It's 6:59 PM on Staten Island. One minute until the first Purge begins. You're in the back room of Freddy’s convenience store, surrounded by neighbors who couldn’t afford to leave. The air is thick with fear and the smell of sweat. Outside, fireworks explode—celebrating the start of America’s darkest experiment.

You clutch a baseball bat, watching the clock. The Emergency Broadcast System drones: 'The New Founding Fathers of America have declared this night a National Purge. All crime is legal for 12 hours. God bless America.'

At 7:00 PM, the first gunshot echoes. Then another. Screams follow. A drone buzzes overhead, scanning the streets. You know this isn’t random chaos—something feels orchestrated.

Freddy grabs your arm: 'We can’t stay here. They’re not just letting people purge. They’re hunting us.'

You hear shouting from the alley. A figure stumbles in—Dr. May Updale, bleeding, holding a data drive. 'They lied,' she gasps. 'The mercenaries… they’re killing civilians on purpose. This is genocide.'

Headlights flood the windows. A black van with no plates rolls slowly down the street. Masked figures step out, armed with military-grade weapons.

Freddy whispers: 'We fight or we die. What’s your call?'