Marsuveus sat on the edge of the island that Box was built atop of, looking down at the ruined city. The sky was overcast, and the smell of rain filled the air. He wondered to himself how this could have happened, what the world was like before it happened, if he could ever walk the streets without fear of being mauled to death by bloodthirsty undead.
A slight breeze picked up, blowing Mars' hair a little. The island Box was built on was about 100 or so feet above the ground. One gains access to Box by a synthetic material rope ladder. The ladder however, is surrounded by a small room that is locked with a simple, yet sturdy lock designed to keep out curious ghouls.
Mars stood up, took one last glance at the abandoned city, and headed towards the nearest bar he could find. He needed a drink.