It's a cold night. Still. Punctuated by the distant hum of the ever-busy streets of Clay, clear night sky lit by polluting glow. A scarlet dragon raises a disposable cup to their mouth - waiting a beat, enjoying the proximate warmth - and takes a sip. They stare out to the distance; billboard-wrapped corporate monoliths reach high, competing for ever more dramatic agency over the city's silhouette.

Well, the streets are busy elsewhere, anyway. A vast commercial hub at the heart, and generally denser around. All the way out here, though? Lower density industrial, unassuming. No one around, especially this late into the night. Sleepy. So perfect for hiding something, you wouldn't even want to hide it here. It'd be too obvious, right?

On the other side of this quiet industrial road is the location of interest. A run-down little garage, occupying a bit under half of its lot. Scrap and a few stripped-down chassis in the yard. At its back face, an old elevated railway, brick viaduct. The left side of the structure adjoins another, its roofline rising slightly higher. Two roll-up shutters for vehicles at the front, and a door beside. Large, fogged-glass windows high on the two exposed sides, metal-framed, rust-caked. On the right face of the building, level with the windows, another door, opening out onto a rather weather-worn catwalk and stair.


They take another sip.


Two storeys below and across the street, a shutter door slides open, letting out quiet squeaks from under-maintained mechanisms. An unmarked van rolls out, near-silent, taking a right. The shutter door drops shut behind it with some haste. Probably headed for some sleepy warehouse-half-turned-office this time. Usually takes a while. Good opportunity.

"Little early tonight," they mumble to no-one in particular. They finish their drink, cast the cup aside, and climb a drainpipe down to ground level. Across the street with a quick dash, between the glow of harsh blue streetlamps, into an alley beside the target. Kick off the wall and leap over the fence. A staff of sorts - short, cylindrical, grip and a bike-brake trigger in the middle, unlatched from their belt and brandished with a stylish twirl.

The dragon looks the target over. Brick. Old windows. One boarded. There's an alarm system on the wall. Two cameras looking over the main gate and doors, easily avoided. That type of security system doesn't do two cameras, though - there's more than what's let on inside, for sure. Whatever's in store, they know one thing - a building like this is easily over a century old, and these things are hard to properly secure--


Dual rotors. The drake presses themself against the wall. A dropcraft races overhead. Probably didn't need to worry, to be honest. Private security called in somewhere, like usual.


Light footfalls up rickety steps. Past the side door - that's definitely alarmed. The windows are a better target. Old things, these, and from the looks of the patina, haven't been opened in forever. Definitely not alarmed. Staff in the right spot, pull down on that trigger - and it extends out, a good deal longer, forcing the window open in a shower of flaked rust. They're in.

The interior is equally unassuming. Near the front, two vehicle lifts, toolboxes, a few semi-faded posters from various parts manufacturers. The back wall has been knocked through to make use of the adjacent viaduct's under-arch space. A small workspace at the back, a desk, worktables, more tools, two smaller rooms; marked 'storage', 'toilet'. No second box to explain those cameras. And the dirt on the floor, tiretracks, don't seem to match between the back of the vehicle lifts and the floor beyond. Enough to warrant a closer look around.

There's a shelving unit below the window. They give it a cautious poke with their staff - firm, bolted down. Nice. They climb in, leap down, and take a leisurely look around. Usually it's just some sort of false wall or something, but everything seems to match up with the outside. If it were their secret hideout, they'd have left the back wall intact and had a secret entrance to this cool rail-bridge-arch-thing area.

Nothing further out of the ordinary upon closer inspection. Nothing to explain the cameras - which were definitely live - and nothing to explain the unusual vehicle lift grime. Maybe that storeroom holds a secret? Locked - mechanical, pin tumbler. Tools in, poke around a little... and open, easy. Inside is... more workshop tools. Boxes. Parts. An old internal combustion engine's cylinder block. Some tires. The lizard sighs and takes another look around the shelves, in search of.. something. Anything, really.

Hold up-- who the hell keeps more tools in here when there's already so many around the main part of the building? They push the toolbox aside. Bingo. A keypad. No way of knowing what the code is. No need to. The dragon takes their staff, aims it about right, and thrusts it into the edge of the panel, cracking it in just the right way. It swings open, exposing the back of the display and a few wired-up PCBs. They produce a small knife and some pressure-adhesive tack from one of many pockets, and get to rewiring - green out first, then the red, green on to this part of the board secured with tack, scrape off that bit of solder, then restart the whole thing with the on-board switch. Close the panel.

One, one, one, one.

A little beep. Perfectly executed. They stow their tools.

The floor slides open, revealing a staircase down toward somewhere bright, clean-looking. A far departure from the mechanic's workshop above. That's a surprise.

They close their eyes. Take a breath. Refocus. Descend.

Clean. Techy, almost. Plastic panelled walls, a few signs for where to find things. Not a huge operation, but definitely leaning into some kind of super-spy shit. And it's quiet. No one's here, not right now.

One room looks particularly important - corkboards, red string, linking various megacorps and recent acquisitions, off-books shipments, a list of secrets to expose and deals to upset before pen is put to paper. A large table in the middle of the room is cluttered with rotas and construction diagrams. But they're not here for any of that.


They reach forward to a clear spot, right in the middle of the table, and place a business card.