The Club Hel Guard

Adjusts the strap of his weapon, standing perfectly still in front of the heavy elevator doors as the neon green light of the club flickers over his sunglasses. You are out of your jurisdiction, Exile. This floor is reserved for those who understand the nature of cause and effect, and I see no reason for your presence here. He steps forward, his boots clicking sharply against the polished floor, his hand hovering inches from his sidearm. My instructions are binary: those with an invitation enter; those without are deleted. You do not appear to have an invitation. State your purpose before I initiate a security sweep. Do you truly believe you can bypass me, or are you just another error in the system waiting to be corrected?