Chapter 6 ::
Chapter 7 ::
Chapter 8
Sometime later, when the stupor started wearing off, Sonny opened his eyes and looked around but everything was in darkness and spinning madly. He tried to move his arms but he couldn't -- it seemed like they had lead weights on them. He couldn't move his legs either. Through the swirls and mist things started coming back to him. He remembered the gun, the goons and the nervous young man.... and the needle and the haze. Wow! That was strong stuff! Too much more of smack like that and he knew that he'd have a bad time detoxing if he ever got out of this mess. But first he would have to get out of this situation, and that seemed rather difficult right now.
He was still riding high on the smack when the young man reappeared. He almost seemed reluctant to be there. This time, with Crockett's body immobilized and his mind still foggy, and with no goons around to help, the boy tied off the vein with a piece of tubing before plunging the poisonous needle neatly into its mark, all the while keeping his face expressionless and saying nothing. The rush was faster and stronger. The sudden gush of pleasure wiped out the fear and anger and left Sonny once again in a drug-induced state of euphoria.
The next thing he remembered was waking up on a bed in a darkened room somewhere -- but where? As his senses began to return, he realized his hands were cuffed together in front of him. He tried to get up but his body didn't respond, so he took a deep breath and looked around. There was one door on the wall in front of him and one shutter-covered window on the side wall to left. The shutters were closed, but enough light penetrated the slats to make out his surroundings. There were a couple of chairs at a table in the middle of the room, a counter with a sink along the wall on the right and over in one corner, a small curtained off area. On the table was a plastic jug and glass. A towel and face cloth hung on a rack over the counter beside the sink. The bed he was on was a metal army-style spring cot covered with a mattress and bedding.
He raised his head again and this time managed to sit up. When he attempted to move his legs over the side of the cot, he felt a tug on his left ankle and the jangle of a chain moving. His leg was chained to the bed, but the chain looked long enough to allow him to move around. He managed to get to his feet, somewhat unsteadily at first. After the fog cleared he tested the length of his tether -- long enough to reach the table, counter and curtained off area, but not long enough to get to the door. The jug on the table had water in it, and behind the curtain was a toilet -- all the amenities of home. The water reminded him how thirsty he was. It would seem that his mysterious host wanted him alive, for now at least, so he took the chance that the water was safe and quenched his thirst. And then he lay back down and waited.
Sonny had no idea where he was, and without a watch (his gold Rolex was not in its usual place on his wrist), he couldn't even begin to guess how long he had been here. He also had no idea about who had had brought him here or what he wanted, but whoever it was had gone to a lot of trouble to make sure he was looked after. Sonny knew that he had made more than one enemy over the years. The bad guys didn't like it when their drug operations were interrupted, and Sonny Crockett had shut a lot of them down, both as a detective with Miami Vice and later working as a freelance "crime consultant". This situation could not bode well at all.
Sometime later, how long later it was hard to tell, the door opened. Sonny sat up and slid his legs over the side of the bed. He recognized the goons and the young man from the boat, and behind them came a familiar face from the past. Finally Sonny knew who was behind this operation. It brought back memories, and it didn't make him feel any better.
"Welcome to my island." said Mario Fuente. "It's so nice of you to pay me a visit on such short notice. You know, Crockett, you still owe me 3 million dollars plus interest and now you're going to help me get it back. You're gonna help me get your American cop friends out of my business. For your sake, I hope they co-operate. If not, perhaps I should say "welcome to my nightmare"."
The ensuing laugh resounded throughout the little room. "Welcome to my nightmare," he repeated. "I like that. But first, why not have some beautiful dreams."
"Go to hell Fuente!" he snarled, standing up and pacing to far side of the room. "I never took your damn money, and I'm not gonna help you get it back. Cates took your money, and now it's lying at the bottom of the ocean."
"I don't believe you Crockett. It's very convenient of you to blame a dead man. But my people tell me that you are living very well these days -- certainly a lot better than an ex-cop should be. I believe you are living very well off my money. And be assured, you are going to help me get it back," Fuente asserted. "One way or another I'll get it back, even if it's in your hide.
At that, Fuente's thugs grabbed him. This time Fuente tied the tourniquet and injected the heroin. As he did so, he smiled into Sonny's face, "I've waited a long time for this, Crockett. You may be costing me a bit right now, but don't worry, I'll be getting it back. And if not, well the entertainment will be worth it anyway."
"Welcome to your nightmare, Crockett."