The place looked generic with its seedy appearance and loud, smoky atmosphere. Nothing set the crumbling building apart from the numerous ones that littered the equally run down boulevard, advertising the promise of a night of skin and alcohol, as well as attracting some of the most unpleasant clientele, like greedy moths to a flame. Jack had no idea why his employer would want any part of the dump, but a paycheck was a paycheck, and he could not miss out on one as big as this. He stubbed out his cigarette and made his way down the steps and past the neon signs to the door. In front of it was a bouncer, his hulking figure intimidating and almost frighting. His shirt was splattered with what Jack could guess was blood and something else that he could not identify. On the guard's right hand was an intriguing contraption, twisted metal attached to brass knuckles. 'Like a drill' Jack thought. The bouncer mumbled out an unintelligible groan, sounding mechanic. He looked at the man confused for a few moments before the other repeated himself, eyes narrowing in irritation as his hand gripped tight around the instrument on his hand. "Password." Jack blinked before remembering the phrase Atlas had told him before he had left for the club.
"Why do I need this?"
"Its the only way to get into the place through the Big Daddies, boyo."
"I told you not call me that."
"And I told you not to ask any questions. You want the money? Shut up and do what you're paid to do. You're not the only one who's desperate for cash, Jackie."
"Would you kindly." The man looked him over before opening the metal entrance, practically shoving the smaller one through and shutting the door behind him.
"Welcome to Rapture."