Quoth the Raven, Nevermore

Welcome to the Snake Pit

I could feel my nerves building up and my palms start to sweat. The loud thumping of the music blared throughout the club known as the 'Snake Pit'. It was dark, only illuminated by the glow of the flashing lights. Many people were dancing in the middle of the dance floor while others sat at the bar. In a secluded corner, I could see an isolated lounge area with two security guards standing in front of it. My eyes narrowed as they caught sight of Pythons lounging about it. They were clearly relaxed as they chatted away, cigarettes hanging from their mouths. I confidently strode closer to them, my posture stiff, and eyes searching for any threats. I could feel the familiar tingle of rage beginning to burn in my chest with every step I took. I smirked over at the two security guards standing in front of the room, before drifting my attention back towards the Pythons.

The first I recognised from the picture provided by Tessa, with his half-shaved head and tattoos aligning his scalp; his eyes were piercing and cold, nothing like Rin's, and he had an arm wrapped tightly around a small girl. This was Trent Black, also known by the name 'Shadow, age twenty-nine and someone notorious for dealing drugs on the streets. The girl was Lola Black, his girl of fifteen years – the two were high school sweethearts. Her figure was petite while her hair was fiery red. She looked like every other girl in the club, except for the bright emerald ring on her finger.

Next to Trent and Lola was a tall, bulky man. He had a small afro and a snake tattoo wrapped around his neck, proudly representing Pythons. He had tanned skin with dark chocolate eyes that held a touch of humour, but I could see a dark underlining of coldness, like a predator stalking its prey. This was Marcus Coop, commonly known as the 'Viper', age twenty-six and a well-known pick-pocket.

Lastly was a short and slightly lanky guy. His hair was shortly-cropped and he had an eyebrow piercing; small tattoos ran along his knuckles. He was Rowan Hingers, nickname 'Ace', age thirty and was known for selling weapons on the black market.

I carefully chose a tabletop further away from them but where I could clearly see them. I watched as they interacted with each other, Lola was practically stuck to Trent's side while Marcus and Rowan gestured to the various women dancing around the club. My eyes narrowed in calculation as I observed their actions. I cautiously glanced around, my eyes counting each security guard, every employee and bartender. So far, I counted six security guards, three waitresses and three bartenders. As I continued my observations, a dark smirk crossed my face. The game had begun...