Endzone: Simulated Apocalypse

24 hours until the virus strikes.

The players had only just arrived in this new world, but the fight for survival had already began. No tutorial, no explanation, just a virus and 24 hours to cure it. The other participants must all be panicking right now, but Cyanide remained calm no matter the situation and how dire it was.

The first thing he did was search the building he was in. He doubted he would find the antidote here that easily, but that was not the goal behind his actions anyway. The reason he was doing this was to find out more about this new world. What caused this apocalypse? What was this virus? What dangers lurked here? These were all essential pieces of information to survival.

After some exploring, he discovered that the building he had spawned on top of was in fact a science company. This was good luck, as he should be able to find some useful knowledge in the Research & Development labs — perhaps even an antidote, if he was really lucky.

Unlike many of the other buildings, this one was still mostly intact. The interior was dusty, but still structured and easily to navigate thanks to various maps attached to the walls… not. It would've been easy if the maps weren't dead electronic screens, that is.

There didn't seem to be any electricity in this building anymore, though it must have had it before the apocalypse happened. Moreover, Cyanide could infer this place used to be quite technologically-advanced, much like Earth and perhaps even more so.

Still… without a map, he was forced to search the rooms one by one. The panels hanging from the ceiling were powered by electricity as well, so there was no use relying on them.

Interestingly enough, however, all of the doors were open — even office ones. That left two possibilities — one, someone had searched this place before Cyanide got here, and two, the original inhabitants of this building had all rushed outside in a panic when the apocalypse struck. The latter was the more likely option.

Cyanide pushed open one of them wider with a creaking noise, once again confirming how long ago this apocalypse had occurred. Had the calamity not happened, perhaps this world would be thousands of times more scientifically advanced than Earth right now.

Inside the spacious room, there was a polished table to the left with a rotating chair behind it that seemed to be made of black leather. Behind that, an enormous bookshelf that covered the entire wall lay. Across from the doorway where Cyanide was standing, there was no wall at all — just several panes of windows that allowed him to see the city ruins once again. The view, however, was not as good as the roof.

'This… seems to be the CEO's office,' Cyanide thought, then confirmed it by glancing at the nameplate on the door.

{PRESIDENT/CEO}

Slowly, he entered the room and circled around to the desk, where several documents and reports lay. One of them appeared to be a letter directed to the CEO. Since it was placed topmost on the pile, it was the most recent. Cyanide, after some hesitation, picked it up and began reading.

*****

Dear President,

I regrettably inform you that… we have failed. I have failed. The dosage, the theory, all my calculations — they were perfect. Flawless. Yet… the subject still remained a mutant.

I do not know why this is. I am out of ideas. I have spent countless days and nights working on this issue and finally came up with that antidote, Anexerdyte. It should have been perfect. Immaculate.

… Should have been.

I am sorry, president. I know no amount of apologies will fix this, but I don't think I can keep going any longer. The virus… they will soon release it. We have less than 12 hours left. There is nothing I can do. There is nothing we can do. I have failed you.

It has been a pleasure working under you for the past twenty years, president. Truly.

Sincerely, for the last time,

Doctor Finch

*****

Slowly, Cyanide slipped the sheet of paper into the pockets of his worn-down, baggy pants. This answered some of his questions, but also raised a ton more.

He now knew this building he was in was working on an antidote to… combat this 'virus' that most likely caused the apocalypse to happen. But according to this letter, someone — 'they' — released this virus on purpose. Why? And how does this company know when they would be releasing it?

Cyanide tried to infer what could have happened, but there were just too many possibilities to be sure. After some thought, he decided to just keep exploring the building. There was nothing else that stood out in the CEO's room, apart from a picture placed within a frame. Cyanide brushed away the dust on it and took a good look.

It was an image of a man with a woman and a baby, most likely their child. All three of them appeared to be just like humans found on Earth. The man was most likely the CEO, given the suit he wore in the photo, but there was something peculiar about his smile.

While his wife and baby had both been smiling happily, the man's did not reach his eyes. Instead, his eyes were empty, dead. As if he had already given up hope and knew doomsday was coming.

"…" Cyanide didn't say anything at this picture, and instead just put it down where it had been before then going through the drawers. Unfortunately, those were all locked. The books on the shelves did not provide anything of use either, so he decided to check the closets for some clothes.

At first, it was just several sets of suits, as expected, but Cyanide, being observant, noticed something peculiar hidden behind the various suits. Parting them with his hands, he saw a dark cloak hanging on the rack, paired with tight black pants.

This reminded Cyanide of his old clothes, so he took them out of the closet and put them on after using his nose to check for any sign of poison. It was a mystery why the CEO would have something like this in his office, but Cyanide figured there was no point dwelling on a dead person's choices and instead just left the room to keep exploring.

After a while, he had went through all the rooms on the topmost floor of the building. None of them provided anything of use except for that letter in the CEO's office — all of the important paper documents were locked in cabinets, and the even more important ones were saved on the computers.

If he had proper tools and electricity, he could definitely get a lot more knowledge out of this place, but so far, all he had was a pen as a weapon. He made a mental note to come back to this place when he got the proper tools, but that would have to be saved for the future.

He was on a timer here, after all.

A little over 23 hours until the virus strikes.