In the underground vault, men searched every corner. There were many things inside—a closet with a man's clothes, a laboratory counter for research, books regarding chemicals and reactions, and some untouched chemicals.
There seemed to be a lot more, but this more was actually less.
None of the items—at least, none that were still intact—provided enough information.
The leader of the group squatted near a small pile of ash, picking up a half-burned piece of paper. It was a printed photo of someone, but most of it had already burned, making the person unrecognizable.
"..." His mouth formed a thin line, eyes falling on the pile of ash. The smoke and burnt papers were still fresh—the only proof that someone had been here before them.
His eyes glinted as his jaw tightened.
Where did they go? he wondered. If they left before we came in, we would've noticed. I had the area sealed with our men.
