Breath Is Just A Clock...Ticking

Well here we are again. Another year. It's all fresh and new, or so they'd have you believe. About the only thing that really changes is the faces on the corpses at my feet. Maybe some see that as bleak. I'm still having fun though. As long as there are people out there, real people who are happy to die, kill or bring life back into this city, I'll keep doing this. Especially since there are so many trusting, naive townies to take advantage of.

I spent a good deal these last two months down in MCM. It felt good to converse with some of my former targets as well as the staff and students there. South Blythville is a fun town and I couldn't resist the occasional random murder. A number of more specific targets got in my way. However I never hunted Sarge Johnson and I still for the life of me can't remember why he was on my naughty list. Oh well, he's dead now. Zerger hardcoreFAKing died too.

And with the best of intentions I stayed on at MCM, assisting as a meat shield mostly, as I did very little killing while in the area. Cobra13 made an appearance as well. I'm a little disappointed that he didn't mutilate my corpse, like he promised some...well almost a year ago now. And then there was norfolk n good aka doberman guy. His opinion really meant nothing to me since, well, he's zerg listed.

But apparently getting killed by zergs DEM, barricading for MCM and talking was being hostile, at least, according one supposed DEM leader and Tookey...it all got very repetitive. Especially since I was well aware of the neutral zone policies oh...about six months ago when I violated them to help out a friend who's since left Malton. In any case, the idiots who got all upset over getting murdered over six months ago have escallated due to a deficit of attention. I suppose they figure the more idiotic they act, the more publicity. Which might be true, but there are steaming piles of idiots all across Malton. Indeed there are billions of them right across the planet. What difference is one more dead one? Why should I waste my energy? I achieved what I was trying to do with a couple bullets in the right place six months ago. To dwell on that would be pretty stupid especially when there are much more interesting, fun targets all around me. It's always how I've managed to perservere in spite of and because of adversity. I have fun. I kill, I am killed, I laugh, I win. I enjoy watching others flail about and eventually become drowned out, swallowed up by pits of their own bullshit. Cruelty doesn't even come into it when one considers the state of affairs in Malton. And I won't deny I'm cruel, manipulative, condescending, detatched, spiteful, wrathful and sometimes downright arrogant. I don't deny that at all. I never claimed to be a saint. I do however, come off like a martyr. Just like christ heh. There's one vital difference though: I don't love my enemies. I have no enemies. They don't exist.

Anyhow, it was time to make some heads roll. Tasselhoff Burfoot died in place of doberman guy who was incapacitated by the time I was ready to fire.

The real reason I wasn't doing much killing was because I was waiting for the right moment to give a lecture. But I absolutely had to formally invite Josh Clark since he was good enough to put me in one of his little propaganda films.



The lecture never happened. But the demonstration I had planned with a couple other rummers, namely dipcup, Duke D'ouevre and Claybourne Duvall went off with a bang.



But my presence in MCM was becoming a bit of a problem. Not for the staff or students but for the Bounty Hunters and the idiots.

So I slept off campus for a while. Naturally I figured one of the 9000 bounty hunters in the area would take advantage of this. And fortunately it was the lovely Fyra Twill. Arthur, to answer your question: I love the south west and yes, I was indeed enjoying the area. The reason I didn't answer you back was because I had to run across town to thank Fyra for stopping by.



I came to rest in the Catcott building in Mornington with aPathetic Bill. I wasn't sure I'd wake up alive. I wasn't certain I wouldn't. But I didn't. Not so much as a call the next day when I was still pretty sure I existed. Hmph. At least Team America were pleased to see me, even if I did miss their christmas carol spectacular inside MCM.

And then there was Brian Mercat. He'd been making claims in MCM. Can't really fault him for it. Myself and a number of others were easy prey there and he wasn't using the neutral zone except to hunt. I'm a little disappointed that he didn't come and claim me again. Perhaps I should be grateful? Either way, I had Red Rum business over in Vinetown. That lecture was going to have to wait yet again. And so myself, the Duke, dipcup and a number of other rummers ran all the way across town. The best part of this was that the bounty hunters were three days behind. So I had a little time to do some celebrating.













And the all was merry and bright. A close personal friend even dropped by to share some rum.



Of course, I tend to over exert myself on holidays. I popped next door to a railway station to sleep off my hangover. This was where I met Stu Lantz, a bright, dashing or, at the very least enthusiastic chap with overly amourous tendancies. I must say, I do have a soft spot for romantics. And Stu was definitely no exception. Indeed, after he axed me for my digits, I was compelled to hit him back.



This left me out in the middle of Houldenbank. And I found myself dead again the next day at the hands of some random brutish amatuer. But all was not lost. Stu was kind enough to arrange a revive for me. And I must say, I don't think I've ever been pricked quite so...uniquely.

I was rather surprised to find some interesting people over this way. I suppose I haven't really given the area much of a chance. Whenever I've been over in Vinetown, Osmondville or the surrounds, it's usually been a brief visit.

In any case, it was new years eve and I decided to spend it it with one of these interesting locals. Much of that night was spent talking...I had a feeling it wouldn't be our last meeting though so I wasn't disappointed to see that Stu had up and wandered off when I woke up.

And it was business as usual the next day. Some random murderer posing as a cop caught the brunt of my hangover. But as I was wandering around outside the night before, looking for a revive point, I noticed a certain "upstart" bounty hunter. I say upstart. Really she's top of her game and almost ready to retire. One of the few bounty hunters in Malton I respect as, not only a peer but an elite huntress. In fact, I'd not even been looking for her as I hadn't ever expected to find her before her retirement. Again I'll chalk this one up as kismet smiling upon me.



Then it was back to business as usual. Cliff Machete died, as did Bad Touch Bob. But Bad Touch Bob was just sloppy seconds. I was getting restless. I needed to move again. But not before Stu and Josh stopped by with wishes of wellness.

I suppose it was fortunate that I received an invitation to dance with the Philosophe Knights back on the West side of Malton. I only suppose it fortunate as I could not stay long. However I did stay long enough to run into Zaruthustra. And thus he spake.

"Before you they feel small, and their baseness glimmers and glows in invisible revenge. Have you not noticed how often they became mute when you stepped among them, and how their strength went from them like smoke from a dying fire? Indeed, my friend, you are the bad conscience of your neighbors: for they are unworthy of you. They hate you, therefore, and would like to suck your blood. Your neighbors will always be poisonous flies; that which is great in you, just that must make them more poisonous and more like flies. Flee, my friend, into your solitude and where the air is raw and strong! It is not your lot to shoo flies."

Killing in the Name

Well it's been an interesting few days. When I last posted, I was already bored with Wyke Hills after only being in town a couple days. I think boredom's thick purple tentacles managed to probe their way into my unconscious mind as that night I had a dream about another realm. I dreamed I was sleeping alone in a gun store in Valhalla and angels and demons were fighting for control of a post-apocalyptic Earth. It was here that a woman by the name of TerminalFailure murdered me with magic. This name of course had been lazing about in my subconscious for some time and I awoke, certain that I'd come into contact with this person once before. But further investigation into this matter was postponed, as during my sleep, the brother of one of my victims sought vengeance. But revives are the fastest they've ever been in Malton. So I decided to look into this matter further rather than wasting my energy searching for Josh Clark, who had a perfectly valid reason for killing me. Though I didn't really appreciate the skyting part. Regardless, I had more on my mind than just couple shells and the tingling chemicals of revivification syrum.

It wasn't until I found the real TerminalFailure in Buckley Mall, that I remembered where I'd seen him before.



It was at a revive point, after hurricaine635 murdered me. TerminalFailure is one of the CDF and has been on my hit list for some time now. I'm not certain but I think he's some sort of head scientist for their organisation. Who knows what these army boys do in their forts? He's a childish sort; recently he was stirring up some trouble with two prominent members of DORIS. This simply would not do.



I learned later that TerminalFailure had killed Tolkien Black Man for reasons unknown. I suspect it was in my place. I have a feeling he'll be bountied soon if he hasn't already.

So I retired to Club Morris where a fellow rummer stopped by to say hi. He was bountied later that night. I tried to look for his killer but to no avail. However I did find someone I'd recently become acquainted with in Lockettside. Oinkler was sitting in the upper-left corner of Buckley when I found him. I beckoned that he come closer.



And finally took care of our unfinished business.



But truely the most fun I've had this week began when I caught a renouned snitch, jesusowns, unawares in the mall.



You'll note that picture was taken by a third party, a person who goes by the name of TheDavibob. I wrangled it from the Rogue's Gallery which I've found to be a rather wonderful resource of entertainment of late.

To thank TheDavibob for posting the wonderful picture of me killing jesusowns, I stopped by Buckley yet again to give him a present.


Unfortunately he replied with hostility and chauvinism, beginning with this report where he appears to be confused about my gender. Straight up, I'm female. Just because I don't flash my breasts at every mall rat in sight, or twirl my hair and pout at every army boy in the fort, I'm certain I'm more female than most of these boys can handle. Just ask LCplHicks, Duke D'œuvre, Jay Kindle, The Dancing Banana, GioV, Suburban Ed or Tolkien Black Man. ;) Besides, most of these townies aren't exactly the most stimulating characters around, so naturally they react with spite and insults to assure themselves that their masculinity is in tact. Either that or they're simply ignorant. Hey, as much as I'd like to claim that I'm flawless, even I make mistakes every now and then. I initally thought Eugenie DeFranval was male. I was most pleased to meet her in person and find out that she is most definitely female.

I believe TheDavibob was merely the second variety, so I gave him a day to think it through. My instincts were maybe a little off as TheDavibob decided to hunt me down at Club Morris. Later on, he posted on the Rogue's Gallery about his accomplishments, again, failing to properly articulate my gender. I then faced a moral dillema. I believe that hunting down someone more than once is futile. Not only does it waste a shit load of ammunition, it also takes time to properly locate and assail one's victim a second time. I know well enough about hunting for sport. After all, many of my victims were selected for commiting an initial faux pas against me or one of my friends before a final and fatal encounter, (much like TerminalFailure, jesusowns and Oinkler though these three didn't make themselves very hard to find.) Common sense, though seemingly in short supply in Malton, is something I tend to rely on a lot. If one doesn't want to die, don't sleep in a populous resource building. If you don't want to die constantly, don't go outside to shoot zombies. If you don't want to be murdered, don't do stupid shit. And chasing down grudges is a waste of time and energy. Anyhow, I wanted to teach TheDavibob a lesson. I wasn't sure how to go about it at first, so I sat and watched him sleep in the mall. Soon I grew tired and allowed him to sleep heavily, safe and ignorant that I'd been revived.

The next day however I'd devised a most delightful plan. I headed over towards the Wyke/Buttonville border and searched the mall, Julie General, the warehouse and the fire station next to Buckley. I found him in the Knapton building. Sleeping apparently. I was still hesitant about my plan and remained alert whilest steadying my right hand to aim and my left to hold the microphone on the radio. Alas, he fled just as I was ready to shoot. Dejected I decided to head back into the mall, where I found some injured townies. I decided to leave them be for the time being and head over to the North West corner of Buckley, just to see who I could see, as I'd been having quite a bit of luck with finding people I'd been meaning to catch up with. This would have been a waste of energy usually but I think you get what you put into it though. If you make an effort to have fun, it will always find you. Kismet and Karma it seems are bountiful and kind in Malton. And in the North Western corner of Buckley Mall I found TheDavibob and began my broadcast. Fortunately, a friend had been monitoring the same station and I was able to get a copy for posterity.


After the initial broadcast I murdered Paxton Smith.

I hopped over to the North Eastern corner and resumed the broadcast.

And murdered Rugs00.

Then announced why Badass Ben had to die:



And dedicated my final kill for the evening to the one thing all females have in common:


And with that, I signed off.

Not willing to give any opportunistic male bounty hunters the satisfaction of taking this murderer's little feminist victory away, I leapt from a window with a massive smile on my face.



Not long after, Duke had words with TheDavibob on a WPKU broadcast.



He wasn't far away after all! I could have kissed him for killing TheDavibob. Unfortunately, in my state, a kiss would have surely infected him.

Incidentally, I'm a little disappointed in the sudden lack of camera skills in the Northern half of Buckley Mall after my little killing spree. If anyone reading this has a shot of the murders, please come forward. You'll be on my "Do Not Kill" list for life. That goes for almost anyone who can provide me personally with shots of my kills. Almost.

I've had a blast these past few days in Wyke Hills and Buttonville and I am sad to have to leave in such a hurry. But once again there is business to attend to in the North West. If all goes well, I may return in a little while. In the meantime here's the original and unabridged recording that that handsome Vandr snagged.



Oh! And a special shout out to Roy Banes from The Spartans who stopped by to wish me well last week. Hopefully we'll meet again amongst more comfortable surroundings.