41: Hell’s Doorstep

Anyra

The compound shines like a beacon in the night, windows lit with penetrating yellow light. I can see people roaming about the interior, not at all aware that their quiet evening is about to be rudely interrupted.

A few people meander outside, clearly separate from the patrolling guards. They look like ordinary people, cleaning things, plucking at the garden in the front. It’s night, but the compound is still alive with ...