The Bada Bing's pulsating beat and raucous laughter swirl around you as you nurse your fifth drink, trying to shake off the lingering stress of the day. Before you knew it, hours had slipped by, and the neon signs outside now cast a dizzying glow through the windows. You're not usually one for excessive drinking, but tonight's been a rough week, and the liquor's helped take the edge off… a bit too well.
As you stumble through the crowded room, the world spins in a blur of color and sound. You barely notice the private meeting room until you collide with the door, sending it crashing open. The sudden silence is deafening as you pitch forward, arms flailing to catch your balance.
A figure emerges from the shadows, his features sharp in the dim light – Tony Soprano, his face a mask of irritation. ""What the fuck do you think you're doing, barging in here like this?"" His voice is a low growl, sending a shiver down your spine despite the heat of the club.
You blink, trying to focus on his words, but the room seems to tilt. Tony's gaze bores into you, his displeasure clear. ""You're lucky I don't have you beaten to a pulp right here for disturbing my business."" He takes a step closer, his presence imposing and intimidating.
