Laugher filled the air and music blared as disco lights flared in the dimly lit bar. In the dance floor, hot-blooded men and women dressed in thought provoking outfits that tightly hugged their bodies wildly danced at the beat of the music. Sweaty skin touches another, some grinding sensually as they enjoyed the high brought about by alcohol and the joy of youth. In some dark corner, a few couples could be vaguely seen kissing. They may have known each other for years, or have just met moments ago, but it seems that only by being so close could they vent their emotions.
In the corner where the couches, lounges and tables are, men and women alike could be seen chatting and drinking their fill. But one woman in a corner stuck out like a sore thumb. Is it because she's alone? No. Is it because of the number of empty bottles on her table and littering on the floor? No. Is it because of the sturdy men wearing black suit and sunglasses despite being dark surrounding her in a protective circle? Also no. She stuck out like a sore thumb because of her ever so recognizable purple hair.. And the fact that there's not a single soul straying close to the circle of bodyguards who had their back on her. And why were there bodyguards anyways? Were they there to protect her? ...The answer is also no. They were simply there to protect any poor souls that might be stupid enough to enter the no man's land area that they formed around her.
Who else could be fearsome enough that they avoided her like a plague? Who else is crazy enough to drink dozens of bottles of liquor without changing face? Who else would have bodyguards not to protect her but to protect people against her? Of course it can only be her! Viola de'Ville. The ultimate menace psychotic enough to put sharks on her pool and swim with them and crazy enough to sleep with wild tigers and lions in her room.
Despite the blaring music and lively atmosphere in the bar, the space around Viola is anything but loud. People near her table talked in whispers, occasionally shooting her hateful or admiring glances. After all, even if Viola is an infamous psycho, her beauty is undeniable to all. She had smooth, delicate, fair skin that seemed to glow in the dim light. Her half squinted green eyes were amorous and full of indifferent arrogance. Her flaming red lips pursed tightly as she boredly watched everyone else have fun. Her perfectly curved, slender body clad lazily in loose fitting shirt and cargo pants paired with a black leather jacket and a pair of combat shoes lounged in a very laid-back manner on the couch. Her long slender legs wrapped in cargo pants were crossed and her slender fingers with clear joints lazily held a glass of wine. And her purple hair that were akin to strands of silk were held on a messy bun on the back of her head. In all honesty, Viola looked like a piece of art- one that could be mistaken as a painting as long as she doesn't open her mouth to speak or move. But as they said, looks can be deceiving. Because just as everyone were getting bolder, shooting her more glances seeing that she's not reacting, Viola smashed the glass she's holding and shot them a deadly glare. The shards of glass fell on the solid ground with crisp clangs and the mellow scent of liquor spread while it streaked down her slender, well defined fingers and dripped on the floor.
The bar grew silent amidst the blaring music, all eyes, be it fearful or startled or just wanting to see the fun, turned to look at Viola. And the bodyguards surrounding her? Their eyes beneath their sunglasses seemed to roll for a moment with a helpless meaning of "here she goes again".
"Glance this way one more time and that will be the last time you'll ever see." Viola's low voice was seemingly magnified countless times in everyone's ear. As if rehearsed, everyone looked away at the same time, not daring to look covertly or overtly at the mad woman again. After all, everyone knew she was definitely not kidding. If they were to glance at her one more time, they would really likely to lose their eyes. It would be considered lucky if the manner in which they lost it is more gentle and less gruesome. But we're talking about Viola here. The possibility of her taking her own sweet time to gauge their eyes out incredibly slowly is more likely than her getting it over and done with.
An unbearable silence amidst the cheerful beat of the music permeated the bar. The people in the dancefloor stood frozen, awkwardly shooting each other a glance, losing all the interest to dance.. Drunk people seemed to sober up, at a loss on whether to continue drinking or not. And the Dj, sensing the atmosphere, meekly turned the music off that is completely out of tune in the heavy atmosphere, plunging the bar in total silence. The only sound that could be heard was Viola's fingers tapping rhythmically on the table and the suppressed breathing of everyone. Even the noise upstairs paused as those people who paid more silently observed the scene below. They too, recognized Viola so they were not stupid enough to make some noise and draw her attention to them. The silence was loud and the awkward atmosphere seemed to solidify, turning into substance.
The unnerving silence was broken when a large group of people walked in the bar. They talked loudly, booing and laughing, completely oblivious to the tense atmosphere. Majority of them were dressed in black, with piercings almost everywhere. Chains hanged on their bodies as necklace, bracelet, or some decorations. And their hair was a variety of color with tattoes in almost every exposed skin. Clearly, they were a group of thugs.