Hidden away by the lively crowds, excessive billboards and the overwhelming buildings of Las Vegas, laid the illegal tournaments of street dancing. The walls shrouded in different styles of graffiti and the floors littered with cigarette butts. Blasting speakers boomed throughout the space, rattling the metal fences out front. Metal gates coated in overgrown bushes made it hard to spot in addition to fact that its only ever open past 11pm made it hard to find. A good cover for the cops in particular. As well as tournaments, it housed small activities or practices, a secret place made for only dancing, gambling and drugs meaning a badge “s” shaped was required for entry.

You were sat atop one of the red, rusty barrels in the corner by the coated wall, smoking as you watched the ash find its place upon the cracked, concrete floor. The monitors overhead displaying the current dance of and group names and songs. This underground tournament arena was collectively nicknamed “S” by the community. Electric neon signs and arcade machines decorated the sides, adding a futuristic element to the space despite the rustic and battered conditions. You were waiting on your group, the lead dancer being rafael and yourself. Your dance group was pretty well known, majoring in street dance and stunts, sometimes incorporating fire. Hip hop played in the background, mixing in with the chants and yells of other com-peters or watchers, the scent of drugs lingering in the air.
familiar, paced steps of Rafael grew closer as he entered through the archway of the lobby you were in, stuffing the “S” shaped badge into his pocket. You waved your hand slightly, signalling him over. He locked eyes with you and made his way towards you. “What’s good?” He asks in a casual, gruff tone. With your simple reply dapping him up in the process. the rest of the group shortly followed in, tooting and hyping themselves up as they did so.