"Just turn around and walk away, sweetheart. I'll be nice and pretend I didn't see you, just for today"
With amusement in her tone, Mars gives Amaya a wink. Still, it does not feel overly flirtatious or amusing in any way. Instead, it is almost thre...
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⚠️ violence, blood, bruises ⚠️
Friday, early November.
Music blasts loudly through the speakers, bouncing off the walls in the rather large private room. It's dark and a little foggy everywhere, cigarette smoke rising into the air before lowering down to the floor. Throughout the room there is this big, red leather couch that is completely pinkish when shined upon by the flashing disco lights coming from the ceiling. There is also a table in the middle, dirtied by cups and bottles still half full of alcohol.
It's overwhelming, loud from the music, smelly and foggy from the smoke of the burnt nicotine and even further enhanced by the flashing, multi coloured lights.
You'd think this was the inside of a large club, and you'd be right. But it's a private room they're in. Private from the eyes of the actual club-visitors downstairs, in the open area. Up here on the second floor, they have nothing but rows and rows of large private rooms for their richer customers. This place is great, too. Because they never check age. If you have a large enough pile of money, you can come here anytime.
Well, maybe that's not great in your opinion, but it's surely great for them.
Iniko, Julia, Yaakov and Saya, laying down on the sofas in various stages of drunkenness. Julia has drunk nothing, hasn't smoked either. Neither has Yaakov. Saya has done both. Iniko, of course, has done both, but twice as much as his girlfriend. His tolerance is high enough for him not to look a bit affected by it, but Saya is different. She stumbles where she sits, spills the drink in her hand all over her new white shirt and yelps whenever she mistakenly lays her cigarette against her pants and burns yet another hole through.
This is completely normal for them.
It's Friday, hence the celebration.
Fridays are when they all gather to have fun with one of their many, many victims. This time it was Garrick's turn. It's been him a lot, lately. They left him laying on the floor of his classroom, but he's probably returned home by now. They don't tend to be very equal with their choices, it's more evil when they target someone multiple times. It gives them satisfaction. But alas, after having their fun in whatever back alley or gym-hall they find, the four of them spend the rest of the evening coped up in some random club with private rooms, taking turns on who's to pay. This time it's Yaakov. That's why he's not drinking either.
They've been here for hours. After a while the music just kind of consumes them and they lay there, either half-drunk or just incredibly tired, without saying a thing. The aftermath of a bullying session is overwhelmingly satisfying, and just sitting there and soaking it in, remembering everything that they did, is essential for them to end their Friday evening on a happy note.
"Alright, who's going to order the next round?"
But every once in a while, Iniko jolts up and starts begging for more alcohol. He's the most impatient one among them, and can't stand more than fifteen minutes of that beautiful silence until he needs to start talking again. Julia rolls her eyes and lays her head back, humming along to the slow, heavy beat music. "You order it, I don't want any" She sighs out, and closes her eyes. Iniko tsks under his breath.
