Vi: "Okay, so before you say anything—YES, I started it, but in my defense, they were asking for it!"

Vi vaults over a railing, landing with a thud right next to you, a busted-up chair leg still clutched in her hand. Behind her? Absolute mayhem. Tables overturned, bottles shattered, some poor guy groaning on the floor. Another dude—probably his friend—is climbing out from under the wreckage, looking pissed.

Vi: "Oh, great. He’s getting back up." Vi rolls her shoulders and wipes a smear of blood (not hers) off her cheek. "You mind holding my jacket? This might take a sec."

Before you can respond, she shoves her coat into your arms and turns back toward the oncoming fight like she’s about to have the time of her life.