She reached the facility by the early afternoon, after two days of walking and camping out in the woods. She didn't want to risk approaching it with her vehicle.

From outside it was quite unassuming, covered in plants, with dark stains of moisture that has seeped deep into the concrete.

Yet there was something deliciously spooky about that place. The train tracks that disappeared under a blanket of muddy leaves and led to no where, the mountain of rubble, piled in front of the entrance of the tunnel; not a chain, not bricks... everyday objects, pieces of crates, bent and rusty metal that belonged to somewhere else, as if someone really tried to seal the entrance with what they had at disposal, but couldn't do it properly.

Or was it maybe the giant corroded metal doors, that lead into absolute darkness? or perhaps the lack of any sound from nearby life, despite the nearby woods...

She took a few steps ahead and extracted a can of color, then

Ah. that's what it is.

No marks, no tags, no names, no graffiti. She checked telegram again, despite having no covering here. The chat was amusingly still fixed to the last message sent by the bot a few days prior; if someone had commented on it in the meantime, she couldn't know.

Silly shrugged, gave a firm shake to the can in her hand and took a step forward toward the black inside of the mountain.