Ronnie sat in his brand new office within the OvO HQ, piles of paper stacked on his desk, Ronnie takes a vial of a white powder from his desk draw, Ronnie studies the contents for a few seconds before tapping some out on his desk, he takes one of his business cards and racks a line ready. Ronnie doesn’t usually take coke. But he had been working hard the last few days. After all. Drake had trusted him to do his best and Ronnie isn’t one to disappoint. Just ask any of the numerous women Ronnie had following him around usually. 

He then takes out a $5 bill and rolls it up before snorting the line. It takes seconds. Ronnie’s pupils expand, his heart races. He feels like the king of the world. Wasting no time Ronnie does another line. “Fuck yeah! Tonight is my night!” Ronnie says before rushing out of his office and onto the strip. 

The lights that form the strip are brighter, the usual hustle and bustle of Vegas seems more erratic, almost overwhelming. Ronnie soon finds a nearby speakeasy and heads inside. Not a second before he opens up the door Ronnie starts shouting to the bartender “Whiskey! A whole fucking bottle! And shots! WE NEED SHOTS!” The bartender wastes no time getting the whiskey bottle from the back room and pouring a glass before starting on the shots. Ronnie wastes no time either, he grabs the bottle, before he takes a sip he looks around and only sees afew people in the bar. “Are you all fucking docile? THERES FREE FUCKING SHOTS OVER HERE.” He says before taking large gulps from the bottle. 

Glug glug glug. Ronnie downs a good amount, then grabs a shot downing it and slamming the glass back down, Alcohol and cocaine flowing through him, the bartender looking concerned leans over to Ronnie. “Sir, I’m going to need some payment. Please. Sir.” The bartender says skittishly, Ronnie looks to him and turns his head... “Oh fuck yeah. Money! I’m so sorry sir.” He says before peeling off three $100 notes and sliding them across the bar. He gulps more of his whiskey before a man bumps into him, knocking the bottle from his hands and onto the floor. Normally Ronnie wouldn’t bother with the man, after all drunken mistakes happen. But the man didn’t even look back to apologise, he just kept waking...

Ronnie grabs the man by his shoulder, spinning him around Ronnie swings a punch, landing flat on the man’s jaw making him stumble backwards, the man charges Ronnie but receives a kick to the leg and another punch, this one hitting him in the throat, the man grabs his throat and starts choking “Speak up you cunt, I couldn’t hear you say sorry!” Ronnie shouts before kicking the man in the chest and making his way back onto the strip. 

Ronnie stumbles down the strip, the sounds of everything screaming throughout his head, all amplified, people rushing up and down the strip, some on their way to make a fortune others will lose theirs. Ronnie bumps into a group of gamblers, one of them turn to Ronnie “Hey, asshole, learn to fucking walk!” He shouts. The man’s two other friends turn to face Ronnie who laughs then slowly walks down a nearby alleyway, still laughing hysterically. The three men follow Ronnie, still hurling abuse. “What’s funny? You fucking tapped friend?” The main one says as Ronnie goes completely silent, he hangs his head down and reaches towards his waistband, where his 45. Stayed tucked, the man starts walking closer to Ronnie. 

Clomp clomp clomp. His footsteps got closer, and without saying a word Ronnie spins and puts the cold gun to the man’s head. “You. You’re funny, why? Because you follow a man down an alleyway, hoping to what? Beat on me?” Ronnie says as he takes the vial out of his jacket, he taps a little out onto his hand and snorts it before giggling at the man. “I hope your kids are smarter than you.” He Says tucking the gun back into his waist and walking away. 

Ronnie continues his walk. Hoping to bump into someone, anyone. As long as they where in the life. That always made it fun.