Leo drove aimlessly through the streets.
He had just escaped from that suffocating underground archive room.
His tires hummed monotonously over the wet asphalt.
Before he knew it, the scenery around him had changed.
The towering, glass-walled office buildings vanished. In their place were low, red-brick houses, cheap bars with neon signs, and the walls of abandoned factories.
Leo hit the brakes, stopping the car at an intersection.
He looked up and saw a familiar set of doors.
The Steel Worker Community Center.
It was where he had gotten his start, the cradle of his political career.
Leo's hands tightened on the steering wheel. He didn't get out of the car.
Staring at the doors through his windshield, he was overcome by a powerful urge to flee.
He was afraid to go inside.
A few months ago, he had been a hero here.
It was here that he had sworn to fight the oligarchs, protect the interests of the workers, and take Pittsburgh back from the capitalists.
