There was alcohol, there was music, and there were naked females. Many of the world's most beautiful ladies frolicking around in Artist's condo as if it were a picnic on a beach. But Artist wasn't here to have fun. In fact, he was here because The Pope had commissioned him for a specific painting. Just as he was finished being foot fed grapes by a ginger haired nude model, a pigeon appeared on the window seal. This was no ordinary pigeon. It wasn't dirty and brainless like the pigeons in NYC. This pigeon wore a suit and had a cigar in his mouth. At this point, was this even a pigeon anymore? If Artist wasn't a man of culture he would've been surprised but he knew one thing. This pigeon was from South Philly. Artist whistled and the pigeon landed on his arm. The note that came from the beak read as such:

Remember that one time in bandcamp? Exactly. Bring your ass to Philadelphia asap. I need you to get some work done out here. And no the work doesn't involve The Secret Stuff.....but bring a box of them anyway.

                     - TommyVercetti

Artist was smiling ear to ear. He would finally have an opportunity to perform his most deadliest move: 1,000 Strokes of Death. It was an upgrade from Thayendanegea's 4 Strokes of Shame. After packing up his paint brushes and stuffing all of his visible pockets with The Secret Stuff, Artist boarded his private jet that was on top of his condo's roof. He poured himself a banana flavored alcohol shot and took off into the air with his private jet full of nude models who took turns playing with themselves in the copilot seat.