Gabby and Cat Tour Malton

We had high hopes for the Gibsonton_Squatters but they did not appear to be in residence at their junkyard, and the people who were in residence had never heard of them.  

We settled for leaving vaguely anarchist graffiti (having failed to fit any actual anarchist quotes into the character limit).

Cat sat on the floor of the cinema and sorted through her haul for the day.  She'd found a lot of ammunition, mostly pistol clips but also some shotgun shells.  

Gabby, meanwhile, was sorting bandages and anti-virals.  

"We just need to find some chemicals for syringes and we'll be fully restocked," Cat commented.

"I suppose there had to be some use for all these dull suburbs," Gabby remarked.

In Spracklingbank we restocked.

Because what else are you going to do in Pitneybank?

"Malton's Great Rift Valley?" Cat asked, looking up and down the row of suburban houses. "Homo Pegtoniens was found in the back garden of number 34."  Gabby squinted at the guide book. "That really doesn't seem at all likely," Cat peeked doubtfully over his shoulder. The light wind carried the sound of groaning from somewhere nearby.  "Two million years and we've finally evolved into mindless brain-eating dead things," Gabby said bitterly. "Well, if we move on, we'll have got out of Pegton.  That has to be progress of some kind."

"No audience," Gabby complained, kicking petulantly at the edge of the stage.

The hastily constructed barricade across the entrance to Club Izzard creaked.  When they had arrived the interior had been dark and silent. 

"We could always perform outside," Cat said sarcastically.

"That's not a bad idea actually," said Gabby.

"Absolutely not!  We'll be eaten!"  Cat listened nervously to the sounds of wood being torn and broken.

"On the other hand, audience!"

Another day, another suburb.  However Pegton has some history.  Not only is it the location of Malton's own Great Rift Valley but also the Pegton Wall.  We decided to see both.

There is a Club Izzard in Vinetown.  The results are probably predictable.

At this point Gabby decided to redo the Graffiti

Around this point the cades started to go down.  Bad Cat, no biscuit for failing to get a screen shot.  But it certainly added a frisson of urgency to the proceedings.

The last thing Cat remembered was a fist heading towards her.

She was lying in the middle of a deserted a street outside an abandoned Necrotech building.  Gabby was sitting on a bench opposite, reading a book.

"What happened?" she asked, sitting up.

Gabby looked up and grinned.  "Someone punched you.  You hit your head on the floor.  Next thing we know, zombie Cat."

"Punched to death?  That's embarrassing."

"And I had to rescue you again.  I'm sure that's even more embarrassing."

So Osmondville didn't appear to have a lot more going on than Pennville.  However there were a lot of clubs, and it was clearly named after the Osmonds, and Gabby was once in a band called The Bad Apple so we decided that an impromptu performance was required.

We seem to have stopped keeping a score of PKs, or maybe it's just because there weren't any interesting one.  I know I've certainly been eaten a couple of times since we last updated the table, but maybe I've not actually been PK'd - not sure.

Anyway on my last night in Pennville I actually got punched to death which I thought was pretty impressive - although admittedly Suburban Ed had a little help from a few zombies.  

I think the PK score is now

“Well that’s the east wall done.” Gabby kicked at it.

“Yep. Now, back up.” Cat drew a finger up the map from Whittenside to Rhodenbank.

“Fucking hell, really?”

“Yeah, all fifty suburbs, that was the plan, right?”

“Well yeah. That was before I had seen how shit they all were. Look at my diary!”

                Gabby held out a notebook. Cat took it and leafed through. He had written the name of each suburb in big letters at the top of each page. Most of the pages so far contained just one other word.

“’Sigh’?” Cat read.

“Have you ever noticed how uninspired this city is? Same ten buildings, arranged in the same grid pattern, block after block after bloody block,” Gabby said, looking at their map of Fryerbank.

“This hadn’t occurred to you before?” Cat raised an eyebrow.

                They were stood outside the Doutch Museum. Someone had told them the amusingly named museum was the suburb’s highlight. Neither of them were amused. Still, they had visited Fryerbank. All that remained was to find the quickest and safest route out.

Gabby shrugged.