I scale the concrete wall surrounding the compound with practiced silence. The razor wire poses no threat—my cultivation has enhanced my body beyond normal human limitations. A simple leap carries me over the barrier.
The building's exterior reveals signs of recent activity. Fresh tire tracks in the gravel. Cigarette butts scattered near the loading dock. Warm air venting from industrial fans.
Someone's home.
I circle the perimeter, identifying three possible entry points. The main entrance is too obvious. The loading dock has security cameras. But the maintenance hatch on the building's north side shows signs of frequent use.
The metal grating lifts away without resistance. Inside, fluorescent lights buzz overhead, casting harsh shadows across concrete corridors.
Voices echo from somewhere deeper in the building. Multiple speakers, their words indistinct but urgent.
