It's a crystal clear night.
The moon bathes everything in bright silver, giving the world a glowing, ethereal quality. The air is cool and dry, one of those nights where you feel like you can see further and hear more.
At the sewers leading to the Horizon compound, time is beginning to take it's toll. Footpaths are surrendering to vegetation. Warning tape flutters ineffectually, paint fades. The dark, silent corpse of a building is also showing signs of age: more windows have been broken, water stains darken the sides like a rash, and unkept vegetation begins to re-assert itself.