CH1: Unfortunately for You...You've Been Isekai'd!

  Nestled within a forest of manilla cubicles, long deserted since the end of the work day, Tony Fisk rubbed his sleep-deprived green eyes and stretched his aching back in the dim, warm glow of his standard-issue desk lamp.

  Before him, like most nights, was another deadline, another assignment, another unfinished mound of paperwork his so-called coworkers hadn't bothered to see to completion.

  “I need a raise…” the man gripped, stapling another set of insurance triplicates with trembling hands.

  He wasn't a stranger to hard work; on the contrary, all he did was work as an unfortunate tendency of becoming important at his workplace.

  Getting out of the army was supposed to be his new lease on life, a moment of rest where he'd finally get to live and explore the world like he’d always dreamed.

  Unfortunately for Fisk, “simple” wasn’t the life’s M.O., and his promise of a bright future crumbled.

  Failed stock investments.

  A cheating ex-wife.

  Alimony payments.

  Several Article 15s.

  A tanking credit score.

  …and a used Camaro that sat at a 26.16% APR.

  All at the ripe old age of twenty-five.

  Then to top it all off, the Office of Veteran Affairs rejected his Injury claims. Something about his tympanic membrane perforation, missing leg, and hand tremors being Non-Service Related and paperwork not properly filed.

  Under normal circumstances, most would rely on friends and family during these trying times.

  But all of Fisk's friends were dead. All of his family gone. And after being cheated on by his ex-wife whom he had given everything to! Fisk… had nothing.

  So… the jaded 6’4 brunette man worked. And worked. And worked. The monotonous days of his life blurring into a single stream of forgettable moments.

  Of course, as much as Fisk didn’t want to admit it, the work kept him going. The only thing he had left to distract him from the monotony and darkness that clouded his future.

  “Because if I don't do it, it won't get done,” Fisk sighed, feeling a bit breathless as he stamped Denied! on another insurance claim.

  Hm. Maybe I should get into video games… Should I get an xboy or a playsystem? Maybe a PC? No, those are way too expensive…

  Fisk groaned.

  Taking a moment, he paused his work, undoing his shirt collar as he eyed the sign on the wall that said Live, Laugh, Love. The company's laughable attempt at bolstering staff “morale”.

  “Maybe in another life I'd do all those things,” Fisk mused, before looking over to his coworker’s desk that held a gaming headset.

  Maybe it was his sleep deprivation, or perhaps his boredom, but Fisk could see his coworker laughing and flinging his arms wildly as he wore his headset. He'd never admit it, but he'd like to try. Especially since he'd been hearing so much about the game from his coworkers and ads from MeTube.

  “Hmm… Maybe I could do with a break…” Fisk reasoned, a smirk on his face as he thought about the so-called professional gamers who made money by gaming.

  Maybe I could get rich… Fisk mused before setting down his project and instead backing up his wheelchair to roll towards the desk that held the electronic gaming device.

  Picking up the grey-metal item that was cool to the touch, Fisk eyed the electronic, the gaming device built similar to a gentex helmet commonly worn by helicopter pilots.

  Fisk surveyed the empty office.

  With no one around, there was no one to judge him. No one to make fun of his lack of gaming ability and lack of coordination. No one to point out any flaw as he attempted to learn.

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  Self conscious? Maybe, but Fisk didn't like being made fun of. In the army it had been different, there was brotherhood there, but in civilian life…

  “Eh, why not? After all, I deserve a little break.”

  Against his better judgement, Fisk put the device on, the headset snug against his head in a way that brought back bad memories.

  Fisk powered through, instead choosing to focus on the gaming headset that darkened his vision.

  “How the hell do I turn this on…” Fisk muttered, feeling around the helmet for a button before remembering that it was one of those voice activated devices. “On? On! Headset on!”

  Suddenly a clink was heard, the device powering with motors and fans spinning up the device.

  [Gammex On]

  Bold words flooded his vision, the headset visor nearly blinding him.

  “Lower brightness,” Fisk ordered with the device following his instructions. However, before Fisk could reap the spoils for his extracurricular activity a scent of embers caressed his nose.

  Fisk blinked, looking up from his work, his gaze darting left and right, realizing what the familiar smell was.

  Something was burning.

  “I swear to fucking Christ, Becky better not have left a candle going in her office again,” Fisk grumbled, attempting to move the helmet but having no luck. “Is there a lock or something?”

  The smell of fire was getting stronger, strong enough to turn Fisk’s attention away from the headset and to the ongoing disaster.

  Grabbing the mini fire extinguisher inside his desk, Fisk wheeled into action.

  This wasn't the first time one of his coworkers had done something like this before leaving.

  One time it had been a lit cigarette in a trash can.

  Another, a scented candle.

  Then last week some idiot had started a fire on purpose as an impromptu fire drill.

  There had been so many close calls in this office that could have been catastrophic if not for Fisk’s repeated intervention.

  Annoyed, Fisk rolled toward his manager's office and peeked in, noting the woman's desk devoid of her usual caramel candles.

  Seems like she learned from last time. Fisk mused… But then… where was that smell coming from?

  Suddenly the only light illuminating the office began to flicker, the little desk lamp on Fisk’s cubicle shorting out as blaring alarms and red sirens began to flood the office interior.

  The fire alarm still works?!

  Immediately Fisk’s arms were propelling his chair forward, racing through the office cubicles as the building's emergency lights turned on.

  Nonononono! Fisk panicked inwardly, the man racing towards the elevator and pressing the call button.

  But it was too late.

  The power was out.

  “Shit…” Fisk said deadpan, feeling a shudder shiver through the building as an inescapable sighed left his lips.

  I'm so over this shit…

  Was he supposed to use an elevator during a fire? Of course not. Fisk knew this but there wasn't exactly a set of handicapable stairs he could use. The elevator had always been his entry and exit.

  Sitting there, Frisk could feel the heat rising from the floors below, smoke, already entering the office space through the air shafts and vents.

  Coughing, Fisk wheeled away from the elevator and rolled himself to the emergency stairs. A last resort for a man in a wheelchair. But what choice did he have?

  Capable of doubling every 30 seconds, a fire could fully engulf a home within five minutes. So how much time did Fisk have in a 40 floor building? How much time did he have to descend?

  Not long.

  Fisk frowned, smoke filling his vision, the cubicle office space he had spent so many soules years in blackening as his lungs filled with toxic chemicals.

  Fuck! Fucking Fubar!

  In an attempt to preserve himself, Fisk opened the stairway door and pushed off his wheelchair, getting as low as possible and tumbling down the emergency stairway with the Gammex headset protecting his head.

  Of course… Fisk didn't get far.

  He managed to roll two flights down before his lungs were overwhelmed by the carbon monoxide.

  Great…

  Fisk involuntarily paused, letting out another cough as his body failed to respond.

  “Damn it…”

  With dreary eyes, Fisk blinked, his mind fuzzy and his body heavy, a sinking sensation bubbling in his chest and ending at his stomach.

  Was this how he would die? How he would meet his end? Dying from smoke inhalation with some stupid gaming headset on his face?

  No. Not by smoke. But fire. Fisk could feel it, heat, flames, the familiar touch of hell that began to poke and prod his body, hungry to ignite him. A sensation he hadn't felt since he lost his leg. Since he lost his best friends and everything went downhill.

  [Game: The Brave Frontier, Loading…]

  A woman's voice. Soft like silk, the words caressed the paraplegic’s ears, distracting him from the rising warmth and lack of air as his eyes focused on the headset’s words.

  [You have been Chosen, for you are Capable of Greatness.]

  “Greatness…” Fisk muttered.

  Suddenly the smoke around Fisk seemed to swirl, taking on form, a silhouette of a lithe woman that reached out and took hold of the dying man.

  A hallucination? Maybe, but Fisk found comfort in the words. Comfort in the touch as his body went limp, his eyes weakly gazing at the figure.

  [Welcome to Grand Gaia, may your adventu))_s que#l the cha0S tHA& pLAgUeS ThI-ERROR!]

  Fisk reluctantly closed his eyes, his mind wandering to his life of nothingness.

  I should get those papers submitted.

  And like that, Tony Fisk, age twenty-five, divorced, and alone, died in the stairway of his workplace, his final thoughts being about the work that had consumed his life.