The Art of Looking For Trouble

Politics is the art of looking for trouble, finding it whether it exists or not, diagnosing it incorrectly, and applying the wrong remedy. ~Ernest Benn

I arrived in Dulston a little tired. I was assured that the Treaty would sit nicely around me after my last post. After a little rest in the mall, I found out that someone has a crush on me. Marriage is really not my bag but it made me smile none the less. I am not certain, but I believe it was a young professional. At least this way, his heart is not broken.

Apparently, bureaucrats are the professionals that never sleep. EvilRed tried to murder me. Thankfully, my lovely loyal manservent, GioV, was on hand to save me for another day. And yes, only one day passed before EvilRed found satisfaction. In any case I was up and alive again in next to no time. I searched a little for EvilRed but I wasn't all that anxious. And as I was searching, the treaty was broken.

Myself and members of the group Red Rum commenced slaying innocents. Most of the others took the flashy route, killing mall rats mercilessly. However I landed in a little police department by the name of Younghusband Square PD and found myself some lovely bloodied townies.



Of course, I couldn't do it without wearing myself out.

A little while later, I took a deep breath and my senses came flooding back. Before leaving I said "Oh dear...I bet that hurt." Yeah okay, it wasn't banterlicious like the lovely lovely Karloth Vois. Random quips never were my thing. But I found it amusing.

I ended up sleeping next door with that fabulous pirate, LeChuck. Unfortunately, the museum was over run by zombies before I awoke. LeChuck was still in good spirits, as usual. I think he had a bit too much brainROT rum.

Again, it wasn't long before I felt the sweet release of the MKII pulsing through my veins. I ended up in some dive of a tower. A couple Rummers joined me and I barely resisted the urge to kill them. But again, ZOMBIES! This time, a friend of a friend decided he wanted me all to himself. So I decided then was as good a time as any to leave the town of Dulston to the rest of the Rummers, the Big Bash and The Dead.

Tonight, I decided to rat on a fellow "killer," if one so lowly can be called such. An impostor, a zerger, a dirty cheat seem much more apposite names for such an individual. He has been cloning himself. As a favor to a friend, I reported him.
As a result my sleep was disturbed by some rather nasty screaming. Apparently, PrivateDamage is a whiney little pussy bitch and can't handle being on Malton's wanted list. I probably shouldn't have done it. Politics is a dirty business after all. I had absolutely no intention of getting involved from the start. But, I couldn't resist my friend's gentlemanly charms. I sighed, got up, wandered over to the church and got a revive inside from a lovely lady with an aversion to zombies. I stood up immediately and wandered back inside to find him not far away.


And with that, I prepared to kill his clone in the North West corner. Ahhh...The best laid plans of mice and men often go awry. Yet another clone decided to take a shot. I could go back and kill the clone, and get shot by yet another clone, then go back, kill the other...But I'm more interested in new faces to kill.

I'll be speaking to a friend about this person, expect a list of his identities soon. In the mean time, my friends, feel free to take a few shots at them for me. I can guarentee you they'll be in Dowdney Mall or the Sweatman Motel.

A Good Friday

Seeing as the entire south was now red, I decided to head back to Pitneybank to restock and figure out where to go next.

I saw froto around. I didn't get the chance to remind him that I didn't stalk him through the message board. Although, that may have been because someone spanked him for being a very naughty boy.



But more fun was had in Giddings


Later on I found Dirk Triggerfinger sleeping in "The Fortress of Prostitution's Gift Shoppe." I decided that I was fairly safe as Duke D'ouvre had passed on my kind regards to him. But rather than take my chances I said to him:
"Dirk! Lovely to see you again! I wanted to THANK you for your wonderful advice, even though I wasn't actually hiding, or sleeping, merely napping ;) You'll be glad to know that you didn't disturb my nap by much I'm sure!" Yawning and stretching I added,
"Well, I'm rather sleepy. I think I'll have to pass out here. I'm sure I can trust that you will be on your best behavior, Mister Triggerfinger. It'd be an awful shame to have to paint you with the same brush I paint the DEM."
He replied:
"Amber how nice to see you, as pleasant as ever. Pass my regards to Duke, I saw his work on the brainstock. I'm never one to shoot somebody so polite so feel free to sleep in any building I'm in, The Big Bickie that I am." I love a guy with a sense of humour. He added:
"Oh, and the Creedy defense force are not really our 'buddys' more along the line that after a year of fighting we decided to quit our war." And showed me this page. I slept heavily after that and upon waking I was sure to thank him.
"Wow I'm still alive! I absolutely will convey your greetings to the Duke. You're a true gentleman Mister Triggerfinger and I am glad to have met your acquaintance. I'll be sure to stop by and say hi again on my way back. Ciao bella!" I even blew him a kiss to him as I left.

I didn't get far before I found some injured humans to prey upon.



But the true crowning glory on my week, perhaps even my year laid in wait next door at Shadwick Police Department. I stocked up and wandered over to Reake Towers to sleep where I found even more injured people. I quickly contacted Duke D'oeuvre who wandered over and spent the night.

On the friday we rested up, partaking in scones and a little tea and later some lovely Red Rum. Before long we were bored with deep conversation over the treaties between a couple of groups of murderers and the upright citizens of Dulston. A brief argument ensued about different methods of anaesthesia which quickly turned to silence. Rather than dwell on our differences, we decided to team up and go next door and practice a little.

But he couldn't leave it be. "Miss Pain, I really must protest. Surely medical supplies are a much more effective method of anaesthesia than... biting bullets, or whatever your proposal is?"

And so...I showed him my methods.



A first hand demonstration there towards the end. I think it did him good. All this talk of treaties has softened him up. At least he was good enough to take some lovely photos. But really, I can't disagree totally with it. The more The Dead kill, the less I can kill. And I'm just starting to get a real hunger for it. I'm heading towards Dulston now to help out the alliance.

For posterity. That's 8 kills in case you were counting...I really need to make a list.

Swinging Through Vinetown

As promised, I took my leave of Pitneybank in favor of greener pastures. The lazy DEM had been huddled together in Wyke Hills and the surrounding suburbs for some time while the rest of the town's streets ran red with blood. Alas, I didn't get very far before that pit of green turned red too. So I decided to hang out in Vinetown for a little while.

Caunt Street Police Dept. was ripe for the picking. However, kismet led me through Mitchem Mall. It was here that I found Rev Lightning.

Of course, I can't prove he was a zombie spy. But my sources are pretty reliable. And even if he isn't, well, you people should know how I feel about religion now.


Nobody expects the spanish inquisition. Of course, I didn't expect to find such fun in Vinetown either. I skipped over to the south western corner of Mitchem to reload and I witnessed a murder. Or rather, a bounty being served.

I was somewhat surprised to see that Froto was doing some bounty hunting in Mitchem Mall, since the badge he brandished read "Malton Civil Defence Unit." From what I know, and that isn't a whole lot, the MCDU don't serve bounties. The Marshals do all DEM's dirty work.

So I chilled a little while in the towers next door and later decided to help Froto climb up the ladder a bit.



No pain, no gain as they say.


He later came back for some vengence which he tried to pass off as collecting a bounty. The nerve. I've a clean slate thank you very much! Well, almost clean.

And so after a speedy revive, I was almost set to leave Vinetown. Except, I couldn't resist a peak at Caunt Street, just to see how the babies were doing. And I found it ruined. Not a breathing soul in site. I skipped over to the mall again because I wanted to thank the good people of Mitchem Mall for their kind hospitality.



I haven't the faintest idea why Mad Muchacho suddenly fell down dead at my feet. Honest.

Perhaps he was overcome with joy.

Anyhow, I had to depart rather hastily, and I headed back towards Hartleys PD. There I found the doors wide open with some seventeen zombies inside. They'd been munching on Fireman too. I healed him a little. After a little deliberation, and finding the zombies a little more frisky than they appeared, I decided to snatch one of the innocents from their claws.



Yes, the infection took it's toll. I passed out after managing to shout "Yoink" to the zombies who had been working Danvers over. In my sleep, I believe I heard fireman's voice, firing and running. The details are sketchy in my newly revived memory.

But a little while later I stood shakily and made my leave.



Ah. It's been quite a swell time. I died just as I wandered inside a hospital a day or two later. Stood up and Mrh?ed to no avail. And got snitched on after a revive and a little pay back in Lumber Mall. No kills, I was feeling generous. But Johny the Slayer had best watch himself from now on. Mercy is in short supply now a days.

Dirty Deeds, Done Dirt Cheap

My what a blast I've been having in Pitneybank. The people here are simply fabulous and really know how to make a gal feel like a queen.

Where I left off I'd killed my dear friend Rebis scout and Matroskin. I didn't go far, in fact I think I only stepped over to Giddings' North East corner. Of course, I wasn't exactly hiding. So it's a fair cop that Matroskin found me, shot me and dumped my body outside. I waited probably only half an hour for a revive. My skin was still warm by the time the scientist stuck me with a needle and before too long I was back inside Giddings warm embrace. It was while I was restocking here that a friend dropped in to greet me on his way to the front line.

This time I had a little opportunity drop into my lap in the form of QStone. It is said that injured townies are like crack to those of my ilk. If so I have a rather bad habbit.



Of course, that's not to say I don't still enjoy it. Indeed, if it was purely business I wouldn't have thought twice about killing him and dumping him outside.



But curse my theatrics! A physician got to him just as I was landing the killing shot.



So, I shot him too.



And as predicted, the silly townie ran. Let that be a lesson to the goodie goodie mall rats. If someone is doing some shooting, run screaming. Much like this guy did. I have to admit, it made my day. Hazzard, if you're reading this, I've got you on my list now. Grab a phone and I'll gladly fill you in on the details of my whereabouts.

Didn't I tell you Pitneybank folks know how to treat a gal? Oh yeah, let's not forget about Dirk. I was actually restocking and preparing to head into Morrish once more when Dirk Triggerfinger, the scarey big bickie that he is, came by to give me a little friendly advice. I'm not sure what part of nihilism Dirk doesn't understand. Or maybe he thinks I really do care about life. In any case, his murder was negated in less than three minutes after I woke up dead. Hilarious no?

So with a little spring in my step I wandered back into Giddings, (yes, again!) and looked around for Dirk to tell him how amusing that little adventure had been. Alas, I didn't find him. However, I did find a little serial killer crack.



And I would have had my fix too...


If it wasn't for a couple of active townies. But, at least I got a free heal out of it. So I can't complain. As a matter of fact, I won't complain at all since I found an even larger stash of killer crack a mere moment later next door.

Ahh Kismet.

Truely she was smiling upon me this day.

I need to learn to take advantage of her more often.


And that, dear friends, makes two hat tricks and 23 people who have suddenly died near me.

I'm heading back south. As much as I'd love to stay in Pitneybank and show Dirk how much I appreciated his wisdom, it's time to do a little cleansing down there. The lovely people at DEM are hinting that they might support dirty tactics to stay alive whilst anarcho-terrorist zombie group, The Dead, a horde of goons who've suddenly spawned around 1500 members, eats Malton out of house and home. I'm sort of apathetic towards The Dead. Most of them are harmless. They're a big group of zombies. About half of Malton's population are zombies and has been for at least as long as I've been back here. Oh sure, maybe they're making it slightly harder for me to find new and interesting people to shoot, but on the plus side, I've just found a shitload of idiots to shoot. And after all, I'm not an elitist. I don't discriminate based on IQ. All are welcome to step in front of my shotgun, regardless of their mental capacity.

Anyhow, the more cowardly amoungst the DEM have been struggling to hold the south central part of Malton. The four largest zombie groups in the city, The Dead, The Militant Order of Barhah, The Big Bash and The Ridleybank Resistance Front are all hovering in the redzones just a little way north, west and east. I'm surprised that they haven't mearly run through the hordes to save the cities beyond. But like I said, they'd sooner play dirty than do something useful.

So, tomorrow they die.

I'll Note You In My Book Of Memory

I made it to Pitneybank a couple days back. Apologies to those who have been keeping track of this log and have been disappointed to find mere ramblings and reminiscence of a past I should have forgotten.

Let's see where did we leave off?

Ah yes! Deadhead17. I must commend the Necrotechnicians of Pegton for their speedy revival service. It was fast enough to lend Deadhead a couple hours to come and meet and greet me properly.



Good times. Fireman32 was kind enough to provide us with some proper Hors D'oeuvres and even expressed interest in assisting me. I can't imagine what I could possibly need assistance with...I suppose it would be nice to have a manservant around to take care of a few things. If you are still interested Fireman, I would suggest you bring your talented tongs up to Pitneybank. There's a hungry bunch of folks up here who are just dying to taste your wares.

Speaking of deliciousness, I finally found Duke D'oeuvre. In a cinema, in the dark. I sat down next to him. He was injured, bleeding heavily. He leaned over in the darkness and whispered, "Did you remember to bring the tea?" before passing out. Delirium had overtaken the poor man so I healed him up as much as I could before falling asleep while images of Carey Grant flickered across the screen.

When I awoke, I found a coyote had killed him. Unfortunate that it had to end that way. I'll find him again when he is revived.

The next day I had business to tend to.

Can't say as I took particular pleasure in killing Dirk Triggerfinger. I consider it a selfless act really, a public service. Well, that is if two people can be considered th' public. Of course, being a Creedy Guerilla Raider, a group that is awfully buddy buddy with Creedy Defence Force, I do take a little pleasure from injuring them by proxy.

I wandered back to a warehouse where I happened upon none other than THE Michael Corsair! Uncle Zeddie himself! I spoke softly as he seemed a little under the weather and healed him a little. After a little while, he was gone again! Alas, no autograph! No photos! I'm a bit ashamed of my groupie like behaviour as I was slightly overwhelmed and passed out on a crate. But I did get to drop him a line later on.

But it was back to business today with a very naughty Matroskin striking a deal with the wrong side of my shotgun.

What did he do again? Oh I don't remember. But whatever it was, rest assured, he deserved it.

And in the crowd I saw a few friends. Jay Kindle hobbled in. I thought he might do a bit of pink brain hunting. But he was in poor health so I patched him up a little and he wandered off to find somewhere to sleep.

But an even older friend stuck out in the crowd. I didn't make myself known immediately as we had parted in disagreement about a week earlier. But I couldn't help but give him a little taste of what I do.



I suppose I must have overwhelmed him with love. He is very dear to my heart.

And with all the death around me, I'm picking up some new skills. I've finally figured out how to revive someone from their undead state. Perhaps I'll go stick a needle in my old friend tomorrow. In fact, I think I'll rather enjoy that. He has quite an aversion to needles. Yes, I am evil. But you love it.

This Is The Living End But It's Still Living

My eyes are open, it's cold. I blink to focus. The room is tinted blue by the glass encasing me. My breath escapes my mouth and hits the glass, condensing in a small white patch of blur on the smooth surface. Was I breathing before?

I can hear the whir of an engine. A refrigerater. It's familiar. It cuts out and the thaw begins to set in. My hand fumbles to push against the glass. It's locked from the outside. It falls to my side again dejected.

My eyes close, I hear faint rushing sounds like wind in the trees.

The sting of a needle and the ground rushing up to meet me. Am I alive?

My eyes open. I am on a table. Bright light above me. It blinds me but I still hear voices. I am small. I can't move. A hand on my chest; the needle stings again; the rushing of the ground coming up to meet me.

I am a child of this system. Today, we're learning about death. The room is brightly lit. I am dead but standing. "Experiment number four one nine. Today is the 11th of May, nineteen ninety five. Time is...thirteen forty." Today is my birthday.

I smell decay, rotting flesh. There is a man standing across the other side of the room. He is holding a weapon. His flesh cries out to me. I move towards him but exhaustion overcomes me. I stand swaying, eyes wide open as he raises his shotgun in aim. The shots echo sharply against the thick concrete walls as he fires. And then I fall heavily against the concrete floor. I am dead but still conscious. The sound of a heavy bolt opening up, a door opens and shuts quickly again. The bolt echos again.

I stand. "Experiment number one zero three two," A speaker crackles as the voice proceeds to mark the date. It's January. I'm alive. I am conscious. "Amber, are you ready?" I go to open my mouth to speak but instead I remain silent. I shut my eyes in anticipation of the inevitable. Another man, enters the room. A draft sweeps in with him. Am I in England? America? "I always feel downright rotten when I do this." He speaks with a twang. He's American. Where though? I brace for what is coming.

Dead again. I stand up. I'm heavy and clumsy. My eyes hurt, I'm in front of a wall. There is grass underneath my bare feet. A figure in the distance barely visible. I don't want this. Not again. I open my mouth to scream and plead but all that I can manage is "Mrh" as the breath shunts from my stomach to my throat. I'm silent again as a shot rings out against the concrete walls. My blood soaks into the dirt and grass.

Dead. I stand up. Another figure. I brace for the impact.

I'm dead. This time I sleep. The nights are cool, black, forgiving, without dreams. The days bring echoing shots, figures standing in the distance, the crackling speaker. I stop counting days.

A tingle in my feet, am I alive? "Experiment number nine six three two." The monotony is broken. I'm being taught something new. Life? Maybe this is life. There are others in the room. Six males, two females. They're dressed in green gowns, slits running up the back. Their skin is smooth and pasty. Another man in a uniform is teaching us how to kill. His brightly coloured charts contrast with the plain grey concrete walls. We are sitting behind a table. It's heavy, antique, red.

"Experiment number one zero two six. Today is the 7th June 2005. Time is...eight forty two." I am alive. It's raining in the exercise yard of the fort. The doctor is watching on from behind as I make my way across the field. A figure casts his shadow against the wall. Today, we're testing my abilities. I am to murder him. It is a final test of skill. I hold in my hand a shotgun. I raise it's sights to eye level and watch the shambling creature from ten feet away. It stares blankly at me. It's barely alive. I release the safety. "Mrh?" I pull the trigger, the shell connects to the flesh. It's blood soaks into the dirt and grass.

I am alive. I haven't been dead for some time now. In line, about seven people in front of me. They are being stuck full of needles. There are about twenty behind me in the room. All of us are dressed in camoflage.
"State your designation."
"One zero eight two zero four six, sir."
The man taps on a keyboard. "DNA, Rubella, Tetanus, Malaria." A needle in my arm extracts blood. The red contrasts quite pretty against the white doctor's robes. Another needle injects clear syrum into my veins. He stamps my card. I am sent off to war.

I am in a room my legs are in stirrups. I am having eggs extracted. The news is good. Six perfect healthy eggs. I'll be informed of the progress. "Thanks for all your work with us Amber. I bet you're looking forward to going back to Malton after all this time." I nod and smile at him. "I'm just disappointed that Necrotech got the cure before we did. Sort of makes your work with us look sort of pointless now." Pity fleets across his face. "At least someone got it. All those soldiers trapped there have hope now." Another silence. I'm alive. I'm getting dressed. I'm walking out the door.