The sound of cars, night birds and the busy people in Mattress Street filled the air. To some of these people, it was just an ordinary night, nothing different from the usual.
To others, it was a future-defining night, where the life of a person and the survival of a company was on the line.
Through the somewhat busy road, an armored truck clawed its way through the street, honking and bumping. People glanced at it once but didn't give it a second thought. It appeared to be just another transport vehicle taking goods to some location.
Inside the armored beast however, the missing heir of Golden Hay was slumped against the cold, padded wall of the transport chamber.
Grant was breathing heavily. His wrists were chafed raw by steel cuffs, and around his ankle an ID tag was clamped like a dog's collar.
Today, he was cargo. Disposable. Doomed.
A low, electric hum vibrated through the vehicle— locks, cameras, and reinforced steel singing their hymn of captivity.
