Tomorrow, he’d play fair. But tonight—just once—he’d earned the right to fly.

And then—he reached the rooftop. The final standoff against Becker's men. The rain was horizontal, the music a thrumming dirge.

The trainer had a hidden feature Fling never documented. If you held during a shoot-dodge, the physics engine gave up. Max didn't just dive—he flew . Arms outstretched, twin Berettas singing, suspended in a purgatory of muzzle flash and glass dust.

The bullet hit. The screen went red.