Fancy Party
The Cirandon hotel was host to a very exclusive party. It was the sixty-third birthday of Michael Worthington, wealthy industrialist. The party was filled with the rich and powerful of Weston, sipping champagne, making business deals, exchanging gossip, and admiring the 'scenery' Michael had provided.
The sounds of revelry were suddenly interrupted by a loud gunshot shattering an ice sculpture. Ten men in black suits had entered the room, they were all armed with either guns or obvious para-powers and several of them appeared to have metal pieces infused into their bodies.
One man stepped forward, he had long black hair tied into a ponytail and his handsome face was marred by a scar on his right cheek. In one hand he held a desert eagle, the other was glowing with some kind of energy.
"Hello there folks, we'll have you back to your expensive drinks and exciting gossip in just a moment. As soon as we've relieved you of your possessions. We're the Lavish Legion, I'm sure you've heard of us and know just what will happen to those that don't cooperate, so please gather over by the buffett as my men relieve you of your wallets and jewelry." His voice had a refined quality to it and though he spoke calmly and politely it had an edge to it, an unspoken threat.