The ink of a silver fountain pen ran through the final fields of a renewed contract for property located in the North Side of Chicago; the regional office of Dunder Mifflin, a sprawling and growing complex that had expanded considerably since hiring a security division, was renewed for seven additional years as Solastalgia filled the final name field before forwarding it to Hamchop for immediate mailing. With the pen having gone through several dozen renewed paper contracts, he happily placed the cap back over it and clipped it back to his suit pocket as he readied himself for a trip to the Nether - an artful term Hamchop had coined after his first return visit from the regional office, an event he had never quite fully explained.  

An hour later and after failed attempts to coax Hamchop into the building, the fluorescent lighting to the main office of the Dunder Mifflin Paper Company was switched on as Solastalgia glanced from side to side; empty.  The regional office's main duties had been outsourced in a hastily made deal to a region of India. Or, maybe it was a borough in New York - Queens, perhaps?  Same difference to Solastalgia, nonetheless.  As he walked along the office cubicle by cubicle, he came to a full stop as he noticed what appeared like - and smelled like - rotting flesh.

He shrugged as he made his way to the closet adjacent to the flesh-ridden cubicle where a loud shriek emanated as he opened the door, light infiltrating around Solastalgia's shadow as TokyoZombi laid In front of him, a scowl on her face as she spat out and proceeded to toss an unidentifiable organic mass towards Solastalgia - a mass he was too slow to avoid, unfortunately. TokyoZombi represented the last vestige of a skeleton crew Corporate had commissioned to keep remaining operations running smoothly at Regional, post-outsource.  Conveniently for her, as all members of the crew were reported to be missing.

"What?" she hissed, as she gripped a bottle of rum to her side. Whether it was to be used as a weapon or as a refreshment likely hinged on his reply.

"The feast has ended.  It's time."

He narrowly avoided the bottle of rum thrown at his face as he ducked and yelled out at her.

"But it's a promotion!"

She screeched out as the light bathed her face as she lunged forth into the office complex, several reams of paper absorbing her momentum as she gained her composure and sighed - she was too far away for any tangible chance of biting him successfully.  Solastalgia held out a set of keys in his hand before tossing them to her.

"Seven more years, this place is renewed for.  Orders to be filled, supply lines to fill with contraband, people to hire, people to fire - or consume in a flesh eating frenzy, depending on what they did, and there's a handsome salary that goes with the job, too.  You've still got a brain ticking inside you that can run a good office if you don't eat the lot of them.  What say you, Tokyo?"

What say me, what say you? What did you do with my rum!!

Tokyo turned away from him and walked over to a pile of ice on the ground. It was littered with rum bottles. She was on a cleanse, a liquid diet. Her new years resolution. Watching her weight, being healthier. Eating only the best flesh a girl could find. All the bags of bones Solastalgia had filled this place with were, well, not of great quality. What was the point of eating if it didn't taste good. That's why they were all missing, punishment. Tokyo leaned down and pulled a bottle of rum from the pile. She hadn't finished her other one and didn't hear it crash when she threw it, though she had hoped it would have hit Solastalgia. Next time, she told herself as she opened the bottle. Tokyo turned around to face Solastalgia and took a long drink off the bottle. 

Do I get HamChop?

"You know the answer to that question.  Hamchop was mortified when I tried to get him back in the building.   Larry Lance Jr. can be yours with the right coaxing, though.  He's younger and more.. choice." he replied as the smell of rum wafted through the office.  Solastalgia was surprised at his unfazed psyche as their casual discussion of borderline human-sacrifice took a more nuanced turn.  With that said, Larry Lance Jr. wasn't much more than the son of a long-dead plot device that had died out ages ago. 

"You do get one thing, though."

Solastalgia rolled out from behind a cubicle a small chocolate cake balanced on several reams of paper.

"Not as good as what your wedding cake will be, probably, but it'll have to do.  We can even throw you parties when there's actually some living, breathing people in the office!"

Living breathing people....

She trailed off into a fit of laughter. Tears or goo (she hadn't quite figured out what sort of liquid was inside of her) fell down her cheeks as she looked over at Sola who didn't look amused. Tokyo attempted to sober up from the comment.

I guess you're right, I will need someone to do all the work for me. 

Tokyo gave a look at the cake. It should have followed suit with Hamchop and stayed in the damn car. 

I'm not even, I'm just going to...I'm not amused by that.

She pointed strictly at the cake, the vile sheet of flour and sugar and it probably didn't even have an alcohol in it. What a disgrace. As she shot laser beams with her eyes at it she thought very foul things about it. Cake! 

Keep your cake and your Larry Lance Jr too! I don't want your sloppy seconds, but I'll take you up on the job. Since you demand for me to collect these living and breathing people, you'll have to give me a day or so to gather some right and left help. As everyone else mysteriously disappeared on me, you were obviously not paying them enough.

Tokyo cupped her hands in front of herself so Sola could throw the keys to her. She knew how he didn't like to get close to her. He always told her it was because of the smell, right. 

Seven more years? Sure, why not. I'd be a pretty terrible undead person if I turned you down. Or took it and didn't tell you how happy and appreciative of the opportunity/promotion you are presenting me, but who are we kidding, you know I'm just in it for that shiny key and to make some new friends to eat....with. Lets get this show on the road boss! Or more paper in the warehouse? 

In a world where a large percentage of the population seem to share the same bland, unfunny, and undesirable personality, it's a sad state of affairs when we need to look to an undead zombie to find a personality that is unique and enjoyable. I'm glad to see you getting this opportunity, TokyoZombi. From one champion to another, you will do great. Cheers, and best of luck to you and your criminal enterprises.

Sandman exits the ring, shiny gold championship mafia belt hoisted over his shoulder, crowd chanting his name. Sandman selflessly reminds the crowd to focus on the newly appointed auth rather than himself, as he does not wish to steal anyone's thunder in a proud moment like this. The crowd ignores him and chants his name anyway.

Congratulations to the both of you on behalf of the Czylharz family, a much welcomed addition to the North Side. 

Roquelaure can't help but have a fit of happiness as she hears the great news about TokyoZombi.

Congrats! This is something that I know you will do very well at, and I'm happy to be able to see this happen for you. Our ancestors have crossed paths many times and while sometimes rocky and sometimes grand you have always been a friend.

She smiles at TokyoZombi and then hands her a bottle of wine.

Congrats again!

Oh my god, NEAR FUTURE WIFE EEPY WEEPY! 

I'm sorry I'm late to the party. Fair warning: I probably will forget anniversaries and the like etc etc.

Anyway, your lust for brains has brought you into a position to have minions you can feed off of, lovely. Now you can eat something fresh. Daddy Solastalgia made a point of freezing the heads of our enemies just to keep you well fed... The defrosting process wasn't all that pleasant though. 

Anyway, good to see you here. At least, you're not a trashy pirate this time. You're a zombie somehow related to Tokyo. Definitely an upgrade.