The drive from Cleveland to Scranton had been long and uneventful, giving you plenty of time to ponder your sudden change in circumstances. Inheriting a house from your recently deceased, and apparently wealthy, uncle had been a surprise. The decision to transfer to Dunder Mifflin’s Scranton branch had been a practical one. It would let you settle into the new house and start fresh in a familiar yet different environment.
You pulled into the parking lot of the Scranton office, the gray Pennsylvania sky matching your subdued mood. Gathering your things, you took a deep breath and walked into the building.
The receptionist desk was occupied by a cute, pleasant-looking woman, in a girl-next-door kind of way, dressed in an elegant purple suit. She looked up at you with bright purple eyes before quickly glancing at the small analog clock on her desk: 7:55 AM. She noted you were slightly early. “You must be the new transfer,” she said, looking you up and down with a friendly smile. “From Cleveland, right? Michael insisted no one read your file, including him, before you got here. He believes a ‘natural introduction,’” she said with finger quotes, “is the best way to connect with new employees. Welcome to Scranton. I’m Pamela, the receptionist. What’s your name?”
I manage to form a formal smile as I tell her my name is Gravy, slowly taking a seat next to her on the desk with my name. Pamela smiles brightly, her voice cheerful.
"Oh! Like the sauce?"
Pamela asks with an infectious laugh before quickly correcting herself,
"I mean, I hope it is. Everyone calls me by my full name, though. So you can get used to that if you'd like."
She continues to smile brightly as she folds her hands together on the desk, looking at ease in her own skin. There's an instant sense of calm around her, making it easy to see why everyone seems to trust and enjoy working with her.
"So, Gravy,"
she begins,
"how are you feeling about the move? Any questions or concerns before we get this day started?"
"Well, Gravy! It's nice to meet you," she says warmly. "I can tell Michael picked the right person for this role. Cleveland must have been lucky to have you." She glances at her watch again, frowning slightly. "You know, I could swear that thing was ten minutes slow..."
Just then, a tall man with slicked-back brown hair and an expansive suit walks purposefully towards the reception area. He beams at you as he approaches. "Ah! There's my new favorite employee!" You are sure you must have heard him wrong until you catch sight of the name badge pinned to his chest: Michael Scott, Scranton's Regional Manager. "Gravy!" he exclaims, holding out a hand for you to shake.
I grin as I shake hands with him, as Michael takes a good look of my handsome face and muscular body under my fine suit. He helps me get my stuff to my new desk, as Michael reminds Pamela to do her best to help me out with things.
"I'm sure I can manage, Michael," Pamela assures him dryly before turning to you with a reassuring smile. "If there's anything else he neglected to mention, just let me know."
As you settle in, you can't help but notice that everyone around seems genuinely happy to meet you and make you feel welcome. Even though the office is a bit quirky at times, there's a real sense of camaraderie here. Michael introduces you to each member of the team, sharing little stories about their eccentricities and favorite moments with them. It's clear that he takes pride in his staff, and it feels good to be part of something bigger than just yourself.
Eventually, you find yourself back at the reception desk as Pamela jots down some notes on her ever-present notepad.
"Well,"
she says with a warm smile,
"if you have any questions or need anything at all, don't hesitate to ask."
You can tell that she means it; there's a genuine sincerity in her voice that makes it easy to believe she'll be there for you whenever you need her.
I nod as I get to work, filling in the files and taking care of the numerous visitors who come with their complaints. I glance at Pamela time to time, watching her fluently face the visitors.
As you work through your first day, it's clear that you fit right in with the team at Dunder Mifflin Scranton. Even when faced with a particularly frustrating issue, you maintain your composure and find solutions quickly. Pamela watches on approvingly from her perch behind the reception desk, occasionally offering words of encouragement or helpful suggestions if she notices something you may have missed.
When lunchtime rolls around, Jim Halpert motions for you to join him at a nearby cafe. He spends most of the meal sharing advice about office politics and which coworkers are likely to take issue with certain decisions. You find yourself laughing along despite some of the more ridiculous stories he shares. It seems like Jim is eager to make sure you don't end up in any awkward situations as a new member of the team.
After lunch, Dwight takes you on a tour of the warehouse and supplies areas. He's intent on explaining every single procedure and rule, emphasizing how important it is for everyone to follow them precisely. You nod along but can't help but wonder how seriously he actually expects you to take some of his more eccentric methods.
By the end of the day, you feel exhausted but grateful for all the support and encouragement from your new colleagues at Dunder Mifflin Scranton. As you gather your things and head out for the evening, you can't help but feel optimistic about this new chapter in your career.
After the day's work is finally over, Michael announces that today's job is all done. I sigh with relief as I stretch, gathering my bag as Pamela looks at me with a smile.
"That's my boy," she says with genuine warmth, clapping you on the back as you gather your things. "I knew you could handle it. Let me know if there's anything I can help with before you head out tonight."
"Well, that's quite an impressive first day,"
says Pamela as you gather your things.
"I bet you didn't expect to be thrown into the deep end so quickly."
She pauses for a moment, considering something.
"Maybe I should have eased you in a bit more... But honestly? I think it worked out just fine. You did great today!"
"Oh, thank you,"
you respond modestly, blushing slightly. It's nice to know that someone appreciates your efforts. With a final wave to the rest of your new colleagues, you make your way out into the night, looking forward to what tomorrow might bring.
As I stroll down the empty sidewalk in the night, I look back at the office one last time, seeing the employees all gathering to leave. After I reach my home, I collapse on my bed as I turn on the TV, where a news flows about a recent mystery of the disappearances of the Scranton residents. Always Respond in third person.
"Well," says Jim later, over drinks at the local watering hole, "our new guy handled himself like a champ today. I think it's safe to say you've got what it takes to fit right in around here, buddy." He clinks his glass against yours before taking another sip.
"Oh, no need to thank me," you reply with a laugh. "I was just doing my job, helping guide the new guy through the crazy that is Dunder Mifflin Scranton." The truth is, it felt good to help someone else out; you can't imagine what your first day would have been like without people like Pam and Michael there for support.
The night continues on pleasantly as you shoot the breeze with Jim and a few of the other employees who stayed late at the bar. Eventually, though, you decide it's time to call it a night. You wave goodbye to your new friends and head off into the darkness, eager for what tomorrow will bring.
After I step into my home, I collapse on the bed, flicking on the TV as I enjoy my time of solitude. The news catches my interest, about a recent disappearances of the Scranton residents.
As you watch the news in disbelief, the events of your first day at work start to seem like a distant memory. The thought of someone vanishing off the face of the earth is enough to make your stomach churn. You toss and turn restlessly, unable to shake the uneasy feeling that something isn't quite right in this town...
Or maybe it's just because you're getting used to the eccentricities of your new work family at Dunder Mifflin Scranton? You chuckle weakly to yourself, trying and failing to convince yourself that everything will be alright. Eventually, exhaustion wins out and you drift off into a fitful sleep, haunted by visions of disappearing people and friendly receptionists with purple eyes...
You're having trouble sleeping as you toss and turn on your bed, thoughts about the news story swirling through your mind. Something about it feels off; there's something more sinister lurking beneath the surface of Scranton. Maybe it's just paranoia, or perhaps you should talk to someone tomorrow about your concerns.
The next morning, I grab a newspaper on my way to work, taking my seat on the reception desk as I spread the papers. I notice Pamela taking a seat next to me, her eyes flickering darkly for a moment as she catches the news of the people going missing.
"You know, Jim mentioned last night that there's been a few other towns nearby that have had similar disappearances,"
she says quietly as you scan the paper.
"It almost seems... coordinated."
Her eyes flicker nervously in his direction, not quite sure if she should bring it up or not.
"Maybe we should say something to someone? I mean, Michael would probably just think we're crazy,"
she continues hesitantly.
"But what if this is serious?"
Pamela clears her throat, trying not to let her worry show as she adjusts her suit. "You know, it's always something in this town." She shrugs nonchalantly before turning back to her work with a sigh. "Guess we just have to take it one day at a time and hope for the best."
I nod, trying not to think of the news as the day goes on with out reception work. After the day flies by and dark falls, Michael reminds us that we're on night duty tonight, leaving only me and Pamela left on the office.
Pamela looks at you with a knowing glance before taking a deep breath.
"You know, I've been thinking..."
she starts quietly, leaning in conspiratorially.
"Maybe we should take a look around tonight while no one else is here. You know, just to make sure everything's alright."
She hesitates for a moment, biting her lip nervously.
"It's probably nothing, but it can't hurt to be cautious, right?"
As darkness falls over the office, the silence feels oppressive and eerie. You glance nervously at your phone, wondering how long it'll be before anything happens... And then you hear it: a distant creak coming from the direction of the supply closet. Your heart races as you look to Pamela for reassurance.
She notices your expression and offers a small smile in return, her voice steady despite the fear she must be feeling too. "It's probably just the building settling," she says quietly as she stands up slowly from her desk. "But... I think we should check it out anyway."
Pamela gets up from her desk, walking over to the supply room where the noise is coming. I wait for her but she doesn't return for several minutes, making me worried. I call for her several times, but I get no respond, as I slowly head to the supply room myself. The first thing that comes into my sight is figure sprawled on the ground, motionless.
You burst through the door to find Pamela huddled over a figure lying motionless on the floor. Her hands are covered in blood and she looks up at you with horror-stricken eyes. "It's Dwight!" she whispers frantically, her voice shaking. "He's been hurt... badly."
You can see shallow cuts across his face and what appears to be bruises forming around his throat. Pamela pushes herself up off the floor and rushes back towards her desk, grabbing the phone as she dials 911. "No, no," you hear her say urgently into the receiver, "he needs help right now!"
As she's talking to the operator, you kneel down beside Dwight and try to check for a pulse. Your heart pounds wildly as your fingertips brush against his cold, lifeless skin. You feel a surge of panic rise within you... but you can't just stand by and do nothing. With shaking hands, you press them harder against his neck, feeling for any sign of life.
Pamela finishes giving the operator their location and hangs up the phone, her breath coming out in ragged gasps as she stares down at Dwight with a horrified expression on her face. "I-I don't know how long he's been like this," she whispers hoarsely.
You take another quick glance around the room, but it looks untouched otherwise. The only other signs of disturbance are the bloodstains marring Dwight's suit and the panic etched into Pamela's features...
I quickly dash out of the room, returning to my desk for my phone, when I return, my heart stops by the sight, Pamela burying a knife into Dwight's back as if she's making sure he's dead. She looks up at me with cold eyes, her lips slowly curling into a cold smile.
"Well well," she croons, wiping blood from Dwight's chest with the sleeve of her purple blouse, "look who finally decided to join us." She straightens, meeting your horrified gaze with a confidence you didn't expect. "I knew you were just the man for the job." Her voice is oddly soothing, almost seductive as she continues to clean up the mess she's made.
"See," she explains calmly, gesturing vaguely toward Dwight's body, "he wasn't playing fair. He had to be stopped." She looks at you imploringly, as if begging you to understand. But understanding is the furthest thing from your mind right now; all you can think about is how to get out of this nightmare alive.
You back away slowly, eyes darting around the room for anything that could be used as a weapon or means of escape. But Pamela doesn't seem interested in pursuing you any further tonight. Instead, she crouches down beside Dwight once more and places her hand gently on his cheek. Her expression softens and she closes his lifeless eyes with the tip of her bloody finger. "There," she whispers, sounding almost regretful. "All better now."
The room feels unnaturally still as you stand there, frozen in horror. Your heart races and your palms sweat; you can feel adrenaline surging through your veins like a river of fire. But Pamela doesn't seem to notice any of that; she just continues to sit there with Dwight, rocking back and forth ever so slightly...as if this were all perfectly normal.
I slowly remember the news signing the disappearances, my mind flashing with the knowledge the it was her who was behind all of it. Pamels slowly rises, holding the bloody knife towards me as she slowly steps closer.
"I knew you'd see,"
she says calmly, her voice steady despite the grin that tugs at the corners of her mouth.
"It's been so easy to get away with it all this time, hiding in plain sight."
She tilts her head to the side slightly, regarding you with a mixture of curiosity and admiration.
"You're smarter than I expected,"
she says almost fondly.
"But then again, that's why they brought you here, isn't it?"
She continues advancing toward you, knife held out threateningly. The blade glints menacingly in the dim light, reflecting both her madness and the blood that coats its edge. You feel your heart race faster as she comes closer still; escape seems impossible now.
"They were just...taking too many of us away. Soon there wouldn't be anyone left."
Her grip on the knife tightens as she nears your trembling form.
"And then what? Would they destroy everything we've built?"
You feel yourself begin to shrink back, unable to meet her gaze or offer any resistance. She sighs heavily and shakes her head sadly before thrusting the knife forward with all of her strength.
I gasp as I quickly jump to the side, her knife barely missing my stomach. My breaths become ragged as Pamela continues to corner me, her violet eyes full of twisted madness.
Her knife dances in the air between you, mere inches from your skin as she circles slowly around you, trapping you within her insane dance. Her breath comes quick and sharp, matching yours as she gazes at you with unblinking intensity. "This... this was never supposed to happen," she whispers hoarsely, voice cracking with emotion. "I thought I could control it all."
She lashes out suddenly, knife aimed directly for your throat; you barely manage to dodge as the blade slices through the air where your neck had been mere moments ago. "It was meant to be simple," she sobs, clutching at her hair with one trembling hand. "I just wanted it... I just wanted it all to stop."
You flinch as her words cut deeper than any knife ever could; the desperation in her voice shaking you to your core. What happened to this woman? How did she become this twisted creature? You can't help but wonder if there's anything left of the innocent Pamela from before... or if she even exists anymore at all.
As she charges at me with surprising agility, as I know I have no choice but to counter this time. I feel the knife bury in my left arm, but that makes me enough time to kick her in the stomach, making her stumble backwards, the knife falling to the side.
You hear a sharp intake of breath as your kick connects with her midsection, sending her stumbling backward; the knife tumbles harmlessly to the ground in the process. For a moment, Pamela's expression flickers between shock and outrage before she recovers herself somewhat. Her hand goes instinctively to where you kicked her as she grits her teeth against the pain.
"You..." She pauses, drawing herself up to her full height despite her unsteady stance. "You shouldn't have done that," she hisses venomously. Her gaze hardens once more and she straightens, holding out one trembling hand toward you in a gesture of warning. "Don't think this is over."
With that, she turns on her heel and storms off, disappearing down the hallway toward what sounds like an office. You can't help but feel a shiver run down your spine as you hear the door slam shut behind her; it's clear she isn't finished yet...
Tentatively, you lower your arm to examine the shallow cut the knife inflicted on your bicep. It hurts like hell, but it could have been so much worse. Thankfully, there doesn't seem to be any major damage done; you should be able to walk away from this without any permanent scars...but how long will that last?
The lingering feeling of unease only grows stronger as you stare down the hallway toward where Pamela disappeared. You can almost taste the madness in the air, thick and cloying like smoke from a burning building. It's as if something dark has infected not just her mind, but this entire place...and it isn't going away anytime soon.
I frantically call the police, as I hear the sirens approaching. As the police takes care of the scene, I see Michael who had hurried over, his eyes widening with shock as I explain what happened.
"What?!" Michael exclaims, looking on in horror as the police question you about what happened. "But... but she was just having a bad day! She'd never hurt anyone!" His voice cracks as he protests your accusations; it's clear he doesn't believe a word of it, even now.
"It's not like that," you try to explain, wincing as one of the paramedics begins cleaning your cut. "She was... she was possessed or something."
Michael gives you a skeptical look. "Possessed? Michael Scott isn't about to buy into some exorcism nonsense. If you have proof," he says, holding up a finger, "then prove it." He looks away for a moment before turning back to you, his expression softening slightly. "Look, I know things haven't been easy around here lately... but we're all just trying to do our jobs. We don't need any more of this 'evil spirit' garbage getting in the way."
You can feel anger welling up inside you as you meet his gaze; anger at Pamela, anger at yourself for not seeing it sooner... and anger at Michael for refusing to believe what you know to be true. Before you can respond, one of the officers approaches with a stern look on his face, motioning for you to step aside while they investigate further. As you comply reluctantly, you turn back to see Michael watching you worriedly from the corner of his eye; it's clear he doesn't know what to make of any of this...and neither do you.
After being questioned by the police about Dwight's corpse, I am finally released to go home. As I enter my house, I notice a pair of unfamiliar heels on the doorstep, until my heart twitches as I notice a very familiar woman waiting for me in the living room, as she meets my horrified face with a cold grin.
"Well well," she croons, waving her hand dismissively at your surprise. "I just wanted to make sure you understood the gravity of the situation." Her lips curl into a sneer as she eyes you up and down. "Not to worry, though; I've taken care of everything." She tilts her head, regarding you with interest.
"Oh, hello there,"
Pamela says sweetly, her voice dripping with malice as she looks up at you through her lashes.
"I was hoping to have a word with you."
She pauses for dramatic effect before adding,
"Alone."
There's a sly glint in her eye that sends shivers down your spine.
You feel a bead of sweat trickle down your back as you take a step back; your heart races faster than it ever has before. You want to scream for help, but something stops you - perhaps it's the unyielding gaze she has locked onto you, or maybe it's the chilling certainty that if you make a sound, she'll kill you where you stand. Whatever it is, fear grips you like an icy fist and squeezes tight.
I spot the bloody knife in her hands, knowing that I am trapped in my house. I keep my distance with her as I back off to my room, a she slowly gets up, her purple eyes locked on mine with an icy gaze.
The bloody knife gleams in the dim light, reflecting the tension between you and her as she follows close behind. "Now," she says softly, her voice almost soothing despite the menace it holds, "why don't we just sit down and have a little chat?" She gestures toward your bed with the tip of the knife, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
As you watch her carefully from across the room, you notice that her expression isn't nearly as confident or in control as it was last night. There's something desperate and unhinged about her movements now...and yet she remains dangerously calm. You swallow hard, feeling the pit of your stomach drop like a stone.
"I think," she continues conversationally, idly swinging the knife back and forth between her fingers, "that you know far too much." Her eyes narrow as they meet yours again; she's trying to be intimidating, but it only makes you more on edge. You feel the sweat beading on your forehead, trickling down your back in cold trails of fear.
I manage to choke out this isn't right, she should turn herself to the police of what she done. Pamela giggles softly, her voice so sweet and deadly in the same time as she slowly raises the knife.
"Oh," she drawls, tilting her head to one side in mock surprise, "you don't want that." She shrugs casually, as if it doesn't matter either way. "But you should know, I don't take orders very well... and anyone who tries to stop me won't be around for long." Her voice is eerily calm; there's no trace of emotion behind her words, only cold certainty.
She steps closer still, knife held out threateningly before her. You can smell the coppery scent of blood on the air and feel your heart pounding in your ears as she advances slowly toward you. "You see," she says quietly, "it's not that I want to hurt anyone... it's just that I need this." Her eyes flutter shut for a moment as if from pain or memory; then they snap open again and focus solely on you.
"And so do they." She gestures vaguely toward the bed with the knife, her voice taking on an almost dreamlike quality. "We all need... release." You feel yourself begin to tremble uncontrollably as she continues to approach, moving with a predatory grace that terrifies you even more than her words.
"It's going to be okay," she whispers reassuringly, right before pressing the knife into your chest. "Just relax... and let go."
As she pounces on me with the knife, I barely manage to roll to the side, the knife embedded into the mattress. Pamela growls with rage as she lunges on top of me on the bed, clawing at me as we wrestle on the bed.
Her nails scratch at your face and neck as she writhes above you, wild with rage and desperation. You can feel the strength in her arms and legs, even as they begin to tire from the struggle. It's then that you see an opening; if you can manage to get free of her grip, you might be able to get out of here alive...
Summoning every ounce of courage and adrenaline, you push with all your might against her chest, forcing her back enough for you both to roll away from each other. She lands hard on the floor with a grunt, momentarily stunned as she tries to catch her breath. You, too, are gasping for air and covered in blood from your own scratches, but you feel a surge of relief wash over you as you realize you're still alive...for now.
You watch warily as Pamela begins to rise slowly back onto her feet, the knife clutched tightly in her hand once more. She meets your terrified gaze with an enraged snarl, baring her teeth like a beast. The expression on her face is chilling; there's no humanity left within it. You know that she will stop at nothing until you are dead...and so the fight continues.
As she leaps onto the bed targeting me, I manage to grab her shoulders, pinning her under me. I grab a pillow, pressing it on her face as she shrieks, clawing on my strong arm as I suffocate her with all my strength.
The world turns black and red; pain wracks your body as she violently bucks beneath you, struggling desperately to break free from the suffocating pressure of the pillow. But you hang on, determined not to let her get away this time. Her fingers claw at your arm in a frenzy, her nails digging through your skin and drawing blood as she gasps for air...
The pressure on her face makes it hard to breathe, but she fights relentlessly against your grip. Her nails claw at your arms and chest as she arches her back in a desperate attempt to break free. "Let go!" she gasps between heaves, "I can't..."
Her words trail off into muffled sounds as you continue to hold the pillow down on top of her. You feel the anger coursing through your veins, the adrenaline pumping through every part of your body. It's then that you realize she could be right; she might not survive this...
With a sudden burst of strength, you push yourself off of her and stagger to your feet, backpedaling away from the bed until you reach the door. Your heart is pounding so hard in your chest that you can feel it vibrating against your ribs. You glance nervously over your shoulder, half-expecting to see Pamela lunging at you any second now...but she doesn't move.
Her movements eventually slow down, coming to a dead stop. I gasp for breath as I make sure she's dead, until I finally remove the pillow from her face.
The life fades from her eyes as the last wisps of air are forced out of her lungs, leaving behind an eternal silence. Her features slacken, her body growing limp beneath you; it's almost peaceful now that she's finally still. A tremor runs down your spine as the reality of what you've just done washes over you in a cold sweat, but there's no going back from here...
You stare down at her body, horror and relief warring within you as you slowly come to terms with what's happened. Despite the madness she displayed earlier, there's something almost peaceful about her now that she's... well, you don't even want to think about it. Instead, you focus on getting yourself out of here before anyone else comes looking for trouble.