KILLA
I came back with a gasp, like someone had yanked me up from underwater.
Everything was too dark, too loud, too… robotic?
"Hello? Wakey wakey, rise and shine, young lady!" a perky voice chirped somewhere very close to my face.
I cracked one eye open, squinting at what could only be described as a tiny, annoyingly adorable robot. It hovered mid-air like it owned the place, glowing softly with neon blue eyes and sleek silver plating. Its limbs looked almost delicate, but something told me it could electrocute me into next week if I got too sassy.
"Hello!" the robot greeted again with a cheerful spin in the air.
"What the—?" I blinked, trying to orient myself. Everything rushed back at once—the sandwich, the choking. Death by lunch. My shame would be eternal.
"I choked," I mumbled.
"Yup!" the robot said a little too enthusiastically. "Dead for a solid minute. Gotta say, not your best moment. But hey, bounce-back queen!"
I groaned and sat up, rubbing my temples. "I can't believe my near-death experience includes commentary."
"Rude. I saved you," the robot said, crossing its tiny metallic arms. "A little gratitude wouldn't kill you—again."
I squinted. "What even are you?"
"I'm Vee!" it announced with a flourish. "Your robotic companion, assistant, guide, and occasional emotional support device."
A very dramatic pause.
"I also make snacks."
"Is this hell?" I muttered.
"Nope! Welcome to… Void High!" Vee suddenly flung its arms out as confetti cannons (from where?) exploded behind it. The sound of a cheering crowd echoed, even though there was no one else around.
I stood up, brushing phantom crumbs off my pants and staring at the three-story building in front of me. It really did look like a school. Modern, minimalistic, kinda futuristic, and just weird enough to make me uneasy. The name Void High was engraved in chrome letters across the front.
"…This has to be a joke," I muttered.
"Wish it was!" Vee said brightly.
"Where are we?" I asked, eyeing the building suspiciously.
"Nowhere," Vee answered.
I slowly turned to face it. "What?"
"We're in the Void right now. This is a safe zone. Kind of like a pocket dimension. You know—spatial fold-y void bubble magic," Vee explained with jazz hands.
"Why?" I asked, because obviously.
"Well, the whole world's in turmoil right now," Vee said, floating a bit higher. "And we need your help. Just like you need ours."
I raised a brow. "We?"
"Yep," Vee nodded, then beeped cheerfully as a floating interface screen popped up in the air between us. "This is Project Reboot. A joint mission between you and me!"
"Oh God," I muttered.
"Incorrect. But close enough," Vee said.
"And what exactly is our mission?" I asked warily.
"Simple!" Vee declared. "We recruit students, train them, and send them to fight and clear out the zombies."
I stared at it.
"…Simple? Are you hearing yourself? That is the opposite of simple. That is advanced-level nonsense! That is death dressed in a school uniform!"
"Well, sorry for you, but you'll have to face them eventually," Vee said, annoyingly calm.
I took a step back. "You've seen those things, haven't you?! They are not recruit-and-battle material! They are nightmare-fuelled flesh piñatas!"
Vee tilted its head, eyes blinking slowly. "You're very expressive. That's good. Helps with fear regulation."
I squinted again. "Are you reading my mind?"
"Nope. Just yours."
I gawked. "Excuse you?!"
"Relax. It's not creepy. It's part of the reboot package. Mind-linking improves mission sync rates by 67.8%."
"I didn't consent to—" I stopped myself, sighed, and rubbed my face. "You know what? Fine. You already revived me. Whatever."
"That's the spirit!" Vee zipped around in a circle. "Now come on. I'll explain everything inside. Time to make history, partner!"
I dragged my feet toward the school, muttering under my breath. "I should've just died…"
"I heard that," Vee chirped.
"Of course you did."
*****
If someone told me this morning I'd die choking on a sandwich and wake up in an interdimensional zombie-fighting prep school run by a glitter-happy robot with attitude, I would've choked faster.
Vee zipped along beside me as I stared up at the three-story building in front of us. It looked like a school, alright. Just... minus the students, and plus a whole lot of glowing panels and weird energy lines running up the walls.
"This," Vee announced dramatically, "is the Void High Main Building! Your new HQ, home base, zombie survival academy, and soon-to-be a booming institution of badassery!"
"Fantastic," I said. "Any chance there's a class on Not Dying While Eating?"
Vee giggled—yes, giggled. "Still bitter about the sandwich, huh?"
"Just a little," I muttered, following her inside.
The lobby was all sleek metal and hovering lights. There were classrooms down one hallway, offices down the other, and what looked like an elevator in the center leading down to... somewhere. Probably a danger pit. Or a cafeteria. Same difference.
"This building is strictly for operations," Vee explained. "Classrooms, strategy rooms, training simulations, planning offices. Basically where all the zombie-killin' geniuses will learn how not to die."
"Right. And the screaming freshmen sleep… where?"
"Ah!" Vee spun mid-air and pointed toward the back. "We've got two more buildings behind the main one. That one—" she gestured left "—is the student hostel. Fully equipped, private rooms, chill zones, snack printers."
"Snack printers?" My eyebrow lifted. "Okay, I'm listening."
"And that one—" she pointed right "—is staff housing. Where the future teachers, mentors, and cranky ex-soldiers will live once we recruit them."
I turned back to her. "So when do I get my room? I mean, I did just get resurrected from sandwich purgatory, I think I deserve a nap."
"Well, you can't move in just yet," Vee said cheerfully. "Because we haven't officially unlocked the housing program."
"What."
She clapped her tiny robot hands together—seriously, they made a ping! sound. "You see, everything here upgrades based on your kill count."
"My what now?"
"Kill count! The number of zombies you personally slay. The more you kill, the more features unlock—better facilities, stronger recruits, cooler weapons, and yes—eventually, a killer dorm room."
"So you're telling me I have to murder my way into student housing."
"Exactly! You get it!" Vee beamed. "We call it Project Reboot. You and I are partners. The goal? Train, recruit, survive, and wipe out the infected. We clear the zones, rebuild the world."
I stared at her. It's either she liked repeating herself or was suffering from serious memory loss.
She hovered closer. "And maybe print some snacks along the way."
"...You had me at snacks," I muttered.
Vee zipped toward one of the classrooms. "Come on, I'll show you the training wing next. And then, we'll talk uniforms!"
"Do I have to wear a uniform?"
"It's... form-fitting."
"Dear God."
The hall leading to the training wing looked like something straight out of a sci-fi action flick. The lights on the floor glowed with every step, and the doors hissed open like they were holding their breath.
"So this," Vee said proudly as we entered a massive chamber, "is the Combat Sim Room! Fully customizable simulations, physical training zones, weapons testing, obstacle courses, and stress balls in case you panic mid-drill."
I stood there, blinking at the steel walls and holographic dummies lining one side. Across the room, I spotted what looked like an armory—locked, of course—and a row of boxing bags suspended by glowing cables.
Vee twirled in the air. "Cool, huh?"
Cool wasn't exactly the word I'd use. Terrifying? Overwhelming? A reminder that I was supposed to fight zombies now?
Yeah. That one.
I took a few steps forward, then abruptly stopped. My legs were fine, but my brain was running full-speed into a wall of what-the-hell. The full weight of everything finally hit me.
I had died. Choked on a sandwich. Then woken up in some kind of interdimensional zombie training facility with a talking mini robot and a kill-to-upgrade system. Now I was expected to train and fight like I didn't have spaghetti arms and anxiety.
"I can't do this," I muttered, pressing a hand to my forehead. "This is so above my paygrade. I've never even been in a fight! The only fighting I know is fighting for my life at 2am with deadlines and wi-fi."
Vee hovered next to me and tilted her head. "Okay, now that sounds like panic."
"I'm allowed one moment," I hissed. "One tiny emotional breakdown. Then I'll drink water and suck it up."
There was a pause.
Then Vee asked, "By the way... why are you not freaking out more? I mean—resurrection, void school, mission to kill zombies? Most people would've passed out by now."
I let out a breath and straightened up. "Because I'm an author."
Vee blinked. "...What?"
"Yup. Writer of strange fiction, horror novels, and dystopian messes. You know how many apocalypses I've imagined in my head? This?" I waved around the void. "This is a Tuesday."
"So... this is just like research to you?"
"Exactly," I said, crossing my arms. "Sure, I didn't survive the apocalypse per se. But I saw the signs. Stayed alert. Stocked up. Didn't even panic that much when it started."
"Until the sandwich."
"Shut up."
Vee giggled and zipped ahead. "Well then, Miss Calm in the Void, you'll be thrilled to know we're starting light! If you survive this you'll unlock your room."
"If I survive that?" I repeated, narrowing my eyes.
"Well, statistically…"
I groaned. "You're lucky you're cute."
Vee just spun midair and projected a glowing blue icon into the air. "Time to begin training!"
*****
There was something deeply unsettling about being handed a weapon before breakfast.
"Today we begin your physical assessment," Vee chirped, hovering beside me like an overeager drone-turned-life-coach. "We need to determine your baseline before assigning you a combat class."
I looked at the sword in my hand. Then at the target dummy ten feet away. Then back at the sword.
"This thing doesn't even have a safety switch," I muttered.
"It's a sword," Vee replied helpfully.
"Exactly."
I wasn't exactly unfit, but most of my cardio involved running from online trolls or skipping through YouTube ads. And now here I was, in sweats and sneakers, standing in an open-air training room that looked like a mix between a medieval gym and an army bootcamp for anime protagonists.
"Swing at the dummy," Vee instructed.
I did.
Poorly.
The sword bounced off its side like a bad decision. My arms already hated me. I think my spine filed a complaint.
"Okay, we'll mark strength as... developing," Vee said gently, tapping something on her interface.
I dropped the sword and stared at the dummy.
"I wrote a fight scene once where the heroine split a demon in half in her sleep," I said. "Turns out, writing about it is a lot easier than doing it."
"No worries," Vee beamed. "We'll ease you into it. Time for your agility test!"
She led me to an obstacle course that looked like it had been designed by a sadistic hamster. Climbing walls, swinging ropes, a pit of suspiciously green goo. Delightful.
"You expect me to do that?" I asked.
"Eventually," she replied.
I stared at it.
Then sat on the mat.
"So... what happens if I just, you know, don't?"
Vee gave me a Look. "You want upgrades, right? You want to hire staff, improve Void High, expand your dorm capacity, access better weapons? You need a higher kill count."
Right. The "kill count" system.
Every zombie I defeated = points. Points = upgrades. Upgrades = survival. No pressure.
"Guess I better start small," I muttered.
"Exactly! That's why we're starting with dummies."
"Technically, I already know one," I said, glancing at her. She pretended not to hear.
---
Later, at the shooting range.
Vee handed me a beginner pistol. "Let's try your aim!"
I held the gun like it was a snake. Not out of fear—just deep uncertainty. I'd never even held a real one before. My only experience was from games, and those let you reload by slamming a button. This felt... heavier.
"You okay?" Vee asked.
"I'm trying not to shoot myself in the foot."
"Appreciated."
The target was shaped like a zombie. Classic look—twisted face, open mouth, bad posture. I fired once.
Missed.
Vee adjusted my grip.
Fired again.
Hit the shoulder.
"Well, at least I'd annoy it," I muttered.
She clapped anyway. "Progress!"
---
By the end of the day, I'd sweat through two shirts, mildly bruised both my pride and my shin, and discovered that throwing knives was significantly more fun than expected. Less aiming, more rage.
As we walked back toward the dorms, I asked, "So... how long before I'm ready?"
Vee looked at me with what I assume was sympathy. "Depends. How determined are you?"
I considered that. Then I smiled faintly. The other dorms were still Locked but mine wasn't, after the training lessons I finally gained access to them. Now all I needed was a nice nap to cement my first day here. Two things on my mind as I dozed off,Food and...Evans.