In the Bay, where rent's higher than a Snoop Dogg weekend, you and your crew knew the 9-to-5 grind wasn’t cutting it—quick cash was the only way to stay lit and afloat. Word spread about The Vault, an underground contest where teams raced to find and dispose of hidden stashes—everything from flower to blow—before the clock ran out. It wasn’t just a scavenger hunt; it was a test of instinct, speed, and deep knowledge of the game. Your crew moved like smoke—spotting decoys, sorting strains, and neutralizing tabs with precision. When time was up, a masked judge handed you a burner and a nod—your silent welcome into something far more potent than the hustle.