| “Didn't you promise that the Marabunta wouldn't find us, Miklos? WHY IS IT HAPPENING THEN!?” |
Housewarming is the 25th mission in Grand Theft Auto: King of The Hill.
It is the first mission given to Miklos Lipton by Jenni Taylor.
It's the 6th mission in Chapter III: Can't Buy Me Love.
Plot
Thomas' Apartment
The Caracara crept into the driveway of Thomas's small apartment. The night was quiet, the soft hum of streetlights and distant cars filling the air. Miklos sighed, the exhaustion of the day weighing on him as he climbed the steps to the door. A biker war took a lot out of him. He knocked on the door and opened it, half expecting to find Thomas sprawled on the couch with a beer and chips.
Instead, he stopped short. The apartment was... clean. The clutter that usually covered every surface was gone, the floor swept, and even the faint scent of lemon cleaner hung in the air. Sitting at the kitchen table, looking slightly out of place, was Jenni Taylor. She glanced up as he entered, offering a bright smile.
Jenni: Hey Miklos!
Miklos: Oh, Jenni. You're still here?
Jenni stood, brushing her hands on her jeans nervously. Miklos raised an eyebrow, shutting the door behind him.
Jenni: Yeah, uh... I cleaned up a bit. Hope you don't mind. I just... I wanted to say thanks before I left.
Miklos: You didn't have to do all this.
Jenni: You've seen this place, right? Someone had to. Thomas should really get a girlfriend.
She hesitated, her hands fidgeting as she avoided his gaze. Finally, she exhaled sharply, her voice trembling slightly.
Jenni: Look, I... I need to tell you something.
Miklos leaned against the wall, crossing his arms but saying nothing, waiting. Jenni glanced toward the hallway where Thomas hovered, watching them nervously.
Jenni: The Marabunta... they're after me... because I stole from them.
Miklos: You stole from them? Stole what?
Miklos's eyes narrowed slightly, his tone calm but firm. Jenni swallowed hard, looking guilty, kicking her foot.
Jenni: Cocaine. A lot of it.
Miklos sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as Thomas stepped forward, his voice rising with panic.
Thomas: A lot? How much are we talking here?
Jenni: Enough to... make them want to kill me.
Thomas started pacing, running a hand through his hair as his voice grew louder.
Thomas: Cocaine? Are you kidding me?! Do you even know who the Marabunta Grande are?! You have any idea who these guys are?! The Marabunta Grande don't just kill you, they butcher you! And your friends and family! Fuck Miklos! We're still wanted too!
Miklos: Relax, Thomas. They don't know we're here.
But as if on cue, the sound of screeching tires outside shattered the moment. Headlights swept across the window, and then came the trudging of boots on stairs and pounding on the door. Fists slammed against it, and angry voices in Salvadorian shouted through the shaky wood.
Marabunta: ¡Abran la puerta, pendejos! ¡Sabemos que está aquí!
Thomas froze, his face draining of color. He scrambled toward his gun safe, fumbling with the combination as the pounding continued.
Thomas: They followed you here! Your damn fancy truck gave us away! We're fucked!
Miklos cursed under his breath, pulling his Desert Eagle from his waistband. He moved to the center of the room, trying to keep both Thomas and Jenni calm as the shouting outside intensified.
Marabunta: ¡Danos a la chica! ¡O todos mueren!
Thomas finally yanked his gun free, a small, battered pistol. He turned toward the door, his hands trembling as he pointed it. Miklos stepped closer, his voice sharp but controlled.
Miklos: Thomas. Calm down. That pea-shooter's not gonna help if you lose your head.
Thomas's breathing was ragged, but he nodded, lowering the gun slightly. The pounding on the door grew louder, followed by broken English.
Marabunta: We break this door! You no stop us! We need she! La chica!
Jenni whimpered softly, curling into herself on the couch. Miklos turned to her, his tone softening.
Miklos: Stay back. Stay quiet.
He moved toward the door, standing to the side with his Desert Eagle raised. His voice cut through the noise, cold and authoritative.
Miklos: Calm down!
The shouting faltered for a moment, the men outside muttering to one another in Spanish. Miklos pressed his back against the wall next to the door, keeping his voice low but firm. Miklos's jaw clenched as the pounding on the door grew louder, the Marabunta shouting threats in rapid Salvadoran Spanish.
Miklos: If you want her, come get her. But you'll have to go through me first.
Marabunta: ¡Danos a la chica ahora, malditos! ¡Abrimos esta puerta, y matamos a todos!
A tense silence followed, broken only by heavy breathing and the sound of shuffling outside. Miklos glanced at Thomas, who had retreated slightly, his gun still trembling in his hands.
Thomas: Didn't you promise that the Marabunta wouldn't find us, Miklos? WHY IS IT HAPPENING THEN!?
Miklos: Just stay calm.
Jenni whimpered, retreating into the bathroom and locking the door behind her. Thomas crouched behind the couch, his pistol shaking in his hands, his face pale and drenched with sweat. Miklos glanced at him, then grabbed his phone, scrolling to Victor Sax's number. Miklos's voice remained steady, though his grip on the gun tightened.
The call barely rang before Victor's gruff voice came through.
Victor: What's upppp!
Miklos ducked as the door shuddered under another blow, his voice tense but calm.
Miklos: Your turn to repay the favor, Vix. Marabunta tracked me back to my cousin's place, Vespucci Beach.
Victor's tone sharpened immediately.
Victor: Shit. How many?
Miklos: Enough to break the door down. Bring everyone. Now.
Victor: Everyone?
Miklos: Everyone!
Victor sighed, the sound of movement and muffled shouting on his end clear.
Victor: Alright. Gal, Clifton, the boys, hell, I'll even bring Carmelita. Sit tight. We're on our way!
Marabunta: ¡Abran esta mierda! ¡No nos hagan entrar por la fuerza!
Miklos hung up, tucking his phone back into his pocket as another crash rattled the door. A crack appeared in the wood, and the Marabunta shouted louder, banging their fists and weapons against it. Miklos turned to Thomas, whose hands trembled so badly he could barely hold the gun steady.
Miklos: Keep your head down. Stay calm.
Thomas: Calm?! They're gonna kill us, Miklos! They're gonna break down that door, and we're dead!
Miklos crouched by the door, gripping his Desert Eagle tightly. He raised his voice, shouting through the door in what little Spanish he knew.
Miklos: Wait! No que-re-mos proble-mas.
The Marabunta outside erupted in laughter, mocking his broken Spanish.
Marabunta: ¡Pinche gringo, no sabes nada! ¡Te vamos a matar, cabrón!
The pounding grew fiercer, the wood splintering under their assault. Miklos glanced toward the hallway where Jenni was hiding, her muffled sobs barely audible through the bathroom door. He shouted again, trying to stall.
Miklos: Listen! Pode-mos habl-ar?
Marabunta: ¡Hablar no sirve! ¡Queremos la chica!
Thomas: They're gonna kill us. They're really gonna kill us, cousin!
Miklos: Not tonight.
Miklos aimed and fired right through the door, decimating who ever was unlucky enough to be standing behind it, hearing them fall dead down the stairs. The first shot ringing out like a thunderclap in the cramped apartment, before a thunderstorm of bullets rained down.
Marabunta: ¡Mátenlos! ¡A la mierda estos cabrones!
The gangsters returned fire wildly, shouting and screaming, the wood splintering as bullets tore through the door like paper. Another volley of gunfire shattered the narrow hallway, bullets embedding themselves in the walls. The Marabunta screamed like animals, their footsteps heavy as they charged the door.
Thomas: They're shooting! They're shooting! We're dead!
Thomas ducked as bullets ripped into the couch, feathers and fabric exploding into the air. Miklos shifted to the side, firing three more shots. The nearest thug staggered back, clutching his chest as he collapsed, shaking. One thug crumpled to the ground, but the other lunged forward, his machete gleaming. Miklos barely had time to kick over the couch, tripping the man before putting a round into his head.
Behind him, Thomas crouched in the corner, his small pistol shaking in his hands. He didn't fire a single shot, instead muttering to himself in panic.
Thomas: We're dead. We're so dead. Oh my God.
Another wave of Marabunta surged through the doorway, their numbers overwhelming the narrow entry. Miklos rolled to cover behind the kitchen counter, firing steadily to keep them at bay. One thug managed to get close, leaping over the counter with a machete. Miklos twisted, grabbing the man's wrist and slamming his body headfirst into the oven before executing him with a single shot.
The faint rumble of engines cut through the tension, growing louder with each second. Miklos's heart pounded as the distinct sound of lowriders filled the street. Bright lights swept across the apartment's windows, and the shouting outside faltered as the Marabunta turned to face the new arrivals.
Victor: Viva Los Aztecas!
Victor Sax stepped out of the lead lowrider, his Carbine blasting in his hands, letting off shots in the dark. Behind him, Gal laid covering fire with his AK, his towering frame imposing even in the dim light. Clifton, with his wild grin, hopped out next, throwing a grenade he seemed far too eager to use. It tip-tapped and rolled under the Marabunta's car, exploding in a huge flash. Izzy followed, his flashy chains gleaming as he hopped out blasting with his golden AK, and even Carmelita, wearing a tight dress and heels, stepped out with a shotgun, barking orders to the Aztecas piling out of the vehicles.
Carmelita: Eat shit, you Salvadoran fucks!
The Marabunta hesitated, their attention shifting entirely to the new arrivals. Miklos smirked, finally lowering his gun slightly as he glanced at Thomas. Clifton, ran around, laughing maniacally as he hurled another grenade toward a cluster of Marabunta taking cover behind a dumpster. The explosion rocked the street, sending debris and limbs flying and scattering the gang.
Miklos: Crissakes, finally.
The fight inside was growing more desperate. Miklos reloaded quickly, his hands steady despite the chaos. Another thug burst into the kitchen, spraying bullets wildly. Miklos ducked, popping up to return fire, his shot catching the man in the neck. Behind him, Thomas scrambled out of the way, tripping over a coffee table and knocking himself out.
Miklos didn't have time to react as another thug charged in, this one shooting a double barrel shotgun. Miklos sidestepped the blast barely, charging as they reloaded, and shoved the man into the fridge, stunning him long enough to fire a shot into his side.
The pounding of footsteps outside the door grew louder. Miklos aimed toward the shattered door as Victor, flanked by Gal, burst inside. Gal's AK roared, clearing the remaining Marabunta behind them near the doorway in seconds.
Victor: King! You good?
Miklos: Peachy.
Victor and Gal moved back out of the apartment with precision, their weapons barking as they took down the remaining gangsters. Outside, the sounds of gunfire and shouting began to fade as the Aztecas gained the upper hand.
As the last Marabunta fell, silence crept back into the apartment, broken only by the faint crackle of flames from the wreckage outside. Miklos lowered his Desert Eagle, his breathing steady but his muscles taut with adrenaline. Thomas remained on the floor, stirring awake like a newborn.
Victor stepped over a body, his rifle resting on his shoulder as he surveyed the carnage.
Victor: Told you we had your back. Consider us equal, King.
Miklos: No, I think you mean even. Took you long enough, and thanks.
Miklos snorted, wiping a streak of blood from his cheek. Jenni peeked out from the bathroom, her eyes wide as she took in the scene. She clutched the doorframe, her voice shaky like her legs.
Jenni: Is... is it over?
Miklos: For now.
Outside, the Aztecas regrouped, their victory evident in their laughter and the sounds of revving engines. Izzy leaned against the lowrider, lighting a cigarette with a grin.
Izzy: Hell of an afterparty, Mik!
Lowriders rumbled away one by one, their taillights vanishing into the distance as the victorious gang members shouted their goodbyes. Miklos stood in the wrecked apartment, surveying the chaos. Blood, bullet holes, bodies, and shattered furniture told the story of the brutal shootout.
Jenni: Awww man... It took me all day to clean this place too...
Behind him, Thomas groaned, stirring on the floor where he had fallen during the commotion. He blinked groggily, rubbing his head as he tried to sit up.
Thomas: What the hell... Am I in heaven? D-did we win?
Miklos: We survived.
Thomas tried to stand, stumbling slightly as Miklos grabbed his arm to steady him. The distant wail of sirens reached their ears, and Miklos's smirk faded. He turned to Jenni, who had emerged from the bathroom, her face pale but determined.
Miklos: Cops are coming. We need to go. Now.
Thomas: Go? Where the hell are we gonna go?
Thomas's eyes widened, panic creeping back into his voice. Miklos ignored him, scanning the room and shaking his head as he spotted the mess. He grabbed a nearby duffle bag and threw it at Thomas.
Miklos: Pack your stuff. Only what you need.
As the sirens grew louder, the apartment turned into a chaotic flurry of packing. Thomas stumbled around, grabbing the most absurd items: an antique stamp collection, a stack of old VHS tapes, and even a framed photo of his him and Miklos as children.
Miklos: Seriously? You're taking that?
Thomas: These are collector's items, cousin!
Jenni, more practical, tip-toed over dead bodies as she went out to the truck. She moved quickly, glancing nervously as the distant sirens grew closer. Miklos, shaking his head, slung Thomas's ridiculous bag over his shoulder and motioned for them to follow.
Miklos: Let's go.
Vespucci Beach
The trio piled into Miklos's Caracara, the engine roaring to life as they sped away just as LSPD squad cars turned onto the street. Jenni glanced out the window, her face tense, while Thomas clutched his bag of oddities like it was a lifeline.
As they drove through the quiet streets, Miklos pulled out his phone, dialing Alan Nazarian. The call connected after a few rings, and Alan's voice came through, gruff and annoyed.
Alan: Miklos. What now?
Miklos: I need a safehouse.
There was a pause before Alan replied, his tone curious.
Alan: What happened?
Miklos: Marabunta knows where I stayed, tried to kill me.
Alan sighed audibly, muttering something under his breath before continuing.
Alan: Alright, I've got a place in Strawberry, on Innocence Boulevard. Not glamorous, but it'll keep you off the radar.
Miklos: Good enough. Send me the address.
Miklos: Key is under the garbage pile. Oh and your welcome.
Strawberry Safehouse
The Caracara rolled to a stop on Innocence Boulevard, its headlights casting long shadows across the decrepit single-story house. The neighborhood was eerily quiet. The house itself was barely holding together, peeling paint clung to the siding like old scabs, the roof sagged ominously in the middle, and the lawn was more dirt and weeds than grass. A battered screen door hung crookedly, its rusty hinges squeaking faintly in the breeze.
Miklos turned off the engine and looked at Jenni and Thomas, who sat silently in the cab. The reality of their situation weighed heavily in the damp night air.
Miklos: This'll be home for now. Let's get inside.
Thomas muttered something unintelligible as he clutched his bag of oddities, shuffling out of the truck. Jenni hesitated, her gaze lingering on the dilapidated house before following Miklos. The faint smell of mildew hit them as they stepped inside.
Thomas: Shit...
The interior was worse than the exterior. The walls were stained with years of grime, water damage spreading in ominous patterns along the ceiling. The carpet was threadbare and damp in patches, squelching faintly underfoot. A single overhead light flickered weakly, casting shadows that made the cramped living room feel haunted. The furniture was sparse and mismatched: a sagging couch with cigarette burns, a coffee table missing one leg propped up with a stack of old porn magazines, and a rickety chair that looked like it might collapse under Thomas's weight.
Jenni wrinkled her nose as she stepped further inside, her boots sticking slightly to the floor. She glanced at Miklos, who was already scanning the windows and doors, checking locks and sightlines. His calm efficiency made the dingy surroundings feel less oppressive, though the faint smell of mold hung heavy in the air.
Jenni: It's not much, but... it's better than being kidnapped.
Miklos paused, turning to her. His voice was steady and reassuring, though his eyes betrayed a hint of weariness.
Miklos: You're safe here. I'll make sure of it.
Jenni's breath hitched slightly at his words, her chest tightening in a way that had nothing to do with the dank air. She looked at him, really looked at him, for the first time since this whole ordeal had started. His face, sharp and strong, carried the weight of someone who'd lived through battles most people wouldn't survive. But his voice, his steady resolve, gave her a sense of safety she hadn't felt in years.
Jenni: Thanks, Miklos. For everything.
Her voice dropped almost to a whisper.
Jenni: My hero...
Miklos nodded, brushing off her gratitude as he dropped Thomas's bag on the couch. He didn't seem to notice the way her gaze lingered on him, or how her lips trembled slightly as she fought back emotions she didn't yet understand.
Thomas flopped onto the sagging couch, his bag of collectibles clutched protectively in his lap. He glanced around the room, muttering under his breath.
Thomas: Great. The Lipton Family Vacation Home. What's next? Rats? Oh wait, I'm pretty sure I heard one scurrying.
Miklos ignored him, crossing to the window and peering through the cracked blinds. His posture was tense, his mind already working on their next steps. The distant sound of a siren briefly broke the quiet, and he exhaled slowly.
Miklos: You'll have to live with us for a while. Get used to it.
Jenni perched on the edge of the battered chair, her fingers fidgeting with a loose thread on her jeans. She looked around the room, taking in the filth and disrepair, but her focus inevitably drifted back to Miklos. He seemed so calm, so in control, even in the middle of this disaster. Her chest tightened again, her heart thudding as she realized that she felt... safe. Maybe for the first time in a long time.
As Miklos turned from the window, their eyes met. For a brief moment, she thought about saying something, anything, to let him know what she was feeling. But the words stuck in her throat. Instead, she offered a faint smile, and to her surprise, Miklos returned it, just barely.
Miklos turned back to the window, his expression hardening once more as he muttered to himself, checking his gun.
Miklos: Get some rest, love.
Jenni watched him, her heart still racing, knowing that wherever this fight took them, she trusted him to keep her safe.
The next mission, Pain Train, is now unlocked.
Rewards
- New Safehouse: Strawberry Safehouse
- New Weapon: TEC 9
Objectives
- Protect the apartment from Marabunta
- Kill the fleeing Marabunta members
- Go back to Jenni and Thomas
- Take Jenni and Thomas to Alan's safehouse in South Los Santos
Gold Medal Objectives
- Time - Complete in 4:30
- Unmarked - Complete with minimum damage on health and armor
- Headshots - Kill 10 enemies via headshot
- Scrap Man - Destroy 5 vehicles
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