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Devigor

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About Devigor

  • Birthday 12/22/97
  1. *Nick stands at the edge of his experiment pit, and tosses a small metal sphere down into the pack of ravening biters below. He cringes slightly at the sounds of snapping bone, ripping flesh, and squelching organs. He's run out of paper, so he decides to record his results orally, and then begins to relay the sounds over the radio.* "The thirty-third test of the razorball proves just as viable as the first. Since I'm bored, I'll leave that alone for now. So far, the antidote I'm working on has proved lethal to the biters and all the other living things I've tested it on. My dearest is trembling on eggshells at the moment; log listing, shopping note fifty-two, need more coolant and a clean, fresh batch of machining oil to make sure the containment room maintains equilibrium. Subject has shown signs of healing, after stable introduction of various nutrients and proper fortification of muscle tissue. I still don't have long for her, unless I find some miraculous way to fix the bone marrow problem and find enough materials for a whole new batch of catalysts to start re-fabricating her lost tissue. Unfortunately, the most recent subject was simply too young to withstand the strain of testing, and has succumb to the Earth at the early age of nine..." *Nick starts crying, then it turns into hiccups, and then a lilting creepy tone invades his speech* "He was turning... I didn't know what to do. Don't give me that, it wasn't any more my fault than his own, he got bitten and I did my best to help. No, no, no, you cannot make assumptions like that. It worked on the hedgehog, at first; it only died a few weeks later, after what happened to that boy Hamat. Alright, I'll give you that it wasn't suitably tested, but nothing here has been suitably tested yet! I didn't have time. Besides, this clueless group of apes running around with guns pointed at anything that moves has several barbaric members I can use for these tests and still make the world better for it." *His voice suddenly dies down, and you can hear the sounds of a walker gnashing wordlessly and a faint crackling noise as he starts meticulously separating bones from the body and then welds pieces together* "God, this is disgusting. I cannot believe I ever tasted zombie meat. Bleck! People taste so much better, and I can't even stomach that anymore. Yeesh, I'm becoming a fucking pansy... Oh hey, I forgot this goes out to everybody. Hi, everybody! Hahahahahaha! It's been a while since I touched the radio, I've been kinda busy. Mostly with work. Also with inventing, so I guess that's just more work. Anyhow, I'm up for a chat if anyone likes. Meet me at my rockside emporium! Bits and bobs for sale, in exchange for useful things. Not that bullshit you all use out there, either, I don't want guns or ammo or cigars or any of that bullshit. I need metal and chemicals, preferably things that you don't wanna put anywhere near your mouth." *He ends the recording with him sawing up the leftover parts on a table and humming some obscure song he only barely recalls from the corners of is memory*
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