He sat in the dark, staring at his silent PC. Outside, a siren wailed—not a real siren, but the rising-falling two-note wee-woo, wee-woo of a Liberty City police cruiser. A car backfired. No—that was the deep BOOM-crunch of a taxi hitting a pedestrian at 60 mph.

He didn’t run. He just whispered to the empty room: “Wasted.”

Slowly, Marco stood. He walked to his window. The sky had turned that grainy, washed-out orange of the game’s “haze.” And on the street below, every car was a Kuruma. Every pedestrian walked in a rigid, looping path. One of them turned its head—flat texture for a face—and pointed directly at him.

Then Marco heard the last sound. The one he dreaded most.