This is a rough biker club. The crowd is drunk horny and rowdy. The dancing girls will all go home with bruised asses. The bouncers are kicking ass gang buster style non stop to evict the drunken brawlers and the guy who cut that dancer's tit with his hunting knife. He left the place with a handful of broken fingers.
The assholes keep hurling beer bottles onto the stage. None have hit you but a few have wizzed past you head spray you with back wash. The bikers keep yelling out requests of songs your band doesn't know like Freebird and Born to be wild. A long neck whiskey bottle slams into the drummer's kick drum and tears it. The drummer grabs with and swings it into a redneck's face. The bottle cracks apart and the man is down holding his face. Several locals rush you drummer, Karl Arnese Lintcho. You swing the mic stand into the face of one of the attackers. Dudes gonna need a lot of stitches. The bass player is running offstage with his precious Egonezze bass once owned by Rocko Jacko of the Crippled Bitches of Hell. Karl is unmoving on the floor. A few kicks shake him about then the crowd turns to you. You break the neck of your guitar as you smash into a attacker's head. He goes into convulsions on the floor as the bouncers kick random ass in every direction trying to restore order. Then a punch lays you out cold. You wake up next to Karl in the hospital. He is broken up pretty bad. So are you.