I work from 9 to 5, hey, hell I pay the price
All I want is to be left alone in my average home
But why do I always feel like I’m in the Twilight Zone”
-Rockwell
Jim hunched over his terminal, frantically typing, trying to finish the work he had procrastinated on all day. He glanced at the clock—almost five. If he hadn’t spent hours avoiding his responsibilities, he wouldn’t be in this mess.
“Hey, Jim! You excited about the game tonight?”
Bob leaned against the cubicle wall, towering over Jim at well over six feet. With his neatly trimmed beard and button-down, he gave off a bit of a bro vibe, but Jim didn’t mind him too much.
Not that it mattered—Jim barely looked up. He didn’t care if the New Jersey Bills were playing the Boston Celtics. He hated baseball.
Twenty minutes later, Jim sat on the bus, earbuds in, listening to a famous chef’s autobiography. He admired fine cuisine—though his budget rarely allowed for more than takeout—and had always wished he could cook. Unfortunately, his attempts in the kitchen usually ended in disaster.
When his stop came, he trudged the five blocks to his apartment building, checked his empty mailbox, and climbed five flights of stairs. Technically, he had a one-bedroom, though calling it that was generous—his “bedroom” barely fit his bed and dresser, and it had no closet.
His kitchen wasn’t much better. No oven. Just a hot plate—enough for ramen. Not that he needed much. He owned exactly one knife, one fork, one spoon, one plate, one bowl, and one cup. Use them, wash them, repeat. What more did a person need?
After dinner, he brushed his teeth and studied his reflection in the bathroom mirror. 5’10, oval face, dirty blond hair forming a slight widow’s peak, hazel eyes. Not exactly model material. He wasn’t even attracted to himself—why would anyone else be?
He spent the rest of the night watching cooking shows, reading his latest non-fiction book, and then crashing in bed.
That was Jim’s Monday. That was his Tuesday. That was… most days.
But Wednesday would be different.
It was a day like any other when the world ended.
Mid-afternoon. Jim sat at his cubicle, counting the minutes until he could go home. He stared blankly at his monitor, sipping from his oversized coffee mug.
He had worked at Stanley Staples for nearly seven years—ever since he graduated in the middle of his class in his middle-sized town. It wasn’t like he had a hot date waiting for him after work. No, he just wanted to curl up in his chair and continue his latest non-fiction series on the fall of the Roman Empire.
Of course, he had wasted half the day slacking off, so now he was scrambling to finish everything before quitting time. He told himself he’d stop procrastinating tomorrow—just like he told himself every day before.
Then, without warning, his vision flickered.
A blue screen appeared in front of him.
Jim blinked.
Then, cautiously, he read the words.
[Welcome iteration 437 of sector 9b! Your world has met the requirements to be integrated into the system. The tutorial will last until the system fully integrates into your world. Approx. 5.7 earth years.
You have two choices on how to spend your time in this tutorial. Option 1: Class Holder. As a class holder, you will be given access to the PROFILE System. You will fight the abyssal horde and gain levels. You will become a pillar of your world, a contender on the system ladder. A bastion of strength for your world and others.
Option 2: Civilian. As a civilian, you will not participate in the PROFILE system. You will not be the front line of defense. You will be the crafters, the servants, the minions. But you will gain protection in the fact that others will not gain experience from your death, and you cannot be attacked in a safe zone. Choose wisely future citizens of sector 9b. Few are allowed to become a Class Holder so easily, your future is in your hands! You have five Earth minutes to decide]
Jim stared at the floating text, his mind struggling to process the sheer absurdity of it. Integration? Abyssal horde? System ladder? This sounded like something out of a bad sci-fi novel.
Then Bob’s voice cut through the office hum.
“Is anyone else seeing this?”
A handful of affirmations came from neighboring cubicles. So it wasn’t just him.
Jim exhaled. He wasn’t exactly the fighting type, so Option Two—Civilian seemed like the obvious choice. But, out of morbid curiosity, he glanced at the other option.
[Classes Available:]
- Thief (Common)
- Warrior (Common)
- Wizard (Common)
- Archer (Common)
- Druid (Common)
- [Details Available]
He frowned. He wasn’t much of a gamer, but these looked like generic RPG classes.
Oddly enough, he wasn’t panicking. No one was.
Jim slowly scanned the office. Why wasn’t anyone freaking out?
Across the room, Terry casually stood up, walked over to the copier, and—without hesitation—removed the bolt from the paper cutter and pulled the blade free.
Jim felt his stomach drop.
Something was very, very wrong.
Jim sat there confused as Terry walked toward the closest cubicle and stopped behind Rhonda. She was sitting there staring into space, probably still reading through the system message, when Terry took his blade and hacked into her neck.
“What the fuck Terry! Shit, shit, shit!” screamed Jim, several other screams joining his as Terry just started hacking into his co-workers. The screaming, the running, this was much more in line with what Jim had been expecting. Terry killed Chris as he charged him, Deena as she tried to stab him with a pen, and Chuck as he tried to run away.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck” Jim muttered as he scrambled around his desk looking for some form of protection. He picked up his red stapler and looked back at Terry as he was making his way towards him. Carey and Dennis lying dead behind him. He tossed his stapler to the side and just yanked his computer monitor up. It got caught in the cords behind his desk so he quickly and desperately unhooked the cables before throwing his monitor at Terry. He took the hit in the shoulder and grunted.
He looked down at the five-pound monitor and back at Jim. “Really Jim?” he asked. Right, Jim thought, it probably would have been better if it was one of those old heavy monitors, not these new flat screens.
Jim saw some flashing notifications but didn’t take the time to look. “What the fuck Terry!” Terry just shrugged. “It didn’t take long to pick a class holder. While all you idiots decided to think it through I made a decision. A decision to not be weak. The end has come and I can be more than an office drone. I can have real fucking power.” He yelled. “But I need to level, and well you seem to be the fastest way to do that.”
Jim scrambled pulling the computer cords around his hand in a makeshift whip. “I don’t even have a fucking class you idiot most of us were probably going to choose civilian! You don't even get experience for killing us!”
Terry just shrugged. “But I do get skills.” He smiled as he came forward, blade razed above his head.
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Jim swung his makeshift cable whip causing Terry to flinch back. Jim used that moment to tackle Terry to the ground. Jim was average size at 5’10” and slightly overweight at just over two hundred pounds, but Terry wasn’t much bigger and he went down.
They scuffled on the floor and Jim managed to get behind Terry with the cables wrapped around Terry’s neck. So Jim just wrapped his legs around Terry and pulled back with all his strength.
Terry's struggles slowed down and eventually stopped. Jim saw a new flash on his screen and finally accessed it.
[Skill Gained: Throw Something]
[Error: You cannot acquire a skill until you have chosen a class]
[1hp dmg to warrior “Terry”]
[Skill Gained: Hit Something]
[Error: You cannot acquire a skill until you have chosen a class]
[1hp dmg to warrior “Terry”]
[1hp dmg to warrior “Terry”]
[1hp dmg to warrior “Terry”]
[1hp dmg to warrior “Terry”]
[1hp dmg to warrior “Terry”]
[1hp dmg to warrior “Terry”]
[1hp dmg to warrior “Terry”]
[1hp dmg to warrior “Terry”]
[1hp dmg to warrior “Terry”]
[1hp dmg to warrior “Terry”]
[1hp dmg to warrior “Terry”]
[1hp dmg to warrior “Terry”]
[1hp dmg to warrior “Terry”]
[1hp dmg to warrior “Terry”]
[You have killed a Class Holder and stolen his title, EXP gained]
[Title Gained: Murderer Murderer]
[Error: You cannot acquire titles until you have chosen a class]
[New Class available: Brik-a-Brawler]
Jim kicked Terry’s body away and he pulled himself to his feet. Bone-deep weariness settled into his bones. He began to look around when pain lanced across his lower back. He stumbled forward and looks behind him to see Dave standing there with a bloody pocket knife.
[-7hp, Bleeding]
“This might be getting redundant but, WHAT THE FUCK DAVE!”
Dave smiles. “I think Terry had it right. Better to be the butcher than the butchered” Dave slashes again and catches Jim on his forearm. Jim grunts as he falls back over Terry’s body.
[-1hp]
“I hosted your office birthday party asshole!” Jim yells from the ground. Dave scowled, “And you got me a chocolate cake, I fucking hate chocolate. DIE”
Dave lunged forward with his knife when Jim's hand closed over Terry’s paper cutter blade and he swung hard with his right while thrusting his hand between him and Dave.
Jim managed to catch the pocket knife in his left hand, literally in his left hand, but his right managed to sink the paper cutter deep into Dave's ribs. Dave made a pained gasp but put both hands on his blade and used his body weight to shove the blade toward Jim's face.
The blood from his hand dripped onto his face but Jim managed to push it to the side as the blade sliced into his ear.
[3dmg]
[-2hp]
Jim yanked the paper cutter out and smashed it back in over and over until the blood started to run out of Dave's mouth.
[3dmg]
[3dmg]
[3dmg]
He managed to spit out a bloody “Fuck chocolate.” before he gave his death rattle and collapsed.
[You have killed a Class Holder, EXP gained]
[Error: You cannot acquire EXP until you have chosen a class]
[Perk Gained: Another Man’s Trash]
[Error: You cannot acquire titles until you have chosen a class]
“Jesus Christ,” Jim muttered to himself.
[-1hp]
“What the shit?” Jim immediately got worried and pulled up his screen
Name - Jim Trekkin
Unclassed (37 seconds left) EXP - N/A
HP - 1/10
Mana - N/A
PROFILE - Restricted
Status: Bleeding 1/dmg per minute]
“Shit, shit, shit.” Jim scrambled over to Terry’s body and ripped the sleeve off his shirt before pulling his tie off. He wadded up the sleeve and pressed it against the stab wound in his back before tying the tie around his waist to hold it, before checking his status again.
Name - Jim Trekkin
Unclassed (7 seconds left) EXP - N/A
HP - 1/10
Mana - N/A
PROFILE - Restricted
Status: Bleeding 1/dmg per minute]
“Accept class. Accept class” He shouted with nothing happening. He mentally went into his screen and smashed on the proverbial Class button.
[You have taken the class of the Class Holder, Class [Brik-a-Brawler] accepted. Exp. had been gained!
[Level Gained]
[-1hp]
Deferred skills and title acquired!
Jim pulled up his status in his mind.
Name - Jim Trekkin
Brik-a-Brawler (Epic) Level 1 0/200 EXP until next level
HP - 10/20
Mana - 10/10
PROFILE - +3 unplaced
Power - 6 +1
Reason - 5
Odds - 7 +1
Finesse - 6
Insight - 5
Lure - 4
Endurance - 5 +1
Skills: Throw something, Swing something
Perk: Another Man’s Trash
Titles: Legacy of Cain, Murderer Murderer
Status: Bleeding 1/dmg per minute
Jim let out a deep sigh of relief as he dropped his head back into the cubicle wall behind him. That had been close. Too close. And he still had the damn bleed effect.
He had hoped the bandage would have stopped it but he might have to look into cauterizing it if it didn’t stop. He would feel pretty stupid to live through two attempts on his life and die from loss of blood.
Also. What the hell was wrong with him? He was sitting here thinking about how close he had been to dying like he was thinking about last week's weather.
[Bandages applied, Bleeding stopped]
He exhaled deeply in relief—bandages might not work instantly, but that made sense.
“Fuck it,” he thought. Rising to his feet, he scanned the room. Seeing no one, he cautiously grabbed his pocket knife and the paper cutter blade before calling out, “Hello?”
From behind a nearby cubicle, Tom peered out and whispered, “Is it over?”
“I think so? Maybe? I sure fucking hope so,” he replied, glancing around warily. “I don’t know what got into Terry and Dave—they just went crazy.”
Alice then appeared, her head poking above her cubicle. “You killed them.”
Jim grunted, “I defended myself. Should we call the cops?”
At that moment, the boss’s office door swung open and Dick and Cindy stepped out.
“Alright, everyone, gather in my office,” Dick ordered. Jim, Alice, and Tom exchanged uneasy glances, but Jim shrugged and followed. It made sense to get everyone together—this office was only one of three on the seventh floor of a twelve-story building. If more people were losing it, banding together was their best chance of making it out.
Tom and Alice quietly trailed behind as they entered the office. Once inside, Cindy closed the door behind them.
Dick began, “Alright, phones and internet are down. Whatever’s affecting us is also crippling communications. We need to stick together and get out of this building. Does anyone have any weapons?”
Tom and Alice looked at Jim. He shrugged and held up his paper cutter. “Alright, if you want to set that on the desk?” he said, squinting at Dick. But the man pressed on, “Has everyone taken a class? If you haven’t, you should do it now. We need every advantage we can get.”
Alice was the first to speak. “Shouldn’t we choose civilian? It said we’d be safer.”
“Safe in safe zones—but we have no idea where those are. It’s better if we can defend ourselves until we reach one,” Dick replied.
Alice and Tom nodded. “Jim?” Dick called, gesturing toward his large blade. Although a bad feeling churned in Jim’s gut, he stepped forward and placed the blade on the desk within reach.
“Okay, I’ve chosen Mage—looks like I have some spell options,” Alice announced, and Tom added, “I took Archer.”
No sooner had those words left their mouths than Dick swept his arm and shouted, “Firebolt!” Jim dodged aside, but the bolt whizzed past him and struck Alice dead center in the chest. She screamed as she collapsed.
The maneuver had taken him further away from his blade, so Jim grabbed a heavy paperweight from the bookshelf. All he could do was watch in horror as Tom, jaw slack, had his throat slit from behind by Cindy. Seeing Dick pointing at him again, Jim hurled the paperweight, catching the startled caster right in the face.
[8dmg, stunned]
He dashed to the desk, snatched up his paper cutter, and hacked at a stunned Dick.
[3dmg]
[You have killed a Class Holder, EXP gained]
“No!” a scream erupted behind him—and then he felt a dagger slide into his back… again.
He had suspected Dick and Cindy of playing hide the pet tiger, and now that suspicion was confirmed in the worst possible way.
[-7hp, bleeding]
He swung his blade, but Cindy leapt back.
“Fucking twice in one day,” Jim muttered.
Cindy glared at him, her face twisted in a scowl. “I’m gonna make it hurt, Jim.”
Jim wasn’t feeling too good—he knew he was low on health.
“Magic Dart,” came a quiet voice. A burst of magical light struck Cindy in the back; she screamed and swiveled toward the badly burned Alice.
Not taking any chances, Jim swung his trusty cutter, driving it into Cindy’s neck.
[3dmg]
[You have killed a Class Holder, EXP gained]
Cindy collapsed like a heap of rubble. Jim dropped his cutter and pressed his hand against his bleeding back.
[-1hp]
“Damn, got me on the other side,” Jim groaned. “You okay, Alice?” When he looked over, he saw that Alice’s hair was burned away and her face contorted into a rictus snarl. As he noticed her hands moving, he dove behind Dick’s desk at the sound of another “Magic Dart.”
A massive chunk of the desk exploded into kindling. Keeping low, Jim fumbled for a weapon. “Alice, we don’t have to do this,” he called out.
He heard her footsteps drawing nearer. Clutching a bloodstained paperweight, he braced himself as Alice rounded the desk. She barely managed “Magic—” before the paperweight slammed into her chest.
[4dmg]
[You have killed a Class Holder, EXP gained]
In a desperate bid, Jim tore off his shirt sleeve and balled it into a makeshift bandage.
[-1hp]
A quick mental calculation told him the bandages wouldn’t hold for long. Scrambling to Dick’s corpse, he rifled through the dead man’s pockets until he found a Zippo lighter. With no time to lose, he lit it, clamped his tie between his teeth, and pressed the flame against his bloody back.
Jim screamed through gritted teeth as the flame seared his flesh—but fortunately, the cauterization kicked in.
[cauterization applied, bleeding stopped]
[Title Gained: Edging]
[Skill Gained: Stop the Bleed]
Jim sagged in relief. He wondered what to do next. With no working phones and the possibility that other offices might be overrun by crazed killers, he quickly dismissed the idea of searching for help.
Overcome with bone-deep weariness, he rose and shoved the bookshelf in front of the office door. Then, he dragged each of the bodies into a corner, took Dick’s suit jacket, tucked it under his head, and finally passed out.