Work Text:
Most zombies are mindless beings controlled only by their hunger. They originate from an apocalypse world, one which fell to ruin after a world war brought upon major advancements in biological weaponry. A world much like Earth in many ways, populated by humans, who became the perfect targets for an unstoppable horde.
These zombies are slow, and not very intelligent, controlled by the microbes bioengineered to seek the heat and heart of humankind. Eventually, they spread to other worlds, forcing scientists to take action and place anti-zombie code into the minds of as many players as possible.
The tiny microbes that controlled the zombies, however, adapted, as predators are want to do when they lose their prey, and began taking over already-dead corpses, leading to a literal uprising of living dead across the universe. In a near-perfect parry, the scientists coded in a new type of player death, where bodies simply disappear into the void instead of becoming corpses to be taken over. But, of, course, this did not stop the zombies, and they still stalk the streets of many worlds.
Cleo, or ZombieCleo, as they are called, is not like most zombies.
She was born on the original apocalyptic planet long ago, several decades before she joined the hermits.
A teacher by trade, they were a well-loved member of the community, giving off an almost stoic and sarcastic persona, but a deeply kind-hearted person.
Then, the apocalypse came.
Cleo was at the epicenter of one of the first attacks, given no warning.
Her students surrendered to the microbe almost immediately, most of their code eaten, and the rest controlled. Cleo was next.
They clawed at their head, trying to get it out, feeling their emotions pulled away and their mind slipping slipping slipping. . .
Nothing.
For 43 years, Cleo was lost in the darkness. They retained some of their consciousness, that small sliver that made them, them, but that sliver was trapped, only emerging from time to time to watch their body tear other humans, strangers, their friends, their family, to pieces in front of them.
Countless people, living, thinking, dreaming people, gone, lost to a petty squabble in the push of a button by a single person.
One day, Cleo had enough.
She snapped, the her part of her code kicking into action, rewriting all her code and caging up the remaining microbe.
They would never truly be free of it, as it was too sneaky and ingrained in their mind now. Maybe if she had managed to remove when she was first infected, it would be gone completely. But, too late now. They were stuck with the microbe, and would do everything in their power to keep it away from the rest of their code.
She wandered alone in a world of corpses, staring at the dead all around her, finding supplies and working on sewing up the rotting patches of her body.
The microbes seemed to heal the body just enough to keep it moving, but anything beyond, they left to wither and die. Blood supplies dried up, leaving a gelatinous gunk oozing through veins, and limbs blackened and fell off. No food, water, or sleep was necessary, really, but Cleo wanted those things nonetheless, to feel more like themself again.
So Cleo scavenged, and found herself a place to stay, even some materials to build her own home. They crafted sculptures, using their small amount of sewing, construction, and crafting knowledge to fill their new home with people. People who couldn’t talk, but would still fill up the empty space, make Cleo feel less like a monster.
And for several more years, that was her life. Craft people in the morning, further populating their expanding mini city, work on building a new house or two in the afternoon, and spend the evening attempting to sew the various rotting parts of their body back together.
A sad, quiet life, but Cleo’s.
Until, a knock on her front door.
“Howdy there, Cleo. Nice place you have here. Now, how’d you like to be a hermit?”