Market Surplus

[Petitioner]

Room 479
Detroit Munitions

---

"Come in," intones a quiet, tired-sounding voice. Fattore opens the door, revealing a spacious office with subtle patterned rugs covering the stone floor, and innumerable file cabinets lining all the walls. Behind a large, low desk that angles at ninety degrees made of some indeterminate kind of wood, with neatly-stacked papers on the side facing the room's entrance, and six or seven large monitors at the far side. A thin man with brown hair in a dark suit and with darker circles under his eyes sits in a tall-backed swivel chair, and as Fattore enters, the man swivels to face the door, standing up and offering his hand above the desk.

"Mister Fattore, is it?"