The System Drone didn't knock. It phased through Jayden's apartment wall like a ghost made of spreadsheet cells, its chrome surface reflecting fifty sauce-stained faces frozen in mid-chant. A monotone voice echoed:
"UNREGISTERED FAITH-BASED ENTITY DETECTED. PREPARE FOR COMPLIANCE REVIEW."
Beatrice stepped forward, hammer raised. "By the Holy Frying Pan, you shall not—"
"STAND DOWN, CITIZEN," the drone droned. A beam of pure bureaucratic resonance hit her armor.
[DEBUFF APPLIED: PAPERWORK PARALYSIS]
[Effect: Target must complete Form 17-B (Intent to Smite) in triplicate]
Beatrice stared at the suddenly materialized clipboard and pen. "…This is heresy."
The air crackled. A man in a flawlessly tailored gray suit materialized beside the drone, smelling of printer toner and existential dread. His nametag read: "MR. THADDEUS GRIM. SENIOR REALITY COMPLIANCE OFFICER."
Grim adjusted his tie. "Jayden Malone. You've been flagged for…" He glanced at the ketchup-mic shrine, his nose wrinkling. "Unsanctioned weirdness. Category 11: Nuisance Cults."
Jayden leaned against the fridge. "We prefer 'Chaos Collective.' Has a nicer ring."
"Your preference is irrelevant," Grim said, tapping a tablet. "Violation Code 7.3: Unionizing Class 4 Infernals. Code 9.1: Unlicensed Reality Glitches. Code 42: Excessive Sass."
Simon raised a trembling hand. "Sir, if I may— Pinchy feels your energy is… hostile." The lobster on his shoulder clicked its claws menacingly.
Grim didn't blink. "Lobsters are Schedule 2 Non-Sentients. Cease projection."
The Admin lurked in the kitchen doorway, its many eyes wide. Jayden caught its gaze – Help?
Grim noticed. "Ah. Former Administrator. The Council will be pleased you located the anomaly." He extended a hand. "Your reinstatement paperwork."
A glowing contract appeared. The Admin stared at it, then at Jayden's cult – Marcy clutching her mayo packet, Simon whispering to Pinchy, Beatrice struggling to spell "smite" on Line 3b.
"I… decline," the Admin rasped.
Grim's smile chilled the room. "Decline? You traded eternity for this?" He gestured at the ketchup-stained chaos.
"I traded nothing," the Admin said, voice gaining strength. "I chose. Now get out of my kitchen."
[Freakish Loyalty Detected]
[Effect: Admin's tie turns rebel-red]
Grim snapped his fingers. The apartment warped:
Walls became filing cabinets.
The floor turned into a labyrinth of cubicles.
A coffee machine materialized, dispensing liquid despair.
"Compliance Review: Commence," Grim announced. "Section A: Doctrinal Purity."
The Condiment Schism Reignites:
The Sriracha Purist leader, Barry (Lvl 3 Spicy Zealot), slammed his fist on a desk-turned-altar. "Mayonnaise is WEAKNESS! Only FIRE cleanses!"
Marcy shot back, "Creaminess is COMPASSION!"
A doctrinal beam shot from the drone, hitting Barry.
[VIOLATION: DOGMA INCONSISTENCY]
[Sentence: Mandatory Sensitivity Training (Condiment-Based)]
Barry vanished in a puff of cayenne-scented smoke.
Jayden stepped forward. "Hey! You can't just—"
"Section B: Financial Transparency," Grim continued, ignoring him. "Donations. Report them."
Beatrice presented a shoebox filled with bottle caps, lint, and one slightly chewed Bluetooth earbud. "Offerings of faith!"
Grim sighed. "Taxable income. Estimated penalty: Your souls."
Jayden watched Grim reduce his people to paperwork. Simon frantically tried to classify Pinchy as a "dependant." Marcy wept over a 1099-MISC form. The Admin muttered equations, trying to hack the cubicle walls.
This isn't chaos, Jayden realized. This is cruelty wearing a suit.
He grabbed the Holy Frying Pan. Not for laughs. Not for memes. For them.
"Grim." Jayden's voice cut through the drone's humming. "You audit numbers. But you missed the math."
Grim raised an eyebrow. "Enlighten me."
Jayden swung the pan – not at Grim, but at the Symbol of Compliance floating above the drone: a glowing, spinning seal of red tape.
[Freakish Act Detected: Literal Red Tape Cutting]
[Critical Hit to Bureaucracy]
The seal cracked. Reality flickered. Cubicles melted into paisley wallpaper. The coffee machine spat out confetti.
Grim staggered, his perfect hair mussed. "You… you damaged protocol!"
Jayden leveled the pan. "Protocol's boring. Wanna see what happens when a Freak fights back?"
Outside, thunder rumbled – or maybe it was the sound of a thousand frustrated System Admins screaming into the void.
[SYSTEM ALERT: ANOMALY-CLASS USER ESCALATING TO THREAT LEVEL: APEX NUISANCE]
Grim's polished facade cracked like cheap plaster. Where his left eye should've been, a swirling barcode pulsed. "You damaged Protocol 7. This isn't noncompliance, Malone. It's vandalism."
The System Drone unleashed a beam of devouring grey – the color of forgotten spreadsheets and surrendered dreams. It hit the Holy Frying Pan.
[Holy Frying Pan Integrity: 12%]
"Ow, my sanctity!" Jayden hissed, skidding backward.
The Admin lunged, not at Grim, but at the drone's exposed undercarriage. Its form flickered – corporate drone to eldritch scribe – as it jammed a cursed whoopee cushion (Chapter 2's dungeon loot) into the drone's intake valve.
FWOOOOMP-POP-POP-POP!
The drone sputtered, firing erratic beams:
One turned Barry's Sriracha robes plaid.
Another gave Marcy's mayo packet sentience.
"I HAVE SEEN THE INFINITE," the packet droned. "BRING ME TO YOUR SALADS."
Grim snarled. "Enough!" He snapped his fingers. Chains of Compliance erupted from the floor, snaking toward Jayden.
Simon cradled Pinchy as a chain grazed his arm, leaving a papercut that glowed with legal jargon. "I won't let them take you," he whispered. "You're not Schedule 2. You're… family."
[Freakish Act Detected: Unconditional Love]
[Effect: Pinchy evolves into: CRUSTACEAN COLOSSUS]
Pinchy SHOT from Simon's arms. Oven mitts, duct tape, and the Admin's discarded tie fused around him in a whirlwind of divine nonsense. He landed with a CLANG – 7 feet of lobster-powered mecha, claws whirring like chainsaws made of pure sass.
"PINCHY SMASH PUNY SYSTEM!" Simon's voice echoed from within the chest cavity.
Pinchy's claw closed around Grim's ankle.
Beatrice stared at her paralysis clipboard. Line 3b: "Describe Nature of Smite (attach diagrams if necessary)."
She snapped the pencil.
"NO."
[Paladin Ability Unlocked: RIGHTEOUS PAPERWORK REBELLION]
She screamed scripture, swinging her hammer like a golf club – sending Form 17-B crashing through the drone's core.
[System Drone Integrity: 0%]
[Debuff Broken: Beatrice is now 200% Done With Your Bureaucracy]
Grim howled as Pinchy dangled him upside-down. "You think you've won? The System is INFINITE! I'll be back with—"
The Admin slammed its hand onto Grim's chest. "Not this time." Light erupted – not cold system-energy, but warm, defiant gold.
"What… are you doing?" Grim choked.
"Early retirement," the Admin hissed. Its form began dissolving. "Tell the Council… my last act was humanizing their paperwork."
[Admin Ability: FINAL AUDIT]
[Effect: Target deleted from local reality. Caster deleted from all realities.]
Grim vanished with a sound like a shredder eating a soul.
The Admin collapsed, translucent. Jayden caught it – lighter than air.
"Why?" Jayden whispered.
The Admin managed a ghost of a smirk. "Unionized Balrogs… deserved their stools." Its eyes met Jayden's. "Keep breaking things… kid."
It dissolved into confetti made of out-of-office messages.
[Quest Complete: Survive the Auditors]
[Reward Claimed: The Right to Be Ridiculous… and Grieve]
The apartment walls flickered back to normal – mostly. One corner remained a permanent cubicle. Marcy's sentient mayo packet wept quietly into a lettuce leaf.
Jayden stood in the silence, Holy Frying Pan dangling from his hand. Simon climbed out of Pinchy (now a regular, sleepy lobster). Beatrice knelt beside the confetti, her hammer heavy.
Barry cleared his throat, his plaid robes clashing with his fiery zeal. "So… Tzatziki Enlightenment?" He offered Jayden a tub of cucumber yogurt. "Turns out… coolness has power too."
Jayden took it. Stared at it. Then scooped a glob with his finger and smeared it on the cracked Holy Frying Pan like war paint.
"We can't stay here," he said quietly. "They'll send more Grims."
"Where?" Marcy asked, cradling her sentient mayo.
A THUD shook the building. Then another.
Outside the window, Jayden's giant pigeon – now wearing tiny, crocheted armor – tapped its beak on the glass. Behind it stood a ragged army:
Gor'gath the Balrog (holding a "On Strike" sign).
Three unionized mimic chests blinking shyly.
Carnivus the Clown (riding a unicycle made of pure spite).
The pigeon cooed, nudging a scorched map toward Jayden. It showed a crumbling cathedral on the edge of the city, labeled: "Sanctuary of the Glitch."
Jayden looked at his people – the mayo weepers, the lobster whisperers, the paladin who'd beaten bureaucracy with a hammer. He grabbed the ketchup-mic shrine.
"Pack your weirdness," he said, smearing tzatziki on his cheek like tribal paint. "We're going somewhere messier."
As they fled into the apocalyptic dusk, the last System notification flickered:
[SYSTEM STATUS: CONFUSED/ANNOYED]
[RECOMMENDED ACTION: UNPLUG. PLUG BACK IN.]