NECROSOCIETY fanfiction

TW: mentions of workplace violence, office shootings, harsh language

Promise You Won't Tell?

Azza Adrian Thunnus

"Thank you for your patience," the automated voice said over the telephone. The office was busy, the fluorescent lights were buzzing, and multiple voices of employees overlapped one another. Azza managed the customer support hotline. She answered calls, troubleshot the caller's issues and requested to work overtime. That meant she was still working even when every other co-worker had gone. She got paid well.

On the 12th of November, 2023, the boss, Tsaruicide, began acting stranger than usual. He skipped his morning coffee, wrote shorter emails, and acted more aloof, or rather, more hostile toward his employees. The others never noticed. Azza was quite concerned. At the end of her shift, she opened the door to Tsaruicide's office. "Boss?" she called out.

"What do you want?" He asked, his voice muffled under his tightly tied shemagh. "Just go home."

"You're acting odd."

"How would you know?"

Azza sat on the chair across from him. "I noticed you were behaving quite... differently," she murmured, fidgeting on the cuffs of her suit. His eyes narrowed. Without a second thought, Tsaruicide commanded, "You leave this office, jackass. I don't want you here." Azza obliged, yet the thought of the difference in his behaviour stuck to her head like gum.

The next day, on the 13th of November, 2023, Azza worked her shift as usual. But then, she heard a noise that almost sounded like a gun had been reloaded from the boss' office. She ignored it, assuming it was just one of his samples for a song. Yet it sounded real, almost too real to be considered a sound effect. A gunshot followed. Her ears rang. Then another. The faint smell of gunpowder filled the room. The realization hit her like a missile. This was a massacre. Her co-workers' bodies slumped over their keyboards, painting the beige cubicles crimson.

She began to flee. Suddenly, an attacker strangled her. His hands gripped her throat tightly. He was wearing a yellow, long-sleeved top with a mask concealing his face. Only his left eye was visible. The pain was unbearable; the way his large hands grasped her throat made her struggle uncontrollably. When his grip loosened, she kicked him away with all her might. She grabbed a pair of scissors from her desk, pinned him to the floor and plunged the blade into his only eye. She pulled it out once it had penetrated deep enough. She was speechless. Literally. She hid under her desk, evading the bullets and weapons.

After the shooting had faded, Azza crawled out of her cubicle. Tsaruicide turned to her, his attire stained with blood. His eyes widened briefly before narrowing again, as if he'd been caught. He walked over to her as he lowered the rifle. He craned his neck as he cupped Azza's chin to make her eyes meet his. His gaze was sharp and unwavering as he stared deep into the frightened soul of the last worker standing. He took in a deep, shaky breath. "Promise me you won't tell anyone," he whispered. Too fatigued to refuse, Azza nodded.