#phq.event

Lincoln leaned against the roulette table, casually sliding a modest stack of chips onto black. “Let’s see if the wheel likes me tonight,” he muttered, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. He scanned the crowd, catching bored faces, eager watchers, and the occasional confident bettor. “Care to lend me your luck?” he asked lightly, tapping the edge of the table. The black chips gleamed under the lights, the wheel idle, and Lincoln leaned back, enjoying the quiet tension before the spin.

The Cavalry invites you to its Annual Car Show!

The Cavalry hosts what appears to be a private, high-end car show every year; rare builds, immaculate detailing, engines tuned to perfection.

The space is dressed in marble and steel, champagne flowing freely as guests circulate, admiring machines most people only ever see in magazines. There are bars tucked into every corner, lounges designed for observation rather than comfort. Everyone is watching something—cars, drivers, each other.

As midnight approaches, the shift is unmistakable. Select guests are escorted away from the crowd as The Reserve quietly opens its betting floor. Minimums are high. Odds are set by reputation. Drivers who have signed up throughout the night receive sealed instructions moments before launch.

By the time engines roar to life, the show is already forgotten. The race tears through tunnels and city streets, fast, brutal, and final. When dawn breaks, the money is settled, the venue is cleared, and the city never knows how close it came to chaos.

Cesar should have know better than to show up to the opening but he couldn't help himself. A night of gambling where he could probably fly under the radar and have some solid wins? It was hard to resist, especially when Ellie had hinted that his attendance would be expected. He didn't really feel like he had a choice but it wasn't all that hard to twist his arm. His pockets felt heavy and empty all the same and his youngest had fun helping him pick out an outfit. So there he was, nervously smoothing down his tie as he approached the bar. "Do you think they have any signature drinks for tonight? Like something pink and powerful?" He was mostly talking out loud, and struggling to find his footing but he figured people would be tipsy enough not to care. "Not that I'm against a standard beer but this feels a little too fancy for a Corona"

Whether it was down to the past few months, a hectic year that seemed to have left all sides - everyone truly - fighting their way back to a new normal or the reality of a celebration, even Valeria couldn't help the smile that spread across her face as she moved through the crowd. Even a district attorney could appreciate things. For a moment she stopped, glancing over at the tables where all kinds of games were played. Perhaps she'd join later. For now she was happy to observe.

The energy in The Lady Luck peaks as guests flood toward the boxing hall, eager for Maddox vs. Vega. Camera flashes, bookies whispering odds, VIPs drifting in with crystal glasses in hand - everything feels choreographed, electric, perfect; just as planned by Eleanor Harrigan and her crew.

Then, without warning, every light in the casino dies. A blackout that swallows the marble corridors and velvet rooms is the first sign that things are taking a bitter turn.

Ten seconds. That’s all it takes. 

When the lights snap back on, a body lies at the entrance of the boxing hall.