7:00 a.m. – Organization Headquarters, Lobby
Try One adjusted his tie in the reflection of the building's glass entrance. The morning light bounced off the polished steel, a perfect metaphor for the image he was about to project—calm, composed, and in complete control.
He walked through the rotating doors with a purpose, passing security with a nod and a confident stride. Every move had been rehearsed a thousand times. Every face, every name—etched into his memory from lifetimes of failure.
But this time? This time, he wasn't here to play safe.
This time, he was going to climb.
He met eyes with Darius Bell, the Head of Internal Operations, who had once executed him in loop #78421. Try One smiled like he didn't remember a thing.
"Darius," he greeted with a firm handshake, "I hear there's a restructuring in Department 3."
Darius raised an eyebrow, caught off guard. "How did you know that?"
Try One leaned in, lowering his voice just enough. "Let's just say I have my sources—and I'm good at finding gaps that need... smarter leadership."
He left that hanging in the air and walked on without waiting for a reply.
Darius blinked, unsettled. Try One didn't look like a junior analyst anymore—he looked like a shark.
And sharks swam where blood was thickest.
10:30 a.m. – Conference Room B-12
The room buzzed with tension. Mid-level managers, directors, and a few power-hungry department heads sat at the long table, murmuring about budget cuts and resource reallocations. Try One took the seat farthest from the head, unnoticed—exactly how he wanted it.
He scanned the room. Jason Kline—corrupt, arrogant, and secretly embezzling funds—was sitting smug with a coffee. Amanda Reese—an ambitious climber but reckless in her moves—flipping through documents. And then, seated at the head, the director himself: Malcolm Veers.
Try One had been in this room hundreds of times. Killed in this room more than thirty. Ignored in almost all of them.
But not today.
The moment the budget projections were pulled up, Try One struck.
"If I may," he said calmly, interrupting Malcolm, "Slide 8 contains three incorrect projections."
Heads turned.
Jason scoffed. "And who are you again?"
Try One smiled, polite and cold. "Someone who's read these reports... thoroughly."
He stood, walked to the screen, and with practiced ease began exposing every flaw—Jason's inflated equipment requisitions, Amanda's misallocated staffing, and most importantly, the subtle changes in departmental influence that were clearly being rigged.
Silence filled the room.
"Either it's incompetence," Try One concluded, "or it's theft. Either way, someone's failing this organization."
Jason's face went pale.
Amanda looked like she'd seen a ghost.
Malcolm leaned forward. "And what do you propose?"
Try One smiled with deadly precision. "Put me in charge of auditing Department 3. Give me access for one week. I'll clean the rot."
Malcolm's eyes narrowed.
And then, slowly, he nodded.
"Approved."
Try One sat down again, quiet and still. His heart didn't race. He'd done this before.
But now—for the first time—it was working.
11:10 a.m. – Department 3 Office Floor
Try One moved through the cubicles like a breeze no one noticed until it passed. His new access badge gleamed. Not many looked twice—just another transfer, they assumed.
But he wasn't here to be noticed.
He was here to plant the seeds of control.
He stopped by Alyssa Monroe's desk—a quiet analyst who always left early, always avoided conflict. "Alyssa," he greeted softly.
She jumped, surprised. "Yes?"
"I read your last three reports. Your analysis on internal spending patterns was brilliant. I'd like your help digging into something more serious."
She blinked. "Me?"
He smiled. "I'm not interested in titles. I'm interested in talent."
That line—delivered in hundreds of timelines—never failed.
Minutes later, he approached Jamal, the overworked system admin who knew every internal server like the back of his hand.
"I need unfiltered access to archived financial logs," Try One said. "Off the books."
Jamal frowned. "I could lose my job."
"Or you could help me make this place honest," Try One replied, handing him a flash drive. "And when I'm in charge, you'll get the team and budget you've always asked for."
Jamal hesitated… then nodded.
Try One wasn't just collecting data.
He was collecting people.
He knew who was weak, who was honest, who was broken, and who just needed someone to believe in them.
And for the first time in this timeline, they were following him.
Not because he was loud.
Not because he was important.
But because he was right—and he made them feel seen.
By the end of the day, Try One had access to nearly everything Department 3 had hidden.
And the war hadn't even started yet.
5:55 p.m. – Rooftop of Department 3 Headquarters
Try One stood alone on the rooftop, overlooking the city below as the sun began to set. The wind tugged gently at his coat. In the pocket of his jacket was a drive loaded with a decade's worth of corruption—buried transactions, falsified reports, and chains of manipulated promotions. All of it gathered in one day.
Because this wasn't his first day.
This was his 21,945th attempt.
Behind him, the access door clicked open. Alyssa stepped out, holding a thermos of coffee. "I figured you'd still be up here."
He nodded without turning. "You believe me now, don't you?"
"I believe something's wrong with this place. And that you're the only one doing anything about it."
He took the thermos from her. "I'm not the only one. Not anymore."
Inside the building, Jamal was seeding the backup servers with mirrored data—the kind that would outlive any purge order. Others were forwarding files to whistleblowers, flagged under anonymous drop boxes he'd built across a hundred timelines.
Try One didn't need a revolution.
He needed a quiet coup.
One that would look, from the outside, like fate… or justice… or a natural collapse.
"I'm going to bring them all down," he whispered.
Alyssa hesitated. "And after that?"
He finally turned to her, his eyes sharp, but not cruel. "Then I'll rebuild it from within. Brick by brick. With people who remember what it means to be human."
She didn't say anything.
But she didn't walk away either.
Below, the lights of Department 3 flickered on.
Try One took a deep breath.
Tomorrow, the day would reset.
But tonight—this version of it—was one step closer to the final try.
The try that would change everything.