Scottsburg. 09:03 pm.
Old fire station No. 12
The sky was washed gray; the moon struggled through clouds as Antonio's car rolled slowly down the cracked side street. The fire station rose ahead; a huge, abandoned brick structure, its red paint long faded, windows boarded some broken. The rusted firehouse doors were tagged in graffiti, the kind that warned outsiders to keep moving. Antonio parked a few meters away. He stepped out, the cool night air brushed him awake. The place smelled like rain, metal, and old smoke—the ghost of what the building used to be. A single security camera whirred, it tracked his approached. Antonio shoved his hands into his pockets and a black metal door slightly cracked open. He paused in front of it, exhaled, then pushed it open. Inside, the fire station was dark, lit only by industrial lamps hung from chains. Two men in dark clothing stood by the wall, their eyes locked on Antonio. Overhead, footsteps echoed from the metal catwalk. "Gonzalez… you early." Kojo said. Antonio let the door shut behind him. "Let's get this over with." he replied. Kojo's footsteps were slow, his silhouette appeared on the iron catwalk above before his face came into the light. He wore a loose black vest, diamond chains tapped against his chest, and sunglasses. He descended the metal stairs; each clang echoed throughout the hollow station. Kojo opened his arms wide with a smirk "Aye… my boy Toni." he said.
Antonio didn't smile but he stepped closer. Kojo pulled him into a firm hug. "Still have those dangerous eyes I see, just like your father." Kojo said. "Means you ain't lost your touch." Antonio exhaled quietly "Let's skip the soft talk and get to business." he said. Kojo chuckled. "Same old Gonzalez." He signaled two fingers. "Come. Let's walk." They walked deeper into the fire station, through a long concrete hallway. The further they went, the louder the atmosphere became, muffled shouts, laughter, the thump of aggressive bass. Something metallic crashed, followed by wild cheering. Antonio frowned slightly. "You run a circus down here?" he asked. Kojo smiled. "Basement's busy today. New recruits think they're lions."
A loud bang shook the wall, "Most of 'em are house cats." Kojo added. They reached a rusted elevator shaft, the door slid open, replaced with a steel staircase that dropped down. The noises were clearer now… gloves hit flesh, music vibrated the walls, and multiple voices yelled over each other. Kojo stopped halfway of the stairs. "Alright, listen close." he said, his voice tensed. "You call me for ten million… that ain't small-boy business. So, here's how this works." Antonio folded his arms. "Go on." Kojo held up a finger. "One… I get you the money. All of it. Clean, fast, and nothing that ties back to you." Another loud thud shook dust from the ceiling. "Two… My people run security on your end. You don't choose 'em. You don't question 'em. You just use 'em." they went downstairs. "Three… From the moment you take that bag… you're tied to me. Not like a rope. Like concrete." Antonio's jaw tightened. "I'm not joining your little empire." he replied. Kojo laughed. "Relax, my boy. I don't need you as an employee. I need you as an investment. And you need me, because of the storm you're about to walk into?" He pointed downward as another roar erupted from below. "You're gonna need monsters." he added. Antonio didn't respond. "And four… the most important rule." He leaned closer. "Don't lie to me. About anything. Not what the money is really for, not who's involved, not what you expect to happen. You lie?" He tapped Antonio's chest lightly. "I will know." Kojo threaten calmly. The basement crowd roared again. Kojo smiled. "You ready? 'Cause once we go down there… the deal starts." Kojo nudged him forward, the staircase rattled beneath their feet. As they reached the lower hallway, Antonio instantly picked up the shift in atmosphere—colder and darker. The air had a scent of smoke, bleach, and something metallic that clung to the tongue.
"Don't mind what you hear. Basements got… different departments." Kojo said. They walked past the first side room. Inside, a group of people lounged around, their behavior intimate in a way that was unsettling rather than erotic. The lighting was red; shadows tangled in ways that felt wrong. A woman held a cigarette as a man nervously crawled to her feet. Kojo didn't even slow down. "Some folks come down here to lose themselves. Others come to find out what kinda person they really are, the meaning of life completely astray from their mind." he said.
The next room was far worse. A man screamed—the kind that shook the lungs. Antonio tensed on instinct. Someone inside laughed, then the floors vibrated. Kojo gave Antonio a look. "Relax. They're debtors working off what they owe. Costs money to keep the lights on." Dried blood painted the lower edge of the doorway. Antonio exhaled slowly "You run all this?" he asked. Kojo smirked. "I supervise it. People do what they do, as a football club has a manager and players—the same goes here… though I'm the owner of the club." he replied. They continued until the corridor widened, swallowed them into the main basement. And the place was colossal. A fire-station layout but twisted; pipes exposed, bricks moistured while fans spun overhead. The lights flickered in sickly yellow intervals, at the center of it all sat a massive steel table, scarred from years of abuse. On it were two dice, chips, stacks of cash, liquor bottles, knives, and one black coated dice. Crowds packed all sides, people leaned forward, they roared, yelled and bang on the rails. The adrenaline in the air was thick enough to choke on. This wasn't a simple dice game. This was a tournament. Spectators filled every corner, some men in suits, women in fur coats, young boys with face tattoos, old heads with blank expressions. The vibe was electric but unnervingly predatory. Kojo stepped proudly "Welcome to Kayland my boy." As they moved through the crowd, people parted for Kojo like water for a ship, obvious whispers followed.
Kojo spotted a group ahead—three men stood confidently, their arms crossed. "These." Kojo said "are my people, you'll be working with them… without working with them." The first was tall and thin with a scar that ran from his ear to his jaw. The second had gold teeth and his eyes never blinked once. The third was built like a retired linebacker, silent. Kojo tapped Antonio's shoulder lightly. "Boys, this is the man I told you about. Meet Toni, he'll be y'all's challenger today." All three men nodded slowly as they sized Antonio up. Rip Jaw spoke first.
"So, this the one who needs the impossible?" Kojo grinned. "He's the one who's gonna pay for it." The dice table erupted with screams as someone won… or lost… something big. Antonio tilted his head toward Kojo. 'I thought he changed… his going to making things worse for me.' he thought. Anger and confusion clear in his eyes. "Ready to step into the real part?" The crowd surged forward as Kojo guided Antonio to the steel table. The blood lust tinged in the air. Then a bell clanged twice. Then the announcer emerged. A tall man in a silver blazer stood on a raised grate above the table, he held a rusted megaphone in one hand and a revolver in the other. His face was painted white like a carnival mask, with dark glassed and only his cracked smile visible. He raised both arms. "WELCOME ladies and gentlemen… to ROUND ONE of tonight's Golden Dice Royale!" The crowd thundered with whistles, stomps and screams. Someone threw a bottle that shattered against a column. The announcer continued "Tonight's game is King's Snake… you roll, you rise, you fall, or you crawl out missing something!" The spectators roared again. Kojo leaned in toward Antonio. "Simple rules for round one. You roll two dice. Land under six or a six—the pot doubles. Over nine, you choose who bleeds in the penalty. Seven or eight? That's the Snake — you pick a player to knock out, or stake something personal." he said. Antonio clenched his jaw. The announcer now pointed to the players. "ON THE TABLE TONIGHT… we welcome our veterans!" He gestured theatrically to Kojo's three men. "First making his return from a horrible accident, It's Marlow 'RIP Jaw' Wesson!" Marlow raised his chin and tapped the scar that made his nickname. The crowd cheered like they were worshiping a gladiator. "Next, from the Soviet region… WE HAVE! Tangooo… Gold tooth!" Tango flashed his gold his gold teeth. "You better not wear red for this fellow, because his horns are ready to strike, WE HAVE! Barkus the Bull!" The huge man rolled his shoulders. "And joining us… a newcomer. A wildcard." The announcer smirked down at Antonio. "Antonio. Gonzalez. Hmm… that name sounds familiar, the name of a veteran we once lost." The crowd lost it; screams echoed like sirens; and people pounded the walls. Antonio stayed still, his eyes cold. The announcer wasn't done. "And tonight… because the Pit is feeling a little generous… we have THREE MORE players!" Three strangers stepped forward from opposite corners. A petite woman with tattoos from chin to wrist, she held a butterfly knife "She crazy, and gorgeous. GIVE IT UP FOR! Lace Monroe!" And a jittery, hunched man who wore goggles "Our very own underground Einstein. LETS HEAR IT FOR! Crank!" And lastly, a black woman—tall, stunning and dressed in a sublime lingerie. "You can run from her, but you can't hide, she hides in the shadow and feeds of the weak. MAKE SOME NOISE FOR! Mbali… 'the executioner'… Legato!" The announcer opened his arms wide. "SEVEN PLAYERS. ONE TABLE. NO EXITS UNTIL THE GAME SAYS SO." A tense silence followed. Then, BANG! The announcer fired the revolver into the ceiling. Concrete dust fell like snow. "THE GAME… HAS BEGUN!" Instantly, chaos erupted. Spectators surged toward the rails and waved stacks of bills, some shouted out numbers, bets on players' lives like it was sport. Dealers rushed forward, they slammed down crates of chips. Bundles of cash hit the pot. Gold watches, keys, rings, and even a prosthetic arm were tossed in. The pot became a mountain, a dangerous monument. The dealer at Antonio's side slid a stack of clay chips for him. "Ante up." he muttered. Antonio placed his buy-in, a few thick bands of money he couldn't afford to lose. Across the table, Marlow cracked his knuckles. Tango tapped the steel surface rhythmically. Barkus drummed his fingers like he was waiting for a victim. The crowd leaned in as the announcer growled.
"FIRST ROLLER… Split Jaw!"