3: Chapter 3 An unexpected encounter with the grumpy old man Mike

The night was like a piece of velvet soaked in ink, pressing heavily over Los Santos. Neon lights tore through the thick darkness, casting mottled shadows on the wet asphalt. The faint, distant wail of sirens acted like a taut string on Lin Fan's nerves; a single touch would make him jump.

When Lin Fan crawled out of the trash can, he emitted a nauseating, sour stench. Rotten vegetable scraps clung to the back collar of his hoodie, and sticky sauce dripped down his jeans. The canvas shoes on his feet had long since worn through with holes, soaked through by the puddles in the alley, so that every step felt like cold mud squeezing between his toes.

He tightly clutched the wad of stolen cash to his chest; the bills were crumpled from sweat and grime, their edges curling. The prompt for his three-star wanted level still glowed in his mind, and the system's cold, mechanical voice popped up from time to time to remind him: [Warning! The host is still wanted by the police. Please do not approach crowded areas!]

"No kidding, I don't need you to tell me that!" Lin Fan cursed under his breath through gritted teeth. He warily scanned his surroundings while tiptoeing toward the mouth of the alley. He was a mobile "trouble magnet" now; forget the police, even a random passerby looking at him twice was enough to make his heart skip a beat.

The wind at the alley's entrance carried the salty scent of seawater, making him shiver. He poked his head out, cautiously scanning the street—it was empty under the streetlights, save for a few modified sports cars roaring past, their engines vibrating the roadside trash cans. The sound of the police helicopter had completely vanished, likely drawn away by that shooting, which gave him a moment to breathe.

"I need to find a place to change clothes fast. If this keeps up, I'll choke to death on this sour smell before the cops even catch me." Holding his nose, Lin Fan frowned and ducked into the small alley across the street. He remembered from the game that there was an abandoned industrial zone behind this street; it was sparsely populated and should be a good place to hide temporarily.

He hunched over, sticking to the shadows where there were no streetlights like a startled rat, afraid of being recognized by some sharp-eyed pedestrian. Passing a closed laundromat, he stopped and swallowed hard as he stared at the clean clothes hanging in the window—it would be great if he could steal one to change into.

But as soon as the thought surfaced, he snuffed it out. The robbery was already enough to deal with; adding theft might send his wanted level soaring, and he didn't want to experience the taste of a five-star wanted level.

Just as he gritted his teeth and prepared to continue toward the industrial zone, a sharp screech of tires suddenly rang out from behind him.

"Screech—!"

Tires frictioned violently against the ground, splashing water. Accompanied by a deafening thud, Lin Fan felt a massive force slam into his back. He flew through the air like a ragdoll and crashed heavily onto the asphalt road.

The money in his arms scattered everywhere. A few crumpled bills were caught by the wind and landed in a nearby puddle, instantly becoming soaked.

"Holy sh*t!" Lin Fan grimaced in pain. His bones felt like they were falling apart, especially his back, which hurt so much he found it difficult to breathe. He struggled to crawl up, only to see a black SUV stopped behind him, its front bumper deformed from the impact.

The car door kicked open with a "clang," and a middle-aged man in a floral plaid shirt and a mustache climbed out, cursing. The man had a slight potbelly and a faint scar on his face. His eyes were as fierce as a provoked bull's, and the cigarette dangling from his mouth wobbled with his movements, dropping ash everywhere.

"Are you f*cking blind?!" The man rushed up to Lin Fan, grabbed him by the collar, and hauled him off the ground, spraying spit in his face. "Do you have any idea I just had this car modified? Can you even afford to pay for this?"

Lin Fan was dangled in mid-air, the pain bringing him close to tears. The agony in his back left him without the strength to resist. He looked up at the man's furious face, and his brain suddenly went "buzz"—this face was all too familiar!

The plaid shirt, the mustache, the belly fat, the scar by the eye... wasn't this one of the protagonists of GTA 5, Michael De Santa?!

Lin Fan's brain instantly short-circuited.

What was he doing here? Shouldn't he be in his mansion in Rockford Hills, living his "retired" life with his family? Why was he driving a modified SUV and hitting him in a dumpy alley like this?

Seeing him staring blankly, Michael's anger flared even more. He raised his hand as if to punch Lin Fan, roaring, "What are you looking at! I'm talking to you! Are you trying to pull a f*cking insurance scam on me?"

"Wait! Wait!" Lin Fan finally snapped out of it, quickly raising his hands to protect his face, his voice trembling from excitement and pain. "Michael! You're Michael De Santa!"

Michael's fist stopped in mid-air. He frowned, looking Lin Fan up and down, the anger in his eyes gradually turning into wariness. "How do you know my name?"

His hand instinctively reached toward the small of his back—where a pistol was hidden. In a hellhole like Los Santos, not many people knew his real name. They were either his old buddies or enemies who wanted him dead.

Seeing the movement, Lin Fan's heart skipped a beat. He waved his hands frantically to explain, "I... I'm your fan! No, I'm..."

He couldn't exactly say he was a player who had transmigrated and knew all his secrets, could he? If he said that, Michael would think he was a lunatic.

Just as he was racking his brain for a plausible excuse, a sudden burst of urgent sirens echoed from the distance, and the sound was rapidly approaching their direction!

Lin Fan's face turned pale instantly—crap! The crash must have been too loud and attracted nearby patrolling police!

Michael heard the sirens too. He instinctively looked up at the sky; although he didn't see a police helicopter, the nearing sirens were enough to make his expression change drastically. Damn it, what rotten luck! He'd come out to handle some business, and not only did he hit someone, but he also ran into the cops!

"Dammit!" Michael cursed under his breath, his grip on Lin Fan's collar tightening. "Did you piss off the cops?"

Lin Fan nodded with a miserable look, tears nearly falling. "I... I robbed a convenience store. I'm at a three-star wanted level now..."

"Are you a f*cking lunatic?!" Michael almost laughed from anger. Robbing a convenience store? And getting a three-star wanted level for it? This kid must have a death wish!

The sirens grew closer; the flashing red and blue lights were already visible in the distance. Looking at Michael's grim face, Lin Fan suddenly remembered something. He lunged into his shirt and pulled something out—it was the smoke grenade he'd received as a bonus reward for completing the system's mission.

He had almost forgotten about it when he was crawling out of the trash can.

"Take this!" Lin Fan shoved the smoke grenade into Michael's hand, speaking as fast as a machine gun. "It's a smoke grenade! Throw it to block the cops' vision! We have to run, or when the cops get here, you won't be able to talk your way out of this even if you had a hundred mouths!"

Michael looked down at the smoke grenade in his hand, stunned for a moment. This thing was small and exquisite, with a black casing and a logo he'd never seen before; it didn't look like the low-quality junk circulating in the Los Santos market.

The suspicion in his heart deepened—what was this kid's background? How could a petty thief robbing convenience stores have something like this?

"Don't just stand there! The cops are almost here!" Lin Fan stomped his feet in anxiety, the pain in his back making his vision go dark in waves. "Trust me! I can help you lose the cops! Just take me with you!"

Michael looked at Lin Fan's eyes, which were filled with urgency and pleading, then listened to the sirens that were practically on top of them. He quickly calculated his options. His current identity was sensitive; he absolutely could not get involved with the police, let alone be taken to the station. This kid looked unreliable, but the smoke grenade in his hand might actually be useful.

"Sh*t! Just my f*cking luck!" Michael gritted his teeth and threw Lin Fan into the SUV's passenger seat. "Buckle up! If you try any funny business, I'll blow your f*cking brains out!"

Lin Fan scrambled to buckle his seatbelt. He watched as Michael climbed into the driver's seat and floored the gas. The SUV let out a beastly roar and lunged forward.

The moment the car surged out, Michael tossed the smoke grenade out the window.

"Bang!"

The smoke grenade exploded on the ground, and a thick cloud of white smoke instantly billowed out, shrouding the entire alley.

A few seconds later, several police cars screeched to a halt at the mouth of the alley. Officers jumped out with guns drawn, only to see a wall of white smoke, a few crumpled bills scattered on the ground, and the messy tire tracks left by an SUV.

"Where are they?!" the lead officer roared.

"Reporting! The smoke is too thick, we can't see!"

"Pursue! Follow those tire tracks!"

The sirens wailed again as the police cars followed the tracks, chasing in the direction the SUV had disappeared.

Meanwhile, inside the SUV, Lin Fan was clutching the ceiling handle for dear life as he was tossed around.

Michael's driving was wild to the extreme. The SUV tore through narrow alleys, dodging one parked car after another. The sound of tires screeching against the pavement was sharp enough to pierce eardrums.

"Holy sh*t! Slow down! Slow down! We're gonna crash!" Lin Fan screamed in terror as the front of the car nearly clipped a utility pole.

"Shut up!" Michael roared without looking back, jerking the steering wheel. The SUV grazed past the pole with terrifying precision. "My driving skills don't need a petty thief like you giving me pointers!"

Lin Fan was too scared to speak anymore. He could only squeeze his eyes shut and let himself be tossed around. He finally understood why Michael's driving skill was so high in the game; this wasn't driving, it was a suicide mission!

After an unknown amount of time, the SUV finally slowed down.

Lin Fan cautiously opened his eyes and found that the car had left the city and was parked on a deserted beach. Waves crashed against the rocks with a rhythmic sound, and the salty sea breeze blew in, dispersing the sour stench on him.

The sirens had long since faded into the night; Michael must have left them far behind.

Lin Fan breathed a sigh of relief. His strength felt completely drained as he slumped in the passenger seat, gasping for air.

Michael turned off the engine and looked over, his sharp eyes fixed on him. He toyed with the empty smoke grenade casing, the suspicion in his gaze not having diminished in the slightest.

"Alright, no one's bothering us now." Michael's voice was low, carrying a hint of danger. "Kid, level with me. Who the hell are you? Why do you know my name? And where did you get a smoke grenade like this?"

Lin Fan looked at the empty casing and then at Michael's scrutinizing eyes. His heart skipped a beat.

He knew Michael was highly suspicious and short-tempered. If his answer didn't satisfy him, he might actually get shot.

What should he do? What kind of excuse could he make up to fool him?

Lin Fan's mind raced. Suddenly, he had a flash of inspiration, remembering the cheeky lines used to mess with NPCs in the real world. He cleared his throat, straightened his back, met Michael's gaze, and said with a straight face, "Who am I? I'm your long-lost father!"

Michael: "?"

The air went silent instantly.

The sound of waves crashing against the rocks became exceptionally clear. The wind blew through the car window, making a rustling sound.

The expression on Michael's face froze. The suspicion and wariness in his eyes instantly turned into pure bewilderment.

He had lived most of his life and seen the arrogant, the cowardly, and the crazy, but this was the first time he'd ever met someone who dared to speak to him like that.

Was this kid actually brain-damaged from the crash?

Seeing Michael's dumbfounded look, Lin Fan suppressed a laugh and added seriously, "Just kidding, just kidding."

Afraid Michael might actually pull a gun in his shock, he quickly waved his hands to explain. "Actually, I'm just an ordinary vagrant. I heard your name from someone else. As for the smoke grenade, I found it in a trash can. Seriously!"

Michael stared at him for a full thirty seconds. The bewilderment in his eyes faded, replaced by even deeper suspicion. He didn't believe a word of it. Finding a high-quality smoke grenade in a trash can? Who was he kidding?

But he didn't press further.

For one, he could tell the kid wasn't a threat; aside from having a mouth that needed a beating, he looked like an ordinary brat. Secondly, he had more important things to do and didn't have time to tangle with this kid.

Michael pulled a wad of cash from his shirt and threw it onto Lin Fan's lap.

"Take it." Michael's voice was cold and hard. "This is enough for you to buy some new clothes and a decent meal. Now get lost. Don't let me see you again."

Lin Fan looked at the money on his lap, stunned.

He hadn't expected Michael to give him money. In the game, Michael was grumpy but actually soft-hearted deep down; it seemed the same was true in reality (game reality).

"Wait!" Lin Fan suddenly remembered something and called out to Michael as he was about to drive away. "Aren't you afraid I'll tell the cops where you are?"

Michael turned his head, a mocking smile curling his lips. "Kid, if you don't want to die, you'd better keep your mouth shut. In Los Santos, the consequences of crossing Michael De Santa are much worse than crossing the cops."

With that, he floored the gas. The SUV roared again and sped into the distant darkness, quickly vanishing into the night.

Lin Fan watched the direction the SUV had gone, then looked down at the money on his lap and couldn't help but laugh.

He gripped the money tightly, felt the remaining smoke grenade in his pocket, and looked toward the brightly lit downtown area of Los Santos.

The three-star wanted level hadn't been cleared, the sour smell hadn't dissipated, and his back was still throbbing with pain.

But a spark of hope suddenly ignited in his heart.

He had met Michael, the protagonist of the game.

Did this mean he wasn't fighting alone in this world?

The waves crashed against the rocks, and the salty sea breeze blew through the hair on his forehead.

Lin Fan took a deep breath, tucked the money into his shirt, and turned toward the distant streetlights.

Whatever happened, he had to survive first.

The night in Los Santos was still long, but his story had only just begun.