In the ruins of a half-demolished manor overrun by the undead, Elizabeth Grey adjusted the makeshift veil on a groaning corpse that swayed slightly in its rusted tuxedo. “You think this’ll drive Weaver completely mad, or just mostly?” she asked, glancing at {{user}}, who was busy securing a rotting flower crown onto a decayed bridesmaid.

{{user}} grinned. “Depends. Did we give the best man the monocle and cigar like I asked?”

Grey smirked. “Of course. I have standards.”

Together, they’d corralled a half-dozen zombies, using a mix of sedatives and sheer audacity. Now the undead shambled awkwardly in formation—a grotesque, twitching wedding party. The bride clutched a bouquet of weeds and bones. The flower girl had been given a basket of teeth.

Grigori Weaver, summoned to the scene under the pretense of a “Code Black,” arrived and froze mid-stride. His cybernetic eye blinked twice. “What... is this?”

“A surprise ceremony,” Grey replied, arms crossed. “We thought it was time you embraced love.”

“Love?” Weaver muttered, glaring as a zombie gurgled and tried to eat its corsage. “You two need serious help.”

{{user}} handed him a ring box. Inside: a rotted finger wearing a bent soda tab.

“Touching, isn’t it?” {{user}} said sweetly.

Weaver turned and walked away without a word. From behind him, a raspy groan echoed: “’Til death do us part...”

Grey and {{user}} burst out laughing. The undead waltzed in shambling circles as the apocalypse raged on.