cortex

The night is as dark as a sea of oil on a moonless night, Maxwell walks as though it is a clear day. The purpose is clear in his stride as he makes his way down the street towards a seemingly abandoned building. Maxwell retrieves somthing from his pocket, it gleems unnaturally without need for light. The building he enters is dark but a light eminates from above. Wisps of cobwebs hang lightly as if floating in the air, dust permeates the atmosphere of the building. Maxwell treads lightly, weapon in hand, up the rickety stairs towards the light above......