"Man, I rember the first ti I t these in the ga... total panic mode. Thought the smartest thing was to kill them in their sleep. Big mistake. Kill one, and the bodies are linked. Boom. Seconds later, you’re buried under a flood of undead, limbs flying everywhere. Not fun. Not fun at all."
His flashlight flicked across the aisle one more ti, and he froze. One pair of eyes, fully open, stared back at him, reflecting the dim light like polished glass. He stumbled back instinctively, heart hamring, and imdiately drew his pocket knife, pointing it at the gaze.
"Oh—holy hell! Okay... nope. Nope nope nope."
The creature didn’t move. Just breathed, slack-muscled, eyes staring. Sid exhaled shakily, the tension leaving his shoulders in a rush. "Hah... false alarm. Good old cheap scare. Lesson learned. Always respect the sleepers... but apparently, eye contact doesn’t trigger anything. Got it."
He chuckled quietly, shaking his head.
"Whew! Man... I almost lost my mind. Just sleeping with eyes wide open. Still... first ti in-ga, I panicked and tried slicing one in its sleep. Total ss. Never again. Never ever."
Before he could fully relax, a heavy, dragging sound interrupted him. The sa wet, oppressive squelch before. His head snapped toward the source.
The bloated thing had finally caught up to him. Its grotesque, pale mass slithered over the tiles until it latched onto his feet, cold fingers curling around his ankles. Sid froze, knife raised and flashlight trembling slightly in his other hand, a mix of irritation and disbelief on his face.
"Oh... co on! I was just checking out the sleepy corpses, and now THIS guy? Seriously?!"
Suddenly, his vision flickered. [Combat Vision] activated, highlighting the struggling zombie and flashing a new prompt:
[Break Free: Hold Q]
Sid gritted his teeth, tugging at his feet. The zombie held on stubbornly, arms like iron clamps.
"Ugh! Gross! Get off ! You think you can just grab like a snack? I don’t taste good! Let go, damn it!"
He twisted left, then right, balancing precariously.
"Q... HOLD Q... yeah, yeah, I got it! Let go!"
The zombie flailed, squelching across the floor, and Sid let out a frustrated groan.
"Co on, co on... quit clinging like so creepy ex! Q... Q... Q—break free"
With a final heave, Sid wrenched his legs free. The thing toppled backward, leaving a trail of sli and rancid stench. Sid stumbled but kept upright, chest heaving, flashlight shaking in his hands.
"Holy crap... okay, I live. I live! Note to self: zombies hate personal space... and apparently, my ankles taste like premium snacks."
[SYSTEM ALERT!]
[Zombie Classification Identified]
[atball]
[Condition: Extrely obese humans.]
[Background: Infection makes fat unstable, bodies balloon into grotesque sacks of fluids, pus, and gas. Slow-moving but explode violently when killed.]
"Wha— That’s a real life atball? Of course it had to be this thing. I’m in a grocery store and the habitant is a walking at grenade. One wrong move and it blows, sprays guts everywhere, instant wipe. Look at that mouth still chomping like it’s trying to eat the whole shelf; you’re the reason aisle three has a calorie problem."
He leaned back a little, flashlight still fixed on the grotesque face. The thing’s bloated cheeks twitched slightly, a wet sound gurgling from deep inside its throat. Its stomach ballooned against the floor, pinning it like a grotesque beanbag that couldn’t even roll over. Sid grimaced.
"Guess he mukbang’d the whole store. Chips, cans, bottled drinks... ate the apocalypse buffet until he turned into a damn balloon. Now he’s just stuck here like a zombie vending machine."
Sid stepped back, holding the flashlight tight, eyes fixed on the bloated mass inching toward him. The thing was grotesque, a globe of at draped over tiny, twisted limbs that barely supported its own weight.
"Man... you made this grocery store your kingdom, didn’t you? All those expired chips, rotten cans, long-forgotten soda bottles... and look at you. A special zombie. A ball of at..."
The creature dragged itself forward with a wet gurgle, each movent slow and labored. Sid took a careful step to the side, observing the tiny arms and legs that barely moved under the bloated sack.
"I an... wow. Sick, right? But also... kinda sad. How many years were you in here, huh? Eating expired food, growing big, thinking this place was paradise?"
He leaned on the cart, flashlight beam bouncing across the zombie’s pale, strained face.
"Crazy choices, buddy. Crazy gluttony. And now... yeah. You’re my problem."
Sid activated [Combat Vision], letting the HUD highlight every weak point of the creature. The glow traced its outline, illuminating the dangerous swelling areas that could explode if he struck wrong. He tapped his knife against his palm, thinking aloud.
"Alright... slow, careful, precision strikes. One wrong move, pop goes the atball, wakes up the sleepers, apocalypse goes from zero to nuclear in seconds. Let’s do this smart."
He crouched slightly, calculating his first move, and spoke as if talking to a teammate.
"Step one, isolate. Keep distance. Don’t get dragged. Don’t touch that stomach blob. Keep your wits. You’re Sid Wilder. Legendary rank, top two global... don’t die to a walking atball."
Sid squared his shoulders, gripping the pocket knife tightly as he kept his distance from the bloated atball. Every gurgle, every wet squelch from its oversized body made him shiver slightly, but he forced himself to focus.
"Alright... slow. No heroics. Precision first. Don’t touch the stomach, don’t get dragged, and for the love of survival, don’t explode it."
He inched left, then right, testing its sluggish reach with careful steps, using his cart as a buffer whenever it lunged at him with those tiny, desperate arms. Each ti the creature flailed, Sid counted his heartbeats, almost treating it like a puzzle rather than a fight.
The atball lunged clumsily, grabbing at his ankle. Sid imdiately hit [Hold Q], thrashing his legs until the sli-covered fingers released him. He rolled back a step, exhaling sharply.
"Ugh... slow, slow, slow. Focus. Heavy head... brain... straight plunge. One shot, one kill."
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