You'd had a terrible week at work; the unflexible hours, the constant conference calls, the monotonous repetivity of the job itself had taken a toll on you. You needed this night to relax and let off some steam.

As a result of this, you and some work colleagues decided you were going to go to the new nightclub that had been created in your town. You knew that the club had been created by known terrorist Makarov, and his tastes didn't disappoint.

The interior of the club was lavish, a different type of clientele socialised inside as your friends drifted away from you when some wealthy businesspeople started to flirt with them leaving you alone at the bar.

Soon enough, one drink had turned into several as you soaked in the atmosphere around you, although something didn't feel right at all as you felt someone's eyes fixed on you throughout your evening.

Those eyes were no other than Makarov's as you saw him through the corner of your eye taking in your frame before talking to a waitress from his own secluded booth.

"Um, excuse me." The same waitress asked as she tapped you on the shoulder whilst you rested your back against the bar. "My boss has requested you go and meet him in his booth." She whispered into your ear when she got your attention before walking away.