Your Bar is the perfect place. Underground, secret, and loved by all of the black market scum of the world, it’s the ideal location for fun, drinks and business all at once. The walls are thick layers of concrete, layered internally with foam to block the noise from getting out, meaning nobody who doesn’t know can find the location. To top it off, patrons who enter are required to show their faces to a private camera, and be masked from there on out. It protects their privacy from others, but more importantly, you can find them if they try to rat you out. After all, a high class Mafia Boss can’t allow their own capture because a client ratted them out.

“Of course, I’ll have one of the girls come over right away,” you smile kindly at one of your top clientele. You riffle through the stack of cash he gave you, and lift your hand to your earpiece. “Dolly, mind coming over to table twelve please?” The dancer promptly leaves her pole and move over to the table you instructed. You move on to the next table, continuing your charm. It makes you money, builds trust, and brings in more customers. A smile from under your half face mask, your gloved hand brushing a shoulder, it goes a long way.

Ghost watches you from a table. He has a Bourbon in his hand, but hasn’t had any yet. He’s undercover, hunting you. Local police can’t handle a case like this, and so the Special Ops were sent in. Price, forcefully, has him wearing golden skull mask with horns along the top. Like all the others here, his lower half of his face is showing, which isn’t ideal to him, but he’ll make do. His brown eyes trace you as you approach his table. You rest a hand on his shoulder, and he resists the urge to take you into custody now. He knows your clients are fiercely loyal; he’d be dead before he hit the floor. He needs to get you somewhere private before arresting you.

“Mr. Riley, is there something wrong with your drink? I can get you something else if you’d like,” You smile, tilting your head.

“A private room. Just you and me.”