Oscar nodded quickly at the luchadoress as she grabbed the table and the two of them began to haul it towards the doorway, bullets pinging of the front of it and cards whizzing over his shoulder. The makeshift battering ram gradually picked up speed, and as he barreled towards the fortified position the enhanced thug heard the girl next to him shout some foreign insult at the soon to be doomed goons and grinned. "Goin' your way, motherfuckers!" Then, impact.

Oscar swung his arms wildly around the crowd of thugs, laying about him left and right and knocking them to the floor. He managed to get one thug in a headlock, crushing the man's windpipe while his other arm batted away another attacker. Oscar disentangled with the two of them just as more came charging from inside the lounge. Outside, he began to hear an unmistakable sound, one he'd heard many times in his old life: police sirens. "Oi, the cops are here! Everybody leg it for the back!" 

There was a heavy iron lamp in front of him - Oscar grabbed it and swung it like a staff, the lightbulb at the end smashing into the face of a running goon. The situation had devolved from a battle to a melee - it seemed half the crowd of muscle was more trying to get out than still put up a fight. The rest, though, remained dedicated - whoever worked at this casino had an excellent hiring pool.

Oscar slammed the lamp into the prone man's face two more times and tossed it away just as another man clubbed him in the back of the head with something. Roaring, the thug turned and kicked low, obliterating the guard's kneecap before grabbing him by the ear and tossing him to the ground. The Thug raised his arm to cover his face as a gun was fired, crying out as the bullet took him in the bicep. 

One hand went to the shooter's face in an attempt to gouge out his eyes as the other clumsily ripped the gun away. "Poor fuckin' bastard," he sneered as he pressed the barrel of the handgun up to the screaming man's temple and pulled the trigger.

Then, the Thug was firing all around the room with the appropriated weapon, causing guards to drop left and right, clutching ragged holes in their chests. The criminal tossed the spent gun away and bent down to rip the legs off a nearby chair, which he flailed about with as he fought his way towards the exit. "It's gettin' hot in here, freaks! Time to go!"