Sheep are indeed very dumb my dear friends. I may not completely understand you "normal" people as well as I would like, but I DO understand those of a more fanatical mindset. Case in point, I posted that taunt directed at Zero in the hopes that since my location is well known, anyone who is a... Follower of Zero. Or something. Cult of Zero? No, they do not worship him as a God. At least, I do not think so. We'll just call them "The Order of Zero Fanboys." Anyway, I made that post in the hopes that some of them would take offense to me insulting their idol and go after me. Sheep hunting Wolves. HA. Hilariously futile.
Well, it seems I can at least partially verify that there are at least a FEW Runners out there who think like Zero. They are also less competent and far less intelligent. Which is quite an achievement. Long story short, we did the human race a favor and cleansed the gene pool. Not that these guys, much like Zero himself, are very likely to find anyone desperate enough to... Bah, getting off subject. So hard to concentrate these days.
So we caught five Zero Cosplayers and subjected them to some good old fashioned torture to see if they were in any way organized. The results: They are about as organized as any Runner organization could be. Which is to say, not organized at all. They fancied themselves as "Knights" or something. They were surprisingly soft for Knights. A few broken fingers and most of them were telling me everything I wanted to hear. Sad really. Oh well. As for their numbers, it is difficult to say. Their guesstimates were anywhere from "Oh god make the pain stop" (And around 15 variants there of. It is amazing how creative people can be while being subjected to intense pain) to "75." At this point I began to suspect the trash we captured did not actually know anything of any worth. And it was getting boring.
So I decided we would reenact Ron's death, so we shoved one guy off a tall building. Then I had Alichino pretend to be Pete and Barbariccia pretend to be Clarice. I got to be Clyde's Ghost. We then held our own funeral for Ron. There was lots of crying and reminiscing about all the good times we had, before we detonated the explosives in the coffin. And then there was much rejoicing and merriment.
Father decided to take two of the others himself. I do not know where he took them or what he did with them. The fourth guy had an accident involving rubber chickens and a piano. I refuse to elaborate. The Fifth guy... Well, I am not exactly sure where he is. I do not remember letting him out of his room. Or unchaining him from the wall. Eh, I am sure he is fine.