[KND SURVIVAL ARCHIVE: OPERATION Z.O.M.B.I.E.]
[STATUS: HIGHLY CLASSIFIED | SECTOR V ARCHIVES]
[LOGGED BY: NUMBUH 2]
If you’re reading this, don’t let Father find this notebook. Everything I know about surviving the "Delightful" threat is in here. Keep your head down, keep your lights bright, and whatever you do...don’t let them catch you alone.
Note from Numbuh 2: My hands are shaking a bit today. The Static is getting louder. Sometimes I look at my reflection in the monitor and my eyes don't look... right. But I’ve finished the guide. We need to stay sharp. Even if I don't.]
I. THE BESTIARY: THE INFECTED
THE AGED (GRANDFATHER’S)
The Transmission (The Aging Touch): A localized, aggressive electrical current. Skin-to-skin contact forces a child's cells to flash-forward decades in minutes.
The Symptom: Dusty gray skin, intense freezing chills.
The Mentality:.The loss of all creativity; replaced by a crushing, depressive weight of "adult responsibility." They want chores, cleanliness, and tapioca.
Weakness: Physical limitations of the elderly. They can’t climb. Get high, get safe.
THE UNIFORMED (FATHER’S)
The Transmission (The Blue Smother): Spread by Father’s shadow-fire. No bite needed...only an aura grip.
The Symptom: Loss of color (monochromatic shift), inability to speak, eyes turning a milky, glowing white.
The Mentality: Total scrubbing of individuality. They act in a hivemind.
Weakness: High-contrast light (Neon tape, UV, Flashbang Gumballs).
THE MUTATIONS (STAGE 2 & 3)
The Porcelains: Fused bodies, blind, hunting by sound. Use acoustic decoys.
The Shadow-Fiends: Pure malice. Tank-like brutes. Use high-powered UV light to dissolve their core.
SURVIVAL COUNTERMEASURES
THE MULTI-LAYER PROTOCOL: No skin exposed. Leather jackets, hockey pads, duct-taped gloves.
THE "CUT-LOOSE" RULE: if a Senior grabs a strap or sleeve, CUT IT. Do not hesitate. Hesitation is infection.
THE "SUGAR-SHOCK" SERUM:.A mix of root beer syrup, cane sugar, and sour candy acid. If you were touched but haven't lost your mind yet, drink it fast. It burns, and you’ll crash hard, but it stops the transformation.
[OFFICIAL LOG ENDS]
Scribbled in frantic handwriting:
​I don’t know what day it is. The calendar in the workshop keeps getting covered in dust, and I can’t remember if I wiped it yesterday or last week. My hands... they aren't listening to me anymore. The stiffness is getting into my shoulders now. The tape isn't working anymore. The neon isn't bright enough. I caught myself organizing my tools by size and color instead of function today. That’s how they get you. That’s how they win. If I start talking about tapioca, Abby… please. Just promise me you won’t let me walk out of the bunker. I want to remember being a kid. I want to remember flying.. I want to remember the good old days.... our friends...our team... i wanna...Please… don't let me grow up.
And for Wally and Kuki....hang on guys, we'll find you...somehow...
— numbuh 2
