An outrage to the Christian population of the city, the Burning Cross has held it's reputation as a place for sinners. The methodical beat of pumping music can be heard nightly, flashing lights and searching spotlights seen roaming the night sky, and pulsating crowds seen gathering at the front of the door. Yes, this place is hot, and since the closing of it's rival, Ebon Nytes, it's become the rave of the city.

     This place is no stranger to controversy. It's very name screams blasphemy as well as the decor from the inside out. It's symbol, a burning cross, depicted on the outside of the building with a faint, coiling cloud of smoke rising from a fog machine nightly, giving the place an eerie effect. The black carpet outside a set of blood red doors leads two ways down the street, roped off so that the lines stay somewhat in formation. As the doors open and close, the pumping of music jars the waiting crowd, sending the energy in the air through the roof.

    The doors of darkness open onto a dark hallway, leading to the dance floor. The hallway, lined with flames, is lit only by a singular blacklight. At every few feet of this 5 yard hallway burns two crosses, one on either side of the entryway. Opening onto a dance floor, the room itself is depicted as a stage for horrible nightmares. Nightly, through the music and beats of popular dance hits, an enactment of the crucification of Christ hits the stage. The highlight of the evening, it's no ordinary story of the infamous tale.

    It's the story of Christ through the eyes of someone other than the Christians who claim to have been there. The brutality of the tale is tenfold here at the Burning Cross, and it ends in the sacrifice, but not as it is normally told. "Jesus" is not merely crucified, but devoured by his followers in a shower of blood. Perhaps the rumors about this place are true, and demon spawn dwell here, but who's to say with the atrocities that occur in everyday life?

    Despite the horror on stage, when it is done, the crowd, who so patiently watched, resumes it's pulsating fashions. But underneath the Burning Cross is a different story indeed. An arena, a cage if you will, designed for the underground fights that are so popular these days. It's a cult perhaps, or maybe just someone interested in earning a buck or two. Whatever the case, nightly, there are fights beneath the floors of the club above. No rules, no limitations, and to the death. But to the common inquirer, it's nothing more than a telltale story, for the arena itself is masked in darkness every night, available only to those with the right password.