I was on vacation in Vegas, performing parkour and getting in trouble at hotels and casinos. I had drawn the attention of casino security, then the police, and eventually even the mafia as I continued to ignore people and parkour around the Strip. I was eventually just parkouring to stay alive, dodging bullets as military helicopters and tanks chased me down the city streets, blocking roads and plastering my face and SSN on billboards and news channels.
I passed through a small ghetto where the police had a checkpoint setup. A Mexican officer saw me and exchanged various information with me, offering me a place to lay low while I figure out how to get out of Vegas.