The harbor scene where we went to bust a new distribution network was, in a word, a mess. It was fine up until we crushed all the remnants, but the problem was that the last guy, desperate to survive, slammed the warehouse door shut from the outside and barred it.

Beyond the closed heavy iron door, only the sound of the splashing seawater echoed dully. Inside the dark and damp storage warehouse, only the smell of stale dust, the scent of blood, and the heavy breathing of the two people filled the air.