Aurora - Zero Corps

“Are we really doing this?” The younger man in the suit asked as his companion dropped a stack of heavy folders onto the table between them. “I thought Zero Corps was a concept pitch to squeeze more funding. You’re telling me these freaks are ready for fieldwork?”     The older agent, dressed almost identically but with the posture of someone with experience, took a slow sip from a disposable coffee cup and grunted. “All options are on the table. They want City Hall back, fast.” He flipped open the first file. “We don’t expect them to win. Just buy us time.”     The younger man sighed, scanning the dossier. “How exactly do you plan to control them?”     “With leverage of course.” The old man tapped the first photo. “That’s our leader. Callsign Hollowpoint. Used to be one of the good ones - military, clean record, rising star. Then she went rogue. Agency oversight was slowing her down, she says.” Another sip. “We’re offering her a path to redemption.”     “She got powers?”     “Sort of. She can copy anything she has seen someone do. Pilot a jet, crack a safe, perform open heart surgery. If she’s seen it once, she's a seasoned pro.” He spread a handful of photos across the table of the woman performing various tasks. “She might have lost her way, but she’s the only one we can trust to keep the other two from tearing each other apart.”     The younger agent flipped to the next file, his face tightening. “Is... Is that Doc Vain?! The doctor who was killing his patients and stealing their youth??”     “The very same.” The older man didn’t flinch. “Problem is, it’s temporary. Every sunrise he’s back to eighty years old, so he keeps topping off. Not my first choice, but if he can lay a hand on our target, it’s game over.”     “And how’d you convince him?”     “Don’t worry about it.” He leaned back. “If a few of our other death-row inmates disappear in the chaos, nobody’s going to miss them as long as the mayor comes home at the end of the day.”     The younger man fell silent, skimming the next profile until he froze. “The Ox?? You can’t be serious. That thing killed a bunch of families when it rampaged through the Smithsonian!”     The older man sighed. “He’s still a man, underneath. A man in constant psychosis, sure, but a man all the same. We told him we’ve got his idol - the one that can break his curse. He does the job, he gets to be human again.”     The younger agent rubbed his temple. “You know, the Agency’s probably regretting banning privatized vigilantes about now.”     That seemed to hit a nerve. “You know, you’re too young to remember,” the old man snapped. “But last time we let ‘em run around in tights, half the city burned down. It ain't that easy, rook.” He softened just enough to sound like a weary father. “You’ll get your chance to see it up close for yourself soon enough. Study the files - you’ll be their eyes and ears from the command center.”     He gathered the folders, snapped the clasps shut, and stood. “Congratulations, kid. You just got promoted to Zero Corps.”

Staring down the sights of her submachine gun, Hollowpoint emptied another burst into the pressing dead. They’d been dropped with a second squad, but the comms went dark when the whole graveyard decided to get up and join the party.     “Ox! Vain! You got eyes on the other team??” she shouted over the fire.     A car skittered aside like tin can as a massive black-furred minotaur crashed through the smoke. The street shuddered under his weight and windows rattled in their frames. “Dead!” he roared, voice so deep it barely sounded human. Each swing of his axe folded another zombie in half.     Then a crack of green light tore overhead - Doc Vain, young again and smiling, swooped low, trailing a storm of static energy. “Wasn’t me!” he called, his hand brushing a zombie as he passed. What little lifeforce was keeping it upright was sucked out in an instance, its body crumbling and falling to dust in a matter of moments.     Hollowpoint vaulted a delivery truck and rolled onto a fire escape, spitting controlled bursts down into the mass. She needed height so she could recognize the pattern. From above it hit her, “Shit- they didn’t eat the other team! They turned them!!”     A figure in a cape erupted from the mob, eyes blazing red. A zombie in a hero costume. It cut a beam straight through Ox’s shoulder, scorching fur and hide. The beast bellowed and charged, scattering bodies like leaves. The caped corpse drifted lazily upward, continuing to punish the beast by raking energy across his back all the while.     Vain swore, “Guess I’ve got to carry these jokers-” but suddenly a thick shafted arrow stuck fast in his chest. He lost his balance and slammed into a parked car, already regenerating and preparing a quip when it detonated a moment later. The reanimated corpse of Bolt Girl emerged from cover, loading another special missile and taking aim at the injured doctor with precision.     From the fire escape, Hollowpoint poured covering fire, but it was useless against the specials. Feeling the hairs on her neck perk up, she turned to find herself face-to-face with a translucent zombie floating through the wall itself. She fired point-blank but the rounds slipped through the skull like smoke. Both its hands merged into her jacket and locked in place, lifting her above its head a moment later and hurling her into the grinding mayhem below.     Below, the horde surged. Dozens leapt onto Ox, clinging like barnacles while the caped zombie strafed his body with searing blasts. Vain clawed his way from the wreckage only to be struck by another fancy projectile, each hit eroding the reserve energy regenerating his cells and keeping him alive.     Hollowpoint landed hard in a pile of bodies that immediately began to rise. Her kukri flashed, carving through rotting flesh as she fought to her feet. Over the radio she yelled, "Ox- three o'clock!!"     The Ox howled, rage overtaking pain. His muscles bulged, fur smoldering where heat met hide. With a brutal twist, he hurled his axe - a spinning frisbee of steel that cut clean through a streetlamp before shearing off the undead archer's arm. Crossbow and limb clattering together on the pavement, the vacant face blinked, processing.     Hollowpoint snatched the fallen crossbow mid-slide and ripped a handful of its specialized bolts from the corpse’s belt. “Reform on me!” she barked, firing a green-tipped arrow at the caped zombie.     It bounced off his forehead with a dull thunk before bursting, coating his face in an expanding gel that sealed over his eyes and mouth. He clawed at it, twin red glows hissing under the ooze as he tried to escape.   Vain noticed the wrinkles starting to return on his hands and got serious. He focused the phasing zombie, eyes narrowing. “Transmutation of the corporeal matrix into an energy resonance… fascinating,” he murmured. The specter reached for him but he was faster. Its form spun and twisted as it collapsed fully into Vain's palm, his skin glossing back to a healthy texture almost immediately with the fresh infusion.     But the horde didn’t stop. Even headless, armless, they crawled forward. Learning. Adjusting. A slow, coordinated ripple moved through them like a hive reorganizing its limbs.     Hollowpoint took charge of the situation as best she knew how. “Fall back to the church! We need a new plan!!”