As I walk down the steps of the airplane, a lady walks me to the doors, setting me on the little cart they drive around in. She drove me through the airport, all the way to the pickup area. Once my bags finally came through the darkness of the square hole, I picked them up, then returning to the indoor golf cart. I walked through the doors, then eyeing a sign with my name, held by a middle aged man in a suit. Two body guards were standing next to him, waiting for me. They were both weredogs, but they looked fierce and strong. I walked down. "Ms. (Y/n)?" The man in the middle asks. "Yes that's me." He urges me to follow him to the car. I have this feeling... a funny feeling... that something may be wrong.