Hell Center Ending Option 2: A Walk on the Wild Side

As Phil’s quarter tumbled through the air, seemingly in slow motion, Emma prayed for the sake of everyone’s safety that it would land on heads. Luckily for her, it did.

“Best two out of three,” Phil insisted.

“You gotta be shitting me,” Jason moaned with a facepalm.

“Fine, whatever,” Emma said. The odds were in her favor, but the gamble didn’t pay off. The second flip landed on tails, and the third and final one did the same. 

“Let’s gooo!” Phil celebrated. “All right, y’all, we gotta fight back. These people aren’t fucking around. We can’t just lie down and let them boss us around, we gotta make some shit happen! Everyone find something you can use as a weapon!”

As she looked around the office, Emma’s eyes locked in on the ancient computer monitors sitting atop the desks. They weren’t of much use for call center work, but they could be good for something else. She grabbed the closest one, straining to pick it up.

Meanwhile, Phil grabbed a rolling desk chair and wheeled it toward the elevator. 

“Jason, Candy, grab something. Let’s go!”

“I can’t carry a chair!” Candy cried. “I’ll just take this.” She held up the mechanical pencil in her hand.

“Suit yourself,” Phil said with a shrug. “Jason, let’s go!”

“My old, fat ass can’t carry shit either!” Jason moaned. “Ughhh.” After looking around a little more, he grabbed the pair of headphones off his deck.

“I’ll choke ‘em out with them,” he said, demonstrating.

“Good enough,” Phil said, and they made their way downstairs fully armed.

After bounding down the stairs and up to the front door, they arrived just in time to hear a massive CRASH as the seemingly invincible Plexiglass of the door shattered. As amazing as it felt to have the sun and the fresh air kissing their skin for the first time in days, the professionals couldn’t enjoy it for long. One of the clients, an elderly man with thinning silver hair and a grapefruit-like face shriveled into a seemingly permanent scowl, had bashed it in with his pitchfork, and now the employees were face to face with the collective bane of their existences.

“Hello, yes, my name is Benjamin Boles,” the man snarled. “I’m looking for Candy Stevens.”

“I’m Candy,” she croaked out. “But you can back off me, I’m armed!”

She held up the mechanical pencil aggressively. Benjamin and the other clients laughed in her face.

“Ohh, we are utterly terrified of you and your writing utensils,” Benjamin said mockingly. “Look, I’m shaking!”

He wrapped his arms around himself and pretended to quiver. A young man by Benjamin’s side — who bore a resemblance to him — looked on in confusion.

“All right, that’s it, sir!” Candy snapped. She glanced around the area for something else she could use as a weapon, and her eyes locked on a vending machine right inside the main lobby. She ran back inside and began trying to push it outside, struggling with all her might. Candy was small, but when motivated, she could tap into some serious strength. 

“Now, miss, what in God’s name is this vending machine business?” Benjamin sneered. “Why, I might have half a mind to light you on fire!”

He leered at Candy with his torch, trying to shove it toward her face. Before he could do so, however, Candy kicked the vending machine and it tipped over directly onto Benjamin. The large, hefty receptacle squashed the angry client whole, flattening his body entirely into the ground. Finally, Benjamin Boles was silent for good. Under the vending machine, his torch burned on.

“Fuck yeah!” Phil cheered her on, but before he could celebrate the miserable geezer’s demise, he was accosted by one dark-haired, snappily-dressed young man with a smug look on his mug.

“You,” Steven Phelps snarled as he got up in Phil’s face. “You REFUSED to give me crucial information I needed on cryptocurrency. As a result, I’m missing out on growing my money by at least 1000 percent. You OWE me that money!”

As Phil held the rolling desk chair and choked back a laugh, Steven stabbed in his general direction with his pitchfork, aiming for his face. Phil lifted the chair in the air to swat it out of his hand. He whacked the smarmy prick’s torch away as well, then kicked him in the balls, sending him crumpling to the ground. Phil mounted Steven’s prostrate body and bashed his head in repeatedly with the fat part of the chair. 

“Here’s — what you get — for trying — to kill me — you FUCKING — YUPPIE — SCUM!” Phil grunted out in between bashes. By the time he was done, the smug douchebag was bruised, bloody, and silent. Phil stood up and observed, satisfied with his work.

“Fuck you, Steven,” he said, spitting on the corpse.

Steven’s torch had landed atop the deadly vending machine, now sandwiching it between two lit torches. The whole thing went up in a massive flame, sending both the clients and employees scampering away toward the parking lot.

“Excuse me, are you Jason Monasterio?” asked an older woman rocking a beehive haircut.

“Why, yes, I am,” Jason said confrontationally, brandishing his headset. “Can I help you?”

“Yes, my name is Kathryn Fobkowski, and you’re HOLDING MY MONEY!” Kathryn shrieked. “You take my money, I TAKE YOUR LIFE!”

She lunged at Jason with both the pitchfork and the torch, managing to stab him in the side of his beefy arm and set part of his shirt on fire. Jason, however, soldiered on, wrapping the headset around the sensitive part of Kathryn’s neck.

“Let … me … go … you fat … fuck!” Kathryn managed to choke out.

“Relinquish your weapons and say you’re sorry!” Jason shot back.

“Never!”

         She still held the torch and the lit pitchfork, trying weakly to wave them at Jason, but after a few more seconds, she was out like a light.

The fire continued to spread, and the Countryside Financial building was now completely ablaze in heat. As Emma tried to make a run for it, she was grabbed by two men much larger than her.

“Is that her? Is that the little shit who wouldn’t get me a manager?” 

“Darn tootin’! That’s Emily!”

“Well, Emily, you got another thing coming, honey!”

“It’s Emma. Lee. You fuckers,” Emma corrected them. “Not Emily. NOT FUCKING EMILY! And not sweetie or honey or any of that bullshit either!”

The first man was Joseph Troglione, and the second was William Johnson. Before Emma knew it, she had the angry old Italian and the raging redneck clobbering her with their weapons, sending her tumbling to the ground. She dropped the computer monitor, smashing the screen, but using every bit of strength in her, she picked it back up and did everything she could to fend off the attack.

“Hold up, Emma, I got you!” she heard Phil cry. Phil grabbed the desk chair and ran straight through Joseph and William, taking their legs out and sending them falling backward onto their asses. 

This was the opening Emma needed. She sprung to her feet and attacked with the heavy monitor, smashing it into the bodies and skulls of the two clients over and over. Not needing any more help, she showed no mercy until both of them had passed on to another place.

“Let’s go! That’s my fuckin’ girl!” Phil cried, excitedly giving her a high five with a devilish look in his eyes. Exhausted, eyes wide, and panting for breath, Emma felt more alive than ever before.

With five clients lying in the parking lot dead or unconscious, only the young man who had accompanied Benjamin remained. Glancing around nervously at the carnage and the still angry-looking employees, Ivan Boles made a run for it, and they would never see him in person again. At least he had a retirement plan payday to look forward to.

Phil knew it was best for the group to report the altercation to the authorities as soon as possible. Not only did the burning call center need to be extinguished, they needed to clarify that the killings had all been in self-defense. The police were taken aback when they first came to the scene, but upon review of the building’s security footage, they decided not to place any of the employees under arrest. At long last, they were free.

The clients would not be as lucky. Out of the five monsters who had attacked the building, only Kathryn Fobkowski managed to survive, regaining consciousness a few hours later. Her attempts to press charges against Countryside backfired and she was sentenced to fifteen years in the slammer, leaving Ed Fobkowski in charge of the finances and her father still fighting the good fight against cancer.

Also not surviving the ordeal was Jane Reinhorn. Upon being informed of the employees’ mistreatment at her hands, the police sent a unit to her house for questioning, only to find the elderly woman dead at the scene. She had suffered a fatal heart attack when her employees abandoned their Skype meeting, and with her passing, the future of Countryside Financial was left very much up in the air.

Future lawyer Phil saw a golden opportunity and pounced. After slaying the clients and ravenously chowing down on pizza, the four former employees had taken down each other’s phone numbers and stayed in touch. Several months after the attempt on their lives, they each received multi-million dollar settlement claims from Countryside and Jane Reinhorn’s estate for the inhumane treatment they had suffered, meaning they never had to work another shitty job a day in their lives. Well, unless they wanted to, of course.

The quartet of Phil Delaney, Emma Lee, Jason Monasterio, and Candy Stevens was able to buy out Countryside Financial, pooling their settlement money to take over as co-CEOs of the company. With the old building incinerated, they had a swanky new call center built in downtown Columbus, where they would be handling things a little bit differently.

“Hey, this is Emma, what’s up?”

“Emma. You people at Countryside are despicable! I saw the report on the news about those kids who MURDERED people at one of your buildings. What a disgrace! I don’t want you people handling my money.”

“It was self-defense, deal with it. What can I actually do for you?”

“You can tell your manager that your company absolutely stinks! In fact, can I speak to your manager?”

Emma’s chest puffed with pride as she beamed joyfully. She had been waiting for this moment.

“I am the manager.”

“No, you’re not! That’s gotta be a joke. Little girl like you? Get me to a real manager.”

“Go fuck yourself, you insufferable bitch,” Emma said. “I hope you step on a Lego. Don’t ever fucking call us again.”

Click. 

A rush of adrenaline surged through her as she hung up the call, feeling on top of the world. They had earned every bit of this, and it wasn’t going to get old anytime soon.

“Yo, what’s poppin’, it’s your boy Phil!”

“Phil, that introduction doesn’t sound very professional to me. What kind of customer service line is this?”

“My kind, bruh. If you knew what me and my people went through, you’d understand. We went to hell and back for this shit. What can I do for you?”

“Well, I just wanted to check on a transaction that took place on my account on February 12, 2021. That was the day my ex-wife moved out, and I’m certain that she took my money.”

Phil looked back in the records.

“Nope, nothing happened that day.”

“Well, that just can’t be true. That sick woman definitely drained this entire account dry! What about February 13?”

“Nope, it didn’t happen, man. You just didn't have anything in there.”

“Ok, get me a supervisor. You are just a disrespectful punk! And you sound rather … urban. Get me someone not urban!”

“Yeah, I don’t have no damn supervisor anymore. You're talking to the supervisor. And I don’t have to deal with this. Have a nice life, racist motherfucker. Peace!”

Click.

“Hey, it’s Jason. How you doin’?”

“Well, well, well. I think you’ll recognize me. This is Ed Fobkowski.”

Jason gulped. “Ed, how can I help you?”

“Yeah, my wife is in PRISON because of you people. And you still haven’t given us our money. This house is in shambles, I’m about to lose it. And her dad still has cancer. Why haven’t you done anything about this, Jason? What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“Listen, Ed, I’m very sorry to hear everything you’re going through. I genuinely am, that’s terrible. I hope her dad gets better. But your wife literally tried to murder me! And she called me a fat fuck. So I don’t think I feel like helping you today. Goodbye.”

Click. 

“Hey, it’s Candy! How can I be of service?”

“Oh hey, Candy, uh … my name is Ivan Boles.” EYE-van. “My dad just died, and I need to get the money out.”

Candy gulped. “Certainly, EYE-van, we’ll take a look for you. Okay, so your dad is Benjamin Boles, and you are a primary beneficiary at 32 percent, so I’ll go ahead and send you the beneficiary distribution form.”

“32 percent?!” Ivan whined, flabbergasted. “How do I not have more than my brother and my sisters?!”

“Well, you do have more, actually. 32 is the highest percentage that any of you have.”

“Bullshit, you bitch, don’t lie to me!” He was much more courageous on the phone than in real life. “And didn’t you say my name wrong? That’s what started this whole thing anyway.”

“I may have mispronounced your name, but it was a very understandable mistake. Ee-vahn is a common alternate pronunciation of the same name. Therefore, I don’t think I have anything to apologize for, and in fact your father should have apologized for verbally abusing and then attempting to murder me. But that’s just my opinion, and he’s dead now anyway.”

“WHAT?! THAT WAS YOU WHO KILLED HI—”

Click.

“Whoa, this song goes fuckin’ HARD on the dance floor!” Emma drunkenly slurred as she “accidentally” bumped up against Phil's body. “Takes me right back to the mid-2010s.”

“I know, right?” Phil slurred back. “Those middle-school years were fuckin' golden.”

“Oh, yeah. Man, I’m feelin’ some type of way tonight.”

“Me too.” He paused. “Here, come with me.”

Phil grabbed Emma by the hand and led her through the crowd and down the hall to the large, luxurious men’s restroom of the new Countryside office building. Emma giggled as they walked and then started to run. 

The new place was more than just an office, it was an all-around luxury facility to serve the employees’ every need. This included working, partying at the bar and on the dance floor, working out at the full-size gym and athletic complex, and relaxing in the pool, hot tub, sauna, and spa. On a night like this, when they had a gaggle of friends over for a good time, the best places to retreat for privacy were the luxury bathrooms.

Emma and Phil had been going steady for a few weeks now, having realized they complemented each other very well. Nothing was official just yet, but they were just enjoying each other's company and riding the wave while it lasted. It was good, lighthearted fun, and right now that was all they needed. While bathrooms weren’t typically the most glamorous place to get some alone time, this particular one was different.

Phil pushed open the door to the European-style fully closed stall, which contained a diamond-studded toilet in the corner, colorful LED lights on the walls, and a big, comfortable mattress in the opposite corner. Playfully, Phil shoved Emma down on the mattress. She giggled again, tossing her long black hair over her shoulder and removing her glasses as she pulled him down onto her.

“Girl, let’s get this fuckin’ party started!” he cried, popping his shirt off to reveal his abs.

“Looks like it already has for you,” she said with a wink, unbuttoning her cutoff jean shorts.

“Guilty,” Phil cackled, slowly sliding her shorts down around her ankles as their private party began.

THE END

Click here to follow Emma's plan and take the practical, reasonable approach