For the QLFC S6 R1. My prompt was to write a genre I've never written before, so chose to do horror. Beta'd by the lovely Lynn!
Optional prompts used were: pigfish, corporation, and "It's like the blind leading the blind."
Ron tugged unhappily at his shirt, the overly stiff collar digging into his neck. The dress shirt was a touch too small for him, and the pants were too short in the hem. He was borrowing them from Charlie because he was too poor to afford his own.
The reception room he was seated in was strangely empty at—he checked the clock—one in the afternoon. It was just him and a massive aquarium off to the side of the room. The receptionist had left just moments ago.
Ron eyed the tank warily, for lack of anything else to do. Not only was it huge, it also contained only one variety of fish. Pigfish, he noted with surprise. The grunting, sniffling noise gave it away if nothing else. What an odd choice.
If he remembered correctly, they were mainly used as bait for bigger fish.
But whatever. Ron wasn't here to comment on their decor, or lack thereof. He was here for an interview. His head thumped against the wall behind him and he slouched a little more in the chair. After years of pressure from his parents, Ron had finally applied for a corporate job.
"Look at your father," Molly had always tutted at him. "He started as a low-level intern and worked his way all the way up to where he is now! And he's perfectly happy with that, I may add."
His father was never as vocal about it, but he'd shone with a quiet happiness when Ron caved and asked him for some recommendations.
Ron sighed and tapped his foot. Just how long were they planning on making him wait? On the wall across from him was an analog clock, the second hand ticked tirelessly on. Time always seemed to stretch forever in these waiting rooms.
"Mr. Weasley?" a feminine voice called out. The receptionist had returned. She gestured down the hallway. "They're ready for you."
Ron leapt to his feet, straightened his tie, and headed towards certain doom.
Here goes nothing.
...
"Ron! Over here!"
Ron looked over and saw Harry and Hermione seated in a cozy booth near the back of the pub. He grinned at the sight of them and pushed through the crowd to make his way over.
Hermione grabbed her purse and scooted closer to the centre of the U-shaped booth. Harry pushed a beer across the table, which Ron immediately took a huge gulp of.
He set down the glass and burped in satisfaction. "I needed that," he sighed.
Hermione wrinkled her nose. "Gross."
Within the hustle and bustle of the bar and with good company, Ron finally felt some of the tension he'd been building up leave his body. All of them had been so busy that this was this first chance in months that they had to sit back and relax and to catch each other up on the things they were doing.
Hermione was moving her way up the political ladder, and he expected nothing less of her and her sharp mind. He had absolutely no doubt that she'd be the Prime Minister one day. Harry talked endlessly about the kids at the school he taught, his eyes glimmering throughout.
The pub was fully packed now and it was far too hot. Ron absently pushed up his sleeves as Harry regaled them with a funny incident involving two kids in his class.
"So Ron," Hermione said, "tell us more about your new job! When do you start?"
"Next week," Ron said, laughing. "Mum's pretty happy I'll finally have a stable career."
Hermione hummed sympathetically. "So I've looked into the company for you," she began.
"Of course you have," Harry muttered, sharing a grin with Ron. Hermione rolled her eyes at them.
"Do you want to know about them or not?" she asked crossly. Ron assured her that he did.
"So. Elder Pharmaceuticals. This corporation is a fairly new start-up so they've only been active for a few years. It's the brainchild of Tom Riddle, a veritable genius entrepreneur who started it from the ground up."
Ron nodded as she talked. All of this wasn't new to him, since he had done a bit of research into the company he had applied to before the interview as well.
Hermione paused, then frowned down at her phone. "They have an extremely high turnover rate of… well. Almost 70% percent. That's almost unheard of in that industry."
That was new. "That didn't come up in my own research," Ron said.
Hermione shook her head. "That's not your fault. I had to do some pretty decent digging to find out this. At any rate, everything else checks out so this would be the only thing to be cautious of."
Ron nodded, then smiled briefly at her. "Too late now that I've accepted the job. But thanks for looking out for me."
Hermione smiled back, and before long they were celebrating what would be the end of his unemployment.
...
Ron's new company was located in an isolated stretch of trees. He drove for almost an hour just to get there. He supposed they didn't want anyone to be able to easily steal their work, but this was a little overkill.
He checked in with the receptionist, who called down his supervisor, a short lady called Jane, to come and get him. She then took him up two floors to his cubicle, which was located in a maze of cubicle dividers and grey walls.
His cubicle was cozy, if a little bare. The only things there were a top of the line computer and standard phone on the desk. Ron dropped off his bags in a corner of the space and began the tedious process of setting up all his passwords and accounts and reading through all the manuals they had given him for his first day. It was tedious work, so when his supervisor popped by to take him on a tour, Ron immediately leapt to his feet.
People were introduced and he was given a full tour of the labs, including all the machines and equipment. He was more on the HR side of things than the manufacturing side, but he appreciated it nonetheless. He doubted many people got the chance to take a peek at the top secret machinations of a pharmaceutical company.
They then dropped by the little cafeteria on the ground floor, where almost everyone came to eat. The company was so out of the way that it was faster just to eat here rather than drive out and find a location.
Jane ended the tour right by the reception room, where he had sat waiting for the interview just weeks before. She told him to wait while she ran off to grab something for him, so Ron ended up in front of the aquarium again, watching the fish lazily swim about.
"Ugly, aren't they?" a voice came from beside him. Ron jumped and looked up from the aquarium. He hadn't even heard anyone enter.
Once he glimpsed the sleek black hair and handsome face, it took all of Ron's energy to stop his jaw from dropping to the ground. Tom Riddle, the young CEO of the company. The one who had built the entire corporation from the ground up.
"Uh, yeah I guess so," he managed. "Pigfish, right?"
Tom looked intrigued, then delighted. "You're the first person I've talked to who's been able to name them."
Ron rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed but pleased. "Yeah, I uh, used to go fishing with my dad. They're good bait for trout and all."
Tom nodded, switching his gaze to the tank. "They're kind of pitiful don't you think? Take these fish for example. They swim towards the bait, not knowing it's a trap. Their half dead bodies are then used as bait for the bigger, better trout. It's like the blind leading the blind."
Ron nodded slowly. He had the feeling this conversation was moving out of the literal realm and into the metaphorical realm.
"It's better to be here on display than to be dead don't you think?" Tom asked, looking away from the tank and smiling at Ron. But there was something off in his gaze, and his little story as well.
Ron's supervisor came hurrying back, and Tom spared her a glance. Ron let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding.
"Welcome to Elder Pharmaceuticals," Tom said, before he turned and left.
...
His days settled into a routine. Every day at 8am he arrived at work, settled into his office chair, and switched on his computer to work on some projects.
Contrary to his belief that office life was boring, he was actually having a good time. It was kind of weird actually. He wasn't doing anything unusual, and yet when he was at work he felt amazing—euphoric even.
Something about working at this corporation was dwindling his appetite as well. Ron was usually eating and snacking at all hours of the day, but he was finding that he wasn't hungry anymore even at lunch or dinner.
The first episode hit while he was alone in the shower at home. Ron was suddenly struck with an overwhelmingly feeling of vertigo.
He fumbled for the handle and shut the water off quickly. His head was swimming from the heat, the world bending and twisting around him. Ron grabbed a handful of his shower curtain and shoved it aside, the rings screeching in protest.
He stumbled outside, the air rapidly cooling his still steaming body. He chanced a glance upwards, and froze.
There in the mirror was his face, but it wasn't his face at all. His nose had disappeared, replaced by a raw pink pig's nose, the new deformation jutting out from his face. In the mirror, his pupils were blown wide with terror. Ron's heart lurched into his throat as he scratched and scratched at his nose and mouth, trying to get it off.
When he woke up, he was lying in his bathroom tiles, stark naked and in a puddle of his own vomit. He was feeling so awful that he didn't want to move or do anything else. He was tempted to call in sick for work, but his body yearned for the euphoria he felt when at work.
Ron shivered and silently washed up his face and got dressed for work. But when he arrived, he found he still couldn't focus at all on the task at hand, so he simply stared at his computer screen.
The logical side of him was telling him to get to work. The other side of him, the primal terrified side of him that he'd seen in the mirror last night, was sending warning signals through his brain.
Something was wrong. There was something wrong with this entire place, and he needed to figure it out, or else.
Ron made up his mind to call Harry. He turned to his work phone and on whim, ended up scrolling through his past phone calls, or what should've been his last phone calls. What was written on the screen didn't make sense. In the three months he'd be employed, he had made hundreds of phone calls. But his record was telling his otherwise. Aside from a few calls he'd made in the first week of work, the register was empty.
So who had he been talking to this entire time?
Cold sweat ran down his back and his hands grew clammy. Nothing in his life was making sense anymore. And he was sure it had only begun when he started working here.
Ron needed to get out. Now.
With trembling fingers, he opened up a Word document and began typing up his two week's notice. It was short and concise.
"Hello Ron," came Tom's voice. Ron's head shot up. Tom was standing by his cubicle, coffee mug in hand. His gaze drifted over to Ron's computer screen, which he had switched over to a different document.
"Good morning Tom," Ron said, hoping the slight shake of his voice would go unnoticed. They made small talk.
Once Tom was gone for good, Ron let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding and leaned back into his chair to reassess the facts.
He had been drugged. He was sure of it. He didn't know how or even when that it had happened. Ron would never have willingly taken anything.
Or had he?
If it had been ingested, he could have taken it without even noticing it. But if it was in the food, then wouldn't that mean that everyone in the company was on some sort of drug?
They were a startup pharmaceutical company that dabbled in experimental drugs. What if they had created a new drug that was highly addictive. Virtually odourless and tasteless, with hallucinations as a side effect. With them being a start up, the drug wouldn't be available anywhere else but that company, which became motivation for the workers to stay.
Just what had he gotten into?
Just two more weeks, he told himself. Ron only had to last two weeks before he was out of the company for good. And while he was here, he couldn't ingest any more of the food or drinks.
Ron hit 'send', closed his eyes, and mumbled a silent prayer to whoever was listening.
...
Ron was on edge. Ever since he had submitted his letter of resignation, things had been surprisingly normal, but that just made him even more nervous.
Maybe it was his paranoia talking. He didn't think it was though.
There had been no talks from his supervisor about him wrapping up his projects and responsibilities. There had been not a peep of people coming to talk to him about it. It was as if it had never happened at all.
Meanwhile, his withdrawal symptoms were taking a toll on him. He was almost a hundred percent sure that the food and drinks offered in the cafeteria downstairs were being spiked with that new type of drug, and so he'd been bringing in his lunch every day.
But even more disconcerting was the feeling of eyes constantly on him. He wasn't even sure if paranoia was a side effect of the drug but everywhere he went he could feel eyes on him. Watching his every move. Waiting.
Ron still had no idea why this was happening, but asking questions would just lead to a confrontation and a confrontation was the last thing he needed right now. He just wanted to finish his time here and get the hell out.
"Earth to Ron," came a voice, and Ron flinched violently. Tom Riddle, leaning by his cubicle, raised an eyebrow.
Ron let out a strained smile. "Sorry. How can I help you?"
Tom held out a little plastic cup of water, a grin on her face. "I thought you seemed a little under the weather today so I brought you some water and aspirin."
He held out his hands and sure enough, two little pills sat on his palm. Ron stared at it and then at the man himself, his mouth glued shut. Was this a trap? Was it actually aspirin or did they realize that he had caught on?
The longer he was silent, the more Tom's face changed. His grin stretched upwards, the edges of it pulling up higher than any human could do. Ron's skin crawled, and he staggered back in horror.
"Ron," Tom said, smiling still. "Drink the water."
Ron backed away, but there was nowhere left to go. The walls of his cubicle lengthened and stretched up towards the ceiling, boxing him in.
Was he hallucinating or was this real life? He had stopped taking the drugs!
Tom grabbed his face and forced it upwards. Ron thrashed and gurgled and screamed out for help. But no matter how much he struggled, there was no one who could help him here.
Turns out Elder Pharmaceutical is the real name of a real company, but I'm going to pretend it's not for the sake of this story haha.