The broken fence and smashed in, nearly demolished west-wall of the Dunder Mifflin Paper Company stuck out like a sore thumb in contrast to the spotless laminated logo of the aging paper company; from across the long stretch of highway that separated his office at the Long Island Enquirer to Dunder Mifflin's corporate headquarters, Solastalgia stared wearily at the battered building while adjusting his silver, book-shaped cufflinks.  He wasn't quite sure to himself what had precisely happened over the past few weeks; the plethora of shootings, explosions and death that had plagued Chicago had become a blur to him.  There were too many funerals to visit, there were too many contracts to sign, and there wasn't enough alcohol or cocaine in the world that would be able to numb his continuing sense of dread as everything that had occurred in the previous weeks began to slowly unfold inside of his mind.  He was alive, though - he was thankful for that, even though he hadn't fully grasped the gravity of that fact yet.

Yet, as he quickly eyed himself in the mirror as he put on his grey suit jacket and grabbed the card that contained the hastily-scribbled address of a relatively unknown newspaper reporter that requested comments on the acquisition before walking downstairs to the outside of his office, he knew he had a part of him reignited that he hadn't felt since he was in New York for what felt like a lifetime ago; A young Consigliere in New York named SammyGarcini had taken him in after Solastalgia displayed a spectacular lack of regard for life and real estate when he was a young (and very eccentric) man.  How the times changed, he thought to himself.

A fairly short car ride over from his driver sent him to the main entrance of Dunder Mifflin, where the building revealed several officials from the State of Illinois; in what was seen as an unexpected turn of events, the state government had activated several emergency procedures to seize the physical property of Dunder Mifflin under the auspice of public safety in light of the attacks surrounding the company; through some extreme police brutality finagling on Cpt-Harris's part on the Governor of Illinois, the state agreed to avoid the fire-sale it had planned and allowed time for an adequate buyer that could revive the company.  After a lengthy lawsuit with the late Dread_Pirate_Pickles, The Long Island Enquirer inherited and promptly liquidated The Tabloid News empire before what little tatters remained found their way into the hands of Mr_Pickles; the cash that was raised during the entire process was being used to facilitate the purchase of Dunder Mifflin.  

The crumbling real estate of Dunder Mifflin was more than evident as the contracts were being signed to the glee of the officials from Illinois - it was in desperate need of foundation repair.  But, ah! The hidden underground complex, Solastalgia thought, would be still intact! With the vast amount of illegal equipment located inside, it was hard to believe the government would facilitate the sale of the property with knowledge of its existence.  The building looked almost nothing like the place Solastalgia called home for several years; only the logo served as a definitive reminder of the property he was standing in.

Several deed transfers and property title acquisitions later, Solastalgia sat in the one undamaged corner of the Dunder Mifflin Paper Company before pulling out the card containing the reporter's address.  Grabbing a sheet of paper from one of the many reams still intact, he took a silver ballpoint pin out of his pocket and began writing.

"TokyoBambi,

Well, the acquisition is done - I'm sure you'll get a few decent tidbits out of this to impress your editor as well.  Really, though - and, off the record -  you should really consider joining The Long Island Enquirer; I could use writers, and from what I've read and heard about you, you're easily one of the best writers I've had the pleasure of meeting in a while.  A bigger platform would propel you to greatness, I'm sure of it.  Keep it in mind, eh?"

"On the record, I have a lot of work to do - Toby was a fantastic manager to this place before the bombs claimed him as well as most of this building; with that said, though, I acquired this company because I'm wholly confident that this company - and the employees still left of it - have the best days ahead of them.  I could tell you that we're re-rising and rebuilding something great out of the ashes, but I won't.  We're going past rebuilding - we're going to exceed it.  It'll certainly be no easy feat to accomplish, though, I'll tell you that much.  The basic idea of this story, though? The Dunder Mifflin Paper Company is back."

-- Solastalgia

Solastalgia placed his pen down and re-read his letter; sufficient, he thought.  Placing it in a nearby envelope, he scribbled the address of the reporter on the cover and attached a custom Dunder Mifflin-themed stamp before he took the long walk down to the company's unused post box and placed the envelope inside.  Lifting up the red flag, he took one final look at the building for the evening before checking his watch; three o'clock in the morning.  He wasn't sure how the time had slipped by as fast as it seemed. Signaling down his driver, he got into the back seat before a big, burly man that he had affectionately nicknamed Hamchop spoke.

"What'll it be?" he asked, in his thick New York accent.

"Home, Hamchop." he replied.

TokyoZombi stumbled out of a back alley high on human flesh. Behind her a homeless man was profusely bleeding from his left arm, still alive, but hardly. Not from the wounds she had given him, those certainly were not helping, but from his drinking habit. At the first bite she could taste the bitterness of the bathtub gin as she tore through his flesh. Her hunger beat the vile stench, though she stayed on the limb.

A groan came from behind her and a quick look back just clarified that this guy was going to die. Probably not this minute, but he was now slumped over himself. TokyoZombi clenched her stomach with her own arm, tripping over her feet and falling into the corner of the wall. The main street was a little busy and she had a few looks shot her way, but no one stopped to ask her if she was alright. TokyoZombi clung to the wall like it was her savior as she breathed in and out slowly. This almost helped until the sun peeked itself out from behind a cloud and seared her skin. She slumped painfully back into the shadows.

Time passed, but it seemed like hours, not just a few minutes. TokyoZombi sobered up after her meal much too quickly and the realization of eating another human definitely struck a chord or two in her. She moved her hand across her wet lips and looked at the blood that had come from them. TokyoZombi straightened her spine and shook her head. Both horror and realization she didn't know if she could ever really feel comfortable with passed through her.

Man, that will have to take some getting use to. 

She used the wall to help herself up, but before she left the alley she looked back at the man. Noting to herself what she was now very capable of doing and that she'd have to stop slumming with her meals.

TokyoZombi stumbled home, or what was TokyoBambi's home. She didn't much like the place anymore and decided a few days ago that she'd be relocating soon. She just didn't know where yet. As she was walking past her pre-dead self's mail box she did a double take as she noticed a letter poking out of the mass pile of trashy mail. She pinched the end of the envelope and slid it out without disturbing the rest of the rubble. The paper was nice, the stamp on the back even nicer. Maybe this is where she'd catch her next meal. She popped the baby open.

TokyoBambi…She read….uh oh….She said.

She continued on her way into the house, packed a bag and grabbed some sun glasses. On her way out she read the address on the letter to herself and repeated it to the taxi driver she had flagged down by standing in the middle of the street. TokyoZombi had some place to be. Solastalgia had been friends with her former self and she hoped that she'd be able to convince him that she wouldn't eat him. When she arrived at her destination she knocked loudly on the door. It was eventually opened, not at the pace she wanted, by a man who simply stated an ambiguous welcome.

"Helllo".

Kizzy crept up the basement stairs in Solastalgia's home. She had been camping out in this disused corner of the gangster's mansion ever since he had thrown an awesome party there and she passed out and went unnoticed, scavenging from his fancy new icebox--no, what did he call it? A refrigerdare? Something like that. Point is, Solastalgia had enough fucking room and resources to accommodate an old friend, even if he didn't know it. She had figured out his schedules quickly and knew what his car sounded like as it took off and pulled in. Tonight, she just had a hankering for some cold milk. All she wanted. Okay, maybe some of that great chocolate cake his cook made, too. But as she stole into the kitchen and popped open the door to the magical cold-making machine, she heard voices in the next room. She froze for a moment, then found her curiosity picking her feet up off the floor and moving her toward the doorway. She peered around the doorframe to see Solastalgia talking to a very pale woman who kind of looked like she might fall apart at any moment--like, literally. The two talked for a bit, and then suddenly the woman looked up at Kizzy, stopping mid-sentence. Solastalgia turned around, his mouth dropping open. Kizzy looked down at herself--the rumpled clothes, bare feet, the bottle of milk clutched in her hand--then smiled sheepishly at the other two.

"Heeey, guys...yeah, so you got the Dunder-Mifflin headquarters back, huh, Soly?" Her boss nodded slowly. "Yeah, congratulations! We'll all be happy to help you build the family up stronger than ever before!" The other two were still staring at her speechlessly, but they seemed to be coming out of the shock. Now was the time to move. "Yeah, in fact, I'm sure that you'll be getting a ton of congratulatory  phone calls right about now...I'll just let you take care of all of those, then. I'll see you later." Before either of the other two could say anything, she slipped out of the room, tipping the glass bottle up to her lips.