I didn't even have time to think before another round of gunfire tore through the air, and something hot punched into my shoulder. I screamed, more out of panic than pain, though the pain came right after. It was sharp and burning, like someone pressed a hot iron into me.
The Italian guy beside me yelled, "Don! Move!" and before I could argue, he grabbed my arm and dragged me out from cover. My legs didn't want to work right, but I ran anyway, stumbling through broken glass and smoke. The sound of boots and sirens was everywhere, bouncing through the mall like an alarm I couldn't turn off.
A black car screeched to a stop outside, and before I could catch up with what was happening, the guy ran straight to it, yanked the door open, and threw someone out. The poor man hit the ground as the Italian shouted, "Get in, Don!"
And I did, because standing there felt like a death wish.
I slammed the door shut just as the engine roared. The guy, still nameless at this point, hit the gas and the tires screamed against the wet road. Bullets pinged against the car's side, and my shoulder felt like it was on fire.
I gritted my teeth as I looked down. The wound was still there, bleeding, but then something weird happened. The pain started to fade, slow at first, then faster, until I could see the torn skin closing, the blood drying, the hole shrinking.
"What the hell..." I whispered as I stared in disbelief. The injury was healing right in front of me. It was freaky, like watching voodoo magic in HD.
A transparent health bar appeared above my vision. [Health +30%], slowly filling back up like it was just another game stat.
Then I saw another thing appear in the corner of my vision.
> ★★★ WANTED LEVEL.
"Three stars?" I muttered. "Seriously?"
I turned to the window. Two police cruisers were already on our tail, lights flashing, sirens blaring. One cop leaned out of the passenger window and fired a shot that shattered the back glass. The Italian ducked slightly, he was steering with one hand while pulling his gun with the other.
"Hold on, Don!" he shouted as he twisted the wheel.
The car drifted into a side street, clipped a trash bin, and spun halfway before it got control again. I grabbed the dashboard as we tore through the alley, knocking over whatever stood in the way.
My mind was scrambling to make sense of everything, but old habits kicked in. Gamer instincts, the weird kind that only start working when you stop overthinking.
Okay, Ethan, I told myself, breathe. It's a game. It's just a game. You've got a health bar, a wanted level, pain that feels way too real, but still, it's a system. Pain means you're alive, health bar goes up, you heal. So as long as you don't die again, you're fine.
I nodded slowly to myself, ignoring how insane that logic sounded out loud.
The chase dragged on, sirens wailing closer, until finally I noticed the stars in the corner starting to blink. Three stars turned into two.
I peeked through the back window. One of the cop cars had crashed into a post, sparks were flying as it caught fire. The other one was still there but farther now, like it had lost us.
"So, just like the game," I said under my breath.
The driver glanced at me through the rearview mirror. "You say something, Don?"
"Nothing," I muttered quickly.
Then I froze.
A small overlay appeared above his head. A digital tag showing his name, stats, and something that looked like a loyalty level.
> [Name: Marco Vitelli]
[Affiliation: Voss Syndicate]
[Loyalty: 92%]
[Role: Lieutenant]
My brain processed that slowly, like my eyes couldn't believe what they were seeing. The guy had stats. Everyone probably did. NPCs, allies, enemies, all coded into this "real" world.
"Marco," I said quietly, testing it.
He turned slightly, still driving like a maniac. "Yeah, boss?"
"Uh, nothing. Just checking if you're bleeding," I said quickly.
Marco chuckled as he shook his head. "Not a scratch, Don. You should see the other guys."
I leaned back, trying to process all of it.
"Where are we going?" I asked after a moment.
"To the mansion, Don," he said. "The one in Le Riviera. You told me to keep it ready in case of heat."
"Right, yeah," I replied, pretending I knew what he was talking about. "Good thinking."
The stars in the corner dropped again. Two stars turned into one, and I felt my muscles relax a little. The sirens were fading behind us.
I breathed out slowly as the pain in my shoulder disappeared completely. The health bar was back at full. Okay, Ethan, you've got this, I told myself. You just respawned in hell, got shot twice, and hijacked a car. But you're still alive. You can handle this. Probably.
I looked at my hands. They were shaking. Not much, but enough to remind me that none of this was normal. I clenched them into fists until the shaking stopped, or at least pretended to.
After a while, the car slowed down. The roads grew quieter, the flashing lights were gone, replaced by the hum of streetlamps and the sound of tires rolling over wet road. We turned a corner, and that's when I saw it. A tall gate ahead, guarded by two men in suits with rifles.
As soon as they saw the car, they stepped forward. Marco honked once, and one of them leaned in toward my window. His eyes went wide immediately.
"Welcome back, Don," the guard said as he straightened up.
I nodded, because that's what someone like Antonio Voss would probably do. The other guard signaled to someone inside, and the heavy gate began to open.
The car rolled through slowly. Behind the walls stretched a mansion big enough to make me forget how to breathe for a second. There were manicured gardens, a pool reflecting the night lights, fountains spraying like this was some luxury resort for criminals. But what really caught my attention wasn't the house, it was the number of armed men standing outside. All of them were watching, all of them were carrying weapons like they were expecting a war.
Whoever Antonio Voss was, he wasn't some small time thug. And that thought, weirdly, made me feel a little safer.
Marco parked in front of the main entrance and stepped out as he adjusted his jacket. I followed, my legs were still heavy but they were moving. The guards didn't question me. They just nodded or said "Don" under their breath as I passed.
Inside, the mansion was colder than I expected. The marble floor gleamed under dim chandeliers, and portraits lined the hallway. All of them showing the same man. Me. Or rather, Antonio.
That did not help the nerves.
Marco led me through until we reached a door with a small golden plaque that read "Don Voss - Private."
He turned to me and said, "You should rest, boss. We'll handle the cleanup."
"Yeah," I muttered, still trying to sound like I wasn't two seconds from having a breakdown. "Good job, Marco."
He smiled proudly and left me there.
I stepped into the room and closed the door behind me. It was huge, bigger than my entire apartment back home, with a king sized bed, a minibar, and a TV mounted on the wall. But what caught my eye was the glowing prompt floating right in front of me.
> Save Progress →
I blinked at it, then muttered, "Okay..."
The words changed.
> Progress Saved.
The glow faded. I stared for a few seconds, unsure whether to laugh or cry. Then I just let myself fall onto the bed.
The sheets felt soft, the air smelled expensive, and my head was buzzing with everything that had happened.
"I'm in the game," I whispered, still half not believing it. "I'm actually in the damn game."
The world was quiet for a few seconds, just the sound of rain against the window and my own breathing evening out, and then the silence broke again.
Another screen blinked into view.
> New Mission Unlocked:
Find the Traitor.
I stared at it for a long moment, then covered my face with my hands.
"Oh, come on..."
___
To be continued...