The sun was a bruised orange smear against the horizon as the Audi R8 pulled up to the perimeter of the industrial district. At 18:00, the shadows of the massive grain silos at the Meridian Brewery stretched across the road like bars. It was Jake's first time seeing the facility in person. He had inherited the title, the deed, and the profits, but he had never once set foot on the oily gravel of the loading docks.
The main gate was a heavy slab of wrought iron, and it remained firmly shut. A guard in a grey uniform stepped out of the kiosk, holding a clipboard and looking remarkably unimpressed by the low-slung supercar idling at his feet.
Jake lowered the window, the cold evening air rushing in. "Open the gate."
The guard leaned over, squinting. "It's Sunday, sir. Brewery's closed. Nobody on site except for essential maintenance and the night watch."
