As the clock struck midnight, Damien and Mimic set out for the brothel. Damien sat in a state-of-the-art wheelchair, with a sleek black frame and touch-sensitive controls. Despite the chair's elegance, Mimic couldn't help but feel a pang of concern for her master's weakened state.
They approached the brothel, its facade understated yet unmistakably exclusive. A soft red glow emanated from behind frosted windows, hinting at the sensual delights within. The air was thick with anticipation and the faint scent of expensive perfume.
As they reached the entrance, a hulking bouncer stepped forward. He was a mountain of a man, easily 6'8" tall, with muscles straining against his tailored black suit. His shaved head gleamed under the subtle lighting, and a small earpiece betrayed the establishment's high-tech security measures.
