He stepped out of the truck slowly, keeping his hands visible and his movements deliberate. No sudden gestures, no reaching for weapons, nothing that might spook a nervous lookout with an itchy trigger finger. Marcus walked toward the main entrance, a massive loading bay door that hung half open like a broken jaw. The smell hit him first, a combination of rot, chemicals, and something metallic that reminded him of blood. He ducked under the door and let his eyes adjust to the dim interior, taking in the vast space filled with hanging chains.
