User:Kaminogreg
Journal
Well, journal, the nice guy in the white jacket says that if i talk to you, the crazy might stop... i want the crazy to stop... Bllbllbllblb... well, anyway, i guess i'll write down what i recall of the last few months, and start a little narration from here on out.
the distant past
all the way back, eh? fine, i'll drudge up what i can... damned memory blackouts might make this tricky, though. anyway, i was born and raised on the east coast of the US, in a small town called Tosig. i think the founders were drunk or brain damaged, to name it something that stupid. anyway, that tradition lived on, and 95% of the population lived in a permanent haze of alcohol. being sober and temporarily sane, i was eager to leave. i went to college, and became a computer technician. also, that was the time i began my suprisingly short slide into madness...
british!
i grew tired with the infinite decline of civilization that was America, and moved to free Britonia around 1996. with the invention of telecommuting, i became the quintessential slacker, and those days were good. the promise of grocery delivery and a healthy supply of american accents drew me to malton, and i alternated days of partying in New Arkham with months of not leaving my flat. (crap, now i'm thinking british...)
outbreak
well, after not leaving my flat, er, APARTMENT, for 4 months, the first clue i had that something was up in malton was that the pizza delivery guy screamed in terror, and ran away, yelling "the pale zombie menace is hereeeeeee!" at the sight of me. i, however, was concerned mostly with the part where i didn't have to pay him. also with the idea that perhaps pants are needed when answering the door. the next clue i got was a lot less pleasant, and involved no free pizza whatsoever. namely, one of the freaking undead smashed a rotting claw through my door, greatly interrupting my nap. needless, to say, i near crapped my pants. i stabbed it through the head with a fireplace poker, and threw the body out the window, then shoved my sofa in front of the door. the rest is under the fog of crazy that i have come to associate with apocalypses, but i remember a set of sweats (the clothes), a chainsaw, two pistols, a whole lot of ammo, an a nice 'rambo' scene on the roof of my building. "you want some of this? huh, you f***ing monsters, YOU WANT SOME OF THIS!?!? WELL COME GET IT!!!" -ahem- you get the drift. anyway, the next thing i remember is when i woke up for a few days somewhere in northeast malton, Raines Hills, i think... how the hell did i get all the way across town, and remember nothing? i know i was 'alive' for at least a third of the way... then the barricades went back down, and my saviors my feasted on before my eyes... then the crazy came back... or was it the hungry? they both make the place go all foggy.
the crazy days
the days after the outbreak are all very fuzzy in my head... a haze of violence and things that dont make sense... i remember... i was trapped outside... firing pistols at a few wandering zombies... missed with most of them. then there was pain... pain and fear. and then... an intoxicating numbness... but a hungry numbness, too. i... i stalked them... the humans in the street... made them bleed. made them die. hunted them. got a needle in my neck for my stalking efforts. i 'woke' up in Penny Heights after a month either crazy'd up or zombied out... freeran, as they call it, into Joachim mall. i tried to find a way to learn to adjust to post-apoc malton, and settled on grafitti as a way to get street smarts. also, found my new favorite clothes, the Tech II sweatshirt and pants set. promptly got into a spraypainted pissing contest with a local over the obvious superiority of Tech II and all that promote it, as opposed to its enjoyment of certain... body parts. anyway, i eventually wandered over to Pennville, and fell in with the honorary Pennvillians in the Tompson building in Scarletwood. I spent a few frightening months prowling the streets, beating zombies with various blunt and sharp implements, until i found that the life of a trained necrotech is less dangerous, and more rewarding. i spent a month prying secrets and placing my name in the NT databases, and i've been hanging out there ever since. also, after a little bout of awkwardness ensuing from what appeared to be an unprovoked attack on semi-sentient zombies awaiting revival, Moyes invited me to his gang, the RPM. been making up revive syringes for them ever since, and taking care of the club-wasteland revive point or scanning up the 5x5 around Tompson. There's been a few rough patches, the most notable was when a PKer, as those are called, shotgunned me twice in the face becuase she liked my threads. weird way of showing affection. anyway, a while ago the doc wandered through and gave me you, mah papyrus-derived chum. now if only i could find a box of pens, and stop haunting the old labs looking for ink. the gang is starting to stare, and my shouts of 'eureka' at finding chewed Bic (tm) pens aren't helping.
Post-Apocalypse, Post-Journal retrieval, Pre-Rescue
- April 2007
- April 29th:
30-odd zeds gathered outside and broke in to the the Thompson Building in scarletville, my home for the last few months. gotta write this quick, before they get me. that lab door wont hold forever, and there's no way out... well, i hope my shambling corpse will head over to the wasteland-club revive point after i get up... whoop, there goes the plexi. i'd better hide this journal in the NT safe - thank you, NT employment. see ya on the other side, my papery comrade. KGreg.
- May 2007
- may 3rd:
hullo thar journal, nice to see ya again. eh, dont worry, i'll get some duct tape for your cover... anyway, my RPM buddy moyes revived me earlier today. nice of him. anyway, that zombification's left a nasty lingering infection, and i'm clean out of first aid kits. i scooted inside a few blocks away and found moyes, so i'm going to try to bum a FAK off of him and have a long nap.
- may 6th
holy crap, that was a LONG damn nap... 3 days? anyway, i woke up to find a note from moyes and 2 empty FAK's next to me, with a zombie swiping at me, and moyes and crew nowhere in sight. i've got a few scratches, but i'm more than half together, so i'll bop the zombie once upside the head, then scoot too.
- may 7th
yikes. pennville's been cleaned out. i've only seen 2 buildings barricaded with 5 survivors total. i'm gonna hunker down with a few beaten up fellows in burke bank, and head for the nearest mall tomorrow for FAKs. shame i can't do anything for these guys right now. tired...
- may 8th
damnit, whats a guy gotta do to stay alive in this city!? ... oh, right. anyway, this safehouse is going down, and i'm stuck here. again. time to hide the journal...
- may 10th
i shambled up to penny heights... apparently. anywawy, a kindly sort of medic with a nametag labeled "FoulOleRon" revived me yesterday. stayed down a whole day... damn, do those syringes give me a hangover. anyway, today i bothered to stand up. I'm outside the... whatsit... Craddy building, with a few zeds around me. i've secured entry into the Freerunners net, and then revived those poor fellows too. Hagger fire station is, oddly enough, completely full of firefighters. heheh.
- may 15th
after a few days of quietly assembling syringes and gathering medkits in penny heights, i got a message from Moyes that Pennville was alive again! i rushed over, and made it back to my home in the tompson building around the end of the day. its good to be back.
- June 2007
- June 25
i'm sorry i haven't written in so long, but i've been all over malton in the last few months, and you've been in a safe in the thompson building... c'est la vie. anyway, i think i'm onto something, something... epic huge. i've traced the files and shipments back to a necrotech vault in midtown. well journal, you're coming along for this one... it might get interesting, i'd better find more duct tape.
the end
scrawled on the inside of the back cover is a jagged note, written as much in blood as ink. it reads:
- "I finally found it. just one. what fools we mortal men, who seek out that which destroys us. it won't be long now. the security system got me good, right in the gut. immortality grew so old in this place, and now i can at last drink deeply the sweetness of finality. i am not without regret though..."
- there are several illegible lines after the last word that may be further attempts to write something. smeared in blood at the bottom of the page are the half-formed words:
- "i love you. i'm so sorry..."
- it appears that there may once have been a name on the end of the final declaration, but it has since been lost to the ravages of time.
This bloodstained and battered diary was found deep in a necrotech vault next to an array of writing utensils nearly a decade after the Malton 'incident'. the only external clue to its owner was a bloodsoaked lab coat on top of it with a roll of duct tape in a pocket.
