Located on the city's main drag, near the heart of Shadowgard Center and the seat of the municipal government, Wolfram & Hart's Shadowgard branch physically represents the firm's return in force to the city it abandoned a century ago. Constructed in 1960, not long after Wolfram & Hart cemented its influence over Greyson University and other key establishments and locations throughout the area, the structure itself reminds the casual observer of nothing so much as a fortress. Even at the time of its initial construction, its design was outmoded, harking back to the Victorian towers scattered throughout the city of Boston and other parts of New England. Its steep, copper-roofed central peak sits on top of thirteen stories of glass and granite supported by a steel substructure, the blocky main column of the building surrounded by four great turrets with crenellated conical roofs. Gargoyles theatrically spout water in the event of rain, and demonic grotesques perch on the roof and the ledges of the building, glowering down at the street below.

The tower is the physical manifestation of Wolfram & Hart's strength, its power, its hubris. And despite its small size (especially as compared to the skyscrapers and vast office complexes the firm has scattered throughout the world), the Shadowgard building is swiftly transforming into Wolfram & Hart's central office.

Despite its imposing, vaguely Gothic exterior, the tower's interior -- at least those areas routinely viewed by visitors -- is thoroughly modern and fairly forgettable; well-appointed, but ultimately banal. The high ceilings, spacious lobbies and offices, comfortable furniture, plain gray carpets and light wood paneling make the interior of this office resemble the interior of any other Wolfram & Hart regional headquarters worldwide, and above and beyond that, the standard modern law office as depicted by a hundred TV shows and movies. Of course, there are a number of restricted areas that visitors (and even more than a few employees) are not allowed to see, including the basement laboratories of the Science Division, the firm's archives and records, the library, and so forth; and though the building's schematics are on file at the city clerk's office, strangely, there are a number of areas that are noted on the map but never defined, as though they're nothing more than empty space. It's far from surprising that a number of conspiracy theories surround the structure and the firm at large; but as of yet, not one of them has been corroborated or proven.