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Chapter 18: Death in prison
Evening fell over Redhaven Prison.
Belick strode briskly through the corridor, excitement burning in his chest. He was seconds away from finally putting Tommy Vercetti in solitary. Just as he reached the infirmary, the door opened, and a slender figure stepped out ahead of him.
It was Sara.
Belick froze. His excitement soured instantly into bitterness. Midnight… a man and a woman alone together in that room. Did he really need to guess what had happened?
That damned Tommy Vercetti—how dare he lay hands on his goddess, Sara!
Belick's teeth clenched audibly as rage boiled inside him.
Yet, for once, Tommy was innocent. Sara had only come to perform a final check-up, removing the last of his bandages. Nothing more. Still, Belick wasn't entirely wrong either. Something had happened between Tommy and Sara… but earlier that morning, not now. He had simply arrived too late.
Suppressing his fury, Belick waited until Sara left for the night. Only when her car had driven away did he finally make his move. Baton in hand, he stormed into the ward and kicked the door open.
"Tommy Vercetti—your time is up!"
Tommy looked up from his bed, expression calm, even a little amused.
"Wait, Captain Belick, what are you talking about? I don't understand."
His feigned innocence only enraged Belick further.
"Don't play dumb with me." Belick snapped his baton free from his belt. "Hands on your head. Face the wall. Now!"
Tommy raised his hands with an easy smile.
"Alright, alright. You're the boss. I surrender."
Belick frisked him thoroughly, and soon his face lit up with triumph.
"Aha! Just as I thought!"
From Tommy's pocket, he pulled out a small silver flask. But that wasn't all. With widening eyes, he uncovered something even more shocking—a sleek Nokia slider phone.
Belick's eyes glittered with greed.
"Well, well… what a surprise. A common criminal like you, holding onto something worth more than months of my salary."
Without hesitation, he pocketed the phone himself.
"Hey, Belick, that's mine!"
"Shut your mouth, scum!" Belick barked, relishing Tommy's helplessness. He uncapped the flask and, to mock him further, took a long swig.
The liquor was sharp and bitter, burning his throat. He coughed, but quickly forced down another gulp, smirking at Tommy.
"This is the taste of victory, boy."
Tommy only watched, his expression unreadable.
How naive, he thought. You really think I'd let you enjoy this so easily?
The two continued down the corridor toward the warden's office. A cold wind slipped through the cracks in the building. Belick stumbled slightly, dizzy, but dismissed it as drinking too fast. He leaned against the wall, took another pull from the flask, and shoved Tommy forward.
"This guy," Tommy thought, shaking his head inwardly. "Doesn't even know he's digging his own grave."
By the time they reached the warden's door, Belick's face was red, his breathing labored. He lifted his hand to knock—then froze. His vision blurred, chest tight, breath gone.
With a heavy thud, Belick collapsed backward, his massive body hitting the stone floor with a sickening crack.
Gasps erupted down the hall. Guards rushed over as Tommy crouched beside him, slipping the flask and phone back into his own clothes in one smooth motion.
"Oh no!" Tommy shouted, feigning alarm. "Captain Belick has fainted!"
Within seconds, the corridor filled with staff. Warden Hunter himself appeared, his eyes narrowing at the sight of his fallen captain.
"Belick? What in God's name happened here?"
The guards questioned Tommy, but his story matched what everyone else had seen: Belick had simply collapsed without warning.
Hunter's face hardened. "Get the infirmary staff here, now. And call the hospital—tell them we need helicopter evac immediately!"
Doctors arrived, working desperately to revive Belick with CPR, but his condition remained unchanged. Finally, he was lifted onto a stretcher and carried to the waiting helicopter.
Hunter watched the aircraft lift into the night sky, his expression grim.
"Damn it… Belick…" He muttered, shaking his head. "Your health's been bad for years. All that junk food, all those milkshakes—it was bound to catch up with you."
Hunter sighed heavily. "What a pity."
But he would never know the truth. Belick's "heart attack" had not been the result of poor health alone.
It had been a carefully staged accident.
An accident arranged by Tommy Vercetti.