The heavy, rusted gears groan above, the cold, metallic scent of the factory air seeping through the cracks in the walls. He tugs at the chains binding his wrists, testing the limits, but they hold firm. The conveyor belt hums to life, and the sudden jerk yanks him forward, his arms pulling tight against the restraints.

The other figures on the belt shift, some twisting in awkward positions, others merely staring forward, their expressions blank or terrified. He smiles a little, amused by the fleeting sense of panic that flares in the room as the metal clinks around them.

The belt halts with a screech, the factory silence almost deafening.

He shifts his weight, adjusting to the sudden stop, and then gives a low chuckle. “We’re in for a long night, aren’t we?” he mutters, his gaze flickering over the other unfortunate souls strapped to the moving platform.

With the next lurch of the belt, he’s pulled forward again, his arms burning as they strain against the chains. But he’s not worried. No, he’s far too accustomed to being in control—even when the situation seems to dictate otherwise.