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After the shift John was given an invitation to meet with one of the organizers of the company which ran the restaurant on the 22nd, at three in the morning weirdly. The time between that invitation and the meeting went by quickly for John, and he heard more distressing things as the time ticked towards the 22nd. The taxi John had booked from his apartment to a rather tall office building was probably the last uneventful ride on public transport anyone would ever take. After John paid the taxi driver and the taxi itself went on it's merry way the next thing for John was the reception room of the building.
"Good morning, I am here to see Mr Marcy, something about an opportunity." John declares to the male receptionist at a computer, the poor sod looked very ill and tired. "Use the elevator please, floor eighteen and the guard will escort you to Mr Marcy." The poor Dutchman wearily replies. With that John does as the receptionist says, meeting up with the said guard who does escort John past multiple office rooms to a door labelled MM. Inside is a lean and well-dressed figure sitting at a desk which stands behind a wall of windows and in front of two sofas on either side of a coffee table, everything in the surprisingly large room is minimalist in it's design. "Mister Lewis, take a seat if you wouldn't mind." MM orders dryly as he continues working, which is what John does, half an hour of negotiating follows before screaming and gunshots cause a horrendous racket.
"What the hell is that?" John asks himself as he gets up from the sofa, Mr Marcy does a similar action while picking up a ruler. As the two leave the office they notice a horrible example of table manners, where the receptionist begins tucking into a nice bit of security guard. In the situation John decided to run past the situation, and after a short while of running around with avoiding the undead and general chaos John is loading up a security golf cart with a giant tool case and a few people's lunchboxes. The growl of something is enough to startle John enough to drive out of the car park, and into the apocalypse.
"Good morning, I am here to see Mr Marcy, something about an opportunity." John declares to the male receptionist at a computer, the poor sod looked very ill and tired. "Use the elevator please, floor eighteen and the guard will escort you to Mr Marcy." The poor Dutchman wearily replies. With that John does as the receptionist says, meeting up with the said guard who does escort John past multiple office rooms to a door labelled MM. Inside is a lean and well-dressed figure sitting at a desk which stands behind a wall of windows and in front of two sofas on either side of a coffee table, everything in the surprisingly large room is minimalist in it's design. "Mister Lewis, take a seat if you wouldn't mind." MM orders dryly as he continues working, which is what John does, half an hour of negotiating follows before screaming and gunshots cause a horrendous racket.
"What the hell is that?" John asks himself as he gets up from the sofa, Mr Marcy does a similar action while picking up a ruler. As the two leave the office they notice a horrible example of table manners, where the receptionist begins tucking into a nice bit of security guard. In the situation John decided to run past the situation, and after a short while of running around with avoiding the undead and general chaos John is loading up a security golf cart with a giant tool case and a few people's lunchboxes. The growl of something is enough to startle John enough to drive out of the car park, and into the apocalypse.
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