Industrial Zones and Cold Undertones 1

The industrial zone was a bleak landscape, shrouded in winter. Rusted steel beams pierced the grey skies, and the faint stench of oil mixed with the cold air. 

Jack Cross stood nervously at the corner, his hands jammed deep into his coat pockets. His breath escaped in visible puffs that showed how cold it was, and how anxious he was. This place wasn't just cold, it was suffocating, a cage of metal and despair. And it was a reminder of his compulsion to obey Jason.

Jack was not supposed to be anxious in places like these. But there was something about Jason that was annoying. And he couldn't help but shy away from meeting the man. If he could he wouldn't want to meet the man no matter what he did. But he soon saw a car approaching.

Jason's sleek black car appeared at the end of the street, its headlights slicing through the gloom. Jack's shoulders tensed as the vehicle rolled to a stop. Damn it. He came.