When they stepped outside,
the same familiar scene unfolded in front of Zeros once again.
Under the quiet violet sky,
a silver saucer drifted into view.
This time—
slower.
More careful.
Blindy stirred at the low hum, slipped off Zeros’s shoulder, hit the ground, staggered upright—then threw his arms into the air:
“OH SHIT—OH SHIIIT—THE UFO IS BACK!
Zeros, look! LOOK! IT’S—”
Zeros’s eyes flared—dead white.
He raised his left hand.
Slowly curled his fingers into a fist—
—and the silver saucer collapsed inward,
as if something impossibly heavy had just sat on it.
PSSSHHH—VOOOOM—CRACK—BOOOOM
Sparks burst outward like a Fourth of July firework.
Zeros flicked his hand aside—lazy, dismissive, like brushing off a dead fly—
—and the crushed mass of metal shot across the street,
slamming straight into the Save&Pray™ bank building,
still under repair after Blindy’s stunt last year.
The impact tore through the facade.
Metal burst apart like a piñata of regret,
shards of UFO and chunks of concrete raining down together.
Blindy just stood there, staring.
Maybe it was the alcohol.
Maybe it was because he was an idiot even when sober.
“…W-what… WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED?!”
Zeros’s eyes dimmed back to their usual lethal red.
“Meatbag.
Not. A. Word.
I do not want to hear a SINGLE word about “probes,”
or “abduction tubes,”
or whatever conspiracy bullshit you’ve built around your ass.”
Blindy screeched:
“THAT WAS YOU!
YOU DID THAT!
YOU KILLED IT!
YOU KILLED THE UFO!
A MYTH! A LEGEND! A SYMBOL!
THE THING THAT TRAUMATIZED AN ENTIRE SPECIES!”
Zeros kept walking, dragging him by the collar.
“Yeah. I killed it from a thousand feet. How? Farted a laser?”
Blindy tried to pull himself up, but his body quit halfway—he crumpled back down, hands falling limp as he kept shouting.
“YEAH, IT WAS YOU!
I DON’T KNOW HOW—SOMEHOW—BUT IT WAS YOU!
DO YOU EVEN GET WHAT THE HELL YOU JUST DID?!”
Blindy’s voice cracked, almost breaking as he pointed at the burning wreckage:
“FOR THOUSANDS OF YEARS, UFOs BEEN TERRORIZIN’ THE GALAXY!
THAT’S—THAT’S MASS CULTURE!
YOU CAN’T JUST—JUST—
DELETE ‘EM LIKE THAT!”
He slowly sank to the ground, staring at the smoking debris.
“No one…
NO ONE…
got the right…
to kill mass culture like that…”
All holo-screens across the district flickered at once.
GNN—GALACTIC NOTHING NEWS—BREAKING NEWS
"Delivering the truth… whether you like it or not."The anchor appeared.
Nort Galen—a Klornyak
Too serious. Too boring.
Eyes completely dead.“We interrupt our regularly scheduled program, ‘Tentacle Chef: Galaxy Edition™,’ to bring you urgent news from Mülldeponie.”
The holographic screen behind him lit up, showing the smoldering, charred remains of the saucer-shaped craft.
Behind it—the shattered facade of Save&Pray™.
“Authorities have confirmed that the iconic delivery drone Zamazon™ Z-Saucer Prime has been destroyed today by unidentified vandals.”
Cut to shaky-cam footage. Zeros, lowering his hand lazily at the exact moment of collapse.
“The drone, known for its nostalgic 1920s design and questionable flight stability, was valued at…”
He glanced at the teleprompter.
“…approximately one hundred and fifty billion C-bucks.”
Cut.
Interview.
Dandy Chassis—Zamazon™ representative.
A Gravian raised among humans on Prime INC.
Five eyes. Two brows.
A corporate smile stretched tight as plastic over an asteroid.“This is an attack on freedom, commerce, and two-day delivery. Someone hates efficiency. Someone hates retro design. Someone hates safe and reliable airborne logistics.”
Cut.
Zeros dragging Blindy by the collar.
Blindy flailing, yelling something incomprehensible.
Nort Galen didn’t change expression.
“Witnesses report the perpetrators as ‘a very angry robot’ and ‘a panicking carbon-based idiot.’ Identities have not been confirmed.”
Cut to panel.
Experts.
Useless. Entirely.
EXPERT #1—Myu’Taresk, Beptur
Small. Irritated. Constantly vibrating with hostility.
“We believe the vandals misidentified the drone as a UFO.”
EXPERT #2—Cora Bellwood, PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Aliens)
A human.
A bucket of yellow paint sitting at her feet.
“This is a textbook case of xenophobia. The drone clearly resembled an alien organism, and its destruction sends a deeply troubling signal to all sentient species.”
Myu’Taresk snapped immediately.
“It was a delivery drone, you idiot. It didn’t even squeak.”
Cora Bellwood didn’t blink.
“That’s how it starts. Today it’s ‘drones that look wrong.’ Tomorrow it’s anyone who looks slightly too blue. What is this—the Galactic Inquisition?”
Myu’Taresk sneered.
“Or xenophilia gone catastrophically wrong.”
Cut back to Nort Galen.
Still dead inside.
“Zamazon™ assures customers that delivery services will continue without interruption. The company has also announced that all saucer-shaped drones will be replaced with more modern, less alarming designs.”
New footage rolled.
A massive flying cube.
Stamped across its side:
Z-Prime Ultra Hyper Delivery Block™
Now 30% more aerodynamic.
“Following the announcement, Zamazon™ stock rose by twelve percent after the public was reassured that the drone was not, in fact, an abduction vessel.”
He blinked. Once.
“And now… sports.”