I found the card reader next to the metal door.

I pressed the plastic badge against it.

A small red light turned green.

The lock clicked open.

I slipped inside and closed the door softly behind me.

The air inside was cold and smelled of damp concrete.

I pulled a small flashlight from my pocket and switched it on.

The beam of light cut through the darkness, showing a long hallway lined with pipes.

I found the stairs and began to descend.

Level B1 was empty, filled with broken office chairs and old desks.

I kept going down to B2.

The air grew colder.

At the bottom of the stairs, a heavy iron door stood before me.

A sign on the door read: *Archives. Restricted Access.*

I used the badge again.

The door swung open with a heavy groan.

Inside, rows of tall metal shelves stretched into the darkness.

They were loaded with thousands of cardboard boxes.

I walked down the first aisle, my flashlight beam bouncing off the labels.

Most of them were years old, covered in dust.

I needed the records from last year.