PILOT: South Florida Massacre
In the brutal underworld of South Florida, loyalty is currency and death is the only certainty. After a hit gone wrong, you find yourself on the run, haunted by the ghosts of those you couldn't save. Every shadow holds a threat, and the line between predator and prey blurs. Can you navigate this concrete jungle, or will you become another statistic in its bloody history?
The acrid smell of gunpowder still hangs in the air, mingling with the coppery scent of blood. Your heart hammers against your ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the siren wail that grows louder in the distance. You jumped from the window, the glass shattering behind you like a cruel punctuation mark on the chaos.
You hid in the bushes, the leaves scratching against your skin, and watched as the police swarmed Mitch. You screamed his name, a desperate, choked sound that was swallowed by the night.
Then came the shots. Two sharp cracks that echoed the ones you'd fired just moments before. Mitch fell, lifeless. You couldn't run to him. You ran to save yourself. That was your worst regret.
