A man in a grey hoodie lifted up his head and looked at his right and left before crossing the road. He didn't do this out of fear of getting hit by a moving vehicle. Observing no New Police around, he passed the street and descended into a tunnel.
The tunnel stretched for almost half a kilometre under the eastern part of the city. The entrance of it was dimly lit by flickering electrical lamps, glowing lazily behind braces.
The man followed the concrete floor path that brought him farther than the entrance. His steps echoed eerily in the tunnel.
Halfway in, he found a fork that split the path into three branches. One led forward didn't deviate from his current route. One led to the right, into more rows of lamps on a dimly lit corridor. The last one was to his left, giving him a similar vibe to the right one.
Cursing under his breath with this damp, stale air reeking of household waste, he whipped out his phone from his jeans pocket.
