The back room of the shelter was not at all what I expected. Instead of basic storage and supplies, it opened into a small apartment complex hidden within the shelter's structure. Maria led me through narrow corridors that clearly weren't part of any official blueprint, descending stairs that went deeper underground than I thought possible.
We emerged into what looked like a command center. Computer screens lined the walls, displaying maps, financial data, and surveillance footage. Three people were working at the terminals, and they looked up when I entered. One was a young man with dark skin and intelligent eyes. Another was a woman who couldn't have been more than thirty, with purple-streaked hair and the relaxed posture of someone completely comfortable with technology. The third w
