The air in the underground compound was always the same; dense, metallic, and faintly tinged with chemical fumes. The walls were concrete, soundproofed. Its entrance disguised beneath a a green house.
It was the kind of place that didn't exist on any blueprint, hidden well enough that even a drone flyover wouldn't raise suspicion.
Ajax walked down the dim corridor slowly, boots echoing on the smooth floors. Low, flickering lights lined the ceilings, casting hard shadows on the ground as he passed by rows of steel doors—some storage rooms, some bunk rooms, some places that were better left unnamed.
This was the underbelly of Dante's operation.
Its brain and its gut.
