The Special Filing Cabinet, a Night Shift™ short story
The deep hum of City 17's PA system echoed through the cold, smog-laden night. Its familiar crackle filled the empty streets of Industrial District 24, followed by the grating, authoritative voice that announced, "Attention, citizens of City 17. A workshift is now available and all working class citizens should report to Warehouse 3 for immediate assignment. Workshift begins at 2100 hours."
The streets, lifeless but for the dim glow of overhead spotlights, began to stir. From the crumbling apartments and decaying alleyways, citizens emerged, shuffling in tired silence toward Warehouse 3. Their eyes were hollow, their faces drawn, as if years of oppression had drained any ounce of happiness it could take.
The rusted rails that formed a line to the warehouse loomed ahead. The warehouse stood ominously under the yellow floodlights. As the citizens lined up outside, the cold, mechanical clatter of armored boots echoed from the far end of the street. A squad of Civil Protection Officers marched into view, their glowing blue visors piercing the gloom, faces hidden behind their gas masks.
"Form a line! Prepare your belongings for inspection" barked a figure at the front—UNION-51, his voice distorted through his helmet’s vocoder. The citizens obeyed without hesitation, heads down, as two other officers—KING-27 and JURY-45—approached to conduct the search.
The routine inspection began. Hands were raised, pockets emptied, tools confiscated. The officers moved swiftly but thoroughly, taking no chances. KING-27 prodded a frail old man, glaring as if daring him to make a move. The citizen said nothing, his face pale under the dim warehouse lights.
Once the inspection was complete, the heavy doors creaked open at the whistle of a bio-lock disengaging, and the citizens were ushered inside. The warehouse was a cavernous space filled with towering machines that hummed and clanked with relentless precision. At the center of it all was the resin machine—a towering, grotesque device that converted bio-resin into various materials, all to be used by the city’s infrastructure.
The citizens took their places at the assembly lines, hands trembling as they set to work. Under the watchful gaze of UNION-51 and his squad, they began as instructed by the Civil Workforce, feeding resin into the massive machines, watching as the glowing, viscous substance was molded into hard, sharp components.
Hours passed in silence, except for the mechanical whirr of the machinery. The work was monotonous but dangerous, requiring precision and caution. No one dared to speak, not even a whisper. The ever-present glare of the Combine loomed over them, ready to strike at the slightest sign of defiance...
...When suddenly, a scream pierced the monotonous drone of the machines.
It came from one of the workers—a younger man at the far end of the assembly line. He had been feeding resin into one of the machines when his hand got caught in the rollers. There was a sickening crunch, and before anyone could react, his hand was pulled into the machine. The scream that followed was one of pure agony.
<:: "Out of the way!" ::> UNION-51 barked, his booted feet pounding toward the scene. KING-27 followed close behind, his stun baton crackling to life.
The citizens stepped back, horrified, as the machine ground to a halt. The man writhed on the floor, clutching the bloody stump where his hand had once been. The officers stared down at him without a shred of sympathy.
<:: "Think he can be refit to work?" ::> UNION-51 said coldly. He turned to JURY-45. <:: "His hands cut clean off. Appears unrecoverable. I wouldn't pull for it they're probably just going to mark it as physically unfit." ::>
UNION-51 reaches for the handless male. He grabbed his forearm with force holding it up for his own examination. His figure seemingly unphased by the shrill screams of the victim as he made his assessment.
<:: "Yep. That's not going back on. 45, take this one to the special filing cabinets we have for the disfigured. ::> UNION-51 muttered in callus.
JURY-45 grabbed the man by his collar and dragged him toward the exit, his screams fading into the distance as he's dragged over the grates and through the door. The remaining citizens stood in stunned silence, eyes wide, but no one dared to intervene. To where he had been taken is unknown. The officers resumed their positions, their watchful eyes scanning the room.
Everyone stood in silence. The shrieks left everyone speechless. For a moment the workers and the combine locked eyes, standing in a brief silence after the scene had died down. This moment of silence was quickly shattered by the jarring sound of clanking metal, followed by a terrorous scream.
<:: "Get back to work! The order won't fulfil itself!" ::> KING-27 ordered, the edge of his stun baton glowing menacingly. He stomped with force back and forth between the remaining working citizens, sending them into a submissive scatter back to their machines.
The citizens, shaking, returned to their stations. The machines roared back to life, the resin flowing once more. The air was gorged with tension, the stench of fear was palpable.
Outside, the night continued completely unbothered. The streets remained emotionless, bathed in the deep musk of loss. It was just another day. It was just another hand.
The only spritz in the dull silence of the night was the faint sound of a single gun shot going off in one of the distant alleyways. It seemed as though not a single moment was lost in the wake of this horrific incident. Nobody stopped. Nobody cried. No body ran. For the citizens of City 17, this was just another routine night shift, another night of survival in lost world.
The following story is a sub-timeline fandom created by me based on a real event that occurred on Willard Networks during i24. The event followed should be treated as if it never happened in the real game's timeline. Taglines used in the story do not represent the exact players, and are purely made up at random. This is not a request for an event, simply a short story. Please notify me if it needs to be moved.
We're back September 21st! I look forward to many horrifying and glorious Night Shift™ with you all.
We're back September 21st! I look forward to many horrifying and glorious Night Shift™ with you all.
