Rocky clamped a modified house arrest device on our ankles, one for Mav and one for me. “Don’t try any games. Cause we’ll get you in the end.” He warned us.

Rocky then toyed around with a laptop to see that both tracking devices were working, and then went back to our ankles and made sure they had been fastened tightly around our ankles.

He then cut our cable ties loose, and opened the van door, allowing us to make our way towards my boss's front yard.

As we walked towards my boss’s front yard, I could hear that the vans engine was still running.

The house was a typical setup for the suburb; sloping front lawn, a garage on the side that had a door I was almost certain would roll up by hand, a peeling paint job on the front windows and a Sky satellite dish that hadn’t been used in over a decade.

I couldn’t recall what the time might have been, but I’d guessed it was close to Midnight. The days that had passed since I had last had access to a cell phone escaped me. So for all I knew it coulda have been the weekend.

If it was the weekend, chances were that my boss probably would’ve comba’d out under a coffin of alcohol. As he did every weekend.

I felt a great deal of guilt tug at my gut. My boss was a bit of a dick, but I’d say he lived in an even worse situation than me; and I’m saying that as a guy he’s kept close to minimum wage. I thought that as we moved through the side gate and over to the garage door.

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I gotta say, It was a fluke that I was able to pull all of this off. The locked door on the side of the garage was a barricade, sure. But not three months prior during the first week back at work the boss drunkenly showed us all where he had kept his garage key; behind the miniature waterfall in a miniature treasure box in his outdoor goldfish pond.

I crept towards the setup and tried my luck, and sure as anything, the key was still inside. Let this be a lesson to anyone reading; If you have a Supra that you wanna use as a bragging tool for all your peasant workers, don’t get so trollied that you give away the keys hiding spot.

Anyway, we moved back along towards the garage, slipped the key into the lock and quietly unlocked the door. It was a light metallic door, all beaten to shit, but I managed to weasel it open without much noise.

I took in the sight of a Polished Pearl Toyota Supra, and its companion a Nissan Navara work truck, tools and all locked in the back.

The garage smelled of grease and oil. A workbench surrounded by rows of cabinets lined with Tools and handy bits throughout.

Suddenly, it hit me; the bloody keys.

I inspected the ignitions of both vehicles. And at that point, I knew exactly where they would be; next to the kitchen sink.

I felt like I was pushing my luck if I decided to move down the hall into the kitchen. But I knew I had no other choice. Part of me thought to rush down, grab both, and rush back. The other thought; calm, stealth, and collected.

I ultimately decided upon the quiet approach, told Maverick to wait where he was and began to move down the hall.

The house was small, I prayed he didn’t have a gun. If he had, that was perhaps the only valuable asset he hadn’t broadcast to me and all my workmates. As I approached the corner of the hall that led into the kitchen I peeped around, and realised that it was empty.

So I quickly made my way towards the key rack and swiped up both pairs of my boss's Keys.

But as I made my way back, it became apparent that someone was sobbing in a room. Softly and mournfully.

I crept back down the hall, but as I did so I noticed a room door that had been left slightly ajar. And through it I saw the scarring image of my boss, in a limp comatose manner, his arms handcuffed to the bed frame, his face a cold blue, his mouth slack, a rope tied around his neck.

His unclothed wife sobbed at his feet, as she struggled to dial the phone. A man-made horror from beyond my comprehension.

I held my gasp, and moved back towards the garage, to let it out.