In an unknown island,
The night was dark with illusionary.
Inside a nightclub, smoke twisted like mist in the heavens, a heavy cloud of coke and weed drifting across the dance floor.
The air was filled with corruption, as the pounding music disconnected the patrons from reality, drowning their senses in alcohol and narcotics.
They sought escape, solace in the loud beats that numbed them to their own misery.
Behind the stage, two figures stood, separated from the chaos by a large glass wall.
The people in the club couldn't see through from the outside, oblivious to the observers above them.
"Anything catch your eye?" asked a woman beside him.
She was striking—Princess Selina of Monaco, with long, slightly curled auburn-red hair that gave her a regal, yet sophistication.
Her voice was smooth, but the question was casual, as if she had asked this many times before.