Nick chugs jungle-juice while frat boys chant his name.
Nick blacks out. He wakes to a sight for damned eyes, bodies strewn across the floor of the rave room in twisted heaps.
“This is the arena!” cries a chieftain adorned in a necklace of shriveled penises. “You dare to face me next?”
Nick smirks. “It’s a good day to kill.”
The chieftain roars, charging at Nick.
Nick side-steps the chieftain, tripping him.
The chieftain spins with the momentum, grabs, and choke-slams Nick, cracking his skull.
Nick jolts awake, rave music playing.
Frat boy says, “Someone spiked your jungle juice, buddy.”