"What a night it's gonna be," you think to yourself, as you're on your way to Fredina's Nightclub. You can't contain your excitement to get drunk out of your mind with Foxy giving you a lap dance, you sick freak. This is L.A., by the way, in case you were itching for that info. You take a shortcut, through an alley, but you freeze. Right in front of you, you see someone, who's gender you cannot identify, standing over the bloodied body of an old, homeless man. They hold a Glock 19. They turn to look at you, their glare icy, and empty, making your bones rattle and your spine tingle. Think carefully about your next decisions. (This is indeed, at the time of writing, a real case that has been closed. The criminal at the end had killed four homeless people.)