The SUV swerves, clipping a food cart. Sparks fly. Inside: a briefcase handcuffed to a man in a white suit.
Leo’s fuel gauge blinking EMPTY .
All units. Multiple riders. Interstate 5 northbound. Weapons hot.
Would you like a beat sheet for a full short film script based on this, or a version tailored for a video game intro?
They called it mayhem. I called it the only honest thing left.
The light turns green. Leo doesn’t move. A beat. Then four more bikes slide up beside him—no headlights, just the growl of modified exhausts.