September 18th, 2011.
New York City.
NYU Campus, Student Living Build A
It was a hot night as the sounds of music and dancing filled the air inside; everyone had a red cup in their hand, a song in their heart, and one thing on their mind; school was back in session, and the time to let go of everything was upon the students. It was a time to kick back, relax. Let the music take you away. Everyone was amongst friends, everyone was hanging out and having so much fun. The night was alive. The speakers inside made the walls boom and come to life, their rhythm seeming to give the building a breath of its own. Hell, everything was alive tonight.
Even the night itself was alive.
Amongst the party people gathered were the members of Tartarus, the semi-famous garage band, and anyone who was anyone. It was a Great Gatsby college party, with pools filled with beer, the women were all amazing, and the guys all were pals tonight. There was only one problem...
No one knew of the dangers that lurked just around the corner. Every section of their precious city was about to be blanketed in a sea of apathy and darkness, a horrifying event known as the dark hour. And only a few select people were about to experience it for the first time, as a group.
Deep in one of the dorm rooms, Leon Crowley himself was smoking a doob with a group of gentleman from one of the musical clubs in the school, strumming on a guitar and inhaling deep.
"Now, see, the thing in with the business is, like... You gotta tell your manager when shit has to go your way." He said calmly and slowly, twirling the coveted blunt in between his fingers. His eyes were focused on the small light going around the room, as he passed it to another bloke that took a rather long drag, and it came back to him soon after. "It's what I always tell our guys.. It's like, we get a good cut from these fucking clubs you make us play, or I kick you ass, man. I don't want us to play for bits and coins, I want the stacks. And if I don't get those stacks... it's like, no man." He said, exhaling a large amount of smoke from his nostrils. "You can't let people step on you. We're not doormats, man... We're people."
With the passing of the blunt he received a small round of applause and nods, his words of wisdom reaching everyone in the room.
The clocked ticked slowly away towards the hour of judgement, as partygoers and everyone else in New York remained blissfully unaware of what was yet to come.