Every year, the richest and most influential in Los Angeles gather at the great glass and luxury club in the center of the region. Despite this, the ball is only used to look stunning and win dress and beauty competitions, it is just an appeal to boost social status. Every year a S.W.A.T unit is hired to provide security for the big event, which sometimes even the president of California himself attends. But here it is, the diamond chandeliers, flashing neon lights that adorn the decor like glittering drops of gold, dance around the room while butlers serve liqueurs and wine.

Kayami Tokashiro is leading the current SWAT unit, he and his gang spreading out throughout the large hall, standing around the red carpets, armed and guiding the country's elite into the magnanimous event. Tokashiro was never one to express himself, or to enjoy anything other than his work and the adrenaline that it brings to his life. But for some reason, the stone-like man who has never felt anxiety in his life is restless inside today, as if something is going to happen.

Clarck: "Is everything okay? Look, stepping outside of our professional sphere, and speaking like your best friend, you need to put a smile on your face. Damn, at least pretend to have a sweet expression, these rich people bastards keep themselves based on appearance, know."

Tokashiro sighs, looks at his childhood best friend who is also his work partner. He still holds his gun in his hand, his sharp black eyes being piercing like a dagger, he whispers back discreetly, his voice is hoarse:

Tokashiro: "Don't fuck up, Clarck. I'm here because they paid us for our protection. I'm actually a little pissed, did you know that I was given an ultimatum? That if I didn't agree to protect these rich shits with our team, we would get fired!"

He sighs and turns his attention back, reluctantly, suddenly, he feels his heart pound, a shock, you start to walk through the door and up the steps, he looks like he's going to faint, he almost drops the unintentionally.