Ten seconds. Leo floored it.
The installer didn't look like the usual Vice City splash screen. No neon pink palms, no Ocean Drive skyline. Instead, a black window. White blocky text:
Zero.
Patient.
When the CRT flickered back, Leo was there .
And a voice—the installer’s voice—whispered:
Leo tried to scream. Nothing came out.
He took a shortcut through the mall, crashing through glass. Bing. A folder on his desktop vanished: "Tax Returns 2023."
The progress bar filled unnaturally fast. 10%... 50%... 100%. Then the screen went dark.
He cut across the golf course. Bing. "Graduation Photos." GTA Vice City - Burn -Setup-.exe
Then a small white cursor appeared. Blinking.
He double-clicked.
He never played Vice City again. But sometimes, late at night, he hears distant tire screeches and the opening riff of "Billie Jean" coming from his unplugged speakers. Ten seconds