Empress Nightclub.
A group of punks were drinking at a booth.
"Ah! Ptui, what's the deal with this booze? Why does it smell so funky?"
"No way, Brother Mao, could it be fake liquor?"
"It must be, otherwise, how could it be so cheap? It's definitely fake."
"Let's go, find their boss..."
A few of them kicked away obstacles at their feet with a menacing air.
Crash and bang—stuff scattered all over the floor.
The noise of the nightclub filled the air, with security personnel watching from not too far away.
Seeing the conflict start here, several of them immediately ran over.
"Gentlemen, please don't make a scene here!"
The leader in black reached out to stop the blond punk at the front.
"Fuck you! You serve me fake booze and I can't even speak up? Motherfucker!"
The blond and his companions glared with bulging eyes, pushing away the security guard's arm.
They bellowed, "Call your boss out here for me. If he doesn't kneel and apologize today, I'll trash this place!"
