Albert made his way towards the office and took his keys to unlock the front door. He was early, as usual. He had to be there in order to get things ready for the rest of the workers. Despite being the head manager, he still had his own boss to please.

Donut in mouth, coffee pinched to his side with an elbow, keys in one hand, briefcase in the other, newspaper against his other side..he kept things moving. At least as much movement as an overweight, balding man could.

As he made his way into his enclosed office within the main office he sat down to enjoy his bounty. Humans had long ago moved on from being hunter gatherers, but the need to conquer had never left. Albert happened to "conquer" his coffee, donut, and newspaper 30 minutes before they opened.

Now what..

Next up came the distinctive rumble of a jetpack. Touching down outside the office, a young man pressed a button on his helmet, causing it to whir gently and flick up. taking a sip out of the smoothie he had picked up earlier, he shrugged his shoulders, the steel 'wings' that allowed him to fly about folding down. Opening the door, he let out a large yawn, giving a 'hello,' to the boss. Yes, he was early. It was mostly because he was early enough to dodge the ticketers, so it saved him a ton of money. Plus, overtime. He slid his punchcard into the clock and pressed it down, the machine letting out a 'thunk' as it confirmed his check in time. Walking to his cubicle, he slid the helmet off and put it next to his computer, putting his jetpack jacket down over his chair.

Slurping again on his smoothie, he gave a twirl on his chair, a comb in his hand. The helmet always mussed up his hair, so he gave himself a few minutes always to make sure he looked good. His skin was pretty healthy, his hair, which was a straight, close-to-but-not-quite-jet-black hair was clean, and he always managed to be clean shaven.

"Morning boss."

Seeing the young aviator stroll inside took Albert out of his daydream. After the man punched in he squinted his eyes trying to remember his name. Seeing him punch in and sit down to comb his hair made Albert slightly annoyed, "Are you combing your hair on company time?" He said in a slightly low and nasally voice.

He should know by now that you did that before work. Albert combed his few precious strands of hair impeccably every morning.

"I am sir, however, with all due respect, my computer is still booting on." He pointed at the screen in his cubicle, which (thankfully,) faced away from where Albert normally sat. "I couldn't work right now sir, even if I wasn't combing my hair." He sat back in his chair, watching as the computer went through all of its start up screen in a painfully slow fashion. Even working in IT, there was limits to what you could do with a hunk of junk. Pulling out his phone, he looked at the notifications. Texts from his mates, one from his mum, who had been insistent on making sure he wasn't going to go into a wall at fifty miles per hour, whilst flying... House burned down, middle east had another bomb going off... Nothing of any interest.

Finally, his computer chirped up, and he twirled his chair back around, tapping in his login details. As the cycle of incredible slowness^TM started again, he let out a long sigh. Mondays.

Jano the janitor had done nothing but drink water lately. Maybe it's just him, maybe it's the demon literally raging fire inside his body that's been draining him of his necessary bodily fluids. Apparently, neither the Boss-man nor the annoying jetpack kid remembered to greet him, even though he was literally drinking his second liter of water by the entrance. The man would begrudgingly sweep the dirt that the kid had gotten in not to mention the damned scorch marks AGAIN!

He would grumble after he had swept the dirt and then took his mop to make sure that the entrance was treated well else someone slips on the water that he poured on the spot to make sure it was kept clean.

As their janitor continued to clean more employees strolled in. His floor was unfortunately scuffed up by a woman. She exclaimed, "Oh sorry!" Her name was Veronica. She had a long coat and hair tucked into a bun. She was their receptionist and answered all phone calls. She was absent minded and forgot things constantly. Even when she wrote them down.

An elderly black man named Isaac shuffled in as well. He shook his head at the sight of the dirty floor. When he walked across the floor it did not get any worse. As far as anyone could remember, Isaac had worked at their office. Even the boss knew he was there before him. The company photos always had him in them every year. He never seemed to age any further but maintained his somewhat cordial gruff attitude. He had particular interest in their building. Maybe he WAS the embodiment of the building. Hahaha haha... I Crack myself up. He sat down in a place in the back.

Veronica waved at the jet pack man. She was a very kind lady and their boss had taken a liking to her. "Good morning, Veronica," he said in a friendly tone, "How are you this fine morning?" Anyone who had worked there for any length of time would know the boss rarely greeted others. Veronica was an exception..

She replied, "I'm good Albert, I should get to work." She began reading her to do list and attempted to get something done. She was a hard worker, but not a very good one. Albert stared at her for longer then was necessary. He looked around somewhat embarrassed and quickly ducked back into his office shutting the door behind him.

Outside, the people in the office might have overheard a loud rumbling, as if from an old bike approaching. Outside, the rumbling was far louder, drawing the attention of everybody in earshot as the rider brought the chopper round into the office's car park before finally cutting the engine.

A couple of minutes later, Boris Beatup came into the scene, bike helmet under his arm and looking as 50's slick as ever - which, by modern standards, was very much not slick at all for how dated the style was. Still, he did carry himself with confidence, albeit a begrudging confidence that told everybody he didn't really want to be here; he'd learned long ago that Albert held no love for any of his co-workers other than Victoria, and he did not care to reciprocate the lack thereof.

He did, however, greet everybody else he passed with a pair of finger pistols and a perfunctory 'How you doin', fella?' or 'How you doin', toots?', depending on the recipient's genders, saving a wave and a slightly overloud 'Ayyy, what's cookin', Marko?' for the jetpack-bearing flying, until he eventually reached his desk and flopped into his chair, turning the stupid thing on and re-greasing and re-combing his hair. He and Mark had had a lot of discussion about how annoying the helmets were for keeping up your style, and yeah, Albert hated it when they did that on "his time", but so what? That square hated almost literally everything, and it wasn't Boris' fault the guy was a fat, balding middle manager.

Mark called out to Veronica as she walked in. "Hey hey hey! What's up girl? Still- Oh, ok, no." He shrugged as the secretary offered naught but a perfunctory smile his way, causing him to spin back around to his computer. Or, well, most of him. Gaze still looking at the assistant. The wave was more promising. He had just come on a little strong, it was all good. He returned the wave with a grin, before looking at the next person that came in. Issac was alright. Solid guy.

The next person was obvious. Even his jetpack made less noise than Boris' bike did, and certainly less noise than the person did. And the finger pistols. Damn the finger pistols. At least he got a wave. "Cooking? Jack. It's Monday." He would have offered his comb to his co-worker, but greasers seemingly had more combs than they did useless pockets, so it seemed like the gesture wasn't needed.

"What's happening now in the daily grind... In desk... Empty. Because I spend my whole day fixing your shit." The life of an IT guy. He had work, but as long as he claimed he was 'compiling data,' he never had to do a thing. Apart from fixing malfunctioning PCs. That happened a lot.

Though perhaps nobody may have noticed, for why would they really need to, Norman Smith walked through the company doors to punch in his card on the dot as he always does. Then, making his way towards the cubicle at the back of the office, he unpacks his briefcase, which he doesn't let go of, and slumps a big ol' pile of papers on his desk that probably have nothing to do with his job. He then takes a slow, steady sip of coffee from his cup, appropriately labeled "Norman's Coffee Cup", and puts it down to proceed with his work.

One moment, he has entered, and the next he is typing away at his computer.

Jano just wanted to fix the scorch marks because the jetpack kid keeps forgetting to stop his pack in such a low height. That was all he wanted but all he got was more footsteps on the floor which he had to clean more of. He groaned and growled as he mopped what he could before giving up on the probably permanent stain. He headed to the other side of the office to clean there instead. On the way there he would set small fires to any of the horribly maintained (and dying) decorative plants as well as mildly warping the plastic covering of the cubicles that he passed by, all without meaning to. If anyone were to get close to him, they would feel as if they were stepping out into the searing heat of the desert. Or maybe standing next to an open oven.

'Mark, baby, all you're tellin' me is that I help you keep your job,' Boris proclaimed from somewhere across the room, his computer verrrrry slowly turning on at last, the device finally letting him tap in his initials and password to start work off. Damn thing was the only reason why he had a job, actually, and it barely worked half the time to start with, piece of crap that it was. Since getting G-Word, he'd been kind of wondered if he couldn't just... go ham on some of the people here. Not all of them, and especially not Mark, but... certain individuals really ground his gears. Just a few.

'Yo, Norman,' he repeated in the meantime, giving the same finger pistols to the guy as he had to everyone else. 'Good to see you in, buddy.' Honestly, the guy was so unassuming that Boris forgot he existed half the time. He remembered a time when he was tangentially interested in certain Japanese shows, way before he'd gotten deep into greaser culture, and one of the major villains of one had been a serial killer in the guise of an unassuming businessman. Hopefully, Norm would never do anything like that, the same way Boris would never kill people with his contained plasma blade.

As the fake plants began to catch fire due to Jano's "special issues", the sprinklers began to turn on. They shot forth all over the office and even in Albert's own. The whole room was getting soaked by the water. It wasn't a light sprinkle either, it poured many gallons upon gallons of water as if it were fighting for its very life.

Isaac was noticeably absent as a soaked Albert jumped out of his office and shouted out with all the authority he could muster, "E-E-Everyone! Make your way to the emergency exi-" as he spoke a giant glob of water landed in his mouth and he began to cough horribly. Veronica screamed and ran towards the exit. More and more water poured down. All the employees would find themselves in a scene from the titanic. But Albert was unconscious on the floor and Jano began to steam from the heat and water combination.

What was going on!?

...well, shit. Maybe he would get a chance to use his plasma sword after all. Speaking of which, he pulled that out and held the still-closed item in his hand, just in case the water started rising. And... fuck, he hated the son of a bitch, but Albert paid him. What else was he gonna do?

'You'd better give me the biggest freakin' raise for saving your ass, buddy,' Boris muttered as he grabbed the unconscious manager and started dragging him along, away from the falling water. Shit, the guy was probably gonna be saved by somebody else looking for a raise anyway; it might as well be Boris who claimed it, right? And even if he didn't, he'd hold it over the bastard to milk it for as much value as he could.

Norman, out of the corner of his eye, noticed someone being unusually loud and very obnoxious. He thought it might have been Boris, if he cared to peel himself away from the work he was currently doing on his desktop. Luckily, and seemingly without anyone noticing, he had switched the conventional company desktop with one of his own that he had constructed at home.

Next thing he knows, however, the sprinkler system starts going off. People are running all over the place. The boss, his name is probably Albert, starts chocking on sprinkler water. Boris, the irritating one, started dragging the boss along. Distractions about, Norman presumed he better leave and not risk getting burned alive. He sipped his coffee, slowly, and snatched up all the papers he had and stuffed them into the briefcase, of which he still hadn't let go of.

Water, heat, and circuits don't mix well.

Oh no no no no no. Boris did not get to hold the fact that he had saved the boss' life over his head. Slipping his jacket on, the wings flared out. With the jetpack warming up, he zipped his jacket up and stuck his helmet on, wading over towards the greaser. Grabbing one of Albert's arms, he hoisted him up, turning to his friend. "We do this together, aight? You don't get solo benefits for saving his tubby ass."

Woah, was Jack getting territorial? 'Ease up, man,' Boris exclaimed, continuing to pull the old man out of the building along with Jack, 'I wasn't tryin' to steal any credit. Knowing this guy, we ain't gonna get any benefits for saving the guy. Like as not, he'll just yell at us for not savin' him quicker, then tell us to get back to work as usual.' His voice was a tad bitter as he spoke that latter sentence. Why was he bothering to be altruistic for Albert, again?

...well, he guessed somebody had to be. Maybe the greasy fart of a man would improve his lousy attitude over time.

The water continued to spray everyone, but Boris and jetpack lad didn't seem to mind. They continued walking out with their boss in tow. The demon man was washed with water and submerged. Afterward, the sprinklers just stopped. Just like that. The water continued to flow out the doors, but it was no longer spraying from above.

The water surrounding the demon would boil and simmer into smoke. But that didn't help the man from nearly getting drowned from the ridiculous amounts of water coming out of what can be considered more of a spout or a hose than sprinklers. "Fuuuuuuuuu--gRRKKK!!!" the janitor would say as he struggled to breathe when the water enveloped his body. He would be pushed against one of the hallway's doors to which he would cling on to for safety while warm bubbles formed around his body as water normally does when you put it against scalding hot metal.

When the water was high enough for him to swim through without getting washed away too much, Jano would make a feeble attempt to swim out of the mess that he unwittingly created by forcing a door open in hopes that it would save his life as well as alleviate the overwhelming pressure inside the flooded building.