[VIRAL METER: 185% - GLOBAL DIGITAL RIOT]
[LOCATION: BLAINE COUNTY - SENORA DESERT]
[STATUS: HUNTED]
The heat in the Senora Desert was a different kind of violence. It wasn't the humid pressure of Vice City or the suffocating smog of Los Santos; it was a dry, predatory heat that stripped the moisture from your lungs and turned the horizon into a wavering hallucination.
Dante Vane stood on the porch of a dilapidated motel, the "Yellow Jack Inn" buzzing with neon static in the distance. He was no longer wearing the $10,000 suit. He wore a high-tech, tactical trench coat made of signal-dampening fabric—blacker than a moonless night.
"The world is screaming, Dante," Sia said, her fingers blurring across a holographic interface projected from her wrist. "The Vinewood Gala footage has been mirrored on every server from Tokyo to Moscow. The AIPAC stock index just plummeted thirty points in pre-market trading. You didn't just leak data; you broke the myth of their invincibility."
Dante didn't look at the data. He was watching a vulture circle a cactus in the distance. "Invincibility is a hallucination maintained by those too afraid to look into the abyss. I just turned on the lights."
"They're coming for us," Jax growled, checking the belt-feed on his heavy machine gun. He stood by their new transport—a military-grade Insurgent, reinforced with experimental plating. "And they aren't coming with warrants this time."
"Indeed," Dante murmured. "The CIA and Mossad have finally stopped pretending they don't work together. My sources in Langley say a joint task force has been authorized. They're calling it 'Operation: Absolute Zero.' They aren't trying to capture me anymore, Sia. They've been given 'Executive Action' authority. Complete erasure."
The Shadow Summit
Five hundred miles away, in a soundproof bunker beneath a nondescript farmhouse in Virginia, two men sat across from each other.
Director Miller of the CIA looked like a man who hadn't slept since the Vice City incident. His skin was the color of old parchment. Opposite him was Colonel Avi Arad, a legendary figure in the Mossad, known as the "Architect of Ghost Operations."
"He humiliated us," Miller hissed, slamming a folder onto the table. "He turned our own surveillance grid into a reality show. The Lobby is breathing down my neck, Avi. If Vane isn't dead by sunrise, the funding for our Middle East operations dries up."
Arad remained calm, his eyes as cold and empty as a shark's. "You treat him like a criminal, Miller. That is your mistake. Dante Vane is a theological threat. He is tearing down the veil of the temple. We have deployed the 'Sayeret' unit—our top-tier deep-cover assassins. They are already in the desert."
"And my 'Reapers' are in the air," Miller added. "We've authorized the use of orbital kinetic strikes if necessary. We don't need a body. We just need him to cease to exist."
The Desert Ambush
Back in Blaine County, the silence of the desert was suddenly shattered by a low-frequency hum. It wasn't the sound of an engine; it was the sound of air being displaced.
"Drones," Sia hissed, her HUD flashing red. "Stealth-class Reapers. They've bypassed my early warning system. They're using Mossad jamming tech."
"Positions!" Dante commanded, his voice a sharp blade cutting through the heat.
The sky suddenly opened up. A streak of white light slammed into a nearby abandoned gas station, turning it into a fireball that rose fifty feet into the air. The shockwave rocked the Insurgent.
"That wasn't a missile," Jax yelled over the roar of the flames, manning the turret. "That was a railgun!"
From the shimmering heat of the desert floor, four sand-colored SUVs emerged, moving with tactical precision. These weren't local police. These were the elite. The Sayeret assassins fired from the windows with sub-compact rifles, their rounds sparking off the Insurgent's armor.
"Sia, I need the 'Chaos Loop' now!" Dante shouted.
"Uploading!"
Dante didn't hide. He stepped into the middle of the dirt road, pulling a small, sleek device from his pocket—the Chaos Core. As he pressed the trigger, a massive electromagnetic pulse rippled outward.
The drones in the sky suddenly lost their guidance systems, spiraling out of control and crashing into the dunes like falling stars. The SUVs' engines died instantly, their high-tech electronics fried by the pulse.
"Now, Jax. Paint the desert red," Dante said.
Jax didn't need to be told twice. The minigun roared to life, a continuous stream of fire that cut through the stalled SUVs like a hot wire through wax. The elite assassins, caught in the open with dead equipment, were shredded before they could find cover.
But the "Unholy Alliance" wasn't finished.
A heavy transport helicopter, an MH-47 Chinook painted in midnight black, descended from the clouds. A team of twenty CIA "Black Ops" operatives rappelled down, hit the ground running, and deployed portable shields.
"They're trying to pin us down for a satellite strike!" Sia warned. "Dante, we have ninety seconds before Langley locks on our thermal signature!"
Dante looked at the chaos around him—the burning wreckage, the elite soldiers closing in, the sky turning dark with the smoke of war. He pulled out his phone.
[VIRAL METER: 210% - GLOBAL PANIC]
[STREAM TITLE: THE EXTERMINATION OF TRUTH]
"To the thirty million people watching," Dante spoke into the camera, his face illuminated by the fire behind him. "You are currently watching the United States government and a foreign intelligence agency collaborate to murder a citizen on American soil. They are using your tax dollars to fund the silence of their own crimes."
"Dante, we have to go!" Jax shouted, his barrels glowing red-hot.
"Wait," Dante said, his eyes fixed on the horizon. "I want them to see it."
In that moment, a massive explosion rocked the distant mountains. Little Jacob and his "Vexation" crew had struck the regional power grid, plunging three counties into total darkness—including the CIA's local relay station.
The satellite lock-on failed. The "Reaper" drones went blind.
"The Art of Chaos isn't just about destruction, Director Miller," Dante whispered to the camera, knowing the man was watching in his bunker. "It's about showing you that you no longer control the lights."
Dante hopped into the Insurgent as it screeched away, leaving the elite task force in the dust and darkness of the desert.
"Where to now, Boss?" Jax asked, his breath heavy.
Dante looked at the map of the United States on the dashboard. Every major city was blinking red. The digital riot had become a physical one.
"To the heart of the beast," Dante said. "Washington D.C. It's time to meet the AIPAC board in person. No more screens. No more streams. Just the truth."