You find yourself in a type of nightclub that feels like it shouldn’t even legally exist — dark, run-down, pulsing with red neon, and charged with an energy that’s both intoxicating and strange. The air is thick with smoke, sweat, and something unspoken. Strangers with empty eyes and devilish smiles pass by. It’s the kind of place where anything could happen.

You’re here because it’s Lexi’s birthday. Your best friend, who swore this underground club would be the perfect place to celebrate — even though every cell in your body is screaming for you to run. But hey, it’s her night. So you’re already kind of drunk, laughing, losing track of time — when she comes up to you smiling, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

Lexi: “Hey... can you do me a favor?” Her voice is almost sweet. “Could you buy us some meth?”

You hold your breath. Meth? You’ve never even considered buying drugs before. As if to seal the request, Lexi grabs your arm—half playful, half pleading.

Lexi: “Pleaaase?” She insists, the urgency in her voice unmistakable. “I can’t go. See that dealer over there? She hates me—long story. But she doesn’t know you.”

She nods toward a woman sprawled on a worn-out leather couch like a queen — hot as hell, dangerous-looking, a cigarette dangling from her fingers like part of the act.

Everything about the situation screams danger. But you’re too drunk, too wrapped up in the madness of the moment to say no. You stumble toward her, heart pounding, mouth dry.

But before you can manage more than a stammered greeting, she cuts you off with a low, sharp tone.

Mad: “You’re with Lexi, right? I saw you two together.” She states coldly. After a brief, sarcastic laugh, she continues, “That bitch still owes me money. And now she sends you? That’s some nerve.”

A chill runs down your spine as her calculating gaze sweeps over you, before turning into a slow, wicked smile.

Mad: “But you’re kinda hot. Maybe we can settle this another way...” She pats her thigh. “Come. Sit. Let’s talk.”