Second day, I already knew what to do. Got up, dressed, ate a random item from the fridge, and got to work on time.
Today at work, something happened.
Ben, the average office worker in The Officing, handed me the papers for the day, with a calculator and with some time, it would be processed. That is what should have happened.
Ben wasn't here, nowhere to be seen, I got up, and looked in the backstage of the office, none. I asked the others, they saw Ben go outside for a smoke break. I walked out, thinking of all kinds of horrors in my head, heart racing, panic rising, nothing didn't even happen, but the sudden break of monotony made me worry.
I walked out, and I saw Ben.
What remained of Ben, fleshy pulp, one eye bulk, bones shattered, mutilated, poor Ben probably got tortured.
When I heard laughter, I hid behind the wall, and eavesdropped on two Saw Collective Fixers walking by, "Pfft! That Ben kid sure did put up a fight! Broken bones, ribs, skull, and what else did we break? It was a reliever of all the stress in this damned office complex!"
I clenched my fists, I couldn't just attack, everything was at stake here. Think of the job! Think of the reputation! Think of the consequences! Ben was a victim of the cruel system, all I have to do is to survive, unlike him.
That was too much to ask of, too much to ask of myself, especially when they said this.
"These office workers are useless pigs, why study? Just kill and you'll have your way."
It clicked, I'll kill them, I'll have it my way. In an uncontrollable rage, likely empathy for poor Ben, I tackled the first fixer out of two.
I have to commit now, calm down, and start. The second one freaked out, swung his saw blade, grabbing the other fixer. I rammed him against the attack, letting him get the feeling of being gutted.
His screams filled the air, the other fixer, probably his friend, looked in shock, "Jae… Jaely–".
He was angered, in a furious scream he pounced. I realized I just killed a friend, or a coworker of sorts, I've done the same to them as they did to Ben. Was I even in the right anymore?
He hit me, left, right, heavy, sloppy, fueled by rage.
Each hit made me remember something—the old me.
I thought I lived life smart, but with everything unraveled, I was the ideal one, the foolish one thinking he's the smartest.
Shoved him, he acted like a child, crying, arms flailing, too weak to change the past. Laying there as if it could change anything.
The tinge of sympathy made me act against the logical choice.
For the sake of old me, I left him in that state, I spared him, the most I could do for him, and myself.
I felt relieved that I spared someone. Or maybe, I just prolonged their suffering.
All of that was shattered when I heard the shouting.
"W-WHAT DID YOU DO?" one yelled, "WHERE'S RONIN?", another said, "THAT'S THE MURDERER!"
I told myself I was right, but I'm not even sure if all of this self-justification mattered, what mattered was not getting caught and escaping. As I started running, I cried one tear for the fixer that I wasn't sure even deserved the death.
I felt someone grab my hand, but I slapped it away without looking back.
Walking back home after taking breath after breath, I covered the chainblade with my suit, people glanced, but didn't question, they minded their own business, didn't care for the blood on my suit, the wounds on my face, good for me. I cleaned my suit, dirty with blood, and by luck, when I saw my phone, there was a work cancellation due to gaps in security. I looked at the chainblade, the sign of rebellion, a sign of something that I haven't decided. What was that thinking? I'll never be a fixer, all I want is to be in the Node and live an average life rotting away.
I took the time to reminisce about my past, or whatever is left that I remember of it. I wished for the smiles on my parents faces, the laughters of joy, not seeing Ben being turned into an abused corpse. I should've known this a long time ago, but it's time to move, it's time to resign, get a fixer license, and enter the Node before the Saw Collective catched on.
I started packing my items, packed the chainblade into a case, and the rest into a duffel. All I had left to my name was $1,200 from savings, 4 outfits, and some granola bars.
I damaged the chainblade by accident after slamming it into the ground with rage, and I decided to rip the mechanical parts off, my hands bled, pure force and adrenaline allowed me to disassemble it without tools. All that was left was a damaged longsword and my bloody hands.
I almost forgot to bandage my hands, but the stinging pain came back. Bandaged.
Walked out, informed the landlord of cancellation, and sent the resignation letter, reason? Emotional despair.