On some dark, moon-lit nights, a long dusty road in the middle of nowhere leads up to a wrought-iron gate beset on either side by a wrought iron fence which seems to stretch into the fog at either side. At the top of the gate, engraved on a crest of some sorts, a large eloquent letter "B"... below the gate an old rotten wooden sign reads, "No Soliciters". The gate is closed tight and locked with a heavy pad lock, which although sturdy, appears worn with age...
