~Date unknown~

The female at my side seems to want to leave, but she clutches her weapon to defend herself. Her knuckles are white, but she grips the pipe I gave her with the utmost care. She says it makes her faster and more accurate, but I say that it’s just because I’m the one who gave her it.

Several people recognize me in the frenzied pace of the outer city. Some follow me; others fire warning shots at me. The shy female is quite meek, and says nothing during the trip into the depths of the city.

My shotgun aches to be fired. Not once have I been forced to use this finely crafted weapon, and my finger is getting rather itchy. My trench knife is used and bloody, and Jennifer makes a tampon reference. I shun her a few feet away from me for twelve seconds. She was attacked, and I had to help her again.

I see something in the distance, and Jen follows me in a hurried pace towards it. It’s armor of some sort, with XG8-Mesh written on it. I test the item out, sliding my knife across the side. Nothing happens, and I attempt to wear this awkward set of armor. Neither Jen nor I can find out how to fully suit up, so I stuff the armor in my backpack. Jen and I push onward.

-February 14th-

Ah...Valentines Day. I went out to paint the town red. I made a heart out of blood in Sliceville, but it got ruined when I was slaughtered by a Red Long Arm.

Apparently I killed its mate. Stupid zombie, you can't reproduce, so why kill me? If you could reproduce, may whatever diety I currently believe in help us. Unless it is the diety of untold carnage and sacrifice, then he can sit this one out.

Once I woke up from my drunken haze of death and cheap booze, I rechecked the Umbrella thread to find a level 2 made a joke about me. Goodbye self esteem. :'(