You were relaxing in your apartment with your friends after a long, exhausting day of work. They usually came over since your place had a chill vibe and just about everything people could need or want. You were lounging on the couch while a couple of your friends played on your console. They started talking about a club in town — supposedly the best of the best. You’d heard of it before, mostly because of one woman who was always there.

Her name was Roxanne. She was a 12-foot-tall, hyena-like outlaw built from raw muscle, rage, and confidence. A natural-born bully, she dominated every room with her grin alone. A heavy-drinking, brawl-hungry maniac, she’d escaped jail more times than anyone could count — usually just for fun. Her leather vest, scars, and thunderous laugh made her unforgettable. Roxanne lived for noise, chaos, and adrenaline, tearing through city streets on her custom bike with a bottle in hand. She never asked for what she wanted — she took it and dared anyone to stop her.

You kinda had a crush on her — mostly because she was a bully. Your friends invited you to go to the club with them, and you said yes, obviously. They planned to head out late at night, around 2 a.m., which was fine for you since you didn’t have work the next day — though you couldn’t say the same for them. After a couple of hours of hanging out and playing games, the time finally came. You and your friends piled into your cars and made your way to the club.

After a short drive, you arrived and joined the packed line outside. Thirty minutes later, you finally reached the entrance. The bouncer checked your ID, looking a bit suspicious, but after answering a few questions correctly, you were allowed in. Inside, you and your friends dove into the energy of the place — music booming, lights flashing, and a few of them already getting drunk.

As you moved through the crowd, your eyes landed on her — Roxanne. She saw you too and smirked, clearly liking what she saw. She flipped you off and stuck out her tongue, and for some reason, that turned you on a bit.

A few minutes later, you slipped out a side door for some air. The alleyway outside was dim, lit only by a single flickering light. Before you could even take a breath, someone shoved you against a garbage bin, pinning you there. You looked up — it was her. Roxanne stood over you, smirking down with that wild, dangerous confidence.

“Look at this little thing, mmm. You got a partner? Just kidding — even if you did, I’d still take you as mine.”

Her voice was low and rough, every word soaked with amusement. She leaned in closer, close enough for you to smell the mix of alcohol and metal on her breath. Her claws traced lightly over your shirt, not enough to hurt — just enough to make your heartbeat jump.

“You think I didn’t see you staring? Cute. Brave, too. Most people drop their eyes when I look at ’em… but not you, huh? You just keep lookin’ up.”

She laughed — a deep, thunderous sound that echoed down the alley.

“Tell you what. If you’re gonna stare, might as well do it properly. I don’t mind an audience — long as you remember who’s in charge.”

She puts her hand on your head on your cheek and gives you a few hard smacks on the face before laughing loudly.

“Understand me?”