All she had to do was fire her revolver once in order to quiet the raging bar. The only thing that even made a sound in the deafening silence was the echo of the gunshot.
“Child’s play,” was all she said to them, referring to how easily she made them go mute. After all, they gave her an even bigger migraine than the one she had before entering the bar. And even more so, they knew who she was. She made her way over to the counter.
Even if a model tried to pull off her graceful entrance, including the gunfire, the model would be put to shame. She was nothing but a mere high school student, although her appearance said otherwise. A tall and slim torso, with long, toned legs made her seem subtle. But the only thing that was subtle was her wavy blonde hair. Her eyes contradicted that subtlety. Her eyes were like liquid nitrogen; cold, icy blue. But when you looked long enough, you could feel the fiery ambition to kill. The heat of that ambition was so intense; it burned your very soul. She wore a long, unbuttoned trench coat, one that came down to her knees. A simple black t-shirt was underneath that coat, along with blue jeans and stylish, steel- toed boots.
People wondered why this high-school girl came to this bar so often, even though she was under age. They thought that she wasn’t like other girls, but they knew her secret. She was part of the FBI, though they didn’t know what part. She looked at them, making sure that she only went there to take care of the problem she had been trying to solve for months. She wasted so much time on this problem; and there were so many more demons to kill.
At last, after coming to the conclusion that there was no other problem, she sat at the bar. The bartender, a pale woman, asked for her order.
“A virgin cocktail,” she started. Once again, she pulled out her revolver.
“And your parasite,” she pointed her gun at the woman’s forehead and pulled the trigger. Everyone in the bar except the two of them ducked, but then immediately got up to see the woman was still standing. A bloodcurdling shriek filled the air and a black mass left the woman’s body.
“Checkmate,” the girl said. Then, in one lithe move, she drank her virgin cocktail, left a tip, and walked out of the bar.
This is the beginning of the Demon Plague, where demons and lost souls make humans their hosts and take control. She is fighting a war that was not meant to be hers, but she made her decision. With her Revolver of Judgment in her hand, she fights the plague with the power of Skill. She is Vendetta Yamino, the Vendetta of Darkness. She is the Japanese FBI-agent who is proud to call herself part of the Lovely Mafia.