By the time Xavier reached the club, he didn't look like the man who had walked Helior Prime earlier.
The casual clothes were gone, replaced with a tailored suit that sat close to his frame without restricting movement. The jacket carried an inner coat beneath it, structured, weighted, short enough not to interfere if things turned physical. A dark shirt underneath, open at the collar, clean lines all the way down. No excess. No ornament. The mask stayed on, the ruined face intact, seams invisible, damage convincing enough to make people hesitate before looking too long.
The Aurex Club stood tall and polished, glass and alloy layered in perfect symmetry. Light spilled outward in controlled bands, music bleeding through the structure just enough to promise exclusivity without chaos. This wasn't a place that welcomed noise from the street. It absorbed it.
Two guards blocked the entrance.
