[center][b]Industrial Center[/b][/center][hr] The host of the Twitch demon would find his efforts to permeate the particularly noisy warehouse were rebuked, but that in and of itself was informative for Ceiran. A force had already permeated it, and like one pouring water into overflowing container, the force Ceiran expelled into the area merely washed of the already filled building. Perhaps the familiarity of the force would offer some general knowledge of their target.

As for Circe, she found the interior of the warehouse to be engulfed in darkness, the broken window offering only a narrow beam of light which was quickly snuffed out against a floor to ceiling shelf. The entire warehouse floor was dominated by row upon row of such colossal shelving, each packed tight with boxes and plastic wrapped commodities. A few looked to have been torn open, some by rats closer to the bottom of the shelves, and others more keenly looking to be sliced open with a blade of some sort. What foul odor existed likely came from industrial chemicals dripping down to the floors and lingering droppings.

And the Shifter's assessment of the door was indeed correct, as it was encumbered with the most devious trap imaginable; A paint bucket propped over the door, ready to pump neon pink on the first person who lifted the bay door. It would be literally child's play to disarm and safely enter, or she could call the others in and leave someone with a brighter wardrobe.

There was no sign of the target, but the darkness was all consuming past the window she entered and the rows stretched back beyond sight, proving ample concealment for anyone to lay in wait. Perhaps they were waiting for a more formal entrance.