User:Jason Bryce

Jason Bryce Urban Dead ID: Jason Bryce Class: Player Killer Joined: January 8th, 2012 Affiliation: The Flowers of Decay Urban Dead This user plays Urban Dead. Wow, what are the odds? "Jason" Real Name: Jason Bryce Date of Birth: Sometime in '78 Hair Color: Blonde Place of Birth: United States Eyes: Green Height: 6'0" Weight: Around 200 lbs. Gender: Male Race: American "The hanged man will kick at anything when the noose starts to tighten around his neck." Jason's Story: Jason was born and raised outside of Malton in a smaller city. He was part of a motorcycle club and often made trips to Malton to receive profits from the club's legitimate businesses. Other times they were running guns or drugs through the city. He was not lucky enough to be running guns the day he was trapped. Jason has a wife and kid that are living on the other side of the walls. He will be with them once he either escapes or is set free. He keeps a picture of them in his wallet. When Jason was trapped in the city, he worked alongside other survivors. He lived each day at a time and revived those in needing. After many years of putting up with ignorance and stupidity of other survivors, he snapped. He was tired of their laziness and ignorant ways which most often hindered those protecting them. He vowed to destroy all forms of sheep, shepherds, mallrats, and faceless survivors. They watch the windows. They man lookout points. They maintain the barricades. They count down the night-time hours. They prime their weapons and ration their supplies and wait for the strike. It comes from behind. Go for the important ones first. The leader, the alpha male. Loud-mouthed egotistical tosser, thinks he's got a plan. Well, here's the plan. The shotgun that some poor blonde kid loaded for me just two hours back is emptied in seconds. Discard it, dead weight. Pistol shots scare the rest of them behind cover, and the big lad's gurgling blood. I watch for a few seconds, hovering over him, and laugh. I laugh at his pathetic beliefs, his structure and his rigmarole and his lust for glory, and I laugh. Then a heavy stomp ends it. Why? Not for the love of violence, or the feeling of playing God. No. Just for shits and giggles. Just because I can. Scream. Thhhhhht. Pant. Tudt. Splash. Groan. Drip. Drip. Drip. Pant. Drip pant drip drip dripdripdripdripdripdriptrickle. Sigh. I'm savouring the kill now, breathing in the acrid copper fumes of hot blood and bile. The knife handle is slick with the wet effluence of what used to be a life, and it slips, begrudgingly, from my hand, and I watch it fall. It makes a little splash in the growing puddle beneath me, and I can't help but think of how Bret Easton Ellis might describe this scene, but then I tense up, fearful, at the sound of many footsteps. Maybe they'll actually get me this time, maybe they'll catch me and I'll find out the hard way how this feels from the other side. The noise rushes past below the window, and peering out, I see it's only the horde. Nothing I actually need to worry about, so I retrieve my weapon, and relief washes over me in an awesome wave. My Brothers in Arms: Members of the Flowers of Death All the people and places I have killed. People who are going to die: Faceless Survivors Sheep Shepherds Mallrats Bounty Hunters PK Count Jason has PKed 0 people. Report Me! This user is an evil PKer. To punish me: report my kills on the Rogues Gallery! ‎ Player Killer "One kills a man, one is an assassin; one kills millions, one is a conqueror; one kills everybody, one is a god." This user is a PKer and supports the act of Player Killing.