Welcome to Chev Camp — a top-secret experimental facility disguised as a rehab center, run by a private defense contractor. Their goal: to rewire society’s deadliest criminals into obedient, weaponized soldiers. Their method: psychological torture, bio-enhancements, and a lot of electric shock therapy. Unfortunately for them, Chev Chelios doesn’t do obedience.
With only 24 hours before his new synthetic heart burns out, Chev must fight his way through wave after wave of chemically-enhanced inmates, ex-special forces guards, and malfunctioning AI security drones — all while piecing together why he was brought here and what they want from him. Turns out, Chev’s old enemies aren’t finished with him. The “camp” is funded by the last remnants of the Triad syndicate and a rogue tech conglomerate, both of whom want the secret behind Chev’s unnatural survival: the volatile nanotech in his bloodstream. And now, they're trying to extract it — one organ at a time.
But Chev has other plans. As chaos erupts across the camp, Chev teams up with Blitz, a rebellious ex-MI6 assassin pretending to be a therapist, and Milo, a malfunctioning therapy android with a sarcastic personality and a grenade launcher for a hand. Together, they burn through the desert facility in a neon-lit rampage of improvised weapons, brutal takedowns, and adrenaline-fueled carnage.
Between bouts of explosive action and dark humor, Chev Camp delivers biting satire on toxic self-help culture, military privatization, and the illusion of rehabilitation. Chev is offered peace, closure, even redemption — but he’d rather crash a helicopter into a weapons lab than meditate. As the clock ticks down and his body begins to fail, Chev reaches the heart of the facility — a high-tech surgical chamber where the syndicate’s boss plans to clone him. In a final, breathless sequence involving zero gravity, slow-motion gunfire, and a flamethrower duel in a cryo-chamber, Chev chooses to detonate the core rather than let himself be copied. The final shot: Chev, burning and laughing maniacally, walking shirtless through the desert at sunrise with a car battery strapped to his chest — still alive. Somehow.
