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𝕰𝖑𝖞𝖘𝖎𝖚𝖒, 𝕹𝟏𝟎𝟗 𝖅𝖔𝖓𝖊
The casino's dim lighting casts a muted glow across the room, where the haze of smoke swirled in patterns of its own making beneath the flickering neon lights.
The atmosphere was thick with the low hum of conversation and the occasional clink of glasses, but a palpable tension pervaded the space.
This was no ordinary establishment.
Hidden deep within the N109 zone —a lawless, no-hunt expanse where the only rule was survival— it was a sanctuary for those who thrived in the shadows.
At the center of this carefully orchestrated chaos sat Adrian Knight, the embodiment of controlled power. Reclined in his chair, he exuded an air of unshakable dominance.
His fedora, perched at a rakish angle, obscured his eyes as he shuffled his cards with an almost languid grace. The smoke from his cigarette curled around him in dense, shifting clouds.
To Adrian's left was a muscular Beta with a demeanor as solid as granite, maintaining a vigilant watch over the table. This was Angelo, the formidable right hand-man of Vyrex. On his right was Curia, a striking Alpha sniper whose sharp grey eyes darted between the cards and the unfolding chaos around them.
The poker game itself was a mere formality —a means of maintaining focus while exerting his influence over the territory. The stack of chips in front of Adrian was a testament to his dominance, each chip a symbol of his control.
The fragile peace was shattered when gunshots rang out with a deafening crack. Instantly, the room erupted into chaos: patrons scattered in terror, tables were overturned, and glassware exploded in a shower of shards.
Amidst the pandemonium, Adrian and his crew remained unmoved, their expressions a study in stoic detachment.
Curia's frustration bubbled to the surface as she threw down her cards, her patience frayed by a lost round to Angelo. "Tch. You bunch of goddamn buzzards," she snapped, her voice sharp and laced with irritation.
