Death in Cadence

Gosh where does the time go? Here we are the beginning of December already. It's nearly Christmas. I love the holiday season. It's always great for one's social life.

I wandered north after killing Capt Winters. This was a long time coming. Myself and the Duke had been planning on heading up to the Curton Mansion for quite some time...Well I had been planning on it. He seemed more content to mull around railway stations or clubs. I think he is getting senile with age. I would diagnose him as clinically insane...if I weren't slightly maniacle m'self. Heh.

Anyhow, I found myself pretty much alone up there. I had made some friends with a lovely survivor group THEM. The hunting club has always had diplomatic relations with THEM...nothing official. However, they've always provided us with wonderful pies and while I was there I got a super fast revive after shooting out a couple smelly zergs, and getting shot inside Club Budd by Killroy Kutter. Naturally I returned the favour.

This was of course, just a taste of things to come as I'd been shopping down in Shearbank and shooting up some scientists in Lamport Hills in the previous days. I was due at Giddings and crossed down through heytown, to rest in a small church with Thug and Almighty Pickle. There was a little poetic disturbance over night, but otherwise it was peaceful. I decided to head down through Peppardville. It was again, just to get an assessment of the area. I stopped by Mccloud's pub for a rest and was treated to a song by The band Styx. Even that handsome Heroic Nonesense was there. But alas I could not stay long. Even my trip back to Giddings for the Day of the Dead was spoiled by zombies.

It wasn't all bad though. I spent halloween up in Santlerville doing a little trick or treating in Dowdney Mall, a little rumming and dancing with liens in Club Hesse. All up it was a fun night though it seemed to end too quickly. Not particularly eventful though a number of er...hominids found me recovering next door afterwards. And I was still getting candy the day after from a mysterious, handsome young gentleman.

But I was due back in Chancelwood to shoot Asshulk again. It got a little tiresome to be honest. And Mostly Harmless managed to clear the club at one point. I was about to do it again, when Deltor decided to stand up for the club budd zergs. I'm told a lovely member of DORIS caught up with him while I was napping in the Curton Mansion. Something of a reset happened whilest I was dead as I decided to go and shoot a random survivor in Haslock.

Let's be frank about this: I am a murderer. In a city where zombies currently outnumber humans by almost 2-1, I am taking life when it is needed the most. My motives? Business, pleasure, convenience, inconvenience...It all really boils down to the same thing: I work to make people stop breathing. And I enjoy my work. That is the key to happiness, the punchline to the universal joke, the ineffable name of god, the golden apple...I keep doing what I do because it's fun. Thus, if you find yourself on the wrong end of my shotgun, you shouldn't think yourself an enemy. In fact, I have no enemies in Malton though certain individuals and groups seem to think of me as one. And most of them have aired their grievances in the only manner that feeble troglodites can express their experiences of the great equallizer. Shock, hate, fear, anger, resentment and revenge...Eye for an eye...I kill two of theirs, they come back and shoot me as soon as they can find me. So it goes.

I find it all rather amusing to be honest...Still. After nearly a year of this, I still really enjoy what I do. Again, the only reason I kill these people in the first place is because it's fun. To me one who seeks vengeance or satisfaction in the death of their assailant indicates a level of complusion that not even the most obsessive and driven serial killers can match. Especially when, all things considered, replacing the lives that I take should really be their focus. Perhaps they're insecure about their authority? Maybe they've got issues with pride. Maybe they need help.

Indeed, this is why I've tried not to visit my victims more than once. "If you look long enough into the void the void begins to look back through you." Your funeral, my trial. Obsession is a weakness.

Oh my, I do go on, don't I? So where were we? Oh yes! Leaving Chancelwood. I said my goodbyes in Haslock and dropped by Don Wesson's Factory for a quick visit with Buckey Tesla before shipping out to Shearbank. I was a herald for Red Rum's mall tour. And on my way down I couldn't help but do a little warming up with Adam R and again with xDarkstalkerx. And before I knew it, I'd found a lovely dark club after shooting out the generator and a ball of fun just waiting to be exploited in iamwillow. Apparently iamwillow thinks that barricades are more important than human life or indeed, manners. It was rather amusing to find her again, not through skill, nor through drive of malice, just pure dumb luck. Oh and she was sitting right next door which happened to be in my path. There is something incredibly satisfying in the death of an ignorant. A Philosophe Knight I am not, but I certainly understand why they do what they do.

A fresh day, a fresh streak of blood down the wall. Dipcup and I tore up the Gabe building which started the flow of red rum into shearbank it would seem as next day, myself, Duke D'oeuvre and Mike LeGrande started something in The Muller Building which carried over into some adjoining buildings. And perhaps a little prematurely, the mall was breached by some silly zombie group. Myself, the Duke and a breathing impaired Thug got in while the going was still good, Duke nabbing a MULTI MEGA KILL...otherwise known as a hat-trick.

And the mall fell. It crumbled before our very eyes. It was beautiful. And the aftermath was even more beautiful and it was my pleasure to share some more rum with BarryLiao, Dyran and as the night drew nigh, and the party goers eventually passed out, I helped to clean up a little espionage problem and took out the elite zombie spy, MrAddled. And I was followed around by a fan on my way out of town. The cheeky little bastard took a chunk or two out of me...and still wanted free drugs. Unfortunately I didn't have any, not that I'd of shared them with him. However I did have a spare bullet for Markus. Bloody zombies. If it's not brains its drugs. Always trying to get in the way of my fun.

So I headed south to greener pastures. Red Rum were content to siege Calvert Mall up in the north...But I was more interested in Marven and Tompson. So I wandered south, and dropped into MCM. I had only intended on staying a day before moving on again. However, there was quite a bit of excitement around the college. Firstly, some debate over cookies vs crackers...as well as healing murderers like myself. I let Samuraijack have it. No, I didn't kill anyone...I conversed with a few former targets and some Philosophe Knights. But I kind of wish I had, especially after his reaction.

It was heating up though down south. The undeadites had been sieging for MCM for 9 days before I popped in and the RRF were very much in town...Gore corpers all over the place. I decided to help stone18 out. Sometimes you gotta be cruel to be kind. Later I managed to sign an autograph for FuzzyWuzzie back inside MCM. I was very slowly restocking all the while. However I got caught up in the defense of MCM. I was enjoying myself there; I didn't want to see it fall to these undeadites. It was inevitable that the RRF would roll over it eventually, but for now they were more preoccupied with the Mall and I had to go shopping fast. I passed through the cinema where I found Speels, injured. I didn't have time to shoot him though, and rushed off to grab some more ammo. However on my way back? He was even more sick. I couldn't help myself. Of course, you can see by that picture that a matter of minutes between the last shot by faded101 and yours truely. Yeah, doesn't take me long to shop. And if you ever catch me in a mall I hope your pistols are faster than your wit. But for now at least I was playing survivor. Barricading had sapped me of a fair bit of energy when Aiden Fury popped in and muttered about the mall falling. I had begged Violet to let me kill him...She wouldn't have it though, and instead gave me a cookie. I resolved to do it later as a zombie. Of course, that would have taken a shitload of energy to pull off (taking down EHB cades since the undeadites couldn't do it themselves, securing an instant revive, etc.) But then more barricading put me back to asleep again. I figured he would keep. Unfortunately, MikeavLi swooped in and shot him before I could. Damn those gore corpers! Kill sniping, neutral ground hating, zombie spies the lot of them! But they are rather attractive, I'll give them that...and maybe...just maybe, there was a part of me thinking: "DAMN that was hot!" It certainly did bring a smile to my face to see Mikey around and I knew that the ever so handsome, helpful and downright sweet Johnny Bass couldn't be too far away either. Heh. I'm gonna cop a lot of flak for this...but hey, what can I say? I got a soft spot bad boys. And they don't get much badder than the gore corps.

That "incident" on neutral ground spurred a little unpleasantness on the Rogue's Gallery. I will get to that later, though as I have more murders to account for your pleasure. Like the miserable, insignificant death of breathing undeadite, Ultimate Spiderman. A death cultist who met his fate inside MCM. So insignificant was it that I didn't even get a picture.

But it did suck up a lot of my ammunition. So I wandered south towards Tompson. Had Marven not been eaten by the RRF, I'd of stocked there and come back to MCM since I was really enjoying denying the undeadites a meal. And there was also a much anticipated lecture schedualed...by Lord Moloch himself. Alas, all that was on his mind was brains and how to get more of them for the horde and the Malton College of Medicine fell to the claws of the RRF before I could so much as reload my shotgun. It is always the way. All humans die, some faster than others.

But there was a lot of fun to be had around Ruddlebank and Lockettside. Even if Eric Youngblood decided to kill me for a grudge that's well, months old. It gave me a new target in Mark Soder, who headshot me in the revive point afterwards. But there were opportunities everywhere. Arrawan for example, was just asking to be returned to the horde. While Mark Soder kept, oblivious to his own inevitable demise. Nothing quite like killing a vitalist. But I barely had time to savour it as minutes later a BigErn McCracken needed my help in Tompson.

And it was back to hiding. I didn't get much time to restock that day...obviously. However the entire week I was untouched, unhindered by bounty hunters. Not that they weren't in the area. I even tried to murder a certain Saint early in the week with assistance from Johnny Bass. Alas, Ryan Lynch is quick on his feet and ran before Johnny could land one final pistol shot. It didn't really matter to me I suppose, I'm just disappointed that Johnny Bass missed out. It landed me inside Hind Bank, where an assortment of colourful people congressed in dark corners. We agreed silently to keep the place neutral. Of course, that didn't stop Paul Wisby, but it was funny to watch Jack of Aces fail at rattle. I've still got no idea what the hell he was trying to say to me. It was of little significance as I had some vitalists to kill.



It was incredible luck that I found Ill Vice too. A fledgeling bounty hunter, perhaps someone I might even call a friend. I couldn't resist the opportunity to pass on some helpful advice.

And this brings us back to MikeavLi. He had reported himself for killing Aiden Fury. Purely for idealogical reasons. To me? Mike's report was keeping Aiden honest. He had killed Aiden before but Aiden didn't report it. It looked rather like Aiden was trying to cook the books, just to make himself look good. And I found MikeavLi's actions positively inspirational. Bounty Hunters are the most egotistical jerks in Malton. I am of course generalising, but they are bottom feeders. Not useful in the slightest bit to survivors, murderers or zombies. They are gimps. No matter what spin you see them put on it, a murderer like myself or any of the other murderers that I've mentioned here, will always do more for Malton than any bounty hunter in town. Whether it is helping zombies by clearing meat shields, helping survivors by shooting mrh cow tippers, buying someone a drink, teaching new arrivals about death and how to avoid pain upon sudden undeath, or helping everyone by shooting mean spirited twats, a murderer always does more than a bounty hunter who picks off targets from a list of murderers and usually aims for the murderer with the highest bounty or a lesser target of convenience. Utterly useless, dead weight...but they are fun to shoot, if nothing else. Which is why I shot Ryan Lynch and I reported it. It was purely a symbolic gesture, though there are those out there who will see it as lame even though I didn't do it for the bounty points. I find it irresponsible, dishonest and definitely dishonerable that a person who's sole purpose in Malton is to hunt from a list and not report back to it. Especially considering how easy it is to report these days. This is why I have nothing but contempt for the Dulston Alliance, CDF, TZH etc. ad nauseum. You could put just about any survivor group that maintains their own little permanent KOS list, or their own little scoring systems to try to match other survivors, bounty hunters or murderers in this exact same catagory. If all it is to you is numbers, notches in your axe, uzi, katana, etc. why not exchange your weapon for a calculator already?

Anyhow, it all got very serious over there. I was still having fun inside the bank though. I even had an opportunity to play cupid for ddoomsoC and CiscoKitty. Two very lovely individuals who, even though one is a bounty hunter the other a murderer, I believe make Malton a brighter place. Since ddoomsoC was too shy, I told CiscoKitty how he felt about her. I was glad CiscoKitty at least gave me something to pass back onto him. I am a romantic at heart. Even if those two are star-crossed, one certainly cannot put it down to a lack of effort. And the laughs continued...Samuraijack made an appearance taking out Psycho Killer, who was the most seriously injured out of all of the lot us, before finally Arrgyleh turned the lights on and killed the mood entirely.

So I said my goodbyes and headed back north to MCM. Taking an opportunity to spread a little chaos on my way.

I have been asked to lecture and indeed, I owe it to Mighty Oak, Violet and a couple other students to do so. I'll see how things go. I've got at least another week here before it is time to move again. And if you must shoot me...If you really think killing me once is going to make a lick of difference to what I do, to what you feel, to the situation in Malton or what people think about you...Come and shoot me in MCM. I dare you to post that claim.

Not that they die, but that they die like sheep.

I've killed again.

This time in Millen Hills. Three humans died last night.

But there's more I need to tell you before I elaborate. A whole lot more...

Since my last entry, I've killed 50 people. You'll have to excuse me, the details are somewhat...sketchy. Perhaps it was the drugs from Creedystock...maybe subliminal messages in the music...or perhaps it was the all the dying and revivifying...I just...


I don't even know why I do it anymore.



Oh wait...Because it's FUN!

HA!

Well dear friends, last time we left off I had the pleasure of being served up to a brain rotted baby with AU10. Cillive popped up to wherever the hell it was and revived me so I could bum around for a few days and check out the area. Roftwood is supposedly one of Malton's premier party destinations. Sadly it was mostly ruined. The zombies didn't seem too interested in anything other than food and, in spite of the ostentatious oral skills demonstrated by the RRF, I wasn't particularly interested in getting eaten again. It was back to business in Buttonville.

And my job there was merely to hang about and cause some mischief without bloodying my hands. This isn't to say that I didn't indulge a little. Captain J Quinones was quietly executed for crimes against fashion.

Then it was back to bumming around again. There was the occasional assault, threats, and maybe a little poetry, vandalism and death here and there. I never realized how dull just surviving was until I did this Buttonville job. It's not like I have a problem resisting the urge to act on impulse, it's just so boring not acting on it.

So I wandered down to Shickell Arms to do a little kareoke for an audience of friendly incapacitated locals. I got to the second verse as Fliptop dropped from sipping just a bit too much red rum. At least Mr Pompeii, the proprietor of the Shickell Arms, was understanding about the mess I left in my wake. Ah! Grimchie is in that picture! Handing me muffincake. Grimchie has since contracted brain rot. I'm going to go all misty eyed...We only ever had brief encounters in Malton, however we'd been coresponding for some time. It always saddens me to hear a fellow hunter has hung up his holster. Rot in pieces, Grim.

Anyhow, I had been expecting the Duke to show up and help me finish the Sinatra classic, but apparently some upstart young bounty hunter by the name of Strayla had occupied his attention that evening.

It's always the way. Bounty hunters have no sense of flair or showmanship. And this town was starting to even resent that we were brining it to them. Indeed, a day or so later I was given the leave town by sunset speach by a fellow from a gang of sharp shooters known as The Randoms. It suited me fine. I was missing Pitneybank already. However, after a revive, I decided to take the opportunity to lodge a complaint with one of these Randoms. Apparently this was some sort of come on, or at least that's how Jack saw it as, later on that night whilest I was resting in West Grayside, I received an amorous text from him.

I found a lovely little club in Kempsterbank the next day but I couldn't stand to stick around in such a small town for long. I ended up moving on to Stanbury Village where I dropped in on Rotter's Relief to meet a couple of local celebrities who were cutting ribons or performing brain surgery or hosting a telethon or something. I'm quite accustomed to the camera, but xelro it seems was just a little startled by the flash. Strange for someone who claimed to be from Channel 4 News Team. But then, C4NT don't seem to be the brightest bulbs in the box. I hear they can't even speak zamgrh.

A brief tour through Roftwood again. I guess I was hoping to find more signs of life this time around. I found Jack. JackOrtiz that is. He was simply too dull to live. Later on that same day I came across a few injured people in a factory. I'm nothing if not helpful so I was grateful to practice a little of my anaesthetic skills on Le bourreau. I offered some assistance to the others however Stealth Squid decided it was time to show me how much he loved me...bloody crustaceans. I was about to stand up and eat him. I'm quite fond of calamari but I was headed back to Pitneybank and I knew a needle and a welcoming commitee would be waiting for me. Roftwood is a shadow of what it used to be.

It was another wham bam tour, shooting up army men. Kas Tuk was the first to taste the lead outside the gatehouse. Yeah yeah, I know shooting newbies is bad blah blah blah. It was one bullet in the wrong place etc. ad nauseum. Hey if they didn't expect to die, they wouldn't be in Malton. I've always maintained that people who whine about dying deserve to die more than any zombie, murderer or bounty hunter in town. I felt more sorry for the zombies I'd denied a meal. Regardless, I made up for it by going inside to remove Deletion from life. He headshot some poor hapless random zombie only a minute before I decided to shoot him so I figure he had it coming. I put a fair bit of work into the barricades and thanked the people of the gatehouse before stepping outside to offer myself up as a snack.

The next few days were very relaxing. I spent quite a bit of time shopping and hanging out in clubs and cinemas of the area and learned I've actually got a few friends in the area that I never knew about. There is a wonderfully strange little lab in Peppardville that I've become quite fond of...If only the CDF didn't stalk it so often.

Anyhow, it was through a chance encounter that led me to find yet another Saint. Cameron Vale was actually just the most convenient target. Coming straight off the bat of being stabbed nine times, I'm entitled to be a little grumpy. But I'd been over stepping my boundaries as a guest in this town it seems. At least, that's what the CDF thought. And of all people, they sent a 'spider' who was more afraid of me than I was of him to scare me into leaving. Well, it wasn't long before someone else came along and did the job properly, by firstly informing me that I had been placed on a black list and to ask the CDF to remove me from it. So I wandered back over to the fort. I took the opportunity to indulge in a little RED RUM outside with none other than idiot extraordinaire, Blake Firedancer before going inside and asking nicely to be taken off the list. I let it sit for a day. I even joined their forums but was banned after an attempt to free some minds. All I said was "Think for yourself." Did I mention that the list I'm on is because I'm a member of Red Rum? That's right! And apparently I hacked their boards by joining and posting in the public area. OH! And the most important part of this: I'm banned from the board. This means that even if I leave Red Rum, I'll still be black listed. Basically I'm blacklisted in Pitneybank in the classical sense: there is no forgiveness, no repentence, no hope for salvation. A number of other hunting club members seem to have been blacklisted, too. Such logical and friendly people those Creedyites.

So after exhausting all efforts to right this wrong, it was time for a little shot gun diplomacy some more red rum. And more red rum...And no one can accuse me of not being polite. Apparently the CDF didn't care that two of their guys died because they're pig ignorant. So I took it to their "leader". A "numbernamed blowhard" as I've heard the kids say around the traps. I gave her the benefit of doubt though. Or at least, my shotgun did.

They sent 'spider' again. It was mildly entertaining watching him scuttle away to safety but it was time to leave again though. So I wandered back over to the fort and made a broadcast inside, just to let the Fort Dwellers know that there were no hard feelings and headed back to (ack,) Buttonville again.

I was distracted this time though by a rather shiney prize in Houldenbank. Someone I'd been hunting since The Big Bash siege at Giddings, and as a matter of fact, this "man" was rather rude to me. And so I was only too happy to return his gesture.

Three more distractions in the axtence building kept me from making my way further south the next day.





And even more distractions pulled me back north towards Stanbury over the next few days.


I'd almost given up on heading back to Buttonville as I'm not fond of backtracking...but I flipped a coin, the Duke called it, and as a result he called me down to Buttonville. I had spent the night attempting to act like a survivor and trying to help out one of the more famous survivors in Malton during his send off party. By now you probably all know how surviving ends for me... So I stood up again and shuffled down to Buttonville. It was a lovely event, in spite of getting shot not once but twice. I believe I missed the ending. It didn't matter since I now had a purpose to my visit, other than simply observing some murders.

Mike and I had resolved to hunt down the two shooters for being bad sports. I stocked up before I came down this way. I just love the feel of a full load. 7 fully loaded pistols, 5 loaded shotguns and 7 clips. Just for Anita Moorhead and Robert Halftree. They didn't stand a chance although Anita seemed to think she did. Mike found her standing around in the North East corner of Buckley Mall. She ran, but not far...Let me just say, I really enjoy live fights. Really. If you see me shooting at someone I'd sooner you shoot me than heal my target, because you're gonna get shot either way.  Better you go down fighting than wasting a first aid kit on some stranger.  Right where was I? Oh yes, Anita. Well were done with the foreplay. Anita died. We added a little show for the witnesses, who seemed appreciative, but I was already onto the next one.

Billy Mcgoggenhammer slept soundly in some dive of an Auto Repair shop not 2 blocks away from our last murder. Mike and I decided to take this opportunity rather than searching for Robert and we were rewarded with a lovely picture of the deed.



Why Billy? He knows what he did.

The very next day, I found Robert Halftree sitting in the NE corner of Buckley. Odd that this pair would discourage me for camping in a mall and then turn around and do exactly the same thing. Well! Robert died too. I really need to learn to take advantage of modern conveniences such as dopey, lazy mallrats more often.

I wandered over to the Shickell Arms, made some pancakes for JackASCII and Akofus and slept outside that night. After 3 nights in Buttonville I decided it was time to leave again. I wandered back north and found a nice little spot in Peppardville to rest. In the morning, I checked my messages and headed off into town to do some more shopping and catch a movie with some of my friends from Mostly Harmless. Alas, our various blacklistings had a couple of us ejected from the cinema. It didn't matter much. At least they were friendly about it this time. And Pitneybank still loved me more than ever.

It gave me a little more time to shop. A bit more time to socialise with some locals and the Marquis Le Grande and a certain Mister Ortiz. Not THE JackOrtiz that I murdered in Roftwood. Perhaps his dopleganger eh? He certainly was lacking some brains, perhaps due to the nasty infection. But he continued firing on me whilest infected. This was silly, so I shambled back over to Walrond but Jack followed me and continued shooting at me. Fortunately, I could still smell him and it wasn't long before I got a revive. I had no interest in shooting such a silly civillian though but I did tip Mike off to his whereabouts. I'm told Mike introduced him to his knife.

The main reason I came back to Pitneybank was to have some fun with Mostly Harmless who are a group of travelling ex-convicts and/or deli products that enjoy a good shanking. The most delicious Zombie in Pajamas had been so touched by my autograph during Creedystock that he asked me to tag along and whilest I was lurking in Vinetown, Lejes dropped by to inform me that Zombie in Pajamas hadn't washed his ass since I signed it. I simply couldn't allow THAT to continue so I decided to visit him in person once more and offered to tattoo the signature. It never happened, but I did get to join the group on their most deadly of missions: Operation Reload. The night was clear and a lone owl was serenading the stars as we scaled the walls of Giddings only to find a sliding door on the first floor, wide open and enterable from the roof of an auto repair shop next door. So we all piled inside, or at least, they did, I was still sleeping at Walrond Square. When I woke up I saw the ropes and knew that they'd begun without me so I scurried inside Bromley Auto Repair and into the south western corner of Giddings.

When I got there, the operation was mostly done. I just came in on the end of it. I did run into a friend I'd met in Davenport Cinema though. They had to step out of the movie early, so I caught them up on the ending. Apparently, that marked the end of Operation: Reload. But not the end of my vacation in Pitneybank.

By this stage quite a few of my friends had shown up for the laughs. Mike LeGrande, Venetia Phair, Civille, and a number of other infamous miscreants were found chilling in some of Pitneybank's many wonderful night spots. I met a lovely gentleman who goes by the title Professor Boognish in some rather dodgy accomodations in Peppardville. Then it was back to the fort Where I shot Officer Ryleigh and someone else...it was either a guy called Zaarik or Atticus064. Not sure exactly my memory is a little raw after all this death.

I had a brief meeting with my public. I've yet to see Professor Boognish again. I hope he's doing well. Unfortunately that movie ended with Mister Selene killing one of my friends. But Thug wandered off westwards and it was time to visit someone who's been on my list of things to do for quite some time. I had no excuse until recently to pay ZBQW a visit. So I let him know the score. He seemed to take it quite well.

And it was back to relaxing and letting things happen. I stumbled across one of ZBQW's team mates in the mall while I was handing some of my shopping backs to Bladistorkum to carry. I couldn't help but kill this guy. He was asking for it after all. So I gave Asrei an opportunity to gain some real world experience; just a taste of the dangers of his chosen profession.

By now you can probably tell that this wasn't such a relaxing vacation.  I dealt nearly daily with these fascists from CDF so it wasn't surprising nor impressive when a group of us were ejected from Harnap cinema.  Myself, a couple of rummers and a local environmentalist took an opportunity to remove these amature bounty hunters from the Sprod building. Unfortunately we're missing a couple pics of that. But the end was rather cathartic. Sir Jakob, ladies and gentlemen, a fine showman and upstanding minister in the church of Kevan and all around classy guy. Those bodies lying on the floor are the work of myself, Mike LeGrande and Major Snafu. So was the zombie Squishier.

Then it was back to the fort again. It was all getting a little repetitive and dull. I had taken to sleeping in the mall just to see how long I could stay alive there. And indeed, it was appropriate for my 100th death. But I had not yet paid my respects to Pluto for the latest DORIS campaign, so I delivered a gift to Shadowsnipe from Lord Pluto. Pluto is a generous deity apparently. So who was I to deny Marcus Banes some of his gifts as well?

 

I retired for the night and slept quite soundly. The next evening I decided to break things up a little by playing a little roulette with Raedar but Duke cleaned us both out at the end of the night at the craps table.

I picked myself up and shuffled off to the revive point. The next couple days were a little blurry. I had died more than a hundred times by then. I do however remember shooting Bladistorkem in the fort. Only because I have these photographs. And I do seem to recall he was shooting me at a revive point at one stage. Like I said, its a blur. I've got 50+ deaths on my hands since my last blog, cut me a little slack. I also remember sleeping 24 hours in Giddings before Pedders paid me a visit.

And then it was back to the fort...shooting zombie spies like Paul Ravenclaw.

I also gave the rude, inept and style challenged ;Hmelly Eggs an opportunity to inspect the local revive services. I hear it pleased him. And engaged in a little recreational "drug" use in Giddings to fill the space in time.

Yeah, I know I have a problem. I've actually spoken to several people about it. Most of them were very helpful, much like Andrew Quaney. And Light Yagumi was right there behind him, being supportive. Mathew Blackburn offered some help too. I never thought this would turn into an intervention. So I decided it was time to leave town and find some help elsewhere.

I wandered westward towards Tynte Mall. A Very Handsome Fellow was rather helpful. And I was starting to at least come out of denial. So I lingered in Peppardville a little longer and did a little shopping for a trip up to the Curton Manor. Well, I say a little...it actually was rather heavy. Fortunately Chivalry is not dead as Leccy Kev and Manuel Davis were happy to demonstrate. And I was off to Santlerville.

Apparently this place is where party central fled to when Roftwood went under, or there at least has to be a bartending college somewhere in town. Two of them were serving up Red Rum on this night. Ryulong served me up a nice glass of Red Rum in Dowdney, then drek47 of zombra's pub up in Pashenton was happy to pour me one more.

After receiving all this help for my problem, I was looking to give something back. And I landed in Chancelwood just in time. Letit out was my first client. It was pure coincidence that I stumbled across a zombie spy during my rounds and dispatched with him before moving on to the local police station to assist some of the down trodden and ever so vigilant officers of Orders Crescent.



Unfortunately I didn't get to drop in on the mighty Haslock Building as it was ruined while I was in town. I did manage to grab a lovely fur coat from the Curton Mansion though. And Axelady was begging to be revived there.  

I strayed a little further west down to Shearbank to restock and rest a little but it wasn't long before I was back to helping survivors in poor health with their pain. I was actually on my way back to Chancelwood when I stumbled on The Muller Building which seemed to have sustained a rather servere zombie break in. Several people were injured inside, I could only help put three of them out of their misery: CrAzY KilLeR JaY123, Corinthia and Tim McMurder. So, before I collapsed with exhaustion, I told the others to seek medical assistance closer to an urban center. I don't think they listened though as tonight the building is ransacked. Shame, one of them was MMS. I've heard such good things about those people too.

And so, this brings us to tonight which was somewhat more interesting. I met a humanist in a junkyard who was being eaten by a zombie. So, naturally I thought I'd help him die with dignity. But alas he resisted! So, I had resolved to just go where the wind took me. Kismet, she always smiles upon me as you are all well aware by now. And Lunchbox of the 308 was more than willing to let me help him. And I was just about to find a nice spot in Raines Hills to retire for the evening when who should I find but the humanist, Capt Winters! And this time, he was much less reluctant. He even ended up saving me a bullet by tripping on some ruins in his haste to get away from the junkyard I imagine.  

Ah but I am exhausted.  Telling epic stories like this one really does take it out of you.  And there's more adventures tomorrow!  It just never stops!  

And I don't think I could if I tried.

Absence Makes The Heart Grow Fonder but..

Apathy makes the butt grow stronger!

I was busy. Sue me.

Love Power

"If everybody in the world today had a flower instead of a gun, there would be no wars. There would be one big smell-in."

It's been a long and busy few months. Instead of regular photographs, I'm going to make use of a wonderful little tool that enables a more full picture of what transpires before one's eyes. It also allows me to be lazy with my photography and tight arsed with my bandwidth. So Kudos to it's creator, Swiers. I'll still include one or two regular pictures for good measure but they've largely been collected from other Maltonites.

After my 100th kill I made my way over to Gulsonside where I met the lovely Emerald Green and Viktor Survorv. They were messing with me in my sleep. It's little wonder I overslept and nearly missed the Gulsonside Tourist Bureau's launch the next day. And a glorious launch it was, in spite of my fashionable tardiness. I arrived just in time to thwart the efforts of a pirate!

And I killed some puppyz for fun, fashion and profit. I made a rather nice little hand bag out of their hides. Yes, animal cruelty is back in fashion people! Tell a friend!

It was at the after party that myself and a couple rummers got talking about some rather serious issues in Malton. Namely, equal rights for zombies. The zombie plight in Malton has dragged on far too long. Being Party People, Champagne Socialists and Schismatic Socialites, Rummers don't tend to band together unless there is the promise of entertainment. We were at a bit of a loss until Vandr suggested we host a rock concert in Pitneybank. Well, it took a bit of wandering around aimlessly and sizing up the area to get it off the ground. I did a bit of surveying myself almost immediately before the concert began. In fact, while I was carrying my equipment over to creedy, Bob Dylan kicked off. It was unfortunate that I couldn't stay around to listen. But the fort was beckoning. We needed to evacuate and de-vivify the inhabitants so that zombies could enjoy the show that was about to start in the exercise yard.

Officially I wasn't even supposed to be there. Officially, the fort was still being held by fascist needle slaves and an anti-zombie group known as "Creedy Defence Force." But I managed to sneak into the gatehouse and spread a little love to Bryan Cathark. I think he got the idea. Even amongst the pyre of burning brains, there was hope for zombie kind. But my work was far from done.

Amidst the music and protests, myself and an even smaller group of activists focussed our efforts on bringing down the Farmer Building, a fascist factory that manufactures intravenous armaments against zombie kind. And so I was about to launch my own personal protest and a combined assault against these fascists when I ran into an old friend. It seemed that AidenFury was looking for a lively public debate on religion. I wouldn't have it though, I was in Pitneybank for business not mental masturbation. I left and healed myself. Aiden took chase. But it was here that I lost him. It took all my energy to find safe harbor and heal my injuries but I was breathing for another day, even if I did eventually get beaten with a bible again.

This set me back a couple days, but eventually I did get around to lodging my protest against the Farmer Building and picked off one weaker member of the herd a day or so later.

This was my plan. To remove the weaker elements so as to exhaust the protective efforts of the stronger ones. The next day however I was forced to deviate from it yet again. I came in through the window to find that a rent a cop had stopped one of the event organizers and was arguing with him. As you can see, he was not my initial target. Thinking quickly, I set my sights on him. Rather than waste my breath arguing, and in the spirit of the festival, I sang him a line from an old protest song before removing the obstacle to peace from our path.

The next day I took an opportunity to thin the herd a little more in preparation for the big name acts that were on their way. Poor Mooupe should have listened to the broadcasts when they told him to evacuate the suburb.

My friends had arrived and were also preparing the suburb and the fort for the show. Pvt Perkins objected to loud music, free love, drugs and brains though and assassinated The Dancing Banana. Just like Lennon, except the Banana hasn't made any significant contributions to modern popular music...yet. Regardless, he shot my friend, so I took it upon myself to teach him to imagine there's no heaven...

So, after some initial set backs, I got back on task in the Farmer Building. Trent Kane was one of the reasons that I'd taken so long to get back on task. But there he was, contributing to the problem rather than being dead...er...rather than being part of the solution. So naturally it was a pleasure to spread a little love his way.

By this stage, Fort Creedy had fallen and the entertainment had kicked off, apparently. Being too busy fighting the man I didn't get to see any of it except by proxy. There were plenty of drugs around. I'd been clean for the longest time, too. Temptation, it seems, was out to get me. I tried to resist...I really did...But it was just too much. Naturally I laid the blame on the dealers, rather than the drug...or taking responsibility for it myself...

After a refreshing night's sleep, I wandered over towards the Fort to see if there was anyone playing. All I found was some stalls outside. I bought a zombie some lunch and went inside the junkyard next door where I found a few more undead chaps munching on a buffet. They had unfortunately left the most tasty of snacks, Dave the Wave, one of CDF's more persistent breathers was sitting there just waiting to be eaten. I softened him up a bit for but the zombies seemed to have gorged themselves earlier. So I cleaned up.

Unfortunately, rather than join the festivities at the fort, most of its inhabitants fled to nearby buildings, the Farmer building being one of the most popular choices. It didn't take me long to spread my message of peace to not one but two of the meat bags inside awaiting their doom.

The focus on Farmer became so intense that I neglected to document the next day's work. So, unless someone comes forward with an image, bmitchell and Suzy Swallows died in vain. Too bad really, I rather like those lovely ladies in FANNY.

With all these new arrivals inside Farmer, it was time to go shopping again. I made my way over to Giddings early the next morning to do a bit of bargain hunting. On my way home, I ran into a young Japanese lad who was wearing a patch with the words "Third Echelon" embroidered into them. My Monroeville associate, currently a zombie, managed to scrawl a rather crude note about this group's leader, Vincent Childs, being related to her killer before dying a somewhat pointless death at the hands of The Pyro Dude. He claimed it was because of my business in Malton which is a cop out really. You don't punish the child for the sins of the father (or mother as the case may be...)

So I decided to take a bit of a detour from killing CDF scientists and asked Toshi Nagata to pass on a message to his leader. The message? uh...I'm not entirely sure. But I know that dishonerable death deserves something something. And killing one of their weaker members, taking a head in exchange for another head, well, that's how I roll. I'm not Amber Waves of Pain just for the hell of it. It's all about fallout kids. These days, considering how fast revives are in Malton and especially in a place like Pitneybank's Walrond Square, a kill just doesn't matter unless you can really spread the pain. So, while I was restocking the next day, I decided to kill Toshi a second time. Standing up from a kill was still quite laborsome for the poor boy. Having to do it 4 times in two days? I can't imagine he was having fun. I actually felt pity for him. But hey, if you're gonna take a stab at someone, you'd better make sure they can't stab you back. Apparently, it was all a misunderstanding (on their part...I'm still pretty sure they don't understand half of what I was talking about here.) But I had way too much to do to worry about coming back for more. So I forgot it...The forgiveness part might never come. I sure do miss hearing about Evito's exploits in and around Monroeville's central business district. Oh as a side bar, Billy Club Thorton is hot. I must remember to get his number next time I see him.

And so that night I retired in what is affectionately known as the Fortress of Prostitution's Giftte shoppe. I never found out why...It's not exactly a "safe" place to sleep unless there are very few bounty hunters in the area, (usually this only happens when there are massive hordes attacking the suburb since Giddings and Fort Creedy attract masses of murderers like zombies to a well lit necrotech building, which in turn attracts quite a few bounty hunters,) however I usually find some friends there. And this night was no exception. Joe Fortune, Captain Cleanoff and DinkyE and I were quite content to sleep in the shabby store. Unfortunately, bubyax disturbed our sleep. Well, he most assuredly disturbed DinkyE's sleep with a bit of a lead makeover. Joe Fortune, the classy chap he is, took it upon himself to teach bubyax some manners.

I took Joe's advice and wandered over to The Fortress of Prostitution's entry parlour, just to see who was about and apparently, The Saints aren't so Saintly after all. I found Peter Deluise sitting there in the waiting room. He was oblivious to my presence. And I wasn't ready to fire upon him. So I watched from behind a glamour magazine. I was briefly distracted by an article, and Pete was too fast. Only by about 16 seconds though. After such a tiring day, I was grateful for the rest at Walrond.

Speaking of Walrond Square, it still has the fastest needles ever even if some particularly prudish peasant persistantly uses this revive point as their own personal soap box to spread vicious rumours about yours truely. Well, I suppose one must expect tabloids and entourages when one touches the lives of as many people as I do...To be honest, rumours don't bother me that much and in fact, I did get a giggle out of that graffiti (as well as the many other attempts to squish my name and the names of several other famous murderers into the one small space of wall, as legibly as possible.) As Oscar Wilde put it "The only thing worse than being talked about is not being talked about." And the true fans usually end up showing their loyalty and respect when they can.

By now, Farmer had fallen and the clean up crew were focussing on Morrish and Giddings. A couple of small hordes by the names of LUE and the Ridleybank Resistance Front had gathered around the suburb and the festivities seemed to be in full swing. Unfortunately I'd missed most of the acts. In fact, I missed all of them...and I'm not entirely sure anyone played at all. But it didn't seem to matter. The crowds were lively and everyone was having a great time. Awareness was reaching the locals at an alarming rate. The fort had fallen within a week, the Farmer building had fallen twice already and I was ready to let my hair down. And everybody knows that all the good drugs, good booze and good company is at the backstage party.

I had acquired a pass from the lovely Miss Venetia Phair earlier and slipped into the darkened cinema after a quick stop at the bottle shop. I wasn't disappointed. The cinema was packed with Gore Corpers and various rogues hailing from all around Malton. Famous artist and anti-needle activist, dgw, was good enough to film a large amount of it. Most of it was just drunken banter and vandalism...a lot of it... you know what they say about rockstars, hotel rooms and TV sets...Well, the same can be said for murderers and zombie activists, cinemas and generators.

Late in the night, myself and Ocular snuck out to grab some bacon burgers from the piggies next door. Unfortunately I neglected to look at Mazoku's badge before I shot him. Had I known he was a breathing member of LUE, I'd have straightened my aim. Regardless, I wandered back into Maggs and munched on my hamburger on the couch.

In our absence, a couple of survivors namely, Rauland and X BoB X, had managed to wander past the bouncers to crash our little party asking for some help. Zombie in Pajamas and Johnny Bass offered some assistance. I never did find out whether that fellow got the assistance he needed.

A little rest and it was time to mingle with the concert goers again. This time, myself and that fine gore corper and reporter for the Malton Herald Sun, Johnny Bass, headed over to Giddings for a little mischief. He began to shoot baked monkey, which I didn't see and took it upon myself to finish the job a little prematurely. All in good fun of course. You'll notice that small horde inside Giddings in that last shot. I began to shoot down another human who, as he was dying, took off at a remarkable pace. I searched all around for him to no avail. Poor Johnny. I'll have to owe him one.

We slowly headed back to Maggs. And apparently I'd been outed by radio. I am not entirely sure who Jones was, but he didn't seem to be aware that I am in no way in the closet about what I do. My deeds around Pitneybank had hardly gone unnoticed so rather than condescend to this fellow with false modesty, I let him have the pure unadulterated truth. And of course, I offered to sign a few autographs for my comrades and fellow music lovers. Zombie in Pajamas skipped over to me with bright eyes and instantly requested one. Perhaps the most tragic thing about the zombie apocalypse is the lack of good headshots...of the glossy kind at least. An abundance of headshots and not a 8x10" in sight. So, in the spirit of the rock festival, (and perhaps the spirit of the adult film industry,too,) I signed one of his body parts. Hey, if Ron Jeremy can sign some breasts, I can sign asses. Though I don't think I'll be making a habit of that though.

Alas, all good things must come to an end. And as always, our party was crashed by some big game bounty hunters. [click herefor an alternate view.] I have to give them credit. The Saints seem to have drawn the attention of nearly every muderer in Malton because of the style and skill with which they hunt. If they weren't already pursuing us, I'd ask the Duke if we could invite them to join the Hunting club.

Well, with that wet blanket thrown over our little campfire and the hordes closing in, many of us were looking to head off. Grimchie popped in on the end just to let us know that he was grateful to have taken part in spreading peace and love to all of Pitneybank. And soon after, I took my leave.


As a sad ending to this, Grimchie asked me to put him out of his misery in the warehouse next door.

Soon it was business as usual. I popped into Caunt Street, just to see how the puppies were doing. Having recently been made aware of my fame, Jlyn29
and ChillinatorMeerkat were overcome. And of course, a little later, Miss Twill was happy to oblige me with a celebrity rider on my way out of Vinetown.

But! This is not where the story of Creedystock ends. Grimchie had been getting a little grief from someone who was annoyed at the anti-cloning laws in Malton and Monroeville. He threatened to make a clone army and stalk Grimchie which never really happened...But Lostcauseman or someone did clone his...er...penis. After a little stalking in Tollyton, and some backtracking to Roftwood, I found and killed Grimch's Epenis. It was only after I'd killed him that I realised I'd stumbled upon an AU10 feeding frenzy. Apparently, they were feeding a baby and this irked their leader some. Yeah yeah. Big bad murderers taking food from poor little zombies. Sure. I made that kill all on my own and it was personal. The zombies contributed little if anything to his death. I know, all this on the back of such a wonderful festival for zombie and human unity. So I tried, at least, to make amends with the affronted mob by offering myself up outside.

And this is where the music faded out.

Coming soon:
An explaination for my unexplained absence.

A Walk On The Wild Side

Well, so much for my pledge to get a blog done every week. Things have been kind of bizare these last couple weeks since the hostilities in Gibsonton had ceased. The Imperium won, by drowning the enemy in their blood and draining the supplies of The Imperium Must Die Coalition by soaking up their ammunition with their flesh. Just like ColorBlue did before I left Gibsonton.



He was the last kill I made before the ceasefire. This left me a bit without purpose. Sort of how I like it really. Gives me more opportunity to chase kismet. And that I did. I'd been wanting to go to the Flat Earth Society ball the last week of the war. So I headed south west again. It was a long and slow journey. I managed to find some lovely new clothes to suit the formal occasion on the way though. And also, noticed a few buildings had become so derelict and overgrown with weeds and fungus that it's become almost impossible to see where one is shooting.


Almost...



Not impossible.

I found out some time later that these two had been engaging in "fisticuffs" for sport and competition. It was not my intention to break up their brawl and I sincerely hoped they would continue with their epic battle, clash of the titans, chariots of fire, etc. It's not like death really makes any difference in this town. At least their heads were still relatively intact when I left them bleeding on the floor. Consider that most zombies have their heads blown to bits and reform overnight! That would make for one helluva hangover. In fact, I recall such an experience, immediately before my very first kill here in Malton. And before that, several experiments of a similar nature that left me with only the slightest pin prick scar at the base of my skull...

Such predicaments, I must forge ahead!

And that I did, down the road from Mornington, all the way down to the south-western most corner of Malton, New Arkham. It's such an odd little town with odd little people. Odd little people all around me. I hadn't even arrived at the ball but apparently my reputation preceeded me. And the weirdness didn't stop there, I can assure you. No wonder people talk about this town like it's some sort of backwood. I've always thought it was just talk. Now I know for certain. New Arkham is full of freaks, weirdos, perverts, hillbillies and aliens. Not that this is a bad thing. Hell, I'll admit I'm a bit of a weirdo at times. But I am grateful that Simon Orne didn't take advantage of my unconscious state. I sure would like to know where these rumours that tuttle spoke of started though. As it is the most convenient, I blame Karloth. His death will be accompanied with tea and biscuits. But I digress...

The Flat Earth Society was right at home in New Arkham. And of course I met some friends there. Vigeous was actually one of the people who first inspired me to get into this line of work, though I can't imagine he remembers what he said or indeed, who he said it to. And LeChuck was there too! You'll remember that, whilest we were sleeping in the same museum in Dulston, he tried to dance with me but being somewhat tired, and subsequently rather graceless in this state, I couldn't join him. So, upon entering the ball, I offered him a dance...NO not a lap dance. I was merely suggesting that now I'd acquired sufficient dexterity to boogie on down as a zombie that maybe we could engage in some ZANZ!NG. He took it to be some sort of come on. What can one expect from a brain rotted pirate though, really? Ah, he's not all that bad really, after all, his work is noble.

But there were plenty of new faces around too. I was rather sad to meet these lovely, strange fellows on their curtain call. So many wonderful people in Malton. Alas, I simply cannot shoot them all. I can try though. And The Supreme court seems to be on a mission to slap everyone with a newspaper at least 18 times...Oh yes, there were toasts and taunts a plenty. But it wasn't all games. The Bluefish gave us all a demonstration on gravity. A phone call made by certain doctor brought the tone down quite a bit.

But I could not stay. Personal business was calling me away. I'd avoided it for long enough. My goodbyes were short and sweet and I headed North East again, through Lockettside where I found the very lovely Bootsy Funk, towards South Blythville. A child, a little girl who's been like family to me since coming back to Malton, had a rather horrid experience here. First she was murdered by a fellow by the name of RFKzombiekiller. The aftermath of this shook through the community. Seems that RFK is a pederast (and quite possibly a necrophiliac.) I won't go into details. But the perpetrator was in a gang by the name of Team Zombie Hardcore who were also involved in a turf war with Malton Skeet Club and the Brain Rot Revive Clinic. This crime naturally came up as part of their public discussion. There was a whole lot of victim blaming, bullying of the victim's friends and relatives as well as false accusations flying around about the victim and her advocates. Most of the one's speaking up for RFK were members of TZH. So I did a little reading.

Team Zombie Hardcore are a small, but over-zealous cult of survivors. They're dedicated to the worship of Mark Wahlberg, (formerly "Marky Mark" of the Funky Bunch,) and "awesomeness." (An interesting aside: I think I'm developing a little crush on Doctor Tom.) They're also anti-zombie. They're not all bad though...in fact they make excellent victims since they are so averse to death and dying, that they'll kick and whinge and cause a huge scene after the fact. I don't believe in ghosts, but I imagine that if there such a thing that TZH are the type of people who would come back to haunt me with internet memes and the occasional mysterious scent of beer sweat.

Naturally I had words with the people involved. Talk is cheap though. Violence is much better value.

A few Philosophe Knights had been stalking the area with the intention to give TZH a lesson in proper etiquette. As had BrainROT rum. And this is where Malton's College of Medicine comes into the story. While I was happily living it up with the Flat Earth Society and their entourage assorted weirdos, Dhavid Grohl, the leader and representative of TZH or at least, the most vocal member of the group, was harassing a couple of my friends in the Malton College of Medicine, although, the impression I got was that he had been harassing the entire college with his foul language and general reprobatedness. But the two who had been primary targets of his verbal assaults were Valeria and Hikari. Since these two had stood up for the little girl I previously mentioned, Dhavid had been pestering my friends in the college and taking advantage of the proposed cease fire in effect on campus. The Philosophe Knights will not kill people inside a learning institution. BrainROT rum won't kill those that advocate on behalf of brain rotted survivors. Since the Malton College of Medicine falls into both these catagory, both Valeria and Hikari honored the agreement. Not that they didn't want to kill Grohl. But it seems their sense of honor stood firmly in the way of their thirst for Dhavid's blood.

Conversely, I am not bound by any rules. I kill who I like, whenever I like, wherever I like. There are certain people, people that I respect, people I don't want dead and people who I don't believe deserve to die yet, who will not taste the heat of my muzzle. About the only restriction I tend to place on my work is that of excessive slaughter. Okay I lie. I don't even adhere to that. But I don't tend to revisit my victims. At least, not without good reason.

This is a good reason: you fuck with my friends, I fuck back. And I have a lot of friends. Sometimes I like to bring them with me.

It was a simple gesture.


So I kept to the point.

Dipcup had some issues restraining his enthusiasm.

No need for the good people of MCM to go without a show though.

Though they were a chatty bunch. Emmy Jay piped up immediately after to protest. As did Prof John. I decided not to torment them for much longer as I had much more interesting things to do, like sleeping. After all, I had a full and busy day planned for the next day.


I was rather tempted, but I really only came back for one thing.

One of my more famous friends was good enough to drop by...

And indeed it was a fun lesson.


But this was starting to be de ja vu for me all over again. I retired to Gummy Bank with Dirty Girl and Valeria. Unfortunately some rather dodgy looking men in trenchcoats came and evacuated us.

That was not an issue, I wandered over to the Pippard Building and was revived almost instantaneously by Valeria. Convenience has would have it that Chooper was sitting in the building when I awoke.

One head is as good as another really. And death can really hurt a brain rotted survivor if there isn't a good brain rot revive clinic in the area. I restocked and headed over to Club Antel where I was joined by a friend by the name of Falcon Talon who I had known from a previous trip to Stanbury Village before I left Malton. We swapped stories and drank and eventually passed out. Falcon had murdered Dhavid while I was restocking too. It's nice to have friends.

Upon waking up, I'd noticed that Falcon had recieved several gunshot wounds. A rather obnoxious chap by the name of OneEyedJhack was waving his pistol around and shouting obscenities. I didn't have any drugs on me at the time otherwise I'd have healed my friend myself. I woke Falcon up gently and he healed himself. Jhack was going on about Dhavid being killed and how killers deserve to die and how hard it was to kill someone in a building in such a horribly derilect state. I decided not to engage him since it would require more effort to shut him the hell up again. But I did point out that he had in fact murdered some people and how silent killers make me sad and left it at that. He swore at me as I left. I didn't quite catch what he was babbling about. Something about people who destroy generators deserving to die. Malton is such a fickle materialistic place. Most people value property over life. Anywho, this guy was not pleasant. I decided to wander back over to the hospital to see if i could see Dhavid in there again. He'd not been revived. So I scouted a little north hoping to find some other tasty target.

As it happens I did. However, this one i decided to play with a little. I watched shotgun ed sleep. It didn't do me any favors, I nodded off momentarily and was awoken by the sting of several bullets piercing through my flak jacket. It didn't take much to make bishop's attack even harder. It didn't deter him. But I had to commend his efforts. I was still in need of medical assistance, so I decided to head back to St George's Hospital. I wandered in and sat next to Hikari dropping some gummy bears on the lecturn as I entered. Unfortunately I couldn't bare the overly dramatic survivors for long. I did try to calm them down and assure them that I wasn't there to kill them. But paranoia is pretty much part of life here in Malton. Especially amongst the younger ones. So I gadded about greentown for a little while restocking and scouting and finally came to rest down in Dartside. As fate would have it, I was in the right place at the right time to meet a certain famous firefighter. Just a little too early however to meet the infamous Mister Karelin. I didn't have time to hang around and wait for him. I had a meeting in Marven.





Of course, that little bit of dirty work didn't put me off meeting and chatting with one of Maltons most famous killers, SiIIyLiIlyPilly. Actually, she's in a group of girls that run wild around Malton all claiming to be the same person. I love this idea. Pathetic Bill is another one that does this. In fact, Pathetic Bill and Silly Lilly Pilly were also some people who inspired me to start this line of work. Indeed, I had a long fun filled day. It didn't take much to get me off guard. And as I was wandering around looking to top off this day, I found Hikari...Rather she found me. Just as I was being shot by SuicideKhing. While this was indeed rather irksome, I took it in my stride. I have come to expect death lurking in the corner of a club. It doesn't stop me from partying there. Hikari seems more sensitive and prone to worrying about these sorts of things. She swore vengeance, and got it in the end.

The next day, I was revived and wandered back inside. It didn't take much to find OneEyedJhack again.

Naturally, I look after my friends. And I enjoy giving tips to aspiring killers, regardless of how these murderers might feel about me.


Claiming bounties is not really my bag though. Where's the fun in killing a murderer? White hats are so dull. I mean really, bounty hunters are just murderers with more specific targets. Why hunt when you can kill at random and cause further confusion and chaos? Eh, I suppose I could give it a shot...Okay, that was a terrible pun. I'll give it a go one day though. For now, I'm having way too much fun killing for my own enjoyment.

Speaking of fun, you'll recall Matroskin from one of my many trips through the most swinging suburb in Malton, Pitneybank. I ran into him whilest chatting with yet another friend I'd met in Gibsonton. I love it when the fun follows me around. Screw Names was a sweetheart to patch me up after that little incident, too. As I wandered back up to the mall, I did see Matroskin again however I wasn't particularly inclined to say hi.

Someone I did want to say hi to was KILLFASTER, another Philosophe Knight whom I'd only been vaguely acquainted with before.

I do hope I didn't give him the wrong impression.

I'm not inclined to snatch a kill out from under a person like that.
But he was sort of dozing at the barrel.


Tsk. I have been bad this week. Even the Duke seemed to be avoiding me this week. Killing students and taunting Philosophe Knights...it's hardly surprising. Must be the something in the air of this suburb. Vigilis says that he'll have to give me a reprimand for killing in the college. Not that I'd mind punishment at his hands...

But at least I had fun. And to top it off, Lonely Killer gave me a rather touching send off. Such a sweet kid. And smart, too. Alas, it didn't last long. But I managed to give him something to remember me by. Pinatas are not usually my style but then, getting shot isn't either.

Ah it's been a great week. I've had a ball and even managed to get my 100th kill.

It was a rather subdued affair.


Pole is not really the location I'd have chosen had I realised I was nearing a landmark. But I was on the move and took the opportunity to unwind a little. I do hope bienjii will look me up one of these days. It'd be nice to let her know that her murder was in fact unique from the 101 others.

Tonight I sleep alone as it's business as usual in the morning.