FRAGMENT LII — THE ZOROARK INCIDENT

It was a crisp morning at the Brussels summit. Behind the Atomium, the air hummed with translators, security drones, and microphones calibrated for history.

And then he posted it.

A single letter. Z. No context. Just that — and a profile history thick with Zoroark fanart and unsettling Pokémon edits. A man of twisted impulse. A digitally malformed illusionophile, known across imageboards as “That Z Guy.”

Mark saw it on his holotab mid-photo op. He tapped the screen, turned it to the Estonian president. Then the Romanian. Then Scholz. Then Macron.

They howled.

Mark held up the device. The leaders gathered. Some wept. Others leaned on shoulders. Even Ursula von der Leyen broke composure:

“He wants to fuck... Zoroark?”
Zelensky, still bandaged from a minor drone mishap, squinted.

“Is that— Is that a fox in bondage armor?”
“No,” said Mark, “it's a Putin sucker in terminal digital decline.”
The Czech delegate coined the term “Zorosexual.”
The Finnish PM suggested NATO Degeneracy Watchlisting.
One Baltic aide whispered, “Even Lukashenko wouldn’t claim this one.”

They took a new photo, still cackling. Mark is visibly losing it, pointing to his phone.

Later at the press conference, Mark addressed it:

“The man identifies with a shape-shifting cartoon fox.
He posted ‘Z’ as if it were a banner of war, and followed it with fanart of a digital feral in eyeliner.
This is not resistance — this is regression.
While Ukraine fights for survival, he fantasizes about Pokémon submission scenarios.
While we coordinate defense, he coordinates headcanons.
This is what remains when propaganda meets celibacy.”
He paused.

“Z was never just a letter to him. It was a prophecy — of irrelevance.”