Adrian woke up to the smell of engine oil.
His head throbbed painfully with a, dull thud that pulsed behind his eyes. He tried to move his arms, but they were pinned behind his back with a zip restraints, the plastic teeth digging into his skin as he shifted. His limbs felt heavy and sluggish, the remnant of the tranquilizer was still in his system, making the world feel distant and blurred.
He was on a cold concrete floor. He didn't open his eyes immediately. He listened.
There was a distant, low-frequency hum vibrating through the floor—the specific thrum of an aging power generator. It was a sound he knew from the East Side, but it sounded different this time. This sounded like the battery powered type that was only just available to the South District's warehouses. He knew cause he'd seen the receipt in the records he reviewed.
