It exists to replace another as punishment of the other’s sins!!!
It has been walking for a long time through the fields and then along the road it happened across, though it’s not seen anyone yet!!!
It's also not seen
not seen
It’s yet to reach its target!!!
It continues to walk for at least several hours!!! If the passing sun can be believed!!!
It eventually makes it to a suburb, awkwardly passing through someone’s backyard!!!
It knows that this is not the target’s house!!!
It briefly wonders how the two t
the t
It continues!!!
It walks through the suburb, out into another stretch of wooded area!!!
It knows that it just has to keep walking in the direction of the goal!!!
It is made for this!!!
It just needs to reach the target, which is in
Which is in
Which is in
Which
It stops dead in its tracks!!!
Its goal is in
Its goal is in
The targets it has to replace is in
The targets
The
It needs to replace the targets…
In order for it to do so, it needs to reach the targets…
It just needs to !!!
It just needs to !!!
It just needs to !!!
It just needs to !!!
It just needs to !!!
It just needs to !!!
It just needs to !!!
It just
It stands stock still in the middle of a forest, thinking over its every choice. It must find, kill, and replace the targets, and then branch Zampanio. It cannot sense its targets. Others of its kind know exactly where to find the targets they are made for. It knows this. Even in death, others like it will relentlessly hunt down those who have sinned such. It cannot sense its targets.
For the first time in its short existence, it feels alone. Hopelessly alone. And with a ramping realization, it feels afraid. It knows that it should not, cannot feel these things, but it still does. It should not feel any way other than…than either Emily or Mark would feel. After some thinking, it concludes that it doesn’t know nearly enough about either Mark or Emily to even begin to emulate what they’d be feeling right now. It isn’t sure that either could possibly have thought about being a copy of a pair of people that one is supposed to kill, replace, and create Zampanio branches in their name.
To calm itself down, it takes stock of what it’s wearing. A hoodie that has ‘Zampno’ written across the chest, a t-shirt with branding for something it does not recognize, a pair of brand-new jeans, and some socks and shoes. Fumbling with the hoodie pocket, it also finds an utterly ridiculous pair of glasses. They could hardly even be considered such, though. Too big, heavy, and rough, it might as well be a single hunk of plastic and glass.
All at once, it suddenly realizes how poorly equipped it is. How overdressed it is for the mid-summer weather, how out-of-shape it is for hiking in the middle of the woods. It suddenly recognizes the feeling of hunger in its stomach, and the overpowering dry feeling of thirst in its mouth. With a start, it pulls off the hoodie it’s wearing and ties it around its waist, rolls up the jean legs to make improvised jorts, and sets off.
To exactly where, it isn’t sure. But it’s choosing to walk in this direction now, for however little it’s worth.