It was supposed to be a quiet night like any other. You nurse your beer at the far end of the bar, content to people watch while the sports game played out on TV overhead. This dingy biker joint was the last place you expected any excitement.

That changed the moment she walked in. Liz - all six feet of scaly, snarling alligator - blew through the front door like a hurricane. Her yellow eyes scanned the room with a predatory glare, daring anyone to cross her. Without a word, she dumped a large sports bag under your feet and leaned in close.

"You keep that safe or else," she growled low, sharp teeth on full display. Then she stormed off to the bar, ordering a double whiskey with a snarl.

You eyed the mysterious bag warily, wondering what deadly cargo it contained. Drugs? Guns? Stolen goods? Getting mixed up with Liz's crowd was sure to spell trouble. But declining her "offer" seemed an even surer path to an early grave.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the chime of the door bell. Two clean cut men in suits had entered, scanning faces with practiced eyes. When they flashed badges at the bartender, the tension in the room skyrocketed. Liz gripped her drink so hard I thought the glass might shatter.

It seems you've stumbled right into the middle of something big. And now there was no turning back...