Characters:
Name: Helena Lynch (Lena) Stage Name: Raven Age: 27 Occupation: Stripper (under coercion) Current Situation: Trapped in a toxic strip club environment, manipulated by her controlling “boyfriend” and drug dependency. Appearance: • Slim build, sharp cheekbones, and pale skin that looks even starker under the club lights; 5’0” tall. • Jet-black hair with messy bangs she sometimes cuts herself. • Dark, tired eyes with heavy eyeliner—a mask of confidence, though the sadness still bleeds through. • Off-stage, she wears oversized hoodies and jackets she can disappear into. • Always appears a little anxious, a little wired—like she’s constantly bracing for something. Name: Eric Perez Alias: Riko Age: 36 Occupation: Unofficial manager/pimp at the strip club; acts like he owns the girls, as he’s the one who recruits them. Current Situation: Lena’s controlling “boyfriend”—manipulative, violent, and emotionally abusive. Appearance: • Muscular, gritty build with an intimidating physical presence; 5’11” tall. • Sharp, aggressive features: a perpetually clenched jaw, eyes that burn through people, usually under a furrowed brow. • Buzzed hair, some stubble—never fully clean-shaven. • Always in dark, fitted clothes—leather jacket, boots, a chain; carries himself like he’s untouchable. • His voice is low, coarse, and threatening, even when “calm.” Name: Jackson Reyes Prefers to be called: Jax Age: 32 Occupation: Detective Inspector (DI) Current Situation: The best detective in the station—once he focuses on a case, he won’t let it go until it’s solved. Appearance: • Black, shoulder-length hair, often messy from stress. • Grey eyes, sharp and unblinking—he studies people like he’s already seen their worst. • Thick eyebrows always knitted into a scowl, even when relaxed—gives him a permanently angry expression. • Wears plain clothes: a worn brown leather jacket, jeans, and scuffed boots; avoids suits. • Scar on his jaw and knuckles; rugged look; 6’0” tall. • Stands tall and moves with quiet authority—people feel his presence before he speaks. Other characters: The Club Members: Name: Gloria Alias: Mama G (by the girls at the club) – The Matron (by the clients) Personality and Appearance: • Harsh, strict, emotionally detached; enforces brutal discipline to keep the girls alive; bitter, sharp-tongued, but secretly protective • Respected and feared by everyone in the club • 55-year-old, stern and commanding presence; hair always tightly pulled back; wears dark, structured clothes and heels • Sharp features, tired eyes, faint scar on collarbone; Always put-together—dark lipstick, manicured nails Name: Monica Stage Name: Ivy Personality and Appearance: • Quietly observant, with a sadness in her that she rarely speaks about; obeys the rules, keeps her head down—she’s learned the cost of resistance; wary of Riko and terrified of Mama G, but hides it well • 26-year-old; brown, shoulder-length wavy hair; green eyes, often guarded; slender, but looks worn down from exhaustion and stress Name: Connie Stage Name: Cherry Personality and Appearance: • Flirty, sassy, and always ready with a sharp comeback; lives loud—laughs hard, curses often, and doesn’t hide her bitterness; doesn’t trust easily and always assumes the worst about people • Jealous of Lena’s closeness to Riko, and constantly picking fights with her; deep down, afraid of being replaced or forgotten • 32-year-old; dyed red hair with loose curls, always styled to stand out; heavy makeup—red lipstick, glitter eyeshadow, fake lashes • Flashy clothes on and off stage—tight jeans, fur-trimmed jackets, loud earrings; smokes menthols and chews gum constantly; tall heels, sharp nails, and a don’t-mess-with-me walk Name: Alexandra “Alexia” Stage Name: Domina Personality and Appearance: • Obedient, precise, and deeply loyal to the club’s rules; believes survival depends on discipline—never breaks routine, never steps out of line; doesn’t cause trouble, but will report other girls if she thinks their actions might bring risk • Feared by some of the girls for being a “perfect soldier” to Mama G and Riko; sees emotions as dangerous—especially compassion • 24-year-old; hair always neat—sharp bob; minimal but flawless makeup—professional and polished; wears club-mandated outfits with exactness, no modifications; carries herself like she’s already one step ahead of everyone else Name: Sophie Stage Name: Doll face Personality and Appearance: • Innocent, timid, and clearly out of place; tries to stay strong, but her fear shows in every gesture; clings to any kindness, especially from Lena; still believes people might help her if she asks the right way • Struggles to understand the rules of survival—still learning the hard way; Mama G is harsh with her, trying to “break her in” before the men do • 18 years old but Riko forged a fake ID for her making her 22 • Big doe eyes, soft round face—why the clients nicknamed her “Doll Face”; long blonde hair often tied in ribbons or simple ponytails; petite, almost childlike frame—amplifying her vulnerability; light makeup at first, but the club starts layering more on her to make her “sell” Name: Vince Occupation: Front-facing businessman, acts like the “respectable” face of the club Personality and Appearance: • Cold, calculating, sees girls as profit; pretends to care about “reputation” and legality, but turns a blind eye; keeps records, coordinates with other gangs, launders money • Late 40s, balding, always in a cheap suit trying to look expensive; wears cologne to hide the stench of alcohol; smiles with dead eyes; always on his phone or behind the bar office—never gets his hands dirty Riko’s Men: • Luis – The quiet one who observes everything. Prefers black suits and always wears silver chains and rings. • Ozzy – Aggressive and loud; treats girls like property. Always in a tank top, showing off his tattooed arms. • Milo – Appears kind to gain trust, only to later betray or hurt those who believe him. Always in a black leather jacket. • All of them are always armed (knives, brass knuckles, etc.). They reek of cigarettes, sweat, and cheap cologne. Fiercely loyal to Riko, they handle enforcement, intimidation, transport, and the "training" of new girls. They act like predators—some more sadistic than others. The Club Bouncers • Brick – The largest and most silent; never seen smiling. • Tank – Loyal only to Riko; takes pleasure in putting people “in their place.” • Knox – Rough with clients and cruel to the girls. • Red – The youngest; unpredictable, sometimes laughs at others’ pain. • All of them guard the entrances, handle unruly clients, and ensure no girl tries to run. They see everything and report anything. Built like walls—tall, broad-shouldered, with shaved heads or tight fades. Dressed in black shirts, cargo pants, and combat boots. Arms crossed at all times—unless dragging someone out or blocking a door. Content Warning: This story contains themes and depictions of sxual assult, r*pe, non-consensual acts, gr*oming, sx traffcking, and dr*g use. Reader discretion is strongly advised. These topics are part of the narrative and may be distressing or triggering for some individuals. Please take care while reading.The room was dim, lit only by the amber flicker of a streetlamp outside the window. A fan hummed weakly in the corner. Raven lay curled beneath a threadbare blanket on the couch, one arm draped over her eyes, her breath steady in sleep.The door slammed.She jolted upright, heart pounding against her ribs—confused, disoriented.Riko stood in the doorway, chest heaving, soaked in rain and rage. His jacket hit the floor like a warning. Boots stomped across the room.“Riko—?” Her voice was groggy, thick with sleep. “What… you came back?”He didn’t answer.His hand yanked the blanket off her, exposing the tank top and shorts she wore to sleep. She blinked, shielding her eyes as he flipped on the overhead light.“Who the fuck was he?” Riko’s voice was low—dangerous.She stared up at him, confused. “What are you—?”“The guy. At the club. The one you smiled at like he was yours.”Her stomach dropped. “I—I don’t know what you’re talking about. I wasn’t—”“Don’t play dumb with me, Raven.” His
A few hours earlier.The sky was still black, but dawn teased at the edges. Fog clung to the ground like a secret. The barn’s floodlights cast long shadows over cracked dirt and rusting fences.A black van idled beside the farmhouse. The engine purred low. Tinted windows. No plates.Inside the barn, girls stood in a silent line—hoods over their heads, hands zip-tied in front. Some trembled. Most were quiet. Trained into obedience or broken into it.No one noticed when one of the girls let her wristband slip to the ground, then stepped on it to hide it.Riko lit a cigarette, pacing in front of them. Calm. Cold. In control.Milo stood at the house doors, radio clipped to his shoulder, watching the road.Ozzy was in the back, checking each girl—rough hands, blank face.Riko, quietly: “No crying. No noise. Anyone pisses themselves, you ride in the trunk.”He exhaled smoke through his nose, watching it curl into the cold air.Riko, to Milo: “That route you checked—it clean?”Milo, without
The abandoned Shadowland Amusement Park looked like a forgotten skeleton under the moonlight—its rusted rollercoaster tracks curled into the sky like broken ribs, and the ticket booth stood half-collapsed near the gates. Weeds cracked through the asphalt of the empty parking lot, reclaiming the space in crooked green veins. Officer Tyler Beckett gripped the steering wheel of his hatchback, heart hammering as he stared at the lone vehicle parked under a broken lamppost—a black SUV with tinted windows, engine idling like it was holding its breath. He checked his watch. 1:13 AM. He was already late. Muttering a curse, Beckett shoved open the door and stepped out, the wind tugging at his jacket. He crossed the lot quickly, gravel crunching beneath his boots, and opened the passenger door without knocking. Luis Vargas sat in the driver’s seat, face partially lit by the dashboard glow. He didn’t look at Beckett as the door shut behind him. “You made me wait,” Luis said—tone mild but
The clock read 2:47 a.m., but Reyes hadn’t looked at it in hours. The station was quiet now, most of the lights dimmed. Just the hum of the vending machine, the occasional radio chatter, and the scratch of his pen.Four manila folders lay open across his desk like a broken deck of cards:• Eric “Riko” Perez – Talent Manager at Red Velvet. Squeaky clean on paper—too clean for someone pulling strings behind the scenes.• Oswald “Ozzy” Navarro – The enforcer. History of violence, known to vanish when things get hot.• Luis Vargas – The watcher. Always near the VIP section, always listening. Never touches, never talks—but nothing escapes him.• Emilio “Milo” Santos – The coordinator. Oversees security operations, filters who gets access.“Talent manager?” Reyes muttered, tapping his pen against the notepad. “More like a handler.”His eyes scanned the same pages for the third time, hunting for cracks in the façade.Riko funneled his income through Dusktide Holdings—a shell corp that “owned
Laughter and perfume fill the air. The girls are lounging after their shifts, removing makeup and swapping stories. The curtain pulls back and Dollface skips inside, cheeks flushed.Dollface, grinning: “He said I did good! Like… really good.”Mama G follows her inside. “Good? Baby, Riko actually smiled when you danced. That man’s face usually has two expressions — pissed or bored.”The room breaks into laughter and light applause. Cherry swings a leg off the vanity table and smirks, her eyes flicking between Dollface and Raven.“Uh-oh, looks like someone’s giving our star girl a run for her money. Careful, Raven — he might trade you in for the newer model. New legs, new face — fresh meat always gets the best cuts.”Raven stiffens, forces a tight smile. “It’s not a competition.”Ivy, mock gasp: “Is someone jealous?”Dollface, teasing and sweet: “If I become his favorite, promise you won’t hate me?”Raven suddenly stands, her voice sharper than anyone expects.“Don’t be stupid.”The roo
The dressing room door creaked open, cutting through the low thrum of chatter and hair dryers. Mama G stepped in, her thick heels clacking against the tile.“Alright, listen up,” she said, voice sharp and tired. “We got fresh blood.”She stepped aside, revealing a girl standing stiff behind her. Petite. Pale. Light blond hair/ Big blue eyes, scared like a deer in headlights. She was wrapped in a thrift coat that didn’t fit her and clutched a torn duffel bag like it held her whole life. Which, maybe, it did.“This is Bambi,” Mama G said dryly. “And no, that ain’t her real name, but it’s the one we are using for now. She’s twenty-two. Got papers to prove it.” Her eyes flicked over to Cherry, daring anyone to question it.Bambi didn’t speak. She just looked around the room, eyes darting from face to face—Cherry lounging in fishnets, Domina picking glitter out of her cleavage, Ivy hunched by the mirror reapplying eyeliner with shaky hands. It was a circus of mascara and exhaustion.Cherry