The morning air in the "Cozy District" was usually filled with the scent of roasted beans and the peaceful chatter of tourists. Today, however, it was filled with the rhythmic clack-clack-clack of tactical boots hitting the pavement at high speed.
"Stop right there, Mesmer!" Rebecca—Bunny—roared, her matte-black helmet lenses glowing with a predatory blue light.
About twenty yards ahead, a man in a velvet purple coat and oversized, spiraled spectacles was weaving through the crowd. He wasn't fast, but he was slippery. Every time a bystander got in his way, he’d simply flash a small, silver pendant, and they’d freeze in place like statues, allowing him to duck past.
"Catch me if you can, little rabbit!" The Mesmer laughed, his voice oily and arrogant. "But be careful where you look!"
The Unsuspecting Idol
Meanwhile, around the corner, Carrie Jones Smith was having a truly monumental morning. She was wearing her favorite oversized green sweater, denim shorts, and her signature "Don't Talk to Me Yet" sunglasses.
"Okay, fans," Carrie whispered into her phone, filming a live-stream for her millions of followers. "We are thirty seconds away from the best iced latte in Northern City. The caffeine levels are low, the vibes are high, and—"
She didn't see the man in the purple coat sprinting around the corner.
She didn't hear the frantic warning scream from Rebecca.
Oof!
Carrie collided head-on with The Mesmer. Her phone flew into the air, spinning in slow motion. The Mesmer snarled, grabbing her by the shoulders to steady himself.
"Out of the way, girl!" he hissed.
"Hey! Watch the—" Carrie started to snap, her sunglasses slipping down her nose.
The Mesmer didn't run. He saw an opportunity. He leaned in close, his spiraled spectacles beginning to rotate with a sickening, hypnotic hum. "Look into the center, my dear. Deep... deep... down."
The Trance
Rebecca rounded the corner just in time to see the light leave Carrie’s eyes.
"Carrie! No! Don't look!"
It was too late. Carrie’s vibrant, neon-green eyes rolled back into her head, leaving only the whites visible. Her posture went completely limp, her arms hanging at her sides like a marionette with cut strings.
The Mesmer let out a cackle. "Aha! A high-profile puppet! What a delightful distraction!"
"Let her go!" Rebecca screamed, launching her grappling hook.
The Mesmer ducked, the hook shattering a nearby café table. He realized he couldn't take Carrie with him—Bunny was moving too fast. He leaned into Carrie’s ear, whispering a single, jagged command before dropping a smoke pellet at his feet.
"You are my loyal servant. You will obey the words of your superiors until the bell tolls!"
POOF.
The purple smoke cleared. The Mesmer was gone, having slipped into the subway entrance.
The Servant
Rebecca skidded to a halt, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She ignored the thief and grabbed Carrie’s shoulders. "Carrie? Carrie, can you hear me? It's Becca!"
Carrie’s head lulled to the side. Slowly, her eyes focused, but they were vacant—hollow. She looked at Rebecca, but didn't see her friend. She saw a master.
"Ready to serve," Carrie whispered in a flat, monotone voice that sent shivers down Rebecca’s spine.
"Carrie, stop it. You're scaring me. Wake up!"
Carrie’s heels clicked together as she stood perfectly straight. She bowed her head deeply.
"Yes, Mistress. What is your command?"
Rebecca froze. Her face went bright red under her helmet. "Mistress? No! Don't call me that! I'm your roommate! I'm Rebecca!"
"Understood, Master Rebecca," Carrie droned, her face a mask of absolute, terrifying obedience. "I live to obey."
Rebecca looked around. People were starting to stare. Her best friend was a high-functioning zombie, the thief was gone, and she had a "servant" who was currently waiting for an order to breathe.
"This is going to be a very long day," Rebecca groaned, throwing Carrie’s arm over her shoulder to drag her toward the apartment.
ns216.73.216.141da2
and then Add to home screen.