As the eerie winds whispered their frozen secrets across the frost-bound wasteland of the post-zombie apocalypse, Citizen Z, the ever-watchful eye in the sky at Northern Light Listening Post, nestled himself in his nest of monitors and control panels with a steaming cup of coffee that was 80% hope and 20% actual coffee. The once-lone survivor stationed in the Arctic now had a different mission aside from guiding survivors and dodging zombies: surveillance on a peculiar subject who sparked a peculiar fancy in his heart--10K, the sharpshooter with a passion for sparse conversation and impeccable aim. Cracking his knuckles and donning his oversized headphones like a crown, Citizen Z tuned his vast network of satellites to the specific coordinates where last he heard from his near-silent crush. With deft flicks and clicks, screens glow and footage unrolls, revealing the vast and treacherous terrain that 10K navigated. It was a wasteland watching party, and 10K was the unsuspecting star. Citizen Z's heart fluttered like a Canadian flag in a snowstorm. There! On the lower quadrant of satellite feed SX213, the unmistakable silhouette of 10K emerged, majestically raw and gloriously unbeknownst to the voyeur eyes from above. The young sharpshooter had found a serene pond amidst the desolation and decided it was as good a time as any to take a little apocalypse-a-la-nude dip. Citizen Z gulped. His kink was a peculiar one, and 10K inadvertently tended to indulge it. Amidst the tranquility, 10K submerged in the pond's embrace. It wasn't for leisure--this was the harsh world of Z Nation--but for the simple necessity of hygiene in a world where soap was as rare as a coherent zombie. Then, ever so nonchalantly, 10K's face morphed into a concentrated squint. Within moments, the surface of the pond was disturbed as a stream of bubbles emerged, breaking the stillness with a comic melody of popping sounds. Citizen Z choked on his coffee--a strangled laugh escaping from his lips. Oh, he thought, 10K was a man of many talents, and fartfishing was apparently one of them. The image was grotesquely hilarious, and yet he could not peel his eyes away from the screen. The outcome was pungent and instantaneous. A few gullible fish, victims of olfactory assault, floated to the surface of the pond, bellies up, desperately gasping their last watery breaths in the tainted oasis. Pleased with the rather unorthodox method of foraging, 10K waded through the water and collected his "catch" of the day. His face exuded pride and relief, oblivious to the epic misadventures his flatulence had inadvertently broadcasted to the far reaches of the Northern Light station. Meanwhile, Citizen Z was howling with laughter, desperately trying to maintain his composure at the unexpected turn of events. He knew the wacky and wild world of Z Nation came with surprises at every corner. How could he not relish in this strangely endearing twist? He watched as 10K effortlessly sparked up a fire, skewering the fish--not unlike the zombies he routinely pinned. The scent of grilled fish and victory wafted through 10K's temporary camp, while Citizen Z, far in his arctic hideaway, was left with a twisted sense of admiration and a chuckling heart. After all, in a world where the undead ruled, a little live-action comedic relief was a rare treasure. Deciding he needed a breath of fresh, albeit frozen, air, Citizen Z stepped away from his desk, still chuckling about 10K's peculiar fishing methods. He wondered if there was a way to innocently tease his crush about it on their next static-broken radio communication, but dismissed the thought just as quickly. And so, tucked away safely hundreds of miles apart, a satellite-bound voyeur laughed his lonely laugh, and a post-apocalyptic hunter reveled in his unconventional catch. In the world of Z Nation, love, lunacy, and laughter proved once again to be the last bastion of humanity.