This is not a hero’s journey. This is a predator’s highlight reel.
VILE.
A low, slow-motion shot. Rain slicks the asphalt of Los Santos. Our character—dressed in all black, a skull balaclava, combat boots—stands beside a matte black Sultan RS. The only light is the cherry glow of a cigarette. He drops it. Stamps it out. Looks up. His eyes are cold, dead.
A distorted, bass-heavy 808 beat drops. Not music. War drums.