"Right-oooo, Mr. Voice-in-my-Head, Right-oooo." Max said, ignoring how he looked like he was talking to himself. "I'll get right on with following whatever script you have planned out, just as soon as you [i]open this fucking door![/i]"

He kicked at the thing twice as the others in the room groaned, still out of it from the sim. What luck was this. What was the point of getting special instructions if he couldn't do anything with them? Seriously, what was the point of giving them to him if there was no way to get out? There were no buttons on this door. No switch. No nob. Not even a window. He patted all over the thing, but there was nothing there. 

But then the door suddenly sprung open, so fast he had to step back, and reveled a long metal hallway and...voices? Slowly, he peaked out the newly opened doorway to see who was in this hallway. When he saw, he waved at the others in the room. "Stay here. Don't let anyone in this room." He whispered, before walking out.

Elijah Craige. Speak of the devil and he appears. Being carried down the hall by Nate Hunter. The independent contractors Cedric had brought on right before...before everything had fallen down. There was a niggling suspicion in the back of his mind over that, but since there really wasn't a way to be sure... "Hey, Craigh. Hunter. Hold up. What are you- hooooly shit." He said, passing by the hole melted in the wall. Yeah, any guy who could do something like that you wanted either really close or really far away in this situation. "Max Sheppard. Reformist. The guy working the front, that's me. You probably passed me on the way into the building. I don't know if you were planning to follow these lights to wherever, but I've got a list of names in my head and he's on it." He explained, tapping the side of his head. "Also we're apparently in space or some bullshit. Point is, I don't think you should carry him that way if that's what someone wants."
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