He looks the part

"He looks the part though."

"Let em in."

Aaron wanted to let out a sigh but he felt something burning into his head. He raised his head slightly.

Above, hidden in the shadows of the highest glacier, was a man. Crouching down and observing him with a dangerous-looking red eye piece. The man, the mercenary in all likelihood, wore a dark red uniform fixed with guns and ammo, and held a sniper over his shoulder. He was getting ready. Judging, perhaps, if his intentions were pure.

'Security sure is tight,' Aaron thought, unfazed. It didn't matter who this sniper-mercenary was, they couldn't start shooting willy-nilly regardless. That was enough for Aaron to proceed inside without fear.

The nightclub was massive and flashing with lights. It was a nightclub and one of the biggest in Gotham, so of course it lived up to expectations in its extravaganza and magic. Music blared into his ears, ringing and echoing through the massive club. People were dancing, slutty women putting their hands on the men, men who grew greedy and grinded against women above their pay grade. Strippers danced around the poles and there was the occasional scream of encouragement. The dance floor was chequered with ship and aquamarine designs. To the side were tables filled with idiots and thugs.

"I'm in," Aaron whispered. The small device in his ear was adhesive and smaller than a pea, yet capable of long-range communications with the Robins. "They told me to go to 44."

"44?" Shug-R, the communications expert. She managed and coordinated most of the Robins' activities. Her appearance was unknown to him but she sounded like a polite, calculated young woman. "Oh! The Nest told us about it! It's the secret club within the Iceberg Lounge."

Aaron's eyes scanned the entire area. At the back, lodged in a large corridor was an elevator door and a single guard. That was probably it. The entrance to the secret club. The Iceberg Lounge had two floors so what was the point of an elevator unless there was something more to it? Something below perhaps.

Directly to Aaron's left was a pathway connecting to it which was distinctly highlighted by blue handrails. His eyes darted back and he noticed how the corridor led somewhere but was protected by four guards. He watched as well-dressed men and women walked the handrail-path, past the elevator, and through the guards with the flash of a VIP card. It was discreet, quiet, but something of an open secret. The Iceberg Lounge, no matter which way he looked at it, was vast, secure, and diverse in its operations. Two-stories high with nearly thirteen thousand square feet of area, the nightclub was more than just a mere nightclub. It was a restaurant, a bar, a swimming area, and a casino.

'I bet the rumoured penguins and dancing bunny girls are past that hall, through those guards.'

As much as Aaron wanted to go, it was too far and too detrimental to his mission. His destination was the elevator. Aaron took a step forward to the handrail, only to be pulled back.