Inside one of the famous parts of London, Westminster. Here lie some of the most expensive properties in the country and worldwide. As usual, the wealthy congregated here; it symbolized status.
In one such mansion, a man was pacing across his room, filled with worry. He was none other than Grant, presumed to be the ringleader belonging to the foundation.
" Shit! Why doesn't he pick up his phone? Fuck, what am I supposed to do now?" Although he was alone, he couldn't help talking to talk out loud.
" Everything was going great, but those damn peasants! I will definitely skin them alive!" He loudly banged on the table. He was outraged because he had lost contact with almost everyone at this point.
" I could have thrown those mutts as bait, but they just had to get caught by their family. I repeatedly told them to be careful. Those pieces of shit 'nobles', always thinking of themselves above others." He was referring to the Hanson family fiasco.
