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The King of Suits' left boot was still atrociously grimy from the scrabble up the building, with long splashes of mud, raw sewage, and the occasional piece of random detritus that lined the sewer tunnels leaving their marks all around his costume. The smell of the place was even more abominable than the dimly-lit sights that the young man's eyes could make out, a putrid, wafting stench of death, decay and waste hammering his nostrils like a really bad hangover. Only its noxious odor made it more like a bad combover, something obvious and utterly unbearable, but which you had to suffer with, and hope no-one said anythin- The caped and cowled man stopped abruptly, wondering what was wrong with himself. Shaking his head, he kept on down the strangely spacious and broad sewer tunnel, dodging the odd rat, reservoir dog, rodent, and large insect along the way. He had come down into the disgusting underworld due to a tip given him by one of his slightly-crazier acquaintances, who had told him about a gathering of rather well-armed people near back-alley sewer entries, and references to a 'Worm' of some kind. Hoping and fearing simultaneously that it was indeed the dreaded Conqueror Worm, the King of Suits kept his mouth shut and trudged on, his eyes peeled for any signs of a trap in the dank depths.