People mostly make terrible decisions.

• Apex

 

1 Hour Later - Orc - Hood On Bar

I stagger into the bar, battered, bloody, and torn. Fortunately most of the bleeding is internal, so I still look cool. The bar is almost empty. I order three beer, move to a table in the back. After a few minutes the Goblin walks in. Looks at my disheveled state.

“Rough night?”

“It was going good til your father hit me with a chair.”

She frowns. “That doesn’t sound like something dad would do.”

I drink. “Well, I was trying to brain Max with a beer bottle.”

“That’s relevant information.” says Goblin. “Bit of an extenuating circumstance. Why were you doing that?”

“I found Empty Man.”

She looks surprised. “Max? Shit.” Sits down. “Shit. Shit. Shit.”

“Yeah.” I agree. “It’s not good.”

She rubs her face. “I thought the plan was to covertly gather information on Empty Man? When did that switch to beating him with a bottle?”

“It was very organic. He surprised me, and I spazzed. Gave up that I knew who Empty Man was. Then we were fighting.” I drink morosely. “It happened fast. Not my finest moment.”

“Is dad okay?”

“He was when I left him.”

“Where’s Max?”

“I dunno. Presumably somewhere planning our destruction.” I drink. “I almost had him, but he droned my glider.”

Goblin winces. “Ouch.”

“I laid it down on one rotor.” I shrug with one shoulder. “Still sucked.”

Goblin drinks quietly. I give her a minute. This is a lot to take in.

She groans. “So, the whole time we were looking for Empty Man, he was drinking beer with dad? Learning all our secrets from that stupid game they play?”

I nod.

She clutches her brow. “I’m not mad. I’m just disappointed.” She drinks. “What the hell? He’s been stalking dad since the day we met. Before we even knew Empty Man existed. Before we started Copycating. How is he that far ahead of us? Does he know the future?”

I sigh. “His interest in your father has nothing to do with us. He’s trying to recruit him. Or already has.”

Goblin scowls at me. I shrug. Drink. This was bound to be a difficult conversation.

I give her time to process our new reality. The bar starts to fill up. I wonder where our wizard is? She should be here by now.

Goblin grunts. “Dad wouldn’t work for Empty Man, but they could be using him. Sometimes he does drastic shit on autopilot.”

I nod in agreement. She has a distorted view of her father - Ty isn’t dangerous by accident - but it’s close enough for now. “What’s our next step?”

“The fuck?” snaps Goblin. “I was going to ask you that.”

The door of the bar bangs open, and our Wizard crashes through. Except she’s not a wizard anymore, she’s a zombie.

“Hi guys!” She grabs her beer, drains it in one. Burps. “I better get the next round.”

I nod. “Where’s your wizard?”

“I upgraded. What do you think?”

“Looks dope.” says Goblin.

“Thanks.” she shuffles off to the bar.

“Are you going to drink the beer she brings back?” I ask.

“Abstafuckly not.” Goblin says.

“Have you noticed everybody in this bar is a zombie?”

They turn their blank gaze towards us. What fresh hell is this?

“Fuckity Fuck.” swears Goblin.

They surge towards us. I dive to the floor. Not because of the zombie hoard. Because I know Goblin Girl named her glider Fuckity Fuck.

CRASH!!!

The Goblin Glider smashes through the bar window. Launches a handful of stun grenades.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Storm vaults onto the glider, hauls me up after her. Launches another volley of grenades.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

We zoom out the window before the zombies can recover. Unfortunately, the airspace above the bar is thick with attack drones.

“Fuck.” Storm opens up the glider, and we skreech down the street. The drones fire on us, aiming at our rotors. Must want us alive. I return fire, downing dozens of them. Catch a few darts in my cloak. What the fuck’s in those? Knock out drugs?

We wail down a side street. There’s a wall of drones in front of us. Fuck! More shots at our rotors, more darts in our cloaks. I light’em up, and Storm barrels through.

“Why are we flying so low?” I ask.

“Need ground effect.” barks Storm. “My glider ain’t spec’d to haul this much weight.”

“Right.” We’re flying low over a busy street, lots of pedestrians and cars. We are coming up on a convertible. I really don’t want to bail off another glider tonight, but the convertible is going close to our speed, and the back seat is empty. Jumping is probably safer than slowing the glider to let me off. For Storm anyway.

“See you on the other side.” I bail into the convertible. Ow. The convertible slams on his breaks, Storm shoots into the sky. I stagger out of the car, give the driver a little nod. Thanks, stranger. Limp into the crowd.

More drones are coming. I flip up my space cloak. So does the rest of the crowd. The drones hover overhead, looking for me. They can’t pick me out of the crowd with everyone wearing shiny hoods and cloaks.

I worry they may shoot everyone, but they don’t get the chance. A good chunk of the crowd has anti-drone protection. They shoot down the drones, or release their own to chase them off. Attack drones aren’t popular in this town. Uber-Incel left a mark.

I mingle with the crowd as we move on. They don’t know who the drones were after, or pretend they don’t. One kid smirks at me. He shot down a bunch of the drones. I give him a nod as I pass.

I walk aimlessly, flicking darts from my cloak. I keep one for later investigation. Call up my symbiont. “What the fuck was that? Zombie ambush? Did Brooke turn on us? She seemed fucked up.”

“Yeah, she was high on something not good.” agrees Extreme, a fit, well dressed, orc. “I got some hits on zombie mind control, but it’s very conspiracy theory.” He shrugs. “Doesn’t mean it isn’t true. People do conspire.”

“True. Give me the short version.”

“A group of shadowy billionaires, led by Zonk, are attempting to chemically lobotomize the population, and then control them with corrupt symbionts.” reports Extreme. “There is no proof of course, just anonymous reports from supposed insiders. A couple of emails sent to journalists and posted on Reddit. It’s generally believed to be anti-symbiont propaganda. There’s a lot of that kicking around.”

“Well, that seems a lot like what we just saw.” I growl. “What the fuck? Also, Zonk? How is he the leader? I wouldn’t follow that dipshit to the mall.”

Extreme shrugs. “He does lack charisma. And brains. I found a supposed sales pitch for their world domination plan. Wanna read it?”

“Sure.” I scan the document. Feel queasy. “... brain dead harem? Ugh.”

“Yeah, these guys suck.” agrees Extreme. “Should I tell the Guild about this?”

“Yes. Leave out the Copycat / Empty Man stuff, but warn them about the imminent zombie apocalypse.”

I stop walking. Try to stretch my shoulder. Ow. Shouldn’t take long for the Guild to respond.

“Okay, we kicked the hornet's nest.” reports Extreme. “Lots of chatter about zombie sightings and near misses. Also, a couple thousand symbionts have gone silent. We may have a problem.”

“Shit.” I swear. “What about Mega? Ultra?”

“Mega’s online. Ultra isn’t, but she often logs out. Ty likes his privacy.” Extreme pauses. “Mega’s going to check on him.”

I grunt. “Good. But, advise the Guild to avoid the silent ones until we have a plan. Eyes on aren’t worth more infections.”

“Will do.” Extreme pause. “Umm… weird. We got a message request from Dead. I think that’s Zonk’s symbiont.”

I straighten up. “Put him through.”

“Well, I guess the time for hiding is over.” snarks Dead. Golden robes and withered skin. “For both of us. Isn’t that right - Copycat?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I spit. “Couldn’t fuck brain dead girls even with a billion dollars? Had to start poisoning people? There’s players in this game you don’t even know about. You're gonna get popped like a pimple.”

“You mean Empty Man? Who do you think they work for, bitch?” He leers. “You may still end up in my harem. You’re not hot enough, but revenge has its own attraction.”

His words send a shiver up my spine. Or do they? I’m not scared of this little shitstain. I swipe at the back of my neck. Snatch a small spider-bot off my cloak. Ugh. The drug dart has grown eight hairlike legs. It was stealthing up to my neck. The needle stinger pulsing, oozing poison from its swollen abdomen.

I throw my cloak to the ground. Two more spider-bots scurry away.

Dead smirks. “Only a matter of time.”

I close my eyes. Take a deep breath. Look at Dead’s grinning corpse.

“You’ve hurt my friends. Tried to kill my mind. And swore to violate my corpse.” I crush the spider-bot. “Do you know why they call me Copycat?”

Dead frowns. I sever the link.

“Get me a glider.” I order Extreme.

 

 

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How to hide from a drone – the subtle art of 'ghosting' in the age of surveillance