Elda's POV
The moment I pushed open the reinforced steel door, the sterile air of the underground facility rushed out to greet me, carrying with it the faint metallic scent of blood and antiseptic that had seeped into the walls over years of use. The space before me bore no resemblance to the dim storage area of my childhood memories - this was a state-of-the-art research laboratory, its walls lined with precisely labeled filing cabinets and glass-fronted specimen cases that glinted under the harsh fluorescent lighting.
As I stepped inside, my shoes squeaked against the spotless epoxy flooring. The organization was military in its precision - each drawer marked with alphanumeric codes, every surface devoid of clutter. The clinical efficiency of it all made my skin crawl. This was no makeshift operation; it represented years of systematic work, of careful documentation, of cold, calculated decisions.
