The names change, near-instantly, and the character of the place slowly adopts the necessary attributes, like water pulling the dyes from a piece of cloth. It was, and mostly still is, a church, which explains its presence out here beyond the residential areas: none of your ilk in our neighborhood, we care but it's the property values, so on. During that time there was a man who lived in the attics, feeding himself off cafeteria leftovers and washing himself in the public bathrooms. This man would walk into the rooms of the dying, at night, when no one else would see him, and tell them he was immortal, that his blood carried benign and possibly sentient lifeforms which had cleaned him of his pathogens, and could do the same for them, given the chance. It is unsure how many took the man up on his offer -- at the time of his capture he had been living in the building for nearly a year. The fact that no one quite knows what became of the man, or of the patients, lends the story nearly-assured fictional status, the sort of story those with endless time on their hands spin and pass on. This man was one of three people who lived in the building who was given the title "The Immortal". The second, and most recent, was Vons Serin, the Black-Thighed Witch. Of the third I cannot yet speak.

the exit is hidden within the exit