The logo does not look threatening at first.
It sits on the screen between us, blown up and sharpened until every line is clear, its edges too clean to carry the violence now attached to it. Blue and white. Industrial. Functional. The kind of branding designed to signal reliability, not danger. The kind meant to be forgotten, not feared.
“That’s it,” the analyst says. “Defunct manufacturing complex. Shut down six years ago.”
Damian leans forward, bracing his hands on the table as if the information carries physical weight. “Location.”
“Edge of downtown redevelopment zone,” the analyst replies. “Officially condemned. Unofficially ignored.”
Ignored feels like the wrong word. Abandoned feels closer. Forgotten feels worse. Forgotten places are where rules dissolve.
My stomach twists. “Pe
