A prison in Southern California.
Mason was pushed into a meeting room by two guards.
The thick metal door closed, and the small room was quiet.
Mason's eyes were a little puffy, his hands were cuffed, and he looked exhausted. He stared at the man across from him.
It was a man in his forties, well dressed in an ironed suit, wearing an expensive-looking watch. He dressed like a successful, upper-class person. However, his calloused hands didn't belong to someone who sat in an air-conditioned office all day.
Mason had a vague idea of what was going on, and he grinned from ear to ear.
"I'm guessing you're not my lawyer."
"A lawyer can't save you, but we can." The man in the suit smiled and extended his hand as he said, "Allow me to introduce myself, I'm Brandon Melsen. I'm your boss now."
Like he had just heard a funny joke, Mason placed his cuffed hands on the table and began chuckling.
