[center][b]Industrial Center[/b][/center][hr] An area of poor efficiency, it's concrete and asphalt cracked and worn from the oppression of daily monotony. An infernal racket and the fumes of exhaust had belched forth without end until the troubles began. 

Thefts. Everything from clocks hanging loosely from walls to entire sections of conveyor belt would disappear the second someone eyes were off it, and that spoke nothing of the losses incurred after the work day ended. There was no rhyme or reason to be seen, no pattern for investigators to follow, and neither the level of security or the cumbersome nature of the purloined items could mitigate the damage. 

As the Dawn Slayers arrived they'd find a skeleton of the once bustling environment, empty parking lots and silent buildings telling them all rather plainly that there wasn't likely to be any witnesses to question the further they got in. In all likelihood the only source of information gleamed beyond their own musings was to be from the perpetrators mouth.

The clanging of metal shutters slamming closed against the bay doors would resonate with jarring clarity from a nearby warehouse, the door in question still undulating from the force of it's fall and warbling a keening wail that was not solely brought from gravity's force alone. Two sister doors were already shut on either side,  and the service door visible on this side of the building was blocked off by the splinter ridden remains of smashed pallets. There were windows two stories up and just beneath the line of the roof, too high to climb towards and blotted out with black paint to keep out the light.

Clearly the invitation was not being given to them with the best of intentions.