Chapter 70 - Chapter 70: Paramedic

Back at your mansion, you collapse onto the couch, turning on the TV to drown out the noise in your head. The news is on, and a familiar face appears on the screen – Veronica, also known as "The Sentinel." She's strikingly beautiful, her dark hair cascading in waves over her shoulders, and her eyes, a piercing blue, seem to see right through you. She wears a tailored, dark blazer over a sleek, silk blouse."In the latest developments on the 'Chainsaw Devil' case, authorities have confirmed another gruesome murder in Vice City," she reports, her tone grave and urgent. "Residents are urged to stay indoors after dark and report any suspicious activity immediately. The police have not yet identified a suspect, but they are following several leads."You watch the screen intently, your mind racing. The Chainsaw Devil has been terrorizing the city, and the gruesome details of his killings are all over the news. Veronica continues her report, her expression serious."The Chainsaw Devil, named for his brutal method of decapitating his victims with a chainsaw, has left the city in a state of fear and uncertainty. Eyewitnesses have reported seeing a shadowy figure near the crime scenes, but details remain scarce. The police are urging anyone with information to come forward."The report shifts to footage of a recent crime scene, the camera panning over the grim tableau. Blood splatters the walls and ground, and police tape cordons off the area. Veronica's voice grows more intense. "In a shocking twist, sources within the VCPD suggest they have found evidence linking the notorious Tommy Vercetti to these heinous crimes. While the details of this evidence have not been disclosed, the police are actively seeking Vercetti for questioning."Your heart skips a beat. Evidence? Linking you? This changes everything. Just as the weight of this new development sinks in, your phone rings, the sound slicing through the tense atmosphere. You grab it, answering with a sharp, "What?""You gotta get outta there! The cops are coming, and they're looking for you. Some big shit is going down, and they're convinced you're involved."You grip the phone tighter, trying to process the information. "What the hell are you talking about, Ken?""Have you seen the news?" Ken asks hurriedly. "Turn on the TV, man. They're saying you're connected to the 'Chainsaw Devil' killings. The cops are in a damn panic, and they think you're mixed up in it.""I've seen it," you reply, your voice tense. "This is bullshit, Ken. I had nothing to do with that!""I know, but they don't care. They just want someone to pin this on. You need to lay low, clear your name, and find the real killer. Fast."Ken's voice grows even more urgent. "The cops just finished interrogating me. They're coming after everyone connected to you. You need to disappear for a while."You glance around your mansion, knowing you don't have much time. "What the hell should I do? I can't just disappear."Ken pauses for a moment before replying, "You need to blend in somewhere they won't expect. How about the ambulance service? Think about it – you'll be mobile, and nobody's gonna suspect you in a paramedic uniform. Plus, you'll have access to crime scenes and potential witnesses. It's perfect for laying low and gathering information."You nod, the plan starting to take shape in your mind. "Alright, blending in with the ambulance service... that just might work. I'll get on it.""Stay safe. And hurry!" Ken hangs up, leaving you with a sense of impending doom.You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for what's to come. "Time to lay low and find the real bastard behind this," you mutter to yourself, already formulating a plan to blend in and clear your name.You decide to go to the nearest hospital. The Schuman Health Care Center looms ahead, its stark white façade contrasting sharply against the backdrop of Vice City's chaos. The building is modern, with clean lines and large glass windows that reflect the midday sun. You approach the main entrance, the automated doors sliding open with a quiet hiss, revealing a bustling interior.Inside, the atmosphere is clinical and efficient. Nurses and doctors move swiftly through the halls, their expressions focused. You make your way to the reception desk, where a middle-aged woman with a stern face and glasses perched on the edge of her nose looks up from her computer."Can I help you?" she asks, her tone brisk."Yeah, I'm here to apply for a position with the ambulance service," you say, trying to sound as casual as possible.She narrows her eyes slightly, scanning you up and down. "We don't usually take walk-ins for that. Do you have any medical or paramedic training?""I've got some experience from my time... overseas," you reply, choosing your words carefully. "I can handle myself in high-pressure situations. Just give me a shot."The woman hesitates for a moment before picking up the phone and dialing a number. After a brief conversation, she looks back at you. "Head to the second floor, room 204. They'll conduct an interview."You nod your thanks and head to the elevators, your mind racing. Room 204 turns out to be a small office with a plaque that reads "Ambulance Service Coordinator." You knock, and a gruff voice calls you in.The coordinator, a burly man with a thick mustache and a name tag that reads "Harris," looks up from his desk. "You the guy looking to join the ambulance service?" he asks, his voice skeptical."That's right," you reply. "Name's Tony Scott. I've got some experience in emergency situations and a strong stomach for the job."Harris leans back in his chair, eyeing you thoughtfully. "We need people who can keep their cool and act fast. This isn't just about driving an ambulance; it's about saving lives. You think you can handle that?"You nod, meeting his gaze steadily. "Absolutely. Just give me a chance."After a few more questions about your background and experience, Harris seems satisfied. "Alright, Scott. We'll start you on a probationary basis. Prove yourself, and you'll get a temporary spot.""Tell me about a time you were in a real tight spot," Harris suddenly asks, leaning forward, his eyes narrowing. "Something that almost got you, but you managed to pull through. I need to know you can handle the pressure."You take a deep breath, letting the silence hang for a moment. The dim light of the office casts long shadows, making the atmosphere feel heavy and tense. You decide to spin a tale that feels close enough to the truth to be convincing."Back when I was overseas," you begin, your voice steady, "I was stationed in a rough area. We got a call about a bombed-out building with civilians trapped inside. The place was a death trap, wires and debris everywhere, barely holding together. As we were extracting a kid, the whole place started to come down. Dust and debris filled the air, visibility was near zero."You pause for effect, watching Harris's face for any sign of skepticism. Seeing none, you continue."I had to make a call. Leave the kid and save ourselves, or push through and risk it all. I decided to go for it. We got hit with another blast, threw us against a wall. I felt a sharp pain, and my leg was bleeding bad. But the kid was right there, looking at me with these terrified eyes."You take another breath, letting the tension build. "I dragged myself and the kid out, bloodied but alive. Took us hours to get back to safety, but we made it. The look on that kid's face, the relief, that's what keeps me going. It's why I know I can handle whatever comes my way."Harris studies you for a moment, his eyes narrowing as if trying to see through the layers of your story, weighing every word you've just said. The silence stretches, thick with tension, and you can almost hear the pounding of your own heartbeat in the dimly lit room. The flickering fluorescent light above casts a ghostly glow, making the atmosphere feel even more charged with suspense."......Alright, Scott," he finally says, his voice breaking the silence like a gunshot. He leans forward, his gaze never leaving yours. "You've got the guts for this job. But guts alone won't cut it here. We're talking life and death every single day. People will rely on you, trust you with their lives. If you screw up, it's not just you who pays the price."He pauses, letting his words sink in, the gravity of the situation pressing down on you. You can feel the weight of his scrutiny, the years of experience and the lives he's seen come and go etched into every line on his weathered face."Let's see if you've got the skills to match those guts," he continues, his tone challenging but fair. "You prove yourself out there, and you'll earn your place. We don't have room for mistakes. You understand me?"You nod, the determination in your eyes matching his intensity. "I understand. I won't let you down."Harris stands up, towering over you for a moment before extending a hand. His grip is firm, almost crushing, a test of sorts. "Welcome aboard, Scott. Now get suited up and meet Johnson in the garage. Your shift starts now."He hands you a set of keys and a schedule, his expression softening just a fraction. "And remember, out there, it's not just about saving lives. It's about staying alive too. Watch your back."You take the keys, the cold metal biting into your palm, a tangible reminder of the responsibilities you're about to take on. While leaving his office, you can feel the eyes of the staff on you, a mix of curiosity and skepticism. They've seen newcomers come and go, but you're set to be different.As you make your way to the garage by asking a few nurses around, you feel a mix of relief and excitement. This is your chance to lay low, gather information, and clear your name. The garage is a large, bustling area filled with ambulances, medical equipment, and personnel preparing for their shifts. You spot a locker room off to the side and head in to change into your new uniform.The uniform consists of a light blue shirt with shoulder epaulets and an ambulance service patch on the sleeve, navy blue trousers, and sturdy black boots. It feels strange to be wearing this after everything you've been through, but it fits well enough. Once dressed, you step out of the locker room, feeling the weight of your new identity settle on your shoulders. You glance around the bustling garage, trying to locate Johnson amidst the chaos. The air is thick with the scent of gasoline and the hum of engines being prepped for the day's emergencies.You walk past rows of ambulances, your eyes scanning for any sign of Johnson. You finally spot him near the back of the garage, leaning against the side of an ambulance, a clipboard in hand. He's a burly man with a no-nonsense attitude, his demeanor radiating years of hard-earned experience. His salt-and-pepper hair is cut short, and his rugged face is marked by deep lines that tell stories of countless nights spent saving lives. His piercing blue eyes, however, show a depth of compassion and a hint of fatigue.As you approach, he looks up from his clipboard, sizing you up with a critical eye. "You must be Scott," he says, his voice gruff but not unfriendly."That's me," you reply, standing a bit straighter under his scrutiny.He nods, setting the clipboard aside. "Harris told me about you. Stick with me, and don't do anything stupid," he says, his tone a mix of warning and reassurance. "We're here to save lives, not play hero."Johnson gives you a quick rundown of the protocols, explaining the procedures with the precision of someone who's done it a thousand times. His broad shoulders and thick arms suggest he's no stranger to physical labor, and the way he moves—efficient and confident—speaks volumes about his expertise. He shows you the ins and outs of the ambulance, pointing out the essential equipment and their functions. "This is your lifeline," he says, patting the side of the vehicle. "Treat it well, and it'll treat you well."You listen intently, absorbing every detail. The sense of responsibility grows heavier, but so does your determination. "Got it," you reply, ready to prove yourself.Johnson studies you for a moment longer, then nods. "Alright, let's hit the road. We've got lives to save."As you climb into the ambulance, you take a deep breath, the sound of the sirens wailing as you speed off into the city. The Schuman Health Care Center recedes into the distance, and you glance at your reflection in the side mirror, the uniform making you look like a different person."Time to lay low and find the real bastard behind this," you mutter to yourself, the engine's roar blending with your thoughts. The city streets slowly fall back as you drive, the enormity of your task ahead settling in. But you're ready. Whatever it takes, you'll clear your name and bring the Chainsaw Devil to justice.