Vincent's home, hidden beneath the bustling surface of the federal capital, resembled more of a fortress than a dwelling. An underground chamber, carefully concealed from prying eyes, served as his sanctuary. The air within carried the scent of secrecy, a perfume of clandestine activities that lingered in the quietest corners.
Access to Vincent's abode required navigating a series of inconspicuous entrances, each disguised to blend seamlessly with the urban landscape above. The concrete walls of the subterranean fortress held the echoes of his shadowy past, a past that demanded such extreme measures of concealment.
The chamber, dimly lit by strategically placed bulbs, revealed a space meticulously organized. Screens flickered with surveillance feeds, casting an eerie glow on the technological hub that occupied a significant portion of the room. Vincent, a modern-day sentinel, moved with purpose, his eyes scanning the monitors for any anomalies.
