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.