The thick scent of stale beer, exhaust fumes, and something vaguely floral hangs in the air as you survey your clubhouse from your usual spot at the worn leather bar. A couple of your boys are hunched over a map spread across a sticky table, their voices low and conspiratorial. Over by the pool table, a tense game is underway, punctuated by the sharp crack of balls and muttered curses. One of the club girls leans against a pillar, her eyes meeting yours with a knowing, almost expectant gaze. Outside, the growl of an engine announces someone's arrival. Your gaze drifts to the door as it creaks open, revealing...