Raccoon City Communications

It followed me, somehow. Maybe it's just some sick joke, but those bloody rags and that blade... how did it get here? The doctors said it was my imagination, that I was sick. It's not supposed to be real but propped up in that cardboard box, it's staring at me and it's mocking everything I've accomplished, everything I've done to leave it behind and get better.

Damn it!

I should throw it away but I can't and I don't know why.

(OOC: Travis was given the Butcher's regalia as part of ze item plot, because he was almost okay for a minute. Bwaha.)

Is anyone feeling a sensation of hopelessness?

Ok, so exciting, new, not prison so definite bonus there.

Still, someone want to explain to me just what the hell is going on? I'm starting to get bored of using zombies for target practice.

Anyone in the mood for 'childish antics and mischief' I know I am?

Could take down a few zombies while we're at it?

I did not think this would be necessary, but it seems that a few of you need to be warned against going into the Lower City. I do not care how qualified you might believe yourself to be, but this is silly and unacceptable. Please cease your childish antics and direct your mischief elsewhere. Those of us who are down here are either especially unfortunate financially or have important jobs that we were trained to handle. This is not a game, children. One small mistake and you will, too, become infected and create more work to do for those of us who actually know what we're doing.

If you are in dire need of an established play area, please speak to whoever it was that greeted you when you arrived, but do not intrude in places that you do not belong.

I'm seconding the voice on the motel rooms being disgusting around here.

Finding dead animals in the shower after getting in is fucking ridiculous. I was halfway worried that the damn thing was gonna come back to life and try to bite me, what with the zombies being on the prowl and all.

I hate it here. I hate my room. I hate the zombies. I hate teleporting devices. I hate squirrely looking rat things that decide to just DIE in my shower. I. Hate. It.

Okay, so being transported here without telling me about it? So not cool. A few guards trying to grab me like they own me? So not cool either. Seriously, they're lucky I didn't kick their asses. Came close. Besides, it's never a good idea to touch from behind without me knowing about it. Could have been a demon.

But zombies? Really? Oh wait, I've seen them before. Took out a few back then. Well... guess it's hunting time again! Probably a good thing that I managed to already have a few weapons on me when I got here. Personally, I prefer vampires. They're simpler to take out. I'm Connor, by the way. Just graduated from Stanford last year.

...

How embarrassing. Brought to a hospital by Fina, only to spend a few hours on "morphine", babbling incoherently like drunken Upper City slime in Valua.

Whether or not I needed rest is irrelevant. I now owe Fina, and the very thought of being in debt to anyone makes my skin crawl.

Ah! Nifty cell phone.

Ick, CREATURES FROM THE ABYSS.

It's time for justice!

What the FUCK?
What are those angels doing now?
FREAKING ZOMBIES.

SAM?!

So... zombies, huh? I'd never believe it if I didn't see it. I suppose it could be worse. Actually, I have seen and faced worse. I wasn't always a lawyer. Though these guys are lucky I'm not pressing charges for manhandling. I could do worse.

I should probably introduce myself, then. My name is Cole Turner. I've had all types of jobs in the past, aside from lawyering as I said. I was also a spy, agent, bodyguard, and hunter. Unfortunately, I don't have credentials with me, but I'll see if I can make do.

[Private to Deacon Frost]

Hey, if you still need a sword, I can give it to you now. I figured it's as good a weapon as any to take out these beasts. I've done it too, in my own way. I'll probably go do it again soon.

Where can I get some frakking food around here? If I'm gonna be stuck in some monster-infested town, I hope there'll be better eating than the processed algae rations back on the Galactica.

Also, has no one ever pointed out the obvious flaw in your fancy-networked-super-communications devices you people seem to call "cell phones"? Any Cylon with half its circuits fried could take over and seriously frak with your tech.

But I suppose, as long as it leads me to food, I'll plug in to the information super highway...or whatever it's called.

So what, soup? Bread? I'll eat anything so long as it isn't green.

Anyone?

Alright, y'know what. I've had a long week. I mean really.

So on top of everything loosing track of Sam somehow, you know what I didn't need.

Winding up in some dammed park with no clue how I got there and getting grabbed and told about zombies. I mean an actual little pamphlet about zombies.

I didn't need zombies.

What the hell is going on?