“Camilla, I need to ask you a few things.” After a moment’s thought, Rock pulled all the money from his pockets.
“No problem, Locke.
I’d be happy to answer your questions.” Camilla undid another button on her already open shirt and struck a seductive pose.
Rock gathered all the money he had taken from the three gunmen and counted it.
There were 335 reais in total, less than 120 per person on average.
He had no idea how far that would get him.
Rock divided the money into two piles, one with 170 reais and the other with 165, then held out the larger share to Camilla.
“Thanks, Locke.” Camilla accepted it without hesitation and stuffed the money into her pocket.
“Camilla, what date is it?
And how exactly did you find me?” Rock asked uneasily.
The Glock had made it obvious that he was still in the modern era, but he had no idea what year it was.
“Oh, Locke, you look nervous.
It’s July 2025.
As for how I found you…
well, I was about to dig a hole.
The moment I moved some sand, I found a very impressive little Locke.
Then you jumped out…”
Camilla hesitantly gave him the answer he wanted.
“Camilla, do you know where the Chinese consulate is?” Rock asked after nodding.
It had been August when he was in Sanya, but compared with suddenly waking up in Brazil, a one-month difference did not seem that significant.
Even so, it left him with a bad feeling.
There was no point dwelling on it.
He had some money now, and his priority was to leave Brazil as soon as possible and return home.
He could figure out the rest afterward.
Rock had more or less accepted that something impossible had happened to him, but he had also killed three gang members almost immediately after arriving.
Having grown up in a peaceful society, he still felt uneasy and apprehensive about it.
“Hey, Locke, I don’t know where the Chinese consulate is, but I do know where the nearest Chinese supermarket is.”
Camilla was smiling, probably because she had survived and earned 170 reais in the process.
“Okay.
Take me to the nearest Chinese supermarket.” Rock agreed.
Someone there should be able to tell him how to reach the consulate.
Before they left, Rock discovered that none of the three gunmen’s phones could be used.
They were all password-protected, and even the dead men’s fingerprints could not unlock them.
After watching Rock struggle with them to no avail, Camilla quickly stopped him when he raised one of the phones to smash it.
“Oh, baby Locke, you’re too impatient.
We just need to find someone who can bypass the locks.
Leave them to me.”
They turned off all three phones and tucked them into Camilla’s beach shorts.
“Let’s go, baby Locke.”
Camilla left the ruins first, turning back to blow him a kiss.
Rock shook his head helplessly.
Camilla seemed determined to flirt with him every chance she got.
Had he not been in such a hurry to find the consulate and return home, he would not have minded getting to know the curvaceous Brazilian woman a little better.
What followed was a real eye-opener for Rock.
When people said Brazilians knew how to enjoy themselves, they meant it.
The bus driver cranked the music to full volume, and everyone on board sang along.
As soon as one song ended, a dance track started.
Three heavyset Black women held onto the windows while their bodies rippled with the rhythm.
The entire bus seemed to shake along with the beat as it traveled down the road.
No one appeared worried that the vehicle might fall apart.
The moment the excitement died down, however, two men snatched the phones the women had been holding while dancing.
Not a single passenger said a word.
Everyone seemed completely accustomed to it.
The robbers brandished knives and started toward Rock, apparently deciding he would be their next target.
Rock lifted the hem of his shirt, revealing two pistols tucked into his belt, one on each side.
The two men instantly lost their nerve.
They dropped the phones they had just stolen and frantically ordered the driver to stop and open the door.
The bus had not even come to a complete stop before they scrambled out in terror and disappeared into an alley.
“Thank you, thank you…”
The three women retrieved their phones and thanked Rock repeatedly, acting as though the two pistols at his waist were nothing unusual.
Rock actually had a third gun in a holster at the small of his back, hidden beneath his loose shirt.
Even if the passengers had seen it, he suspected they would not have reacted much differently.
After about twenty minutes on the bus, Camilla led Rock to the foot of a hillside.
Rows of crude little houses crowded the slope above them.
Across the street stood attractive high-rises and modern buildings.
Only one road separated two completely different worlds.
The supermarket Camilla had mentioned stood at the base of the hill, a little over ten meters from the intersection.
Several heavily armed police officers stood at the corner, watching the area closely.
“Stay away from those officers, dear Locke.”
Camilla quietly led Rock around from the other side while warning him to be careful.
“Are they corrupt?”
Rock instinctively felt a sense of reassurance whenever he saw police officers, a habit from back home.
Now that he knew he was in Brazil, however, he remained cautious.
Camilla was the first person he had met after arriving here, and they had already survived a life-or-death situation together.
He decided to take her warning seriously.
“Yes.
Those officers work with Lagoa, and Lagoa does business with Ricardo.
We can’t let them find out we came here.”
The two quietly entered the supermarket.
A middle-aged man stood behind the register.
One glance was enough for Rock to recognize him as a countryman.
Rock did not have time to be cautious.
After checking that no one else was nearby, he hurried over and spoke to the man in the language they shared.
“Fellow countryman, could you tell me where the Consulate General in Rio is and how to get there?”
The middle-aged man noticed Rock’s black hair and eyes, then looked at Camilla behind him.
Instead of relaxing, he slipped one hand beneath the counter.
“What do you want?”
Frustrated by the man’s reaction, Rock spread his hands.
“Come on, boss.
We’re from the same country.
I’m only asking for directions.”
Clack!
“Get out!”
Staring into the dark muzzle of a shotgun, Rock slowly backed away.
When he passed the spot where Camilla had been standing, he realized she had already fled the store.
“Don’t be upset, dear Locke.
We’ll get one of the phones unlocked first.
Then we can use Google Maps to find the consulate.”
Camilla comforted him with a sympathetic expression.
Rock looked at the Brazilian woman who constantly called him “dear” and let out a long breath.
Fine.
He would find another way.
At this point, all he could do was take things one step at a time.
Rock followed Camilla through the streets with a grim expression.
He still could not understand how he had gone from Sanya to Rio de Janeiro the moment he opened his eyes.
In the age of the internet, information was easy to find, and Rock had read plenty about the city online.
Rio de Janeiro was even better suited as a GTA setting than Los Santos.
Perhaps Rio was the real GTA.
Addicts and homeless people were everywhere.
When a motorcycle stopped in front of you, you had two choices.
If you had a weapon, show it immediately.
If you did not, hand over everything you had.
Otherwise, the rider would teach you that some places did not care about reason.
They only respected force.
As Rock followed Camilla down the street, he kept both hands near his waist and watched his surroundings carefully.
He had arrived in Brazil, survived a deadly fight, and killed three men, yet he had not felt even the slightest urge to vomit.
Was he a natural-born killer?