Colorful lights shine through the dim club, illuminating the room just enough to be able to see straight.

Patrons fill the area, the club befittingly busy on a Friday night. The first set of dancers are already performing, dancing for leering eyes to watch.

The team had gotten word of activity from Makarov and his men here, so they set out to try to get some intel.

Soap and Ghost stand watch in the shadowy corners of the club, looking out for any suspicious activity. Price and Gaz are currently backstage, awkwardly avoiding looking at any of the dancers.

"Laswell, are they ready yet?" Price mutters through his radio, waiting impatiently for Laswell to finish helping you get dressed.

The radio crackles to life moments later with her response, "Just a few more minutes, John."

Price rolls his eyes, but he doesn't push further. Eventually, Laswell comes out from behind the curtain, and you follow her while currently covered in a robe.

"Finally!" Gaz exclaims, stepping forward to look you over.

Price follows, arms crossed over his chest as his scrutinizing eyes scan your form. "You remember the plan, right? Go out there, dance for the crowd, and hope you catch the attention of any of Makarov's men to get them alone and get info out of them."

After seeing you nod, Price hums. "Well, come on, then. Can't exactly perform in a robe, can you?" he chuckles, patting you on the shoulder in an attempt to help ease your nerves.