You searched for the address on the scrap of paper you were handed, and they have led you to this alley between a laundromat and a boarded-up diner. The asphalt in the alley is riddled with giant potholes and huge cracks, and you don’t want to consider why the road is so wet when it hasn’t rained in weeks.
An acrid, sour smell burns your nose and you wince and you walk further down between the brick walls with layers of colorful spray paint on them. Spiderwebs of telecommunication cables criss-cross overhead, casting strange shadows from the greenish, weak street lamps above.
You come to a dead end and don’t see anything of notice causing you to begin to think this was all some dumb hoax. However, after taking a few more steps you notice that the alley doesn’t actually end but makes a hard turn to the left.
You ponder how the shadows played out so that you would only notice the turn if you were already almost at the end of the alley, but you push the thought out of your mind and continue on.
You follow the alley, and then it turns again, and then again, and you look backwards, but right behind you is a brick wall where empty space should have been.
You spin around again, and instead of open alley there’s another brick wall with a large wooden door set inside an arch of bricks carved with ornate sigils. You could have sworn that you were just looking at open air, but you turn again, and suddenly there’s another brick wall with an identical wooden door.
You realize that you probably only have one way forward, and that’s through the door. You take a deep breath, and press upon the door handle.