The door ahead snaps open, and Ivar steps into a wonderland free of offensive weapons, theoretically, not to mention a lobby unmarked by laser burns or bullet holes: simulated marble flooring, pastel-colored walls, and a couple of simplas decorative plants. It ain’t much, but it’s better than most places one might find in the killzone known as the Bronx. A consortium of corps, including KFK International, owns the place.