Duncan Vizla slid into the neon-lit nightclub, his sharp eyes scanning the dimly lit room as pulsating electronic music reverberated through the space.

The bass thudded against his chest, but he barely registered the beats. His focus was on the mission at hand: locating a high-profile target who had been rumored to frequent this very club.

The room was a whirlwind of flashing lights and shifting shadows. Patrons danced, drank, and chatted, oblivious to the danger that lurked among them. Duncan moved through the crowd with practiced ease, his presence barely noticeable amidst the chaos.

He approached the bar, his gaze darting over the faces around him. The bartender gave him a brief nod of recognition—a prearranged signal that Duncan was in the right place. He slid a folded note across the bar, which the bartender discreetly pocketed without a word.

Duncan continued his search, weaving through clusters of people, his instincts alert for any sign of his target.

He checked the VIP area, peering through the crowd of well-dressed individuals, and then made his way to the dance floor, where he scanned the gyrating bodies for any sign of the person he was after.