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Studio City, Delmonica street
1004HRs, January 1st 2020.

Ronan was at a party when they called. Well, it wasn't really a [i]party[/i] party. It was a one-man party with some temporary guests. He was at a club with a girl on his lap and drugs in his system. The booth was comfy, the music loud, and the women pretty. But then he got the call. It yanked him out to this shitty theatre and out of his comfort. He longed for Destiny and the music, but here Ronan was. No lights, no music, no girls, just the drugs still in his system. They never satisfied, not anymore. He always needed more. Maybe he needed a new drug. He wanted that first time experience again, even if it usually made him feel sick to his stomach afterward. 

Ronan stood in the street, taking in the scene. He knew it'd be a mess, it always was. He tapped his fingers against his knife and had his right hand on his gun. He was posturing, something he learned worked best for when you wanted people to leave you alone. He cleaned the remains of a bar peanut out of his mouth, his eyes twitching over everything. Ronan looked calm, but thanks to the drugs, his mind was moving a million miles an hour. He was hot, so his coat was open, showing off a clean white tank top. The heat was just another side-effect. That was what he was right now, a bundle of side-effects. Ronan was wearing a smirk, something different than his usual glare. He could blame that on the drugs too, but to be honest he felt pretty good right now. Even if the call removed him from his shelter like a crab leaving its shell, it was a welcome thing. He had something to do now, and a reason to go outside. 

Now, there were two ways in. Ronan could go through the front, risking the attention of the thugs. It would get him a fight, but he was too high for that right now. The drugs removed his anger or at least turned up so many good feelings that it felt non-existent. He didn't want a fight tonight, or at least not at the moment. That left the better option, going through the back. Ronan made his way around the theatre, being careful not to draw the attention of the thugs. He felt like if he got in a fight, he would certainly win, but for the moment he wanted to bask in this feeling. For once, Ronan felt like he could think without his anger or violence getting in the way. For right now, he was focused on how to get in, not how to start a fight. 

Ronan moved up to the back of the theatre. He wondered if he should wait for backup. He felt, as they say, like a million bucks, but that didn't mean he could face whatever surprises were inside. For all he knew, this could be a gang clean up, not the simple thing he was told it was. Ronan decided to wait. He leaned against the wall, jacket open and hand on his gun, waiting for at least one person to use as bait. 



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