The sun popped up over the horizon like a nosy neighbor, peeking into the industrial farms. The crew was already hustling, moving raw meat around like it was Black Friday.
But get this, alongside the meat, they were pouring plasma into glass jars like some weird vampire winery. The bottles glowing red, looking as tempting as a top-shelf bourbon.
Business at the industrial farms was on fire, but Zane Abbott just lost it, ordering the offing of thousands of animals!
This left the crew scratching their heads, whispering, "Do you think Zane's flipped his wig, Silas?"
One dude elbowed his pal, "You think he's a few fries short of a Happy Meal?"
Silas gave him the ststink eye but was just as clueless. Trying to act tough, he said, "It's not our job to ask questions. Back to the grind!" Despite Silas's tough talk, the gossip didn't stop.
Some thought Zane was a germaphobe who freaked out over a speck of dust; others just chalked it up to him being an oddball.
In the middle of the gossip, a good-looking, buff guy walked up. He had the looks but his eyes were as warm as an icebox.
He was Zane, the big boss of the industrial farms, a guy whose brain seemed to have mixed up memories with some Zane from a future world.
"Mr. Zane, your 3,500 cows, 3,000 sheep, and over 10,000 chickens are all sorted," Silas reported, walking on eggshells.
Zane nodded, pleased as punch over the fresh meat and plasma.
"Time to settle up."
"Thank you, sir. Always a pleasure."
Silas grinned, going in for a handshake.
But Zane just froze. Silas then remembered Zane's no-touching rule and pulled his hand back, super awkward.
Then, Silas and a few of the crew left the industrial farms, jumped into their ride, and took off, kicking up dust.
Watching them shrink in the distance, Zane walked over to the meat and plasma. With a lazy flick, they disappeared.
Of course, they weren't really gone; he'd tucked them away in his magical storage space.
This storage was a beast, a giant cube of space.
Time didn't move in there. Whatever went in stayed just as it was, ready to be pulled out unchanged.
This space was Zane's secret sauce, his survival kit for the apocalypse.
The thought of the apocalypse still freaked Zane out: zombies wandering, mutant monsters everywhere, and people becoming scarce...
If a regular guy knew the apocalypse was coming, they'd probably stock up on food and water like crazy. But Zane? He was all about that raw meat and fresh blood.
Because when the apocalypse hit, he was turning into a zombie! And for a zombie, flesh and blood are way more important than any pantry staples.
By eating flesh, a zombie could get energy, beef up, and maybe even become a zombie king.
With enough grub, a zombie's power could skyrocket. So, how strong Zane could get all depended on his meat stash!
Just then, his phone buzzed. It was Emma from the supermarket: "Boss, your order of a hundred thousand frozen steaks, ten thousand chicken legs, and 20,000 pounds of prime cuts just got here."
"Keep the orders coming," Zane said, chill as ever.
"What? More?" Emma was shocked, "But boss, we're almost broke. We can't even make the initial payment."
"I'll sort out the cash. Just keep the orders coming," Zane said, not sweating it.
Emma thought it was weird but went with it. She didn't know why Zane was hoarding so much, but she figured the boss must have a plan.
Man, Zane is seriously loaded! Not only does he run industrial farms and a supermarket, but he's also sitting on some prime real estate.
These gems were left by his folks! Sadly, Zane was just a kid when his parents moved on to the great beyond, without even a last memory to hang onto.So, Little Zane, our main man, was chilling in an orphanage, no fam to call his own. But life threw him a bone with a fat inheritance and a mystical jade amulet from his kiddie days (yeah, that magic bling that rebooted his life). With that, Zane kicked off his own empire.
He's been killing it in the business game, turning heads and stacking mad props!
But here's the kicker: despite his big-shot status, Zane's wallet is crying for help.
His real treasures? Stashed in some dusty storage.
With doomsday ticking closer, just ten days away, Zane's on a mad dash to gather cash and hoard resources!
While brainstorming his next move, Zane spots a wild convoy rolling into his industrial farms.
Cars loaded with punks rocking rainbow dos, straight out of a mob movie.
Most would be quaking in their boots, but Zane? He's all smiles, spotting his golden ticket.
The convoy stops, and out pops a middle-aged guy, casual but flashy with a thick gold chain and a slick leather briefcase.
This dude struts like he owns the place. Meet Joe Smith, a big-name developer from Verdantia.
He's been eyeing Zane's farms, convinced they're a jackpot for his next housing gig.
But Zane's not biting, driving Joe nuts. After sweet talk bombed, Joe's playing hardball with some threats.
Enter Joe and his muscle crew, trying to strong-arm Zane into a deal. They march in, all tough and inked, trying to look scary.
And Zane?Cool as a cucumber, like it's just another lazy Sunday.
"Hey there, Mr. Zane!" Joe calls out, all smiles, his gang echoing him.
"Hey, Mr. Joe," Zane shoots back, keeping it classy.
"So, Zane, you get why I'm here, right? What's your vibe on the land deal?" Joe goes straight for the jugular, still playing Mr. Nice Guy. He's ready to sweeten Zane up before turning sour.
But Zane just nods, dropping the bomb that he's down to sell. Joe's jaw hits the floor.
Even Joe's tough squad is baffled, double-checking if their ears are working right.
"You... you're actually down for this?" Joe stammers, needing confirmation.
Zane nods again. "Yep, wouldn't wanna block Mr. Joe from cashing in big just 'cause of my little paradise."
Joe cracks up, over the moon. "Epic!" He thought Zane had seen the light. Whipping out a contract, he's ready to lock it down then and there.
Without blinking, Zane parks it right there in the dirt and starts signing off. This ain't just some dirt farm—it's a fifty million dollar gold mine!
Joe's pinching himself, everything's too smooth. He's gotta ask why Zane flipped the script. Zane just shrugs, saying he needs the dough. Joe's eyes sparkle—smelling more money in the air.
"Mr. Zane, still tight on cash? Maybe I can help," he hints, fishing for more.
"Oh?" Zane looks up, suddenly seeing Joe's rugged mug as kinda charming.
With the end times looming, not only is Joe snagging the farm, but he's also dishing out a loan. Zane's tearing up, feeling like he's hit the jackpot with an earthbound angel.