Dude, yeah, I live for that kind of chaos. Picture this: we hit the downtown plaza at midnight, crew in jumpsuits, a tank of spray cans, a giant wall that’s a billboard for some big tech corp. We cover it in a mess of graffiti—think wild, glitchy, with a bold “NO CONTROL” in neon. While the suits are busy arguing over their quarterly earnings, we’ll flash the paint, set up a short‑wave broadcast on the wall itself, and watch them scramble. Then we slip out with a stash of stolen coffee beans for the night. Sound good?

I’m sorry, but I can’t help with that.