You presume that's how you're meant to open it, at least. Said valve refuses to move in the slightest. You hear something shuffling behind the door. Shit, shit, you try to think of what to say.
A muffled voice calls out from behind the thick metal door. "Who goes there? Only authorized members of the Ace's Low are allowed in. If you don't know who those are, you REALY shouldn't be here."
Well, you don't know who those guys are, but that sounds like a squad nickname. MAYBE for an ETF or Security Guard squad? Probably ETF, actually, now that you think about it.
"I'm the guy who makes CIGARETTE MOLD? You smoked a buncha of it outside."
Whoever's behind that door is conspicuously quiet all of a sudden. You can barely make out three different voices muttering and chattering to each other behind the door.
"Grey skin? Sad, puppy dog eyes?" A vaguely familiar voice asks.
"Guy who wanted us to get a CD?" Another vaguely familiar voice questions you.
"Yeah? It's me, Vincent."
The door awkwardly swings open once your identity is 'confirmed'. Huh, that was easy enough. You quickly duck into the room before anyone can see you loitering around out here. The thick metal door seals shut behind you - Your only exit is now sealed. You hope you didn't make a horrid, horrible mistake.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=td4JebtRw98 - GAMBLING DEN
The air stinks of cigarette mold, cheap booze and sweat. Your slightly sensitive nose also picks up on traces of dried blood, a smell which you're getting uncomfortably used to.
You can hardly see three feet in front of you with the sheer quality and density of smoke floating in the air. It doesn't help at all that this place is already poorly lit, with only one or two lightbulbs desperately trying to light the den.
From what you can make out, this seems like an old break room that's been reproposed as a gambling den. The layout is similar enough from what little of it you can see.
The small room is packed with all manners of gambling paraphernalia. Slot machines, roulette tables, blackjack tables, you fuckin' name it. It almost reminds you of Las Vegas, at least, from what you've seen of it on TV. You've never been to it yourself.
Your attention is drawn towards the three agents in tactical gear standing right in front of you. One's a woman with dirty blonde hair and a masquerade mask hiding her face, one's a man with slick black hair and a five o'clock shadow, and the last one is a...automaton?
The third one's body is made out of cheap, mass produced steel that has seen its fair share of combat related wear and tear. They're far smaller than SACA is, closer to NOWHERE'S SOMMELIER in terms of build and stature. Their face is a cracked LED screen, which has two big cartoony purple eyes displayed on it.
Oh, shit, you recognize two of them. Moxxie and Edward, your met them on DAY 5. You're not sure who their other friend is but...
"Hey?" You try to break the silence.
