At 7:30 AM, Ethan Gray arrived at the corporate offices of Riverport Film Studios. Roman Rowan hadn't arrived yet, and the air inside the office was heavy and stale. The windows had been tightly sealed for days, trapping the faint scent of old paper and industrial carpet.
Ethan set his bag down on his new desk and walked to the large glass pane overlooking Everpeace Street. He pushed the heavy latch and slid the window open. Immediately, the frantic roar of the morning commute rushed in—the honking of horns, the screech of tires, and the rhythmic thrum of thousands of people beginning their day. The fresh, morning air, though tinged with the city's metallic tang, was a welcome relief from the stuffiness of the room.
Roman was a man who preferred controlled environments; he liked the sile
