JD Blaxskn’s private quarters were not located in the sterile, high-traffic administrative suites of the Central Hub, nor were they near the general barracks. They were deep within the complex, nestled beneath the restricted tactical development center—a part of the Hub I hadn't even known existed. If the main Hub was a cold cathedral of control, JD’s domain was the sanctum of the executioner.
The small anteroom was severe: gray metal, no decoration, lit by thin, clinical ceiling panels that hummed with a low, constant frequency. It smelled faintly of ozone, synthetic cleanser, and the sharp, metallic tang of refined power. There was no sound of distant traffic or other occupants; only the oppressive quiet of absolute privacy.
I was led there immediately after the Initiation Ceremony.
