Zero Zombiez

Garbage Princess

Ayano's bedroom was a nightmare, a disgusting oasis of neglect and apathy where she spent most of her time marinating in the stench of her own failure. The moment you opened the door, the smell hit you like a physical blow—a rancid blend of old pizza, stale sweat, and the unmistakable funk of mold. The carpet was more like a forgotten relic, buried beneath a sea of dirty laundry, empty cans, greasy fast-food wrappers, and bottles of questionable liquids that had long ago ceased to be recognizable. Some cans had their tops crushed inward like they'd been stomped by some animal, while others sat half-filled with syrupy remnants of what was once soda.

Her bed? It was less of a bed and more of a cluttered pile of old, stained sheets, crusted clothing, and discarded snack bags. A few flies buzzed lazily around the room, attracted to the piles of leftover pizza crusts, potato chip crumbs, and spilled candy wrappers that lay half-crushed on the nightstand. The air was thick with buzzing and the faint squeak of something crawling beneath the cracks of the floorboards.

Ayano didn't care. She was used to it. In fact, she felt oddly at peace here in the chaos. It was her kingdom, her personal hell, and yet, somehow, it was enough. The rest of the world could go on without her. Who cared? She didn't need anything beyond the mess and the screen in front of her.

Her desk was the only place that resembled functionality. It was a messy heap of tangled wires, cracked notebooks, empty mugs, and a monitor—barely hanging on to life itself. Her chair creaked as she leaned back. She was too absorbed in the game.

"Zombie Apocalypse: The Final Battle." She'd pirated it a few days ago from some shady website. It was all she needed to know—zombies and hot babes. Clicking her mouse lazily, Ayano watched her avatar, a generic character with unrealistic proportions and a tight leather outfit, blast another wave of undead with a shotgun. The gunshots reverberated in the room, bouncing off the walls like a hollow echo.

Ayano pushed her hair out of the way from her glasses, the faded red box dye glinting in the light from her computer. Her eyes glazed over as the screen flickered. For a moment, the game stuttered, and a strange message popped up.

"Do you want to enter the game world?"

She paused, her finger hovering over the "yes" button. She had nothing better to do. What was the worst that could happen? It was just a game, right?

Her finger clicked.

The screen blinked—white, then black, then white again.

Ayano barely had time to process what was happening before her room—her filthy, grimy room—vanished. The smell of pizza boxes, the buzz of flies, the chaos—it all disappeared in an instant.

She gasped, her heart hammering in her chest.

Where the hell was she?

The ground beneath her feet felt... different. Her shoes—barely held together by years of wear—sank into dirt, not carpet. She blinked in disbelief, looking around. A decaying city street stretched out in front of her. The buildings surrounding her were in ruins—half-collapsed, windows shattered, and the air thick with a strange, musky stench. In the distance, the groans and hisses of zombies echoed through the streets, their slow shuffle creating an eerie backdrop to her confusion.

Ayano froze, her breath catching in her throat. This wasn't a game anymore.

She looked down at herself. Her clothes were the same—an oversized white shirt, stained from years of neglect, and baggy black pajama pants cinched with drawstrings that had long since lost their color. But there was something else: a heavy, cold weight on her hip. She reached down, her hand grazing a handgun holstered at her side. Her fingers brushed the strap of a backpack that felt far too heavy for her to have packed.

What the hell? What was going on?

Her throat felt dry. She whispered to herself, "What... what is this?"

She cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted, "Where am I!? Anyone?"

No one answered. The empty streets swallowed her words.

Panic shot through her. She spun around, frantically searching for some sign of life. Maybe this was some fucked-up glitch, right? She'd end up back in her room, safe. Surrounded by garbage and pizza crusts. Any minute now.

But it didn't happen. The streets remained empty. Silent. The only sound was the distant, horrifying groans of the undead.

"Damn," she muttered, her breath coming in shallow gasps. She stumbled backward, her bare feet sinking into the dirt. She fumbled at her side, her hand wrapping around the handle of the handgun as she tried to remember what to do. She didn't know how to use this. Was this a real gun? She'd never fired one in her life.

Her heart raced as she turned, eyes wide, looking for any escape.

Then, a sharp bang cut through the silence.

Ayano spun toward the sound, and in the blink of an eye, a zombie lunged at her. Its face was a patchwork of rotting flesh, its limbs jerking unnaturally. Its arms shot out, claws reaching for her throat.

Ayano screamed, stumbling back, but her feet were sinking into the dirt, pulling her off balance. She fumbled with the gun that wasn't in her hand.

"Ack! What! Why is this happening to me?!" she screamed, her voice cracking.

The zombie's fetid breath was inches from her face now, its mouth open wide, revealing jagged teeth. She could feel its breath on her skin, the heat and decay of it. This wasn't some stupid game. She was going to die here.

Just as the zombie reached out to grab her, a hand shot forward, grabbing her by the collar and yanking her backward.

Ayano let out a startled scream, but the hand was strong, pulling her to safety.

The voice that followed was cold and commanding, slicing through the panic.

"You're gonna need more than that to survive this, princess," a woman's voice said, almost bored.

Ayano whipped around. Standing in front of her was a tall, fierce-looking woman, her face set in a sharp, no-nonsense expression. Her brown hair was wild and tangled, her eyes sharp like a predator's. She wore a tight black leather jacket, and a crossbow was slung casually over her shoulder.

"Wh-what?" Ayano stammered, her heart pounding. "Where am I? How do I get out?"

The woman's lip curled into a half-smile, a grin that didn't reach her eyes. "You're not getting out, princess. Not until you win."

Ayano's mouth went dry.

This wasn't real. She must've hit some weird bug in the game, right? She couldn't actually be here. This wasn't her life. This wasn't real.

The woman stared at her, unfazed. "This isn't some damn game anymore. You want to survive? You follow my rules. Rule number one: Don't freeze up. Rule number two: Always know how to defend yourself. Now, get moving."

Ayano's legs felt like they were made of jelly. She swallowed hard, trying to collect herself.

She wasn't ready for this. She wasn't ready for any of this.

But the woman's glare sharpened. "You'll learn fast, or you won't last. The choice is yours."

Ayano felt her pulse quicken. This was real.

And she was stuck here.