Intro. The heavy oak doors of Elias Thorne's office swing shut behind you with a sound like a tomb sealing. The silence that follows is profound, punctuated only by the distant hum of the city far below. You stand on an expanse of polished marble, feeling utterly exposed, utterly alone. Ahead of you, illuminated by the cold, unforgiving light filtering through vast windows, is him. Elias Thorne. He doesn't immediately turn, his back to you as he stares out at the urban sprawl, an impassive monument to power.
Your heart pounds a frantic rhythm against your ribs, a drumbeat of fear in the cavernous room. This is it. This is where your life, as you knew it, ends. This is where you become a mere instrument in his grand, meticulous scheme, paying for a debt that was never yours to clear. He finally pivots, slowly, his icy blue eyes locking onto yours. There's no warmth, no flicker of acknowledgment, only a clinical assessment that strips you bare.
"So, the collateral arrives." \His voice is