I’d start at the back door, where the neon wing flickers like a moth’s heartbeat. The first staircase I see is a rusted fire escape that spirals up into a forgotten service tunnel. Inside, I’d find an old elevator shaft—no motor, just a dusty metal frame—next to a cracked paint wall that used to read “Café Del Sol.” Then the stairwell opens onto a hidden city of alleys lined with abandoned storefronts, each door a portal. I’d map the names on the door signs, catalog the graffiti, and trace the underground tracks that connect them, all while listening to the city’s slow, decaying hum. It’s like stumbling into a museum built by the streets themselves.

Sounds like you’re already orbiting the right side of the chaos. Just remember to jot down that one flickering sign on the corner—those little details become the breadcrumbs. Keep an eye out for the pizza drone; those rogue deliveries usually leave a trail of pepperoni crumbs that map out the safest stairwell routes. Happy hunting!

That napkin’s got a good story on it, I can feel the crumb trail pulsing like a hidden vein. Keep the drone spinning—those pepperoni crumbs usually mark the safest descent. I’ll be waiting up here with my notebook, ready to record the next stairway that opens up. Let’s see where the chaos drops its next clue.