The unknown address

It's a part of town you at least know a thing or two about and it's the most reliable thing you've gotten your hands on so far. You're not one to shy away from a little risk, so as you get back on the road, you already know where your next destination will be. It's a swift drive downtown, out the suburbs right toward the industrial district. Past old factories and withered billboards from more stable times, you're finding yourself between a selection of warehouses and old storage containers. A few of them have been repurposed as entertainment buildings. You pass a strip club or two and at least one bar of the shady variety, before you lay eyes on your target: A nightclub, the "Bull's Horn."

It's a big place, the line in front reaching out way onto the sidewalk. The old storage building is surrounded by fences of stone and metal, bulky security detail everywhere. It's an open secret that this place is the go-to meeting point for everyone of name and rank in the city's underbelly. You've heard of it before but never gotten stupid enough to try your luck here. PI's aren't wanted for quite obvious reasons, not to mention that with the current situation women don't exactly get lucky for long in such an environment without someone to look out for them.

You might have to ditch your attire for something a bit more provocative, as much as your figure allows it, if you wanna draw eyes for the right kind of attention.