Despite June clearly inviting us into the club, I still couldn't find myself comfortable enough to enter at first. It was once Kali prodded me after Masi and Shay followed June and Mike in that I was able to snap to.

In we went, instantly greeted by booming rave music, flashing lights, overlapping conversations, cheers for the performers, and a delightful palette of red, purple, and pink. The space was quite large, with many tables and bar arrangements set up alongside curtains at the corners of the room heading backstage. The stage for the girls-and even a guy on one side of the room-was long, with red carpet and poles abound.

Walking with my friends, I caught eyes with some men staring at me. Among the men cheering for the ladies, I saw some men in suits that didn't appear to be here to get their rocks off. The gaze they flashed me was discomforting.

"Wow," gushed one of the performers, stepping past us as we headed down an aisle further into the club. This scantily clad young woman's eyes were glued up at Mike.

"Uh, hello," he murmured, even less comfortable than me, but he was drowned out by banging music.

"I don't even want to charge you, handsome."

"Leave him alone, Violet," June urged, "he's got an annoying girlfriend already."

"So?"

"And he's loyal."

Violet stuck out her bottom lip, giving in and pouting her way someplace else. I averted my eyes from the sight of a thong showing just about all of her ass. There was so much going on here at once that I could barely keep my eyes on any one thing for long.

"This is amazing," Shay uttered.

"You're into this?" Masi replied, shouting for her to hear him.

Shay's violet eyes wandered all across the performers and people around us. "I maybe, perhaps swing for both teams..."

A crowd of security guards headed past us, then we heard a random man scream, "I love you, Raven! You're so hot!"

"Show some love!" she shouted back, amorously leaning off the stage and near his table to tug at her bra, letting him put a twenty in, before winking at him and returning to her dancing.

"Introducing our newest talent," came a voice over the speakers, "Sultry Serenity."

I approached June to ask, "So, are you a performer here?"

She eyed me with puzzlement. "You think I'd be a stripper? I'm hot, but that's not in the cards for me." A performer strutted past us, handing over a cocktail to June. "No, Rome, I run this joint! I'm the owner!"

My eyes bulged. "What?"

"That's not what I would have seen coming," Mike added.

"It's a long story," she rolled her eyes. "Worthwhile journey though! The girls love me, and I treat them like, uh, humans! They all left men-run clubs to come work for me! We've got a whole security team to protect them, too! Not to mention, uh, keep other things in order."

One of the security guards approached, a guy about our age with slicked back, ginger hair, pale skin and freckles, with black shades.

"These guys bothering you, ba-"

The nasally voice gave him away, and then when he took off the shades, I knew just who it was.

"You guys?"

"Scott?" Mike uttered.

"It's this asshole!" Masi exclaimed.

"Hey," June clung to him, "you wanna be in my club, drool over my girls, you show him some respect, you dig?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"What are these guys doing here?" Scott questioned. "I didn't peg Mike for the type. Heh. Wonder if he pegs himself."

June snorted and chuckled, putting her hands on his chest. "Follow me, all of you. Let's go somewhere a little quieter."

Following them, a performer tugged at my sleeve from behind, then I turned to face her. Equally beautiful and invasive, the girl stroked a hand through my hair, purring, "You want a drink?"

Kali smacked the drink out of her hand. "He's not thirsty."

Soon enough, June led us through a curtain that took us backstage. On the way through the backstage halls with racks of outfits for the girls, we came across one performer going down on another one. June scoffed. "Oh, my god, Penelope! Not in the club! How many times do we need to go over this, bitch?"

"Sorry, Ms. Barrett."

"Oh, my," Masi murmured.

June sat us down in luxurious chairs across from a whole office setup in the back of the club. This space, like the rest, was colored red and pink. In here, we could hear booming music in the background, but it was distant and behind walls, so it was much more muffled. Around us, performers and security personnel walked around, with Scott occasionally communicating with other guards.

"So!" June exclaimed. "Tell me what the fuck you're all doing here! This is nuts!"

"You're telling us!" Kali responded. "You first! How did this happen for you guys?"

"Sorry, Kali," Mike murmured, "but us first. We're looking for Chef. Rome seems to think it's really important. We found an article that said he was in this region of Vancouver. Do you-"

"What could you possibly want with him?"

"Does 'GCO' mean anything to you?" I asked her.

She appeared puzzled. Slinging one leg over the other, she replied, "Nah. They're letters?"

"So, you show up in June's club looking for Chef," Scott stated. "This all makes about as much sense as a pig eating with table manners."

"Well, to be fair," Kali interjected, "you working at a strip club for June makes even less sense."

"I got a call from Chris in jail," I explained. "Apparently the new cast of Total Drama is in trouble. He told me the new host is bad news-serious bad news."

"Who?" June wondered.

"Mercutio Meryl. Russian guy. Chris told us to find Chef."

"The fate of that cast could rest in our hands," Shay added. "Potentially."

"Is this a joke?" June asked.

"Really serious," Mike replied.

"Here's where I'm lost," Scott mentioned. "So, Chris calls you up to, what, enlist Chef into some kind of rescue mission? Or something? Why the hell would you guys be the people to call to save an entire cast?"

"He called Rome specifically," Shay informed him. "It's because Rome was always helping people on Total Drama. You should know."

"I guess, but that's different from actually saving lives. That's a real hero's job."

The comment stung, but it was true. I wasn't exactly the number one candidate to save a bunch of people. The fact that Chris trusted me this much was equal parts flattering and insane.

"Is... Chef around here?" I asked, feebly covering up how much Scott's comment hurt.

"He should be back soon," June responded. "He-"

She went silent as another guard approached our group, nodding to June and Scott. "Code three-o-eight."

"Shit," June cursed. "Babe?"

"On it."
Scott was up to his feet instantly. I noticed in that moment that alongside his security uniform was a belt, as well as a taser he unholstered as he stomped back out the way June took us. June got up to follow him.

"Where's he going?" I urged.

She swerved to face me. "Where Chef is, but it's about to get hot. Trouble outside."

Stunned, we remembered who else was outside.

"Where outside?" Mike demanded.

We exited the club, then a deafening gunshot from up close had us all cowering, ducking for cover. Led by Scott, we collectively took cover behind pottery, shrubs, and pillars around the entrance to the club.

"Barrett!" snapped a voice. Out across the street where Zoey had parked, multiple men in black clothes and ski masks smashed crowbars against the car while she was still inside.

"Zoey!" Mike screamed.

"Jesus Christ!" I exclaimed.

"That's not even our car, you fucking idiots!" June shot back.

"You're making a mistake, you chumps!" Scott yelled.

"You're the ones making the mistake!" the man snapped back. "We expect timely deliveries! You act like we aren't fuckin' dangerous, eh?"

"You act like we aren't!"

"Just get us what we want when we want it and we don't have to bust up your cars! In fact, keep fucking around on us, and it's gonna get even worse than property damage! Maybe next time it's a bullet in one of your sluts, maybe it's a molotov in your club! We're through fucking around!"

Footsteps pounded against the pavement, and I veered my gaze to see Chef, dressed in a suit for a change, and a couple other men around his age strutting their way towards the club. Emerging from the neon-lit night, Chef and the men pulled out pistols and cocked them, aiming at the people messing with Zoey's father's car.

"Put the gun down, Emil!" Chef ordered. "We just finished our serve; y'all got everything you need."

"Yeah, for now, Hatchet. You better pray we didn't get shorted or we will-"

"Oh, my Jesus H dick, he sold you the pills already!" June snapped. "You're getting angry about a hypothetical situation! Just go home-go home and wish you could have a night with one of my girls!"

The intruders started to wander off, Chef and the others' guns pointed at them, but the lead one shouted back, "Eh, sweetheart, it's you I'd be having that night with, and your sleazy boyfriend wouldn't be able to do a thing about it!"

"Shut the hell up!" Scott snapped. "She's mine, dickbag!"

The man turned to walk off into the city, pointing up his middle finger as he left.

"God, I hate that guy," Scott growled.

"Easy, baby," June rubbed his suited arm. "He's gone now."

As soon as the coast was clear, Mike raced back to the car, opening up the newly dented car to let Zoey practically jump him, hugging him for dear comfort. Unfortunately, the adventure we'd undertaken so far had led to damage to the car, something I doubted Zoey's dad would be happy about. At least she was safe. For now.

"Aight, June, I-" Chef approached, then laid eyes on me and my friends.

"Hi, Chef," Kali peeped awkwardly.

"It's, uh, it's been a while, hasn't it? How y'all doin'?" The big man let his head hang low and a long sigh left him. "Man. It ain't good news if y'all here, is it?"

"How much do you know?" Masi asked.

Mike and Zoey, thoroughly shaken up, reunited with us.

"You okay, Zoey? Come here," June pulled her in for a hug.

"Hi, June."

"It's good to see you again."

"You find me for Operation GCO?" Chef grumbled.

"I can't believe you know what that is," I stated.

"I wish y'all didn't."

"Uh, I don't know what that is," Scott interrupted, "and I want to."

"We need to get back inside," June decided. "It's not safe out here anymore."

"I got us covered, J, don't worry," Chef assured.

"I wouldn't be so sure. They've never had the balls to march right up to the club like that. Come on, everyone in."

Back inside the club at a booth that could fit me, Kali, Masi, Shay, Mike, Zoey, June, Scott, and Chef, we began a discussion accompanied once more by the overwhelming music, voices, and atmosphere of a popular strip club. Around this booth, June poured herself a mixed drink and delicately let the glass touch her lips as she drank, pumpy music accompanying her from all around us. Relaxing beside her, Scott laid one arm over the back of his seat while he lit up a cigarette in his lips.

"Those things'll kill you, you know," Mike mentioned.

"Yeah, slamming your head into my nose could've done it if you'd hit the right place, too," he muttered.

The memory of Mal's violence had Mike silent, wincing. June smacked her lips, satisfied with her drink, then she spoke to us.

"Mmm. Getting this place could've been a lot harder if it weren't for the producers paying us that little bit of money they did for surviving the onslaught of Chris. Thanks a lot for that, by the way, Chef."

The big man shrugged. "I was just following orders, just like I do now."

June leaned over to add, "I actually pay him a livable wage. Chris could never. Anyway, done with Total Drama, Scott and I stayed together, and we needed to find something to do with our lives. He decided to leave the farm and get a job in the city, but we didn't want our money eaten away by central Vancouver rent, so we had to mount up and come to this edge of the city. Scott got hired as a security guard at this club, and without anything else to do, I decided I'd work my way up to owner. I did some dancing, worked my ass off, and eventually we came across Chef selling drugs in the area.

"I told him I could cut him in my plan for ownership of this club if he'd help me get there. Soon enough, the old club boss, a complete douchebag, found a 'better opportunity' somewhere in Puerto Rico. So, I took over, Scott's one of the top security personnel here, and Chef gets a sizable cut of the club's monthly profits for selling drugs to a mob that the old boss was mixed up with."

"Unfortunately, big man here has no choice," Scott added. "The mob has been further up our ass than a pig's snout in a slop pail."

"My darling boy here may have left the farm, but he still can't help but talk in farmer terms and analogies."

"Even if he wanted to leave, he couldn't. Truth is," he took a drag off his cigarette, "we're in a bad way here."

"The wiggles ain't exactly illustrious, if you catch my drift," Chef grumbled.

"Tell us about the mob," Zoey urged. "Who were those guys? Why did they nearly wreck my dad's car?"

"Homeboy who runs it is named Emil." She groaned, nabbing Scott's cigarette. "You tell them, baby, I can barely even let his name out of my mouth."

"By running the club, June inherited the issue of Emil and his mob. You'd be surprised how much mafia or cartel involvement you get in strip clubs."

"More, Ms. Barrett?" offered a performer with a tray with shots on it.

"Fucking please." She took a shot, then Masi reached over.

"Wanna pass one of those my way?"

"Right here," Chef urged.

Scott continued as shots were handed off. "Emil swears on his life that Chef, who's in charge of the drug movement-sort of under wraps here at Illustrious Wiggles-has been shorting him and his gang. The deal was that for supplying drugs to him, his boys, and his alleged 'clients'-"

"A bunch of addled-ass junkies," Chef muttered.

"For supplying the drugs, they don't kill all of us."

"Jesus, that seems kinda extreme," Zoey commented.

June nodded, downing another shot. "You've got no idea how all this shit goes, sweetheart."

"Yeah, baby, show me the titties!" shouted someone drunk from further off.

"You show as much or as little as you want, Winter!" June yelled. "These men don't own you!"

"Well, before we get off track, let's talk about Operation GCO," I cut in. "That's what we're here for."

"The 'all about Rome show'," Scott muttered under his breath before taking back the cigarette.

"It was a pact Chris and I made," Chef explained. "It was only ever supposed to be undergone for three possibilities."

"Which were?" Kali wondered.

"I can't discuss that with y'all. You must know one of them, but I ain't about to spill the beans on the other two."

"Does the name 'Mercutio Meryl' ring a bell?" Shay wondered.

Chef appeared puzzled. "Should it? Wait. Russian? Green eyes?"

She nodded, nervous. Masi passed her what was left of his shot. Chef let out another sigh, shaking his head.

"Who the hell is that guy?" I questioned.

"Bad news," Chef grumbled. "That's not his real name either. He and Chris have a history-before Total Drama Island ever aired, before Chris and I knew each other. You'd need Chris to fill you in, but what's this guy doing now?"

"He's the new host of Total Drama," Masi mentioned. "He looks totally out of place."
Chef scoffed. "That ain't good."

"So, what is Operation GCO?" Zoey asked.

"Operation Get Chris Out. He wants me to spring him from the clink."

We, minus June, Scott, and Chef, exchanged glances of astoundment.

"You mean we have to break into a prison?" Masi uttered. "I'm gonna need another shot."

"Well, that's the thing," Chef cut in. "It ain't happening."

"What do you mean it ain't happening?" I urged.

"Have you mothafuckas even been listening? Tell them, June."

"Chef is tied down. Like, his life is on the line if he dips. In a way, he belongs to Illustrious Wiggles now. We all do..."

"That's why I smoke," Scott murmured. "And because it makes me look cool. The security uniform too."

"Valid," Shay peeped.

"But you can't-" I started, then broke off. "Answer me this: Chris thought that the new cast was in danger. Are they?"

"More than the danger Chris put y'all in?" Chef replied. "If you can believe it, yes, I'd say so."

"There has to be potential for something truly terrible if Chris would call Rome over it twice," Zoey mentioned.

"I'm sorry to say no to y'all, but my hands are tied. In fact, June, I haven't wanted to say this, but I don't know how much longer we can keep this club runnin'. They've got me on the ropes. Emil's getting greedier and greedier. If he don't OD soon, either this club goes down, or all of us with it."

"But I..." June murmured. "I built this place into an empire. I'm the only one who's ever treated these girls like actual people. You guys might not get it, but this is what I do now. This is my life, Scott's life, and the girls'. We're content."

My girlfriend nodded.

"But the cast-" I tried to speak, but Kali cut me off.

"Babe, Chef can't help us until we help him. You heard June. They need help."

Now, I was the one nodding. "You're right. You're right."

"I just don't really see how you could be of any help whatsoever," Scott reiterated. "The police have tried to get involved, but they barely did anything. They were less useful than a pig in a piñata."

"Okay, there's no way you actually routinely sneak this many pig references into conversations," Masi interrupted.

"To be fair, the cops don't care about what's going on over here," June replied.

"Caring makes a difference, right?" Zoey threw in.

"Maybe if you're a Carebear," Scott muttered.

"All right, we can- we can figure something out," I decided.

"Figure what out?" Chef questioned. "What could even be done?"

"We swap out their oxies with fent?" Scott suggested.

June thwacked her hand against him. "Scott! We can't kill people!"

"All right, all right, we'll do something less lethal!"

"Damn, that probably would have been the easiest solution," Masi mentioned.

The others might have said more, I'm not sure. Despite the floor-rocking music bouncing against the walls around us, as well as the many distractions of a strip club, I invested myself into my head, working to come up with some sort of solution. I didn't know much about mobsters, gangsters, or any of that. I wondered about what the driving force behind a mob is, or what their most precious resource might be.

"Money," I uttered.

"Yes, I like money," Masi answered.

"So does Mr. Krabs," Shay added.

"A group like us is bound to have more of it than most. June, you run this club. Zoey and Shay, you two have both won Total Drama before. As for the rest of us, we were all written checks from the producers."

"You say that like those checks weren't puny," Kali remarked.

"What are you thinking?" Zoey wondered.

"I hate to say it, but I don't really have too much left over," Shay admitted. "Two years and a lot of traveling and spending opportunities sort of depletes the funds."

"And I spent a lot on therapy for myself and Mike."

Scott chuckled. "So that's how you two managed to stay together? I couldn't if I were you. I look at this guy, I just see Mal."

"But he isn't anymore. He's Mike. Sometimes Chester, Vito, Svetlana, or Manitoba. Never Mal."

"Wow, cool. We'll see how long that lasts."

"Shut up, Scott!" Zoey snapped.

"Hey, easy, easy, guys," I urged. "Cool it. Look, would enough money pooled together be enough to get the mob off your back?"

"Good question," June replied. "I wouldn't be so sure, but if we had enough, maybe?"

"We could call a meeting-us and Emil," Chef suggested. "We could come to some form of arrangement."

"You guys have gotta understand, it'll take a lot. Emil's an asshole, and if he can squeeze enough money out of us to bankrupt me, he will."

"That's why we don't let him," Kali stated.

"I think a good plan B is in order, wouldn't you all agree?" Masi threw in.

"Got anything?" June wondered.

"More shots?"

"Trisha!" June shouted over at the bar.

"Mike," I caught his attention. The look in his eyes showed how uncomfortable he was. The comments from Scott and the overwhelmingness of the club around us-it was all getting to him, I suspected. His eyes seemed to go hollow, like he was leaving us behind.

"Yes?" came the sound of Svetlana's voice.

"Hey, can I talk to Mike, please?"

Once more, the dissociative look.

"That's so weird to watch happen," June murmured.

"Huh?" Mike mumbled.

"Mike, I wanted to ask- if things get, well, violent, like they could with, you know, mobsters, I just wanted to ask... if Vito or Manitoba would be enough to protect us."

"Wh-what do you mean?"

"Well," I scratched behind my neck, unsure how to put these words together. I wondered how they'd come out. I ended up going ahead anyway. "I just wonder if, if it were possible, and if he were willing, and if it was truly dangerous enough, if Mal might come out. It's just, I know how dangerous he can get, so if he were to protect us..."

My voice trailed off. Mike's face slowly shifted, not in a dissociative sense, but it was clear in the way he was eyeing me down that I'd said the wrong thing.

"How can you ask that? Do you know what I went through to put Mal behind me? What Zoey spent out of the money that she earned through literal blood, sweat, and tears by putting up with Mal's bullshit? I mean, what is wrong with you?" Mike rose to his feet, slamming a hand on the counter. "No, Mal isn't gonna come out, because no matter how dangerous any of this got, I'd trust Vito and Manitoba with all our lives one hundred times before I'd ever consider seeking Mal out."

Now, he gasped for breath, then hunched over. "Should've kept your big yapper shut, kid," Chester grumbled, then he wandered off, Zoey standing to follow him.

"Zoey, I'm-" I stammered. "I'm sorry, I-"

"It's fine. I get the gravity of this situation. We're not on a TV show anymore; this is real life." Then she headed off to pursue Chester. Her words told one story, but I suspected her heart was just as hurt as Mike's.

I slouched. "I don't know why I said that. I... I messed up."

"I wouldn't dwell on it," June replied, somewhat awkwardly. "We have bigger problems anyway."

"Let's see about the funds we have," Chef decided, getting up from the counter, now rattling slightly from the pumpy dance music in the background. "Then imma get Emil on the line."

Multiple hours later, we'd sorted together a plan for ourselves. I loosely hoped Zoey's dad wouldn't be hounding her, seeing as it didn't look like we'd be headed back to his house anytime soon.

The nine of us together were able to scrounge up some money to put towards paying off Emil's gang, a total of $9,650. It was pretty close to ten grand, and we were hoping Emil may see it that way as well. Neither June nor Chef felt all that confident with that figure, which pooled feelings of dread within me. Regardless, Chef contacted him, deciding to meet several blocks away from the club in a deserted parking lot where Chef previously had conducted drug deals with these people.

Chef, June, Scott, Masi, and I would be the ones to meet Emil and his gang, taking a car out to the meeting point. The boyfriends of the group decided we wanted our girlfriends to be safe, so they'd stay back at the club. This didn't come without some reluctance from Kali. I suspected that Mike decided to stay with them because he was still upset with me, based on the glances he was giving me. June ended up coming instead of him. In order to be taken more seriously in our dealing, June had me and Masi outfitted in dapper, black suits.

Standing in that parking lot, waiting for Emil and the rest to arrive, I thought about my misguided question to Mike for a bit, putting myself in his shoes and realizing just how wrong of a thing it was to ask. I wanted to talk to someone about it, and to distract myself from the frightening circumstances and surroundings.

With Chef standing at the front of our group, June and Scott stood at his sides about five feet away, with Masi and I continuing that formation behind the All Stars couple. The city here was dark, it was the middle of the night, and this parking lot was connected to a demolished gas station. At least, that's what I figured it might've been at one point from the rubble. The fact that debris that old was even still around here told me the city of Vancouver didn't care to do any upkeep in this area. If that was the case, would they care to protect those that occupy it?

"Hey, Masi," I whispered.

"Yo, man. You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good as gravy. No, I'm not. I'm scared, I'm tired, and this suit isn't warm enough."

"I don't blame you, broski. This is a pretty fucked up situation we've found ourselves in. At least we look good."

"Feel free to walk away anytime," Scott muttered.

Chef insisted we all keep to our positions. Perhaps it was some kind of deal etiquette that I wasn't privy to. Our positioning reminded me of Walt, Jesse, and Mike from Breaking Bad meeting with Declan's people.

"I feel bad, too," I continued. "I think I said the wrong thing to Mike."

"Well... yeah, you did, I won't lie about that," my friend admitted.

"I just- I don't think I was thinking straight."

"After everything that transpired last year, Mike's gonna have to learn to expect people who were involved to associate Mal with him. It's just reality. However, to make it out of all that, I can see why he wouldn't want that."

"It's true. I just feel so much pressure on me, man. I mean, Chris trusted me. Me, man, of all people-with something of this magnitude."

June tilted around to face me. "You realize you're here by your own accord, right? You don't have to be here. This is all a situation we're in because of your decisions. We could've found our own way with Emil."

"It's kinda like those 'save this African orphan' prompt on card readers," Scott added. "You have the option to donate that penny, but it's not like you have to do it. If that orphan dies, it isn't your fault either."

"But you shouldn't leave people on their asses like that," Masi argued, smiling at me. "You're someone giving, someone who sticks up for people he cares about. You help people, it's what you do. You'd even help Chris McLean! You helped get me and Shay together, you didn't leave Jade on her own in the Drumheller badlands, you helped Shay win a million dollars, you helped Zoey survive Mal, and now you're doing the same thing, only on a bigger scale. This go around, you've got the backup to support you. This is nothing new, baby, it's just big leagues instead of little leagues. But there isn't a single baseball game Babe Ruth would be out of his league in."

"Thank you, man. I love you, bro."

"I love you too, homie. We're gonna make it through this."

"Here he comes," Chef grumbled. "Be alert."

I tensed up and readied for anything as a black car, similar to the vehicle Chef drove to get us here, pulled into the parking lot. Out of it emerged the driver, then Emil in the passenger seat, as well as several other of his gangsters.

"Hatchet," Emil greeted him, walking forwards.

Chef grumbled incomprehensibly, reminding me of his typical responses to Chris in the seasons I competed in. The group gathered into positions similar to the formation Chef had us in. Scott fixed a glare at one of the gangsters. June set her hands on her hips. Masi rubbed floofy hair out of his eyes, nervous as I was, I suspected.

"So, here we are. Mind telling me just how much money you've got for me?"

"We came to a total of $9,650."

Emil nodded, mockingly flashing an expression of intrigue. "Oh, really, Chef? 9,650? Why not a full ten G's, buddy? As if that's even close to an appropriate amount of money."

"You ain't gonna haggle us any higher. All you have to do is take the money," he instructed, pulling out an envelope with the check from his suit. "Take the money and pull out of our operation."

"You really think you can buy me out?" he scoffed.

"I think you're a reasonable man. So am I. This is a reasonable offer."

"Fuck you! 'Reasonable'. You're wrong, Hatchet. You should know no one cuts coke quite like you do. Your product is superior. You and your slut club mistress over there should know I wouldn't butter just anybody up."

"You're such a dick," June jeered.

"So, why would it be in my best interest to take my foot off this pedal, Hatchet? You really think you can flash some bills in my face and make me fuck off?"

"I would expect you to understand that that money can do things for you," Chef assured. "Things I can't do. Things I'm not willing to do anymore."

"Ten G's is nothing!" Emil snarled, spit flying out of his mouth. "Nothing!" He caught his breath. "No. No, Hatchet, I'm afraid this isn't going to happen the way you'd like it to."

Chef and June exchanged glances. A dissatisfied look on June's face, she nodded to him, then he faced Emil again.

"I suppose we'll go back to things the way they were," Chef decided.

"No, I suppose not," Emil protested.

"Fuck's that supposed to mean?" June demanded.

"What it means is that now I've got disloyal business partners. If I can't rely on you to sell me my product, then I'm gonna have to take it. All of it."

"That's not gonna happen," Chef growled.

"Where's your stash, Hatchet?"

"Fuck you."

"You're a fucking idiot. All of you. To try this on me. To bring those two innocents into something like this." My heart thudded once I saw him pointing out myself and Masi. "I knew you'd pull this bullshit on me. That's why my boys have already got your club under siege, ready to kill everybody inside."

"What?" Scott burst.

"The girls!" June cried.

"Shay," Masi gasped.

"We're taking what's ours," Emil guaranteed.

The thudding of my heart only grew worse as I watched the leader of the gang reach for his belt, unholstering a piece that I should've seen earlier.

"Watch out!" I shouted as loud as I could, as this unhinged kingpin tugged his pistol out and pointed it at us.

Dropouts: Athena, Holden, Iko, Kobe, Matcha, Queen, Brook

Grads: Cody, Bowie, Zee, Jayshawn, Londyn, Stephen, Damien

Some quick OC descriptions:

Athena: orangey-blonde, orange contacts, black and white dress

Holden: long, scraggly hair, heavyset, short, leather jacket

Iko: slim-fat, short, stylish overcoat and vest

Kobe: tall, big afro

Matcha: brunette, business casual

Queen: purple hair

Jayshawn: fit, muscular, dreads, gym tank/shorts

Londyn: brunette, face tattoos, gorgeous features

Stephen: early 2000s emo look

Mercutio: chiseled face, suit, wide-framed

Tracy: slim, suspenders/bowler hat

Brook: silver hair, oversized cardigan