Corey led the little cluster of people up to the heavy sheet metal gates of the scrapyard where a pair of large, burly men stood smoking cigarettes. 
"Go on in Core."
One grunted, pushing the gate open a little. They'd learned long ago that Corey could be trusted and that wherever he went, Magnus went come hell or high water. 
"Thanks man."
Corey said with a nod as he led the group into the big, open scrapyard. Nearly all of the junk that populated the open lot had been moved to the sides and piled up against the fence, leaving plenty of room for the numerous partiers to walk around. In the center of the yard was a little ring drawn in the dirt, surrounded by a small crowd of onlookers and populated by a pair of shirtless men, beating each other senseless while bets were cast on who'd win. The rest of the yard was populated by loose groups of people laughing over various subjects, some dancing by radios and others passing around a bong. A plain, one room building sat at the back corner of the lot and inside neon strobe lights flashed and flickered to the beat of a nondescript EDM song. 

The two sides of the scrapyard were almost comical they clashed so much. The building and some of the small crowds were full of northsiders, rich white kids that felt rebellious or just wanted a relief from the monotony of their lives. Meanwhile, the fight ring was almost all rough, criminal looking southsiders in everything from wife beater t-shirts and jeans to hoodies and sweats. Corey glanced down at Riley,
"Welcome to the party. It's your initiation so you can pick where we go first. Though I'd suggest we hold off on getting high or drunk until the end of the night."
He said, absentmindedly scratching Magnus behind the ear.