Las Vegas, Baby

[Deleted]

Welcome to Sin City, a place you wouldn't have fathomed.

Might you make the best out of your stay.

Las Vegas, Nevada, internationally renowned city with a notorious reputation for gambling, fine dining, and nightlife. One night in this city, wait no, let me rephrase that, one second within the city premises is enough to change you as a human being. The same person can't come into this city and leave it; let that sink in.

The city is no stranger to the notion of crime, chaos, sex, and money, and when the sweltering sun bunkers down, the strip comes to life in a plethora of awing glitz and glamour. The hustle and bustle of day to day life becomes double, if not triple, times the amount the traffic would be during the daytime, and succumbs to the maximal coming and going. Nighttime is for your typical Las Vegas inhabitants. The celebrities, a good many of them populating the city, the millionaires worth a billion bucks, the middle class and more formally known as the recluses because, well, they're average. No one wants to fool with the wannabes, right? The hot to trot fellows with not enough bite for what's worth their bark? Last, and assuredly the least, you have the slum dogs. You know what I'm referring to, my friend. The hobos with the bandanna sack knotted to a stick you schoolkids would make a laugh out of? It's best you stay away from those, serpents in bunny skin, every last one of them.

But you see, take away the lights, the fame, the action, and what do you have? "Las Vegas, Nevada!" Wrong.

You have something that's a real sin. Something many, not even I, could ever explain to you rest assured all the answers would be correct. Because you see, they don't want you to know, and when they don't want you to know something, you won't. That I can assure you, if anything at all. This place, this Hell, might be just the home to gambling and "Party Hard", but to me, to others like me, it's far more sinister than the bankruptcy of yourself and perhaps your spouse. It's Hell on Earth. And you've just entered it, so kiss the world goodbye.

That is, unless you can fight it. If you can fight the prompting; the involuntary need to take another shot, roll those dice one more time, put up for a bet some of that cold hard cash. The compulsion the chemicals say you must oblige to. The impulse to lose yourself. Because that is precisely what they want, pal. "They?" you might ask. They as in, the Men in Black Suits. An alias of there's would be M.B.S or Cani(s), a phrase meant for the resemblance of the English word "uncanny". If you're lucky enough you'll run into one of those bastards eventually. Prolly catch 'em doing some shady stuff, I'd assume. But if you're wise, when you run into them, you'll turn your nose and pretend you've never seen a thing to begin with. Because if you press, and badger, and pester for answers, you'll sure as anything end up another one of those "unsolved homicides."

Welcome to Vegas, baby.

[Deleted]

Behind all the city lights and fame... What do you really have?

<sub>Your own personal, living nightmare, that is. A terrible dream. Your worst fears. Okay, maybe not your worst, but pretty damn close. Every city has the sadly accustomed criminal records, some more so than others. But here in Las Vegas, it's so much more...darker. If that's the correct word. The predators that lurk the streets, they're no ordinary thief or murderer. They're driven by something much further than the passion or wrath or the dark jealousy that some have acquired towards another enough to take their life; whether they be in their youth or so near "kicking the bucket", as some would say. What's worse than an outlaw stealing millions or throwing away a life as if its barely worth a penny, you ask? The Men in Black Suits, that is. The Canis. The ones who are here for the need, the hunger to overrule the humans that so much as step onto the grounds of their little experiment.

These men, these maniacs, have made an experiment of your very own life. The fairy tales and fables and fictional stories you'd normally expect to find between the pages of a book...have become reality in a whole new form. A form of tall, sleek men who look to be here for business; and it is exactly that. Ahead of the curb with scientific discoveries, they have found a newfound way to reel people in other than the flashy streets of Las Vegas and make them want to have a nice stay at the expensive hotels. One heartbeat on the sidewalks of the big city, one breath of the air, will leave you carefree and aloof. Free of worries and fears. You'll never want to leave. Literally.

If you so much as think of coming for a getaway weekend, I will tell you now. It will be much more than that. These...chemicals, that the men have poisoned the air with, will leave you free of suspicion. And worst of all, you'll never want to leave the place. This pollution has every human being who takes in the chemicals through their senses, let it invade their every thought, the very chemicals which are free of smell or pigment or any such shape or form and mix in with the air without anything alarming to them, never want to turn around and drive back to their home in Kentucky or Alabama or New York. Why not stay for a little? A little turns into a year, then two, and the more you stay, the less you want to leave, to the point it's irrelevant to think something of the sort. The murder and casualties that take place all seem normal, not at all suspicious or make you think something wrong and mischievous is going on in front of your very eyes, thanks to the help of the tainted oxygen you take in daily, minutely. That is, until you find out the men's little schemes. When you see it with your own eyes, or so much as start to believe there is something fishy about this place, you are more or less vulnerable than before. And when you start becoming immune to the chemicals, that's when it's too late. The first signs of you believing something's wrong, getting out of that haze...

They will know. And they will take your life, as easy as said. Because to them, the Canis, your life is as worthless as the rest. And if you find out, you are nothing but an obstacle in their plans. And they will find you.</sub>

[Deleted]

RESIDENCE:

<sub>Vineyard Apartments
One of the few residential areas to be seen in Las Vegas, Nevada. This cluster of apartment dwellings houses many families, nestled in on the quieter side of town, but never far enough to be without the view of the inland's uproarious nightlife and ever-flashing lights. The apartment complex is divided by an intersecting road that ruptures the living quarters right down the middle. On each side is located a pool, one more cleaner than the other. Because of this the younger of children tend to favor the right side residence over their prior option. There is an office structure erected on the right side right beside its precise, refined poolside. This office handles mailing and rent payments and what ever other business you can relate to keeping the complex up and running in tip top shape. Each flat, as you might expect, is worth a great deal of money and numerous can agree they are paying for what it's worth. The household appliances inside are modern and pretty up to date, as is the furniture. The kitchen is of tile flooring while the master bedroom, living area, and whatever else there is aside from the laundry room and washroom, are all equipped with carpeting. Each pad is accented by green shrubbery outside and suavely paved sidewalks. The greetings sign for this complex exhibits a grape vine with fanciful, coiled vines and the plumpest of grapes there are.

Castle Brick Housing
You don't find many amiable neighborhoods around here, and these are one of the many. This isn't the right place for your high class citizens. This is, by far, rock bottom. Castle Brick is a neighborhood poorly erected and composed utterly of the slum people. Each pen is dissipated and on it's last leg, run down so much so that some are to the point of resembling some olden homestead on the prairie. It's the type of place you'd know by sight. Because of the low pay and thus the low paid inhabitants, not many well-educated, civilized, mannered people have come to Castle Brick. It's very dirty and full of filth. Litter is all over the place in forms of discarded wrappers, empty cans, and grimy food thrown to the trash. The rate of crime in or around this area is highest in the city and even the state for that matter. It's just a shady place in general. It has a lot to do with drug cartels and the upbringing of each new child being a poor one. Most of the inhabitants are on government welfare and food stamps in order to get by, and half the time it's unnecessary and they are one of the reasons this country is in so much debt. This apartment complex doesn't have an official sign for the neighborhood, but if they did, it would most accurately read "Warning, entering a garbage dump". 

Bellagio
A lavish hotel and casino on the Las Vegas Strip in Paradise, Nevada, erected on the site of the demolished Dunes hotel and casino.Inspired by the Lake Como town of Bellagio in Italy, Bellagio is famed for its elegance. One of its most notable features is an 8-acre lake between the building and the Strip, which houses the Fountains of Bellagio, a large dancing water fountain synchronized to music. Inside Bellagio, Dale Chihuly's Fiori di Como, composed of over 2,000 hand-blown glass flowers, covers 2,000 sq ft of the lobby ceiling. Bellagio is home to Cirque du Soleil's aquatic production "O". The main tower of Bellagio, with 3,015 rooms, has 36 floors and a height of 508 ft. The Spa Tower, which stands to the south of the main tower, has 33 floors, a height of 392 ft, and contains 935 rooms. Bellagio was conceived by Steve Wynn and built by his company, Mirage Resorts, Inc. following the purchase and demolition of the legendary Dunes hotel and casino in 1993. Bellagio was designed by DeRuyter Butler and Atlandia Design. Construction on the Bellagio began in May 1996. Bellagio had an original construction cost of US$1.6 billion. Bellagio opened on October 15, 1998, just before 11 pm, in a ceremony that was reported to cost US$88 million. The VIPs invited to the grand opening were expected to donate to The Foundation Fighting Blindness US$1,000 a person or US$3,500 a couple, which entitled them to an overnight stay at Bellagio's suite rooms.</sub>



SOURCES OF ENTERTAINMENT:

_{Adventuredome
Adventuredome (formerly known as the Grand Slam Canyon), is a 5-acre indoor amusement park located at Circus Circus in Las Vegas, Nevada on the Las Vegas Strip. The park offers 25 rides and attractions and is connected to the hotel Circus Circus. The amusement park includes the Canyon Blaster roller coaster, rock climbing wall, 18-hole miniature golf course, an arcade, clown shows, Xtreme Zone, Pikes Pass, Virtual Reality Zone, Midway Games, and carnival-type games. Every October since 2003, the Adventuredome is changed to "Frightdome" as a halloween-themed theme park. The Adventuredome opened in 1993 in the west parking lot of the hotel. It sits on a reinforced 18" thick deck elevated 18 feet above ground. The dome itself consists of over 350,000 sq ft of pink tinted, insulated glass over a teal green space frame (to minimize structural poles inside). Each pane of glass weighs approximately 300 lb. Can be found very near to Circus Circus Hotel.}



NIGHTLIFE:

_{clubs and bars and such to be given descriptions soonish.}

[Deleted]

By the power invested in us by Cheesus, Leo and Heather officially declare this RP open.

[Deleted]

"You had your fun, babe, just get out," came the guttural and apathetic behest from the curly-haired boy. Thumb pad rubbing against silken bed sheets, eyes looking downcast and with noteworthy blankness, like they were just brainwashed voids. Harry cast the skimpily clothed woman his back as she exclaimed what a prick he was and left with a rattling of the door against its frame. Spent, the male cocooned himself in the beryl sheets like a bundled baby burrito in its bassinet, sticky curls clinging to the nape of his neck. He lent over the bedside and scooped up the tossed American bandanna he'd thrown aside when the lady had come home with him. "Americano," was the slurred words from the buzzed boy, at ease in his drunken stupor,"aw man, I'm slaughtered." His stomach roiled like sea waves. Queasier than it naturally would be, Harry began coughing, pudgy cheeks puffing out like helium pumped into a balloon. His throat felt screwed. Bladdered because of the override of spirits in his system, Harry could barely make the walk from here to the bathroom, feet knotting up more than once. He groaned and grumbled to himself, span of his palm flattening down against the door surface for support. At the beginning of today he'd sworn he wouldn't let the alcohol put a dent in him. But it never matters, that was always a fleeting thought, an idea that, recently, has grown stupider and stupider. Harry could hardly think straight. How many days had he been here, in Las Vegas, as of now? Did it even matter? Why not stay here for a few more days, hit the pub some more tonight, he couldn't see a problem in that. Yeah, I'll do that.

Raquel chewed on her nails until what was left was scraggly remnants. She was so apprehensive nowadays and something of a basket case to these people. She wouldn't leave the house without a cutlass beneath her clothes, a gun if the law permitted her to have one, but guns were forbidden in the city if you were not part of a political hierarchy or law enforcement, and you can thank the Canis for that. Made up the bull crap excuse that the "reputation of the area" was too bad a one for anyone off the street with the capability to purchase a permit to carry a firearm. Of course, like most laws, it was a broken one and Raquel was in the process of acquiring herself a gun. Mentally she had been plotting. Planning an escape of this trap, to rescue her own self, because as of a month ago she was on her lonesome. The two comrades she'd come to the city with had died in a car crash after making plans to leave the city. Of course, Raquel had not believed them at the time, and dismissed their bizarre thoughts as being silly and something crafted out of a novel, but now it was all too real. Rocky entered the front doors of the pub, needing to go see, to remind herself how brainwashed everyone was. How you could ask the simplest of questions and the next thing, having been seemingly so normal before now, would be,"Hey, wanna go get a drink?" The sudden gush of air gnarled up her blonde hair, top lashes brushing the bottom as she squinted her eyes, peering into the sea of faces. Each looked the same. Ordinary, sweaty, flushed red from the alcohol. What was that? Raquel took another step. There. A black suit, flitting through the crowd of grinding bodies.

[Deleted]

<sub>"Don't you go anywhere," the low voice ordered, making Preston Lovelace roll her dark hazel eyes at the tall male. He smirked at her and patted her arm, before ordering her a virgin drink and disappearing in the crowd. She gazed after the teenager's frame until it was swallowed by the tight bodies, letting out an inhumane noise and turning around in her stool at the bar. Eying the beverage he'd bought for her, she checked it out carefully, sniffing it, and found it was free of alcohol, so she began cautiously sipping on it. Anyone who knew her well, knew she didn't take well to alcohol. It tasted bitter, she hadn't quite acquired that liking to the fowl liquid, and her stomach didn't approve of it. Nonetheless, her friend, Georgia, had managed to get her to come along with them; "them" being Georgia and their mutual friend, Levi, to this club, and already she sat alone. As always. Somehow, they'd snuck into the club, all being underage, and now here she was, talking up the bar tender until he had to go take an order and leaving the girl all by herself. She sighed in relief when Georgia appeared at her side, the teen drinking some weird vodka mix and scrunching up her pretty button nose. The leggy blonde's lengthy, thick locks were curled down her back and her blue eyes were rimmed with thickened eyelashes and eyeliner to make the pretty orbs pop. She had a form fitting white crop top hugging her torso and knit leggings down her long legs with at least two inch heels on her shoes, looking a lot older than the eighteen year old really was. Preston, however, had her boring short dark brown hair pulled into a messy bun on the top of her head, little to no make up, and a scowl on her face, picking lent off her jeggings as she eyed Georgia, who offered a pretty smile.

"Don't look so cross, Pres,"
"Oh, I'm not cross. In fact, I'm happy as ever, being dragged to a club and then ditched by my friends." Preston continued to glare daggers, to which Georgia shrugged innocently, She suddenly looked off and flicked Preston on the cheek to get her attention, to which she exclaimed in discomfort.
"Ow!" The brunette hissed.
"Oh, lighten up," rolling her eyes, Georgia nonchalantly nodded in a rather attractive male's direction. His brown hair was done up in a messy quiff and his blue eyes scanned the building, before landing on the duo. A smile crossed his features and he winked, taking a moment before boldly approaching. He stopped in front of them, eyes on Georgia. Go figures, Preston complained in her head, looking depressed and moody as she sipped her drink and avoided eye contact. The guy turned to her and eyed her inquisitively. Then, he voiced himself, finally. And she was now utterly confused at this point.
"Hey babe," he said in a thick English accent. Preston was about to scoff and tell him to never call her babe again, but suddenly froze up. English? What was an Englishman doing all the way across the seas in the States? She eyed him suspisciously, wondering if it was a faux accent and it was a dare or something. She didn't answer, instead ignoring him as she looked out into the grinding bodies. Georgia quickly piped up, being the social person she was.
"I'm Georgia," she beamed.
"Louis," he nodded in answer, but in Preston's peripheral vision, she could see his blue gaze was boring into her. She tried not to snap, instead wrinkling her nose and downing her glass easily, setting the empty cup on the bar and asking for another one of whatever it had been. Beside her, she could hear Louis and Georgia slip easily into a boring conversation that was annoying Preston very much.</sub>

[Horse]

<sub>A stark, tall, blonde walked into the bar. She was all legs, makeup, and sparkle. Her light, short locks, cut straight to her shoulder, bounced as she walked, stiletto heels clicking to the beat of the upbeat, poppy music. Her blue-hazel eyes held almost a predatory look, sharp, hard, cold, as she paused for a moment, crossing tanned arms over a slim, fit torso. She looked like a cougar in a room full of wide eyed deer. A snarled smirk claimed her angular face as she came up to the bar, leaning against the wood grain near Preston and Georgia, and the British dude. She wore a tight top, and an even tighter leather skirt, contrasting against shimmering skin.

"Give me a shot, Bruno." The blonde piped up,
"No problem, Whit."

[Sorry, short.]</sub>

[Deleted]

Daz fine Horsey.

<sub>Georgia immediately sat up straighter, a territorial, competitive look crossing her face. She eyed the girl that had approached the bar in the big club, curling her top lip. Preston let out a loud, aggravated noise at her friend, suddenly wondering why she hung out with the blonde, watching her as she flicked her curled hair off her shoulder sassily. The brunette then eyed the showgirl curiously, before immediately getting into conversation with Georgia to distract her. Of course, the eighteen year old was all giggles and hair flips, clearing being standoffish. Preston seemed annoyed by her act, and unphased by Whitney, used to being surrounded by gorgeous girls while she felt secretly self conscious. After all, her and Georgia had been friends for a good ten years and the blonde had always been the better pick of the duo.

"Who's the bird?" Louis whispered to the two girls, eying the dancer with an intrigued expression. Preston gave him a funny, confused look at his use of British slang, while Georgia gasped, mouth hanging wide open. What? Her pride hurt a bit, and the girl pouted, looking defeated while Pres just watched her, smirking and finding this whole situation utterly hilarious. Georgia was definitely something else.</sub>

[Deleted]

Carter eyed the entrance to the club suspiciously, her tangled chocolate brown locks haphazardly falling over her shoulders in a choppy fashion. The female wore baggy clothing that looked as if it had been worn one too many times, faded to the point that it was nearly colorless, adorned by rips and wrinkles alike. She wore laced brown boots, a lucky find, as they were sturdy and easy to get around in. Some of the others, well, they weren't so lucky. Going barefoot amidst broken glass and other things wasn't the safest thing to go about doing, but many couldn't help it. Despite her boots, Carter wasn't exactly the luckiest person in the world. She didn't have any family, for one, and she wasn't the easiest person to befriend, so she really stuck to herself, as she was much too territorial and suspicious for anyone to dare try and speak to her. Because of this, Carter grew closed off and rude, snapping at anyone who crossed her path. She was angry, distant, and no help to the others who congregated in the alley in which she lived. A lot of the slums, as they were called, banded together. But for Carter, this was not the case. For one, she was the only teen, though at the ripe age of nineteen she was hardly a teenager. Most were either young children or middle-aged, with no in between apart from herself. She was notorious for her so-called meanness, and she didn't say anything different. No, the girl who could have been someone, had she lives a much different life, was very much alone and at constant battle with herself whether she should go on living as she did-- hardly living at all, or just let it all go like many had done before her. Her dark emerald gaze narrowed into slits as she pondered this once more, her head tilted slightly to the side as she leaned against the brick wall that she claimed as her own. Without much warning, as she had looked almost to be asleep just moments before, the female rapidly stood up and stalked off in the general direction of the club, her hair swinging wildly and her face set determinedly. She was to get drunk, gamble, socialize, let it all go-- do everything she'd always sworn that she would never, ever do, because she hated that life. But she was going to live it anyways. With a swing of the door, Carter marched into the club, a lazy smirk forming on her face despite the tension broiling inside of her. She was actually anxious, and a bit giddy at the same time, though she would never allow this to show.

[Cloudy]

_{{I don't even know where to get started lol}}