The hard soles of Arthur Pendragon’s shoes echo on the metal stairs hidden behind some trash bins in a dank back alley. He trudges down the stairs and reaches a thick metal door, on which he pounds with the side of his fist. He waits.
Seconds later, a hidden panel slides open, and a pair of blue eyes peek out at him. “Password?” a deep voice asks.
“Open up, Percy, it’s me,” Arthur says crossly. Always the same thing with this one. It’s my damn club. I don’t need to give the password.