[An empty overpass at night. Traffic hums below like distant thunder. Sodium lights flicker overhead. The city stretches out in concrete and shadow.]

[Darkwish leans against the cold guardrail. Wind tugs at his coat. The body cam light blinks red.]

“You ever stand above a city and feel how small it makes you?

[He looks down at the headlights rushing beneath him.]

“From up here, everybody looks the same. Little moving lights. Little stories. Little lives.

That’s what you three see, don’t you?

Grimm sees a harvest.

Academius sees a problem to solve.

Propaganda sees an audience to command.

But I see people.

I walked into that classroom and I smelled the copper in the air. I saw Grimm’s calling card scratched across that blackboard like he was signing a masterpiece.

‘Death comes for us all.’

You think that’s profound?

No, that’s lazy.

Death always comes. What matters is what a man does before it gets there.

Grimm, you parade around like inevitability. Like you’re some force of nature no one can fight. But I’ve seen men stare down worse than you. I’ve seen fathers work double shifts with cancer in their lungs and still come home smiling for their kids.

You ain’t inevitable.

You’re just cruel.

And Academius…

You talk about strategy, about wit, about plans within plans. You look at a massacre and your first instinct is calculation. You don’t feel the loss; you measure it.

You stood in that doorway boiling with rage, but even your rage had a thesis statement.

Brother, pain don’t need a syllabus.

And Propaganda…

You stood in that hallway with your followers lined up behind you like a choir.

All that noise. All that confidence. All that faith in your own voice.

But when Grimm cut them down, where was that voice?

Silence.

You don’t love your people. You love the sound of them chanting back at you.

This match ain’t about gold. It ain’t about status.

It’s about what survives in the dark.

Grimm thinks it’s fear.

Academius thinks it’s intellect.

Propaganda thinks it’s influence.

[Darkwish pushes off the rail, steps closer to the camera.]

“I think it’s conviction.

Not the kind you print on a banner. Not the kind you lecture about.

The kind you bleed for.

I don’t need followers. I don’t need a master plan. I don’t need a scythe and a slogan.

I need one thing.

A reason.

And you three gave me one.

When I told Academius that only he who is willing to go into the darkness will be victorious, I wasn’t talking about being reckless. I was talking about being honest.

The darkness ain’t some mystical place.

It’s doubt. It’s fear. It’s grief.

That’s where justice learns how to walk.

Through rain-soaked streets and unpaid debts.

You talk about destiny and death like you own them.

But destiny lives down here.

In the grit. In the grind.

When everything comes crashing down at Turbo Violence…

you’ll finally see what I’ve seen all along…

The streets don’t fear the reaper.

They outlive him. “

[Static.]