As she scooted along the grimy city streets, the GPs was certainly leading her in the right direction. Buildings began to dip below the clouds as she nears the river, the smell of water and fish assaulting the air. The horns of countless boats ring out as they trudge through the waters, their mighty hulls bearing the names of corporations and other organizations as they ferry goods to and from the Crescent City. Beggars and other poor sods thin out greatly as the warehouse district is approached. The mighty buildings are angular and square, designed for as much space as they can muster. Lights and other security guards most of them at first, before more decrepit warehouses are reached. Broken roofs, older designs...all indicators of disrepair. Finally, the systems beep as a line of storage buildings are reached, bearing the worn logo of Greenworks. They're in curiously good shape, though any entrances are barred with scrap metal and crude spray paint reads "KEEP OUT" or other welcoming messages like "HAZARDOUS MATERIALS."<br/><br/>What's more curious, however, is the unique but certain feeling of being...watched. It's unmistakable as a chill runs down Kizzie's cybernetic spine, not born of technology but something deeper, more primal.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>