The room is dark. The sound is amazingly loud. The voices are scattered and mixed together. The lights are of multiple colors, shades mixed of red, orange, blue, green, purple, and the list goes on. The strobe lights fill the darkened room and the music bounces off the walls. The people enjoy themselves, sipping their alcoholic beverages, and dancing on the dance floor. Though, at a closer glance, this is not just your run of the mill night club, no. It is something much more.
Deep down inside of the heart of this place is evil. The evil is growing inside of an owner who believes he has all of the power when it comes to this place... then again, he does. He controls every person who walks in until they walk out. He calls the shots. He says who gets to stay and who must get the hell out. An older man, in his forties, standing tall, clean shaved, black suit with white stripes vertically, and a clean hair cut, black, with gel giving it a shiny effect. He stands with his hands in his pockets. Beside him, two giants. Two bald, white men, stand tall, with very tight black shirts, and black jeans. They tower over this man by almost two feet, making them about 6'10" each.. him almost 5 feet tall. These are his bodyguards, his security. If he feels fit that things are not going as he wants, he does something about it.. no, rather, he has them do something about it.
The employees make what they can and get by however they are able. This.. owner, this.. boss, controls their every move. This is not just a dance club, this is a strip club. This is not just a strip club, this is a club full of drugs...or, rather...a club with strippers, full of drugs.
That's how he likes them, anyways. He figures, that the more coke they can get in themselves, the better shows they put on. They believe that, too. Maybe its not that they believe it themselves, but that he makes them believe it? This man has power, and plenty of it. He has money, and shitloads of it.
One of the security/bodyguards motion to the man in the suit. "Boss", he says. The Boss looks up at him, and the big security guard points to the back door, where his employees enter. In walks a very skinny, pale, blonde woman. She seems blonde, at least, but at closer glance you can see her brown roots just fine. She walks slumped over, not upright as a lady would be expected in a 'classy' place like this. Right. He looks at her with concern, but not any type of 'caring' concern, just the kind of concern that he has when he is angry and believes he's losing money.. he's concerned, all right. Bastard.
She approaches, with a duffle bag over her shoulder. She fakes a smile at The Boss and continues to walk, but he places a hand on her shoulder and stops her from continuing on. She looks at his hand, then towards him. She looks frightened, but she stands her ground. She has her head down, though, as he speaks to her.
"You're late", he says, in a low, monotonous voice. She nods, "Yes sir, I know, but-"
She is cut off by his hand, as it is placed over her lips. She looks up at him, but with only her eyes, not with her head. Her head stays downward, but her eyes shift to his. "There are no buts here, except the one you should be out there sticking in perverts' faces. You listen to me damnit, if you don't get here on time from now on, I swear to God, that'll be the last time you ever step foot in this damn place, do you understand me?"
She nods, but keeps her head down. He takes his hand from her lips. "Good. Now, get in the back and change, and don't be afraid to get a little something before you come out to perform, you could use a little pick-me-up. Get going."
He pushes her along and she stumbles forward, and stops. She looks back with her head down, and then walks forward, looking straight ahead. She opens a door and goes to do her thing. The Boss puts his hands back in his pockets as he watches the crowd in his club enjoy themselves. He mutters one last phrase before we cut out.
"Dumb bitch."
Fade to black.
