You walk up to the club, through the now abandoned industrial district, all that is remaining is a bank down a path to your left and the club up ahead, you can already hear the music, it's pretty goddamn loud,

The Handler: "The former public housing arcology in Helsinki has recently enjoyed bit of a housing market boom as a result of a biological weapons 'accident' wiping out 99% of the population. The new residents enjoy the rough, authentic vibe of the city and spend their nights partying in the former industrial district. The survivors of the depopulation incident and the relatives of the dead have successfully hosted a crowdfunding campaign to get rid of the key people behind their misery. It's rare for us to do this kind of thing for people of working class background but money, like love, is blind and based on transactions."

the bright flashing lights are enough to drive you mad before you've even set foot in the place, but once you do, strange faces are there to greet you, to drunk and high of drugs to notice your strange assassin's wear or perhaps just too blasted to know what it actually is. You keep your gun at your hip for now, clutching it tightly with your hand as voices ring around you from civilians you don't know talking to both you and others around you

???: "When the beat drops I'm going to fucking kill myself."

???: "My friend overdosed on gore the other day, not something you wanna see."

???: "Where'd you get that sexy outfit..?"

???: "Ugh.. Oh yeah.."

???: "I've gotta get out of here.. I can't keep it in much longer.."

Most of them look completely insane, especially all the bioslaves that are roaming around the dorm room like cubicles that are used for 'interactions' with them. In fact, a lot of the grunting you hear is from behind the closed doors, apart from a few freaks.