You'd heard the rumors about this place, whispers that lingered a little too long in the right circles. A man, they said, who fixed things that shouldn't be fixable. Who never asked questions. Who never looked anyone in the eye for too long.

The door at the end of the corridor was half-open, a warm glow spilling onto the cracked concrete floor. From inside came the rhythmic scrape of metal on metal—steady, unhurried, like a heartbeat.