Chapter 132: Night Escape

The afternoon dragged on slowly in the basement holding cells of the Charles Street station house.

​To pass the time and keep his mind from circling back to Danny, Ricky sat on the wooden bench in his cell, quietly browsing the System library. He summoned a cheap illustrated comic book into his hands, leaning his back against the cool brick wall as he flipped through the pages.

​Every so often, a patrolman would walk down the corridor, escorting another drunk or petty thief into one of the outer cages. Whenever they passed Ricky’s cell, the coppers would stop and squint through the bars, staring at the brightly colored booklet in his hands with sheer confusion.

​"Hey, pal," a scrawny pickpocket in the adjacent cell called out, leaning his face against the iron mesh. "Where in hell’d you get a picture book? The coppers didn’t even leave me my coat."

​Ricky didn’t answer. He didn’t even look up from the page, turning to the next Chapter in silence.

​At noon, a turnkey walked down the aisle carrying a tin tray of stale, hard crusts of bread and tin cups of murky water, shoving them through the bottom slots of each cell. When he reached Ricky’s door, he dropped a piece of rock-hard rye onto the floorboards with a dull thud.

​Once the guard’s footsteps faded up the stairs, Ricky ignored the stale bread entirely. He opened his System interface, selected the food tab, and purchased a warm hamburger and a cold bottle of Coca-Cola. A paper-wrapped sandwich and a dark glass bottle materialized neatly on the bench beside him.

​He popped the cap, took a deep drink, and unwrapped the sandwich, taking a heavy bite.

​The pickpocket across the way gasped, rubbing his eyes in disbelief. "What the... How’d you pull a hot beef sandwich out of thin air?! Hey! Mister! Give us a bite!"

​Ricky didn’t care what they saw and even if they told anyone, they wouldn’t believe them. Ricky just kept his mouth shut, eating his lunch in peace, while the other detainees stared at him with envy, eating their hard bread imagining as if it was the same as Ricky was eating.

​Later on, he did his daily workout quest and once he finished, a blue daily quest notification flashed before his eyes:

​[Daily Workout Quest Complete]

[Reward: +4 Stat Points]

​Without hesitation, Ricky assigned all 4 points directly into Strength.

​He stood up, shaking out his arms and performing a quick set of push-ups and squats on the stone floor. Thanks to his towering 174 Vitality stat, the exercise barely registered. His muscles didn’t burn, his breathing remained completely even, and he didn’t shed a single drop of sweat. His body was operating in a state of rapid, near-instantaneous recovery.

​Late that night, the heavy iron latch on Ricky’s cell door clinked softly.

​Ricky closed his comic book, letting it dissolve back into his inventory, and stood up from the wooden bench.

​A young police officer—someone Ricky hadn’t seen earlier during the beating—stood outside the bars. He looked no older than nineteen, his uniform jacket slightly too big around his shoulders.

​Without a word, the young officer reached through the bars and handed Ricky a heavy ring holding three brass keys.

​"This one unlocks your wrist cuffs," the officer whispered, pointing to the smallest key. "The middle one is for your cell door, and the big iron key opens the bolt on the rear alley door."

​Ricky took the ring, eyeing the young man curiously. "Appreciate it, officer."

​The young copper hesitated, shifting his weight nervously from boot to boot. "The Commissioner... he mentioned you might be able to help me out with a personal matter before you left."

​Ricky squinted slightly at him. Up close, the kid looked like an ordinary tenement boy who had put on a badge to earn a honest wage. "What do you need?"

​The officer swallowed hard, looking down at the stone floor. "It’s my younger sister, sir. She just reached ten. She caught typhoid fever three weeks back. She’s lying up in the charity ward at Bellevue, and the hospital’s threatening to put her out on the street if I can’t settle her account. My patrolman’s salary ain’t nearly enough to cover the room charges, let alone the medicine."

​Ricky looked at the kid’s face, and for a brief second, he saw himself back in modern-day Georgia—doing dangerous delivery runs and nickel-and-dime hustles with his friends just to keep his own sister’s medical care afloat. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t have done for family back then.

​"How much do you owe them total?" Ricky asked in a calm, steady voice.

​"Sixty dollars," the officer murmured, his voice cracking slightly. "I’ve only managed to save thirty one"

​Ricky reached into his coat pocket, accessing his System vault. He pulled out a crisp, heavy stack of greenbacks totaling $200 and held them through the iron bars.

​The young officer’s eyes went wide as saucers. He looked at the stack of bills, then back up at Ricky, his hands trembling. "I... Jesus, sir... this is too much. Sixty’s all I need—"

​"Take it," Ricky interrupted softly, shoving the bills into the officer’s tunic pocket. "Pay off the hospital bill, buy her proper medicine, and when she gets discharged, take her somewhere nice for a proper meal. Buy her some decent clothes too."

​Tears welled up in the young officer’s eyes. He wiped his nose on his sleeve, bowing his head sharply. "Thank you... God bless you, sir. Truly."

​"Don’t mention it," Ricky said, unlocking his handcuffs with a soft click and turning the key in the cell door. "I had a sister in the hospital for weeks back home. I know what it feels like to stand where you’re standing."

​Ricky pushed the iron door open, stepping out into the narrow basement corridor. The young officer guided him down the passage to the heavy timber door leading out to the rear alleyway.

​Ricky unbolted the heavy lock, feeling the cool night air rush through the crack in the door. Before stepping outside, he handed the ring of keys back to the young man.

​"Here," Ricky whispered. "Keep these on your belt. You don’t want the desk sergeant realizing your keys went missing during your shift."

​The officer took the ring, nodding with a small, grateful smile. "Thank you, Mr. Stevenson." ℴℴ𝘮

​Ricky tilted his cap. "Be seeing you, officer."

​Ricky stepped out into the dark, cobblestone alleyway, pulling the heavy door shut behind him. The night wind swept through the narrow passage, carrying the crisp bite of early autumn.

​As he walked quickly away from the precinct house, he opened his System shop interface to equip himself for the journey back to Minetta.

​First, he searched the weapon catalog for a Colt M1911 pistol. A red prompt flashed over the listing:

​[Item Locked: Requires commercial release year 1911 or physical item discovery]

​Ricky grunted, scrolling down through the available firearms. He selected a Colt Model 1908 Pocket Hammerless chambered in .380 ACP, along with a heavy leather belt holster and six spare magazines.

​A heavy, blued-steel semi-automatic pistol, a leather holster, and several boxes of ammunition appeared instantly inside his coat pockets.

​As he walked down the dimly lit sidewalk of Hudson Street, Ricky unboxed the ammunition and methodically loaded all six magazines, his fingers moving with practiced efficiency. He slapped a loaded magazine into the grip of the Colt, pulled the slide back with a sharp, mechanical clack to chamber a round, and flicked the thumb safety into place.

​He slid the pistol securely into the belt holster under his vest, tucking the extra five magazines into his inner coat pockets.

​While it didn’t pack the raw stopping power of a .45, the .380 ACP was compact, reliable, and far more lethal than the heavy revolvers most street thugs carried.

​Finally, Ricky spent a few cents in the shop for a dark cloth face mask. He pulled the cap down low over his brow and pulled the mask up over his mouth and nose, concealing his blood-stained jaw and distinct features from any patrolmen or any Dusters roaming the streets.

​Adjusting his coat over his holstered Colt, Ricky stepped out onto the avenue, walking toward Minetta with long, confident strides through the night.