The day started like any other. Martin cycled through the early morning streets toward the train yard, the cool air stinging his cheeks. The rhythmic clatter of trains echoed in the distance, a comforting backdrop to his routine. He liked these quiet moments—the calm before the hours of rumbling steel and iron took over.
He parked his bike near the control office, nodding to the dispatcher as he signed off on the day’s cargo manifest. FTX-407 was a standard freight run, transporting machinery, raw materials, and one particularly secure vault in car 3.