Kerik Siyamak. Young, thin, attractive, and elegant. Those words summed him up perfectly. He wore a black suit which matched his thin black tie accompanied with his black pants and black shoes. He demonstrated his professional look by combing his hair neatly to the side.
He maintained a serious face, and kept to himself. Out of his pocket, he took out an organizer and a stick. He maneuvered the stick on the organizer, navigating through his "schedule." It was eight. He was on time, of course. He was always on time. He was sure others would soon show up.
The environment was loud and dimly lit. Anything could happen. Roofies could be slipped in any girls' cups easily. Pockets could be picked by just bumping into someone. It was hot and musty inside as one would expect it to be in a place like this. Kerik's eyes swarmed every direction. Suddenly, a loud blast was heard. It looked like someone had gotten shot from across the room. Kerik looked toward the direction from where the blast had come. "There they are," he mumbled to himself.