Civilization will collapse sometimes. It is what it is.

* Empty Man

1 Day Later - Copycat - Virtual Meet Space

I’m sitting in a virtual hot spring with Dire and Ultimate. I chose the hot spring because I thought it may relax me. I was wrong.

“How the fuck is zonking people legal?”

Dire looks glum. “We can’t prove anything is happening. There’s no victims. All the Zonkers say everything is fine, and nothing happened to them.”

“We have video of them taking the drug!”

“We have video of them taking pills. Consensually.” clarifies Dire.

“We have samples of the drug!”

“Do we?” questions Dire. “We have a blue goo with organic compounds in it. That’s all the labs say. They aren’t equipped to find unknown designer molecules. Could be a protein shake for all they know.”

“Just have them talk to the zonkers! Part of their brain is turned off!” I snap. “They’ve lost their future sense!”

“That’s a subtle impairment.” Dire explains. “How do you prove it? What does it look like?”

“Planning for the future is what ties the human brain together.” I fume. “Emotions are a guess at the future. We feel good, we move forward. We feel bad, we draw back. No future, no emotions. No motivation. No action. If you have a future, you work to make it better. If you have no future, you live for today. If you have no concept of the future, you do nothing - because nothing has value. The Zonkers have a lifetime of experiences that let them respond like normal people. But, if you leave them alone, they’re totally inert. Or they would be, if they didn’t have a zombie symbiont whispering in their ears.”

“So, they died emotionally and gave up their future to prop up a corrupt billionaire?” Dire shrugs. “Who hasn’t?”

I scowl. “There’s a difference.”

Dire shrugs. “Not legally. There will be no help from the authorities.”

I sigh. Typical. They’re probably all zonked anyway. “Any luck with the Guild?”

Ultimate looks pained. “Kind of. We got them to stop taking random drugs.”

“Well hell.” Dire is impressed. “That’s not nothing.”

“Thanks.” sighs Ultimate. “It was tough. But zonk is racing through the normal, non-symbiont using population. They’re selling it as anti-anxiety meds. Which, technically, it is.”

I clutch my brow. “Do you have anything I can use?”

“Not really. Maybe?” Ultimate sighs. “We have Zonkers under observation. They’re fucking creepy. Pretty normal in public, but when they get home all they do is sleep, watch Netflix, eat noodles, and poop. It’s sad, but there’s no government agency to stop this kind of behaviour. Sometimes they form a hive. Twenty of them stashed in a small apartment. Never talking or interacting. Just twenty dudes eating ramen in their underwear, watching the Office on repeat.”

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Silence.

“So…” Ultimate looks uncomfortable. “Does that help?”

I sigh. “Thanks for your time, guys. I gotta go.”

I log out. Shake my head. “I’m fighting a slow roll zombie apocalypse by myself. Unbelievable.”

“Not quite.” says Extreme. “You have a call from MegaStorm.”

I nod. “Put her through.”

There’s a crackle as we connect to Storm. Audio only.

“I caught one!” Storm is triumphant.

“Nice. Who?”

“Brooke.”

“Awesome.”

“No, the other one.”

“Good enough.” I say. “How is she?”

“Combative. Bitch beat the fuck out of me. Calmed down when I smashed her phone. She’s eating noodles now.”

“Have you questioned her?”

“Yep.” says Storm. “She told them everything she knows about us. She also told me everything she knows about them. Which is nothing.”

Dammit. So much for operational security. And my life.

“What should I do with her now?” asks Storm.

“Put her in an abandoned building and light it on fire.”

“Hmm…” Storm is pensive. “That seems a tad harsh.”

“Don’t let her die. I just need to know if inert Zonkers will leave a burning building.”

Storm cackles maniacally. “Fair enough. Let’s do science.”

Storm logs off. I sigh. Flop on the couch. I have bad enemies. Empty Man is too smart, and Zonk is too rich. Anonymity was my only defence, and I’ve blown it. I can’t even go out in a blaze of glory. Zonk is too well defended, and I can’t even find Empty Man.

I have two options left. Wait for them to kill me. Or, ask a man I’ve wronged for help.

I lie on the couch for 20 minutes. Well, they haven’t killed me yet. I guess it’s Plan B.

I dress for combat. Gear up. Head to Apartment 9. Pause at the door. Knock.

The door opens.

“I’m sorry. I fucked up.” I shake my head. “I’ve been playing at Copycat. Giving people a taste of their own medicine. I’m such a hypocrite. You’ve treated me with nothing but love and respect. And I’ve lied to you. Stolen from you. Put you and your loved ones in danger. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, and I sure as hell don’t deserve your trust. But, I need your help. There’s a lot of people in big trouble, and I can’t fix it by myself.”

Silence. He wipes a tear from his eye.

“Of course I’ll help you.” says Mad Tom. “And thank you for the apology. I feel really respected.”

“No problem. It’s the same one I wrote for Ty.” I peer past Tommy. “Is he here?”

“No.”

“Oh thank god.” I sigh. “Could you repeat that apology to him, and let me know how it goes?”

“Nope.” says Tommy. “Who are we fighting? Empty Man?”

“Eventually. We gotta get Zonk first. He’s mass producing sex slaves.”

“Aww jeez.” swears Tommy. “Let’s go to the shop. We’ll get you geared up.”

We go to the shop. Tommy serves tea as I detail Zonk’s defences.

“He has several Doomsday Bunkers. Under the city, in the mountains, and on islands. I have to find the one he’s in, and where he’s making his drugs. But I can’t get close to them. They’re bomb shelters with small armies and automated defences.”

Mad Tom nods. “So you’re thinking bunker busters?”

“No. These bunkers are filled with innocent Zonkers. I’m trying to rescue them, not incinerate them.” I pause. “Also, do you have bunker busters?”

“No, but a guy can dream.” Tommy frowns. “This guy is a socialite workaholic. Why’s he hiding in a bunker?”

I shrug. Probably shouldn’t have threatened to violate his corpse.

Tommy rubs his chin. “You need a drone attack. Against the richest guy in the world. Who undoubtedly has an overkill amount of next generation military equipment. And an army. And hostages. And owns the government.”

I nod.

He looks around the shop. He's not happy. Conflicted. “He has sex slaves?”

“Thousands. Soon to be millions.”

Tommy shakes his head. Gets a battered box off the top shelf. Places it on the workbench.

“Before you lies the end of all things. A five dollar drone that can kill two thousand people. I swore never to build it - but I couldn’t stop myself. It was the last of the Mad Tiger designs.”

I look at the box. Open it. There’s a small, soft, green octopus inside. It’s belly swollen with BB’s.

“It’s adorable.”

“Yeah.” says Tommy. “I call it Cthutie-Pie”

“You said it's a Mad Tiger design. Did Ty make this?”

“Yeah. He designed a lot of attack drones. Was really good at it. But after Uber-Incel he quit. Asked me to destroy them all.” Tommy shakes his head. “But I couldn’t destroy this one.”

I frown. “So we’re lying and stealing from Ty again?”

“Yep.” says Tommy. “Good thing you haven’t apologized yet. Just add this to the list.”

We stare at Cthutie-Pie in silence.

I get a text from MegaStorm.

She left the building after she got hot.

“Okay.” I turn to Mad Tom. Point to Cthutie-Pie. “I’ll take ten thousand.”