Scott Pilgrim Infection Story

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Scott Pilgrim had never been great at reading the signs. The signs, in this case, being the sudden outbreak of chaos that was currently unraveling his already less-than-ordinary life. One minute he was at his usual spot at the "No Fun" bar, sipping a cheap beer, dodging awkward conversations, and trying to figure out the meaning of his existence (as one does), and the next minute-bam!-the world started to glitch. At first, Scott thought he was just drunk. Really drunk. Like, puking in the alley drunk. But when the guy sitting next to him, who had been talking about the merits of cryptocurrency and then literally turned into a zombie in front of his eyes, Scott's first thought was, "Great, just my luck. This is what happens when I skip my hangover smoothie." But no, this wasn't a hangover. This wasn't just some weird, bad trip. This wasn't even a Scott Pilgrim-style nightmare (which he'd had a lot of recently). This was something else. Something bigger. And the longer he sat there, trying to piece together what the hell was going on, the more it became clear: the world was infected. And he had no idea how-or why-it was all coming for him. "Hey Scott, you okay?" Ramona Flowers' voice cut through his foggy thoughts like a razor blade, snapping him back into the present. She stood across the room, arms crossed, her blue hair tousled and her eyes scanning the chaos unfolding around them. Zombies were creeping in from every direction, the air thick with a strange, electric hum. "Do I look okay, Ramona?" Scott muttered, swatting a fistful of zombie goo off his jacket sleeve. "Some dude just turned into a goddamn mutant, and the bar's literally on fire. But no, yeah, I'm totally fine." Ramona rolled her eyes, a look that was somehow more affectionate than dismissive. "Scott, I don't have time for this. You know the drill. If you want to save your skin, start moving." "Wait, what drill?" Scott blinked. His brain was still on the "this is a joke" setting, and it hadn't quite figured out that the world outside was being devoured by something other than its usual problems. "I'm not some sort of-what? Apocalypse hero? I don't even know how to-" Ramona sighed deeply, as if she'd been through this a million times before (which, knowing her, maybe she had). "You've fought evil exes. You've fought giant evil exes. Now, Scott Pilgrim, you get to fight the infection . The virus that's turning the city into... well, this." She gestured broadly at the scene around them. Some zombie-mutant hybrids were attempting to play guitar, which, honestly, didn't sound much different than some of the bands Scott had played in. But then another mutant exploded from a nearby vending machine, spraying soda and body parts everywhere, and Scott realized this was no joke. He glanced at her, wondering if she was serious. She always had that look-like she was always two steps ahead, knowing things he never did, playing a game that was way above his paygrade. "So... wait. The virus. Is it like-an infection? Like literal zombies? Or, uh, is this a metaphor for my relationship issues?" Ramona didn't answer immediately. Instead, she walked over to a broken window and peered out into the street, her eyes narrowing as more mutants swarmed the blocks. "I don't know, Scott," she said quietly. "But whatever it is... it's not just here. It's spreading fast. And we need to figure out who's behind it before it takes us all down." Scott blinked, the gravity of her words finally sinking in. Right. This was no longer some weird, hipster, indie movie. This was real. And he was somehow the one stuck in the middle of it. Again.

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