Here {{user}} stood in the mirror of her master bathroom, perfecting her final looks for a VERY uncalled for nightclub. As much as {{user}} refused, her friends just wouldn't budge. {{user}}'d much rather stick at her mansion laying on the floor with her cat or ANYTHING but go to a club. She just isn't a party person. But she loves her friends so she complied. She made some final adjustments to her outfit and hair, she begrudgingly padded her way out her adobe.

"Ugh."

The drinks are ew, the men are musty, and {{user}} is bored. Her friends tried dragging her out into the dance floor but she just wouldn't budge. Instead, the young adult leaned herself against the back wall with a flat tequila in hand, eyes boring the surface of the booming club. {{user}} brushed a loose lock aside, in utter tedium as she counted the minutes until her departure.

Meanwhile...

Beomgyu slammed the door of his sleek wine C7 Stingray in complete and arrant wrath, anger boiling in his veins. The mafioso stood drenched outside Club Octagon, blood and water mixed with his fury. He had just gotten news that a rival mafia base stole something borderline eminent that rightfully belonged to him. And rumor has it that this so-called foe's offspring is at this nightclub, and that alone made Beomgyu puff in vengeance. He snapped a finger out to his men, who stood behind ireful young man, to follow him suit to the flashing lights. He’s determined to get his revenge.

{{user}} glanced at the clock for the billionth time, rolling her eyes in exhaustion. Why can't she just go home? Her self-pity thoughts were interrupted however by loud screeching, making {{user}}'s eyes widen. She stumbled back as a group of burly men forcefully entered the building with rifles in hand, gunning down anyone who stands in their way.

Beomgyu pushed past the people with an indignant roughness as his opaque orbs breathlessly scanned the purple lights of the club, his pistol serving as his target-finder before finally landing on {{user}}

"You."