She twirls the tall hurricane glass in her hand. The red contents within slowly twirl with these motions. Dull hazel eyes are unmoving as they rest upon the curved cup. It was some type of drink given to her by some type of guy. . . what did he call it? A Tropical Hooter? Yeah. . . that’s probably what it was. Pick up lines flicker throughout her upcoming memories; there were more than several men who had taken their place at the seat beside her, attempting to flirt by comparing her figure to her cup. They weren’t lying, though. Especially with the way her black dress was tightly fitted. Each and every one failed, though. They received no more than a quick glance from the young, stubborn, woman – and occasionaly an additional good-bye.
It would take much more than some simple words to get her, though.
A strand of onyx hair shifts in front of her face, and she uses two nimble fingers to move it away. Breathing in through her nose, and out her glossed lips, she slowly moves off the chair. The cushioned leather gives off its own baseball mit odor as the weight is lifted off it. She moves through the club, her steps in synch with the beat of the music. Surrounding men and women danced, some provocative – no, a majority – and others just awkward. Every now and then she could feel someone trying to persuade her into joining them. But, she gives a gentle push and continues on her way.
What was she even doing here?
Oh yeah. . .
A powerful and stomach-flipping scream tears apart the music. And she comes to a slow stop, her eyes darting from left to right as she scans the room. In a panic, people begin to run away, running their way out of the building. Those who had been drinking more than they should topple over, stagger, and vomit. And the young woman moves through the herd of frightened people, and towards the women’s bathrooms – moving aside for a partially nude man and a fully nude woman to dart by.
And the last one standing in the center of the club is a. . . monster. To those who don’t contain knowledge of these beasts, they’d believe that the person who had transformed into this grotesque beast had actually been human from the beginning. But, that was no more than a disguise. And the beast throws its head up to produce a blood-curdling roar, also causing saliva to be flung about.
And just as the monster gives its behemoth outcry, the young woman steps out of the bathroom. She makes her way towards the center of the club, holding two blades – one tightly grasped within each hand. Her expression is somber, but her eyes no longer dull. . . instead they seemed to light up. She feels comfortable now. She was no longer wearing that damn skimpy dress. No longer was she surrounded by people. It was just her. . . and this monster.
And a smirk breaks across her lips as she says:
“My dancing partner has finally decided to show. Thank you.”
The large beast lunges, and she quickly sidesteps to avoid the outstretched claws. As she moves away, and as the monster is parallel from her whilst still in mid-lunge, she partially extends an arm so her blade strikes. The tip of her left sword leaves a gash from the beast’s shoulder to its hip. But, just as the beast started to land and thinking her maneuver was finished. . . she thrusts her right arm and drives the blade into its hind leg. It squeals in pain and flails away as she removes her sword. It flicks its wounded leg against the air, as if trying to shake away the agony. Tattered skin and muscle flaps about as its calf had been torn apart from bone.
It snaps its eyeless head in her direction, and gives a defensive hiss. She felt sorry for the poor creature. For one thing, it believed it could intimidate her. Even just the slightest. And secondly, it clearly believes it can get out of here alive. With another smirk playing on her face, she gets into an offensive stance, making the beast tense and step back. Well, at least it wasn’t completely brainless.
Like an infuriated feline, the beast swats at her. It’s long arm easily reaches. But, she has both blades crossed in front of her, and its clawed hand connects with her silver weapons. It applies more force, taking a step forward and rising on its hind legs somewhat – to be taller than her, its hideous shadow casting over her. Yet, she doesn’t even budge. And the beast doesn’t expect what she does next. She slides one of the blades away from her protective cross, the grating of one blade against the other causing sparks that fly into the beast’s face – startling it and causing it to flinch back. She then uses this as her chance to stab both blades into either side of the monster’s chest – as it was wide open due to the monster standing over her.
Everything had occurred in no more than five minutes. Not even this inhuman creature could keep up with her actions. It falls limp on the blades, mouth still open, allowing spit to pool onto the floor. She steps back, removing her blades, causing the lifeless monster to fall at her feet. She flicks her swords to clean them off, and the blood splatters away. She then sheathes them, and turns around on the heel of her foot.
As she exits the club, she whispers to herself, “Well Felicia, that was probably the easiest party animal you dealt with all night. . .”