And so We return from our exile, to find a land in ruins. The workplace is a battlefield. Uncertainty grips the masses. Former comrades turn on one another, the stress of this hellish capitalist life driving out the last vestiges of their sanity. We walk in a daze through the maelstrom, carelessly plodding through shattered furniture and spilt blood. Fires burn within and without.
We come upon the burnt-out hulk of our once-barely-functioning office, and know this was where it all went wrong. This is the epicentre of this living hell. Impish demons glance at our entrance, immediately hurling obscenities at our already-bedraggled countenance. They flee to the shadows of this burnt-out shell before we can even react.
We come upon the ravaged form of a co-worker, lying mangled on the floor, barely alive. "S-someone had... to s-stop this," he says, "someone had to..." He dies. We turn our head to the sky, visible through the broken roof, and scream: