No longer sure who to fear the Hand of Death, his army, the humans, or Munich Tellith tightened his grip on the tire iron and started walking again. He moved toward the edge of the road, and finally moved to the ditch. He could see the looming towers, the rest of the complex surrounded by trees. The yard lights blazed like usual, but that didn't mean much.
Though there was no corn, Tellith navigated to the field and cut across, drawing closer. He sniffed the air, inhaling the heavy smoke. The smell obliterated everything else, as he crept forward, essentially blind. Concentrating, he disappeared, or would have seemed to if anyone was looking.
He broke through the trees, into the complex area. The buildings weren't the shambles he expected. They seemed undamaged, despite the horrific destruction that had happened there. The smoke rolled not from the citadel, but from an empty field beyond it.
What in the hell?