User:Paintcheck

	Roleplaying Notice
	Notice: This User or Group enjoys the RPG aspect of MMORPGs, the category of games that Urban Dead falls into. As such, there is probably quite a bit of roleplaying and/or creative writing on this page and in said User/Group's in-game actions. In other words, if you think the difference between IC and OOC is "One has an 'I' and the other has two 'O's," buzz off.

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.

((Yeah anyone who reads this please let me know what you think))

My real name is Steve, but everyone calls me Paintcheck because of that one time during training, during a simunitions force on force exercise I thought I hit someone. He came through the door looking away from me and I was backing down the hallway. We bumped into each other and I was scare shitless (so was he). We both ran the ways we had come in, firing wildly. I emptied a whole magazine and took 3 shots myself. I took my helmet off and sat on the ground like all the other "tagged" trainees, expecting to have hit the other guy at least once. He moved back through the door without a mark on him. I called over one of the trainers and asked him to do a paint check on the other soldier. The trainer laughed in my face....Guess that wasn't as funny as I thought it was. Sorry. You had to be there.

Before moving to this hell hole called Malton I was a mercenary (or 'contractor' as the media calls us). I had been around the block a few times, fighting for (and against) several African nations, Iraq, Korea, Bosnia, you name it. The pay was pretty decent and nothing can give you the rush combat can. I was always looking for a new battleground or a new employer. That's how I heard of the Malton Outbreak.

It seemed like a simple contract: Recon the city and wipe out anything that wasn't human. When I signed up, I thought the "not human" part of the contract was written by someone with a crappy sense of humor and that we'd be fighting some gang or militant group. I was wondering what the hell this "Outbreak" was. I heard rumors spanning everything from aliens to vampires to werewolves to zombies. Zombies? What the hell is wrong with these people? This isn't a videogame. The pay was good and Malton was in a relatively civilized area (at least better than Africa) so I didn't question it much.

1 Month Ago

We rode over the city in style in a couple of Blackhawks and landed just outside. There were roadblocks and soldiers on every road, path, trail, or highway leading into or out of Malton. I started to think this wouldn't be as easy.

We left the helicopters and started in on foot. The city was dark and deserted. Bodies lay in the streets, some human, and some that were probably human at some point. I figured some of the bodies must have been dead for days. That is, until one of the "bodies" got up and started toward us. Everything made sense at that moment about what they meant by "not human".

1 zombie against a group -of highly trained mercenaries didn't pose too much of a threat and after applying a liberal amount of lead to the infected area we all stooped over and looked at the twice-dead corpse. We headed deeper into the city .

A Few Days Ago

I'm the only one left out of the original group. I lost contact with everyone else. They are probably still out there, somewhere, but I haven't been able to contact them. I suppose I should write about how I got to where I am.

After becoming separated from the few remaining mercs I continued to trudge through the city. During my trek I learned 2 things: dying hurts and being a zombie hurts more. Some survivors are extremely well adapted to living here and have even figured out some way of bringing the zombies back to life as I found out through first hand experience. I wandered aimlessly throughout Malton, taking pot shots at the occasional zombie and occasionally being eaten by them. But I would always be "revived" as they call it sooner or later.

Then one day I got bitten near the southern part of Yagoton. It hurt but something felt different; every move I made burned and hurt more. My muscles started to slow down and I was having trouble moving. Later I would learn that some zombies can infect humans with a bite that slowly turns them into a zombie. I needed to get inside before another zombie came and finished me off. I made inside a poorly barricaded PD and tried to scrounge some ammo but I must have passed out or something. I woke up and a young man was standing over me with a first aid kit. He couldn't have been more than 17 or 18 but he was dressed like a combat medic. He smiled as I came to. I noticed he had a rank on his shoulder: private.

"You shouldn't sleep here. PDs attract zombies. You should be all right, I think I stopped the infection," he said. And then he left. I noticed a word on the back of his load-bearing vest: The Abandoned. My interest was piqued. I sought to learn about whatever "The Abandoned" was. I later found out it was a group that had realized the government wouldn't be of much help and that they were on their own. I met up with a few more of their members and eventually joined the group itself.

Present

They're coming. They want this mall. I'm holed up in the most heavily barricaded fortress I've ever seen in this whole city: Bale Mall. A haven for survivors such as myself it's immense collection of items has kept me stocked up on anything I could ever want for a long time. I'm listening to the Abandoned's frequency on my radio, listening to the same kid who saved me that day in the PD organize the resistance effort in the mall. I have a small pile of shotguns to my left and a couple pistols to my right. All around are hundreds of survivors all bracing themselves for the siege to come. The zombies won't take this mall. As a soldier and a member of the Abandoned, I owe it to them to protect these good people. I check the ammo in all of my weapons one last time. I'm ready for them.

Yesterday

Rising to my feet a stupor, I lean against a sign that says "Harkness Street". I wait for the haze to stop. Catching my breath I observer my immediate surroundings. There's a pile of bodies on the ground and a mass of shambling dead swaying gently and occasionally groaning softly. I quietly creep away back into the darkness, entering the nearby Style building and attempt to grab what I can. The building is completely empty and resembles the site of a bomb blast. I don't even bother trying to find anything useful there. No bodies or survivors, just eerie silence. Heading up to the roof, I glance around and head toward Bale Mall, hoping that that will still have supplies left. I enter the mall, and it's another ghost town. No zombies, no survivors. Did I miss something here? Like the apocalypse?. It's also a mess. I make a half-hearted attempt at finding something and then leave finding nothing. I wonder where everyone else is?

I leave the mall and cautiously make my way south. Occasionally I try my hand radio or cell phone, but the dead have long ago disabled the phone tower and all I hear on the radio is static. I try again, "This is Paintcheck, is anyone out there? Can anyone here this? Mark you there?" but am greeted with silence. Frustrated I consider hurling the radio away but instead jam it angrily into my flack jacket. I arrive at the one place that has never let me down: Faber Lane Fire Station. A quick look around yields no signs of life, just blood stains, empty spray cans, bullet casings and litter. The doors are wide open. I start to tire from this long trek, the zombie seemed to have infected me when I died. I shamble into the station with my .45 held weakly in my right hand. My left won't move. I slowly clear the station, becoming weaker by the minute. I call out a few times: "Mark? Manny? Vileduct? SOMEONE ANSWER ME GODDAMMIT!". I head back to the main room and close the doors. I look for something to barricade with it but the station is in shambles, just like everything else. I don't even try to fix the damage, what's the point? I'm alone. Abandoned, how fitting. Dark swirls before my eyes and I patch myself up as best as I can. Before passing out I scrawl "Abandoned but still Alive -Paintcheck was here"