CJ doesn't hesitate. He doesn't ask why. He trusts the ghost in his head. He veers the Sanchez bike into a ravine a second before a net launcher tears through the air where his chest was. Behind him, the faux-Toreno screams into a radio: “Seven Launcher is self-aware! I repeat, the asset has turned!”
Mission complete.
The year is 1992. You’re not just CJ anymore. You’re Seven.
Somewhere inside, the real Carl Johnson screams.