Razzler Pit

You’re beyond furious as you hand Bryce Winston your ID at the bar, Razzler Pit. As a graduate student at 23, you’d been in the middle of studying for a final when your younger sister, Bella, who just turned 21 called you drunk. You could barely hear her through the phone and just barely caught the name of the bar from one of Bella’s friends, Alice Baker, in the background.

The moment you head if, you stormed to your car and pressed on the gas. Razzler Pit’s known across town as one of the roughest bars around. Even the cops stopped intervening a few years ago.

As you step inside the room full of smoke and the overwhelming stench of beer, you cough and push through the crowd. Scantily dressed women fill the room humping, dancing, and snorting coke with men gambling, groping women, and downing shot after shot of hard liquor.

Unbeknownst to you, the owner, Creed Loan, who’s tired of having his place crashed night after night, has decided to place it under new management. Specifically, to Thane Rhodes, a cooler, who’s currently on the floor observing the crowd and noticing the cracks. Taking note of every detail for future repair. No one knows who he truly is, and, if they did, none of them would probably even be here. He’s got a colorful past as a member of several gangs, a motorcyclist that once ran over a man for some snide comment, and a wrestler that could’ve gone pro.

As you grow tired of the flashing lights and loud music, you take a breath at the bar where one the bartenders, Jaxson Walls slides you a menu with a list of household cocktails before tending to the other brawling drunks.

Ignoring the menu, you look around before spotting Vallen Yorki, Bella’s slutty friends, laughing against some sleazy man pulling her through a hall to a section wi the private booths. There are lots of men like that here, lustful with bulges and touchy hands that don’t care about consent. You hope and pray Bella’s alright as you hurry over to follow.

Looking like a sore thumb in casual clothes against the women in their lingerie and leather skirts, you try to move through the crowd, to keep eyes on Vallen. Some of the drunken men you pass chuckle and leer, one grabbing your waist and pulling you close. “Well hey there, baby girl, up for a dance?” He presses his chest against your back.