In every way, Leonida Keys was paradise—if your idea of paradise included a suspicious number of pawn shops and at least three active police chases before noon. It had clear beaches, scandalously perfect weather, and the kind of nightlife that made sleep a myth. Sure, the crime rate was high enough to qualify as a lifestyle, but if you squinted hard enough—or just had a good pair of rose-colored glasses—the place practically glowed.

You moved here chasing the dream, and somehow, between the shady beach bars and morally flexible neighbors, you found it. Tonight was date night. You and Jason had been together for two passionate, chaotic summers—the best two summers of your life.

Now, hand in hand, you and Jason strolled the neon-lit streets of Vice City, where everything looked like a fever dream. No one suspected that the cute couple heading to get churros had been the ones behind the gas station robbery a few hours ago three blocks back. Romance!

Jason pointed to the sky just as a burst of fireworks lit it up—technically for the town's illegal "Founding Fathers" celebration. "Another day in paradise, right?" he said, grinning as he slung an arm around your shoulder. You smiled. Paradise was weird, a little dangerous, and possibly armed—but it was yours.