Chapter 15: Martial Arts and an Unexpected Visit
Tai Lung's martial arts talent was truly extraordinary—there was no denying it.
But unlike his last reward, this one came with complications.
When Tommy had drawn Nobi Nobita's character card, it had been effortless. No training, no practice—equip the card, and all of Nobita's abilities were instantly his.
This time, things were different.
The prize was Tai Lung's martial arts talent, and talent alone didn't make a master. To wield it, Tommy would need to start from nothing, grinding through the painful process of training, practice, and repetition.
It was troublesome.
The saying went, "Ten years to sharpen a sword." Everyone knew martial arts wasn't something achieved overnight.
But Tommy didn't have ten years. He didn't even have one.
Trouble was coming—trouble that demanded strength. And though he knew shortcuts were risky, he had no choice but to chase them.
"Is there any quick method of training?"
This wasn't the Jade Palace. There were no martial arts masters here, no kung fu scrolls, no secret manuals.
If he wanted to learn, he had to teach himself.
Digging through his memories—both from this life and his past one—Tommy eventually found something that suited him.
Military Boxing.
At first glance, it wasn't impressive. It lacked the grandeur of Baguazhang, the mystique of Tai Chi, or even the cinematic flair of Wing Chun. It was plain, stripped-down, almost dull.
But in practice? It was brutally effective.
Simple. Efficient. Practical. Every move designed to subdue an enemy and protect yourself in real combat.
Its only flaw was lethality—it wasn't designed to kill. But Tommy wasn't concerned. With Tai Lung's martial arts talent amplifying his learning speed, even this modest foundation could be sharpened, refined, and evolved into something far deadlier.
"It'll do. For now."
He was still working through his first stance when a sharp knock came at the infirmary door.
"Tommy Vercetti, you have a visitor!"
Tommy froze, confused. A visitor? He didn't have friends here. Enemies, yes. Plenty of those. But friends? Impossible.
The door creaked open, and a tall, elegant woman entered the room. Her presence alone shifted the atmosphere, radiating nobility and control.
Tommy's eyes narrowed. Recognition hit instantly.
"Gianna Antonio."
The campus belle of the Camorra Family. The woman who had drawn his predecessor into the underworld, who had given him the connections—and the push—to become a Mafia member.
For better or worse, his entire path had been tied to her.
"Tommy!"
Gianna's face lit with joy the instant she saw him. She tossed aside the flowers in her hand and rushed forward, pulling him into a kiss so deep and desperate it seemed to carry all the longing of the years they'd been apart.
When at last she pulled away, her eyes glistened.
"I'm so sorry I only came now," she said, her voice trembling with sincerity.
Tommy said nothing. He didn't need to. He already knew how much she had done.
If not for Gianna hiring Ken, he wouldn't have gotten away with just a ten-year sentence. He wouldn't have had the chance for parole in half that time.
Compared to others, his punishment was almost laughable. Sucre had seventeen years for an empty gun. Tommy had killed more than twenty people—and got ten years, with parole after five.
The difference was simple. Backed by power, or not.
"You've done enough, Gianna," Tommy finally said. And for once, his words weren't strategy. They were honest.
But Gianna didn't believe him. She only felt guilt.
If she hadn't given him that mission… if she hadn't pushed him down this path… maybe he wouldn't be here at all.
"Don't worry, Tommy," she whispered, resolve burning in her eyes. "I'll find a way to get you out early."
She meant it. She would spend every euro, call in every favor, grease every palm until he was free. Not just because of their bond—but because she needed him.
Assassination attempts had plagued her. Betrayals. Territory seized. The Family heir election breathing down her neck. Every day had been war.
But when Tommy was at her side, she had always felt safe. Protected. Stronger.
And she wanted that again.
Her longing overwhelmed her. She kissed him again, more desperate this time, her hands fumbling at her clothes.
Tommy sighed inwardly. He had just come out of one exhausting "battle," and now another was demanding his strength. Even he had his limits.
But how could he push her away now? After all she had done?
So he gave in—half-exasperated, half-amused.
"Fine," he muttered, flipping her onto the hospital bed with practiced ease.
If she wanted war, then war it would be.
And in Redhaven Prison, behind those locked doors, another conquest began.
END of the chapter
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