Yuki arrives on SX-069

SX-069 is a terrible place. It's a corporate owned space station in the ass end of space. No true law except for Asteroid Security (or A-Sec), and they're almost as bad as the criminals in this place. It's a playground for unsavory types. Places like this take Yuki way back to her early days as a young hit-girl. Trying to make a name for herself in a crime ridden slum, while also cleaning it out.

She enters the axis of traffic. Her dash filling with notifications of blocked pop-ups and displays advertising the many clubs, restaurants, and sex shows. As if the billboards and giant holograms of topless women didn't do the job.

Yuki doesn't settle for anything less than premium parking for the Dancer in most places, even with it's on board defenses she wouldn't risk passers by having a go at her airtight security and scratching the paint job in frustration. But while it looked nice on this level of the city, it was also watched. So she follows the axis of traffic lowering in altitude until she finds landing at the bottoms. A miserable level nobody would look twice in. Full of homeless Aliens--mostly Gurbaldins and Narnite males, miners before first contact with Maraxxians, who work for half the pay.

She drops a few credits for a Gurbaldin holding her maggots close, before entering the elevator closest to the club.

"Singularity," it's called. And it's pulsing music booms throughout the street, even before the elevator pod doors open. The dancing hologram girl flickers over the sign as Yuki approaches the doors. Where the Grizzite bouncer drags a guest out the door, howling in rage. The guest finding his legs as quickly as possible to get away, even into traffic.

Yuki clears her throat, placing her hands on her hips, "Hey Mister, how's business in there?"

The Grizzite untenses, "Hm, not too bad. Could always use a boost. Go on in."

Yuki flashes a smile, "Thank you so much sir."

Groans and complaints sound from the rest of the line, and are quickly drowned out of Yuki's ears as she enters the club. The music pounding in her ears, the blue fluorescent lights on dancing girls filling her view, and the smoke and toxic masculinity filling her nostrils.

Yuki reaches out, touching a cocktail waitress on the arm. "'Scuse me," she begins, "Where would I find the owner of the club? Mr. R'log?"

The green-skinned waitress rolls her eye, "Look honey, he doesn't just see people. He's on level two, it's invite only. You're going to have to show your stuff before you suck his dick. Talk to the DJ for your turn on stage."

Yuki notices above the stages and their platforms, a circular opening around the second level. The windows blacked out, no doubt R'log's level.