Dead End: Hell of Customer Service

Chapter 4 - Overtime in the Pantry

The aluminum door handle creaked—a metallic screech that crawled into Mark Miller’s eardrums like fingernails clawing a chalkboard. Behind him, Sarah and David were huddled behind a folding dining table, their breath held tight, their faces turned blue with sheer terror.

"System," Mark whispered, his voice nearly vanishing beneath the erratic thrumming of his heart. "Tell me... if I sustain even a single scratch, will that painkiller reward... be forfeited?"

[System: "Correct, Mark Miller. Bonus Condition: 'Zero Injury.' If 'The Janitor' manages to tear even a single millimeter of your skin, the reward will be rescinded. Given your already ravaged condition, we suggest you try not to... die."]

Mark flashed a bitter, jagged grin. His body was already a wreck held together by metaphorical duct tape, and now he was expected to perform a flawless dance of death. He gripped a bottle of industrial floor cleaner filled with harsh chemicals in one hand and a lighter in his trembling right.

CRASH!

The pantry door burst open. The figure that stepped inside was no longer human, but a mass of bloated flesh encased in a tattered blue mechanic’s jumpsuit. Its head was devoid of hair, riddled instead with small vents that hissed out scalding steam. In its right hand, it dragged a broom, the end of which had been replaced by a rusted, whirring chainsaw.

"Mark... Miller..." the creature rasped, its voice sounding like an ancient engine forced to turn. "Attendance... you haven't... checked out."

Mark took a step back, stifling a cry as his fractured heel struck the floor. "You’re talking about attendance? Look around you, pal. This office is in ruins. This company is bankrupt!"

"The Company... is eternal," The Janitor countered, its steps heavy yet deliberate. "I... used to be... logistics supervisor. I failed to meet the quota... now... I sweep away the failures."

The Janitor swung the chainsaw-broom in a vertical arc. Mark rolled to the side—a movement that made his ribs groan audibly. He could feel his abdominal muscles nearing a tear from the sheer strain.

"David! Sarah! Run for the back door, now!" Mark roared, hurling the bottle of floor cleaner at the monster’s face.

SPLASH!

The chemicals sprayed directly into the steam vents on The Janitor’s head. The creature let out a harrowing wail as the steam reacted violently with the liquid. Mark didn’t waste a heartbeat; he grabbed an electric kettle that had just reached a boil—miraculously, the system’s power was still active—and doused the monster’s legs with the scalding water.

"AAAGH! Naughty... employee!" The Janitor bellowed. The chainsaw spun wildly, obliterating an aluminum table just inches from Mark’s arm.

Mark could feel the wind from the spinning blades brush against the nape of his neck. Any closer, and the 'Zero Injury' clause would be void.

"You said you were a supervisor?" Mark wheezed, scrambling beneath the kitchen counter to find a small propane canister for a portable stove. "How does it feel, huh? To be a part of the very system you used to defend? To be a slave who sweeps up corpses?"

The Janitor slammed its hardened head against the counter. "Pain... is... a bonus. Death... is... retirement. I will... help you... retire, Mark!"

Mark managed to rip the hose from the canister and flicked the lighter. WHOOSH! A massive plume of flame engulfed The Janitor’s face. The creature recoiled, its hands clawing at eyes that had begun to melt.

[System: "Time Remaining: 01:12. Warning: Ambient temperature is rising. Risk of thermal skin damage may forfeit your bonus."]

"You’re a real piece of work!" Mark hissed. He didn't dare press the attack. Instead, he focused on survival, using every inch of the cramped space as a shield.

He lunged onto the counter, a move that nearly made him faint as his legs shook violently. There, he found glass jars of sugar and coffee, hurling them one by one at The Janitor to blind it.

"Why... do you... resist?" The Janitor slashed the jars mid-air, sugar crystals scattering like bloody snow. "The System... will consume you... eventually. Join... me... become... part of maintenance."

Mark looked into the monster’s eyes, seeing a profound, lingering sadness beneath the rage. "Because I’ve... already spent too much time serving people like you over the phone! I’m not doing it again in person!"

Suddenly, The Janitor made an unpredictable move. It threw the chainsaw-broom like a harpoon.

Mark couldn't dodge perfectly, his legs were too stiff. Time seemed to dilate. The whirring blade spun toward his chest. Mark twisted his body in mid-air, sacrificing his balance and slamming into the floor on his uninjured side.

THUD!

The chainsaw embedded itself in the wall, mere inches from Mark’s waist. Mark lay on the floor, gasping for air. He checked his shirt. No new tears. No fresh blood.

[System: "00:05... 00:04... 00:03..."]

The Janitor loomed over him, its massive hand reaching for Mark’s throat. Its rough, burning fingers were only centimeters from his skin when the countdown hit zero.

[System: "Mission Accomplished. 'Zero Injury' Bonus Secured. Delivering Reward: Painkiller Fluid (Low Dosage)."]

A small vial filled with neon-green liquid materialized in the air and dropped into Mark’s hand. Without hesitation, Mark ripped the cap off and downed it in a single gulp.

Instantly, the searing agony throughout his body cooled. It felt like liquid ice rushing through his veins. His ribs were still broken, his fingers still mangled, but he could no longer feel them. It was a terrifying, hollow numbness.

Mark stood up with an eerie calmness, staring at The Janitor, who now looked confused as Mark had ceased trembling.

"Now," Mark said, his voice cold and stripped of emotion by the drug’s effect. "Let’s discuss your termination."

But before Mark could strike, the pantry wall behind The Janitor exploded. It wasn't another monster, but something far more colossal. A giant metallic hand smashed through the concrete, seizing The Janitor’s head and crushing it like a ripe orange until it burst into fragments.

Black blood sprayed across Mark’s face. From the jagged hole in the wall, a voice like radio static echoed.

"Subject Miller... located. Initiating... external audit."

Mark froze. On his system screen, a blood-red notification obscured his entire vision.

[CRITICAL WARNING: THIRD-PARTY INTERVENTION]

[Status: 'The Auditor' Has Arrived. Survival Probability: 0.01%]

"You’ve got to be kidding me..." Mark whispered. The painkillers kept his heart rate low, but his mind was screaming in hysterics.

The metallic arm began to retract, and from the darkness beyond the wall, a massive mechanical eye stared directly at Mark.

Will Mark Miller face this impossible Audit, or is there a loophole in the system he can exploit once again?