The thick, heavy smell of unfiltered tobacco clung to the damp concrete walls of the underground chamber like a living presence. The bleak, windowless space lay hidden entirely off the grid, illuminated only by the harsh, flickering orange glow of a single industrial bulb that dangled from a frayed black wire overhead.
The air itself seemed to press down with weight and menace, carrying with it the metallic tang of old blood and fear that had seeped into the very foundation of this forgotten place.
A man sat leaning far back in a rusted metal chair, his long legs stretched loosely before him in an attitude of deliberate ease. He remained completely silent, his features mostly lost in deep, shifting shadows that moved with each flicker of the bulb. Every few seconds, the glowing cherry at the end of his cigarette flared brightly, throwing brief light across a sharp, jagged jawline and the smooth skin of his throat.
