Chapter 611 27 West Gallon Street (2)
His footsteps were soft as he continued to circle the building, eyes scanning for a potential point of entry. Then he spotted it: a window that seemed reachable, but it required climbing. Erik's heart pounded in his chest as he realized the risk involved. Inside, Erik had to be careful since there were no cameras and he didn't know how many people were there.
Ducking into a nearby alley, he activated the Chameleon Veil, feeling the familiar sensation as his form faded from sight. He knew it wouldn't render him entirely invisible, yet sufficient to evade detection by passersby.
He glanced at the sun, noticing how its rays played across the surrounding surfaces, creating shifting patterns of light and shadow. He knew his movements could cause unusual disruptions in those patterns, but he had no choice.
Time was of the essence, and he needed to act quickly.
Erik approached the wall, feeling a surge of adrenaline as he prepared to climb. With his gloved hands firmly gripping the rough surface, he began his ascent. The Chameleon Veil helped him blend with his surroundings, but he knew that any astute observer might notice something amiss.
He moved with precision and speed, his muscles working in harmony as he climbed higher. He calculated each movement and placed each hand and foot with care. The window drew closer, and he could feel the thrill of anticipation building within him.
His mind raced with thoughts of what he might find inside, of the dangers and the secrets that awaited him. But he pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on the task at hand. He was determined to continue despite anything.
As he reached the window, he took a moment to glance around, ensuring that no one had noticed his climb. The street below seemed muted, the sun's rays playing innocently across the ground.
Erik was wary of letting his guard down because he knew appearances could deceive.
He eased the window open, careful not to make a sound, and slipped inside. He stepped into the dark room, aware of the secrets it held, and waited for his eyes to adjust.
He then sent his location to Rebecca through a message.
Erik's heart pounded in his chest as he stepped out of the darkroom and into the corridor of the third floor.
He activated the Chameleon Veil, which made him partially invisible, appearing only as a distortion of light to observers. The corridor was faintly lit, and he could hear the distant hum of machinery and the murmur of voices.
As he crept forward, he peeked into the rooms that lined the corridor, his eyes widening at the sights he encountered.
The building was bustling with activity as scientists, chemists, and workers occupied each room, all working diligently on their respective tasks, which included concocting potions, manufacturing drugs, and dissecting Thaids.
With clinical precision, the extraction of the brain crystals from the Thaids was performed, and Erik observed that the delicate procedure resulted in placing the crystals into liquid-filled vials.
The armed guards patrolling the floors were more alarming.
With his analysis power, he was able to determine that he could easily handle any guard on the floor by himself, but the challenge of fighting against so many guards was likely to cause problems. Besides, he could risk jeopardizing his mission.
With feline grace, he moved through the third floor, observing everything but not lingering too long in any one spot. His mind was processing the information, cataloging the evidence of what was happening in this building.
With each step he took on the stairs, he remained alert and vigilant, always watchful of his surroundings, making his way up floor by floor.
The production of illegal substances being carried out on an industrial scale was a recurring scene on every floor that he encountered.
The people working there seemed focused and unaware of his presence, while the guards were alert but didn't notice his subtle movements.
Erik's muscles were tense, and he moved with stealth, born of experience and necessity. The higher he climbed, the more elite the personnel seemed, and the security measures became more sophisticated.
Finally, he reached the tenth floor. He paused at the top of the stairs, taking a moment to steady his breathing and listen for any sound that might give away what awaited him.
Unlike the other floors, the tenth floor had a unique feel to it. The atmosphere at the new location differed greatly from the previous one, with the air having a distinct chill and the place being much quieter and secluded.
It seemed to Erik that he was getting closer and closer to the heart of the operation, where all the most important secrets were being safeguarded.
The gritty industrial atmosphere of the lower levels was replaced with a sterile, clinical environment. The walls were painted a cold white, and the lighting was harsh and unyielding.
As he crept down the corridor, he peered into the rooms, his heart sinking at what he found. Each room had four or five captives, with gaunt faces and vacant eyes.
They were drooling, their minds clearly affected by whatever experiments were being performed on them.
A chill ran down Erik's spine as he realized the scale and horror of what was happening in this building.
These rooms were not just ordinary manufacturing spaces. It was clear that Doran's research went on with or without him.
But it was the scene in one particular room that stopped him dead in his tracks. Through a glass window, he saw men and women dressed in medical clothes, surgical masks hiding their faces.
They were gathered around a table, their hands holding scalpels and other medical instruments.
The sight on the table was a gruesome one, as a man lay with his scalp peeled back, revealing his brain. Erik's breath caught in his throat as he realized they were attempting to implant a Thaid brain crystal into the man's brain.
The horror in that scene was almost too much for one's brain to handle, and for a moment, Erik's vision swam, his stomach turning.
But he knew he couldn't afford to lose focus. This was not his job to intervene, as much as every fiber of his being screamed at him to stop the monstrous act taking place before his eyes.
With a grim determination, he tore his eyes away from the room and continued down the corridor. The images were etched into his mind, a testament to the depths of depravity that those involved in this operation had sunk.
Catrina, Lumina, and this place had an undeniable connection. The evidence was everywhere - in the captives' faces, the cruel experiments, and the building's walls.
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