Journal for Specialist290
|| This story is part of the Malton Chronicles.|
This story is fan-made, and is not officially part of any background history for Urban Dead.
(This journal is in-character. Statements made in this journal are not necessarily to be construed as my own personal opinion. Enjoy :p )
January 29, 2007
Finally, a moment when I'm not busy revivifying, killing, healing, barricading, or other such stuff--a moment of peace! Since such moments usually don't last long in this forsaken city, I need to take every one I get. Otherwise I'll snap, if I haven't already...
I go by Specialist290. My real name is neither any of your concern nor any of your business. As far as my next of kin and anyone else on the other side of the quarantine line are concerned, I'm probably already as good as dead anyway. (OK, that's not entirely true; I'm pretty sure I have a cousin somewhere in the city; last I heard he was somewhere up in Yagoton. I hope nothing's happened to the poor guy.) My rank in my old unit was Specialist, and the last three digits of my serial number happen to be 290, in case you're wondering where I got my new name.
As for how I got here, well, let's just say that about a year or so ago--maybe a little more, a little less; time passes awkwardly in Malton--my company was activated as part of a special task force sent to recover and bring back some live specimens for study. It was one of those classified things, the ones where you aren't told anything until just before you're dropped into the combat zone. To tell the truth, I hadn't even heard of Malton before then, much less a zombie outbreak.
We went in and managed to neutralize a few zombies, which we then secured to take back over the Wall. Unfortunately someone didn't tell us that, unlike what we had learned in all those old movies, these zombies were actually able to think to a limited degree. They escaped and called down a freakin' big horde of others, and to cut a long story short the entire strike team was ambushed and wiped out.
Except me, of course. I'm not sure if any others made it out, or were eventually revivified, but I've been a bit too busy ensuring my continued survival to bother with checking up. All of my military gear aside from my uniform and sidearm were lost; it was just too much of a bother to be lugging around when you've got the undead bearing down on you from every side. Eventually, of course, they caught me, and I don't remember too much of what happened after that...
The next thing I remember clearly is that I was lying on my back with a pretty painful sore spot on my neck and a distinct impression of a feeling a bit like having had a few too many drinks while in a rickety old sailing ship during a tremendous storm. Standing up was a bit difficult, but once I managed that my head cleared up pretty quickly.
I spent the next few weeks familiarizing myself with the area and the state of affairs in Malton, eventually joining the remnants of a local news team in a little shindig down at a place called Ackland Mall. Naturally I died a couple times, but I managed to get revived each time. After that, the time all seems to just blur together until about a week or so ago...
Recently I managed to fall in with an eclectic little group known as Ghetto Cow. A number of 'em aren't exactly the sort of people you'd necessarily hang out with outside the Wall, but then most of the survivors in Malton have been driven to some pretty desperate straits by the zombie outbreak.
Anyway, lately we've largely been holed up in the Latrobe Building for a week or two. The place seems to be coming under attack practically every day, but we manage to beat it off--and by "we" I mean "they," as I'm usually asleep during the main struggle, meaning I get stuck with all the post-battle "dirty work." I don't mind, of course, but it's been so long since I've used my trusty pistol that I'm afraid the thing's liable to rust one of these days. I'd usually spend my free time shooting cans to practice my aim, but these days, with zeds likely to break in at any minute, wasted ammo could mean the difference between their corpse hitting the floor and being chucked out, or yours. Then again, it's not that your only threat is going to come from the undead, which is another good reason to conserve ammo...
...Man, that's a long entry. I've got to learn to cut these things down, or else some zombie is probably gonna end up wasting me while I'm trying to make a journal entry, and that would just make a big mess... Well, I guess that's it for today.
--Obligatory Timestamp: --Specialist290 22:21, 29 January 2007 (UTC)
January 31, 2007
Ah, the old "Mall Siege Routine," or as I like to call it, the "Mall Siege Rut." Barricade, Heal, Kill, Dump. These days I never seem to get past the 'Cade and Heal steps. Don't get me wrong--the support jobs are just as important as the combat ones (if not more so), but some days it just gets a little... boring.
I remember Ackland, the original "Bear Pit." Yep, I was there, with ol' Ron himself. I remember when we first moved into the mall and cleared out the zeds. It was fun at first, but then, after a couple of days, it settled into a routine. I suppose all sieges are the same--after a while, they just start to sap the energy out of you a little, and you get the desire to move somewhere else. Personally I'd prefer a straight-up old-fashioned zed hunt to a siege any day, but then so would a lot of people. Besides, I have to stay with my group--esprit de corps and all that, after all, plus it makes a lot more sense to stick together.
At least we're not in the blasted Mall itself. Keeping watch on that place would be like a full-time job, and I've been in this city long enough to know about the Mall's reputation and how that serves as a gravitational pull for zeds. Besides, the sorts of people who hang out in the malls are... a tad strange. I mean, even stranger than some of my squadmates. Finally, malls are kill-magnets--it seems like every anarchist, thug, political zealot, religious wacko, crackpot, kid with a "message" for the world at large, or other menace to society armed with a gun and not using it on zeds likes to prey on the people holed up inside. Obviously, with the way "death" seems to work with the zombie plague, no one is dead forever unless they just choose not to stand up, but then again that's also the problem. Kill one crackpot, and their crackpot friends tend to bring 'em back, or they manage to get a needle from someone that doesn't know their reputation.
Still, I try not to let that get to me. I don't like getting murdered in my sleep any more than the next guy, but tracking them down and filling them full of lead only seems to perpetuate the system and is a waste of time and ammo. I typically leave that job to the guys who specialize in such areas. I just focus on the task at hand. When the zeds leave, then I clean up the riff-raff--if I decide to stay, of course.
Anyway, I gotta check on the still, then get some sleep...
--Obligatory Timestamp: --Specialist290 02:21, 1 February 2007 (UTC)
March 8, 2007
Geez, it's been a long time since I've updated this. Then again, with what I've been through in the past couple of months, it's no wonder...
Well, the Latrobe Building eventually fell, and after that Caiger Mall, making that the second time. Rumor is that numerous groups have been trying to retake the place, but none have been succeeding--personally I'm starting to think that rebuilding the "Fortress of Humanity" is a lost cause. I got caught inside when the zeds hit Latrobe, but I managed to get revived in time for the same thing to happen over by Stickling Mall. Now we're in Ridleybank, which, I keep telling them, is crazy since the place is practically crawling with zeds. Then again, since I'm still following them, I have to wonder who's crazier... --Specialist290♠ 00:34, 9 March 2007 (UTC)
March 27, 2007
Yagoton is a mess.
We zipped up from Nichols Mall a couple of weeks ago with the intent of helping the Channel 4 News Team and their allies out in defending the Yagoton Revivification Clinic. Unfortunately, with several large zed groups in the area it's turned into a really hairy place. Our group has fallen back to a temporary position outside the suburb--I'm not at liberty to disclose where at the moment--but trust me, we haven't left for good. The Czarina says she has a plan, and I can only hope it's a darned good one.
It feels great to be back among the C4NT after so long. I've had a lot of great battles alongside Ron and his companions--the Bear Pit, Barrville and Ridleybank (before it turned into the Battle of Blackmore, Caiger Mall, Stickling Mall, and now finally Yagoton.
Yagoton looks like a... looked like it was a nice place before we got here. The surviving YRC and Abandoned members seem like a decent lot. They say that in the olden days the Clinic could process almost 100 revivees in a single day, but I kinda tend to wonder whether or not that might be an exaggeration.
Incidentally, I think it was Yagoton where my cousin disappeared; I've asked around among some of the natives, but only a few seem to remember him, and no one's seen him. I'll have to do some detective work someday--but right now, there's a bit of a zombie infestation to deal with... --Specialist290 ♠♥♣♦ 23:48, 27 March 2007 (BST)
April 8, 2007
Yagoton is still a mess. It's looking better, though.
A couple of my squadmates and I participated in the strike to retake the Whatmore Building last Friday alongside Padre Romero and a few other notables. I managed to kill 2 zeds out of 10 and inflict some significant damage on the others. Originally it was just us 8 sleeping there, and we thought we weren't going to make it through the night. Now there's a whole lot more people inside the building, and more are coming in every day as the Clinic starts to empty out.
It's amazing how things can change so quickly and unexpectedly in Malton. I can remember the days when the population of that old human bastion Caiger Mall was in the thousands; now, from what I hear of it, the place is practically deserted aside from a rather permanent feral population that hangs around. New groups appear, and some flourish; old groups disappear for no reason and with no warning. Even the zombies themselves appear to be getting--dare I say it--smarter lately.
In other news, it came as quite a surprise to the rest of the defenders when Major Grippy showed up in Whatmore. He's been gone for so long that he's practically acquired legendary status, like a character out of a story you'd tell your kids. Come to think of it, Ron seems to have disappeared on us, too. Pretty soon, I suppose, I'll be the only one of the old guard left.
Still, it looks like things are going our way once again. Somebody was talking about how some expert said that survivor numbers are going up again. I don't know about any of that firsthand, but it does seem like things are getting a little easier on us lately. I'm keeping on my toes, though--who knows what tricks those zeds'll come up with next... --Specialist290 ♠♥♣♦ 18:36, 8 April 2007 (BST)
February 15, 2008
My, where does the time go?
A lot of stuff has happened since I last wrote in this journal. For one thing, Ghetto Cow is now long-gone. The Czarina just up and disappeared one day, and the rest of us just sort of drifted on.
I really don't remember much of what happened, since I spent a lot of time cooped up in a little hidey hole somewhere--don't remember where exactly now. However, one day I woke up, took a look at myself in the mirror (or someone else's mirror, anyway--it was in what was once a public bathroom, so I'm sure no one actually owned it, but I'm starting to wander in my writing now...), and decided it was time to move on. So move on I did.
Right now I'm practically on the edge of the quarantine line. It's a bit unusual--there's these high concrete walls and this nasty-looking barb wire, and at night you can see the glow from the searchlights behind it sometimes. No one's ever scaled it (or if they have, they haven't come back to tell us), but I've heard rumors that there's this big open field on the other side strewn with mines and yet more razor wire and all sorts of pits and ditches and stuff. They say that the quarantine enforcers just gun down anything that moves on the field, living or undead. I wouldn't know myself, but at night, I swear I can hear machine guns if I listen hard enough...
As for specifics, I'm currently cooped up inside the *smudge* Hospital, along one of those suburbs on the eastern edge of town. For a while I'd been helping this small Jewish group called Mossad keep the Tolman Power Station up and running, but I somehow lost contact with them. I never really left the area, though, so they might still be out there...
Anyway, I'd better keep this short. It sounds like some sap is trying to pile more junk onto the barricades. I keep telling them that if they heap it too high they'll block all the entries, but no one ever listens... What is it with overbarricading hospitals, anyway? --Specialist290 ♠♥♣♦ 03:34, 16 February 2008 (UTC)
January 1, 2010
"Happy New Year" is what they'd be saying on the other side of the Quarantine Zone right about now--if there still is another side, anyway. Well, it certainly doesn't feel like a new year, and I'm not happy anyhow. So much for that.
So a couple days ago, I just woke up. That's the best way I can describe it. I have no memory whatsoever of what happened in the two years prior to that. None. It's like there's a massive hole in my head, and my memories just leaked out of it. Every time I try to remember, I just end up getting dizzy, and then I collapse. I've had my memory back for a couple days now, but I figured I might as well start updating this journal again just in case something like that happens again.
Apparently the world has moved on without me. The eternal struggle between humans and zombies is still going on, with sieges being waged in miniature in practically every street corner. What's funny, though, is that the numbers overall seem to be a lot smaller than I used to hear about. I just wandered around *smudge* Mall a bit, and I saw fewer than 200 survivors total, all told. I've heard some small talk that entire suburbs are ransacked and deserted--not overrun, just deserted. Maybe there's a few scattered pockets of zeds on the streets here and there, but other than that, no signs of any kind of life--or unlife.
This city is dying. It's deader than it ever has been. Even the zombies themselves seem to be dying off.
I wonder if that's what's happening to my mind, too. Maybe it's dying with everything else.
Oh well. I've got work to do.
--Specialist290 ♠♥♣♦ 09:53, 1 January 2010 (UTC)