Chapter 5: The Calm Suspect
Sitting in the back of the police car, Tommy Vercetti wasn't flustered in the slightest.
On the contrary, his heart was calm, almost unnervingly so. His eyes wandered curiously across the vehicle's interior as though he were a tourist rather than a man in handcuffs.
Back when he was still Rishi, an ordinary office worker in Bangalore, he had never once ridden in a police car. As a law-abiding citizen, the thought hadn't even crossed his mind. Now, thrust into this bizarre second life, he almost welcomed the chance to "experience it properly."
To the officers around him, however, his composure carried a different weight.
"Strange… why does this guy still have the mood to look around? Doesn't he realize what kind of situation he's in?"
Veteran officer Hank kept his eyes on the road, but his thoughts churned. In decades of service, he had seen all kinds of criminals—arrogant, cocky, broken, pathetic. Most put on a tough act until the doors of the police car closed. Then came the tears, the begging, the trembling.
But this man? His stillness was genuine, radiating from the core.
Of course, Hank couldn't possibly know Tommy's real thoughts.
For Tommy, getting caught was no disaster—it was already part of his plan.
From the Mafia memories in his head, he knew how the system worked. Back in Italy, the death penalty had long been abolished. Even life sentences could be commuted to parole after twenty-six years. With money, connections, and the right lawyer, a ten-year sentence could be cut in half.
Compared to dying in a firefight, prison was nothing.
And Tommy wasn't short-sighted. He understood perfectly well the difference between a single star and six stars. Right now, only local cops were on the scene. But if he had resisted, killed even one officer, the full force of the state would have come for him. SWAT teams, helicopters, nationwide manhunts. Against that, even his master-level marksmanship would crumble.
An individual could not fight a country. Not yet. Not until he grew strong enough.
Besides, prison wasn't useless. It was its own society, a university of criminals. Inmates came from every walk of life, carrying skills, knowledge, and stories no classroom could offer.
And for Tommy, it provided something invaluable—time. Time to probe the depths of the Animation Lottery System. Time to prepare for the future.
If the worst came to pass, he could always break out. He didn't need a real gun to be deadly. With his skills, even a makeshift pistol, a hand crossbow, or a crude weapon could turn into a killing tool.
And if all else failed, the system's next lottery might offer him the perfect escape.
So why wouldn't he be calm?
Tommy even smiled faintly at the rearview mirror, trying to appear "friendly."
Hank's blood chilled.
That smile didn't look friendly at all. It looked like the grin of a wolf who had decided the hunt wasn't over.
Hank had seen the forensic report. Twenty corpses littered the abandoned factory, each with a single, perfect bullet hole drilled into the forehead. One shot per man. Clean. Precise. Merciless.
Even seasoned killers didn't shoot like that.
"What kind of monster am I driving?" he thought, pressing harder on the accelerator, desperate to dump this suspect at the station and wash his hands of him.
In the back seat, rookie officer Jill Valentine sat silently. The excitement she'd felt earlier—arresting her first dangerous suspect—was beginning to fade. Now she simply stared at Tommy, trying to read the man who had surrendered so willingly.
Was he really planning something? Or was he simply that confident?
The silence thickened.
One man relaxed and smiling.
Another sweating bullets, clinging to his nerves.
And a third, lost in uneasy thought.
The car cut through the rainy streets, weaving past intersections, the siren lights painting the night in blue and red.
At last, the station came into view.
The tires screeched as Hank braked hard. The gates opened, and the vehicle rolled inside.
The next step was clear.
The interrogation was about to begin.