It was barely two weeks ago that the brave city of Waterloo came under threat of the zombie menace. Until they arrived, it was as though Waterloo was too far east to be threatened by this plague. But now we know differently; the hoard is not just a mindless body of flesh eating monsters. They are organized, motivated, and lead by a fearsome Necromancer. Now the survivors of the great battle have reached us in the relative safety of Windsor. Now their story can be told.
The first zombies arrived on Monday, October 27. They were brought by the Necromancer, both as her guard and as her invasion force. The zombies ran rampant through the city on the night of the 27th, while the Necromancer disguised herself and spread dissent and revolutionary thoughts through the city. The next morning, the citizenry of Waterloo awoke to find their city under attack. There were zombies on every corner, patrolling every block. Some whispered of a mole, an advisor of the King, who was a spy for the hoard. Inspired by His Highness, many citizens took up arms and formed zombie-hunting squads. Though they tried their best, the people of Waterloo could do little to stem the tide of zombies. Many died on this second day of the war.
On Wednesday, the zombies had the upper hand. Any humans who had to move about the city kept their heads down and scurried quickly. Despite the rumors that the Necromancer had unleashed a fearsome new beast known as the “tank”, the King managed to organize a small militia. In the evening, the warriors who still had some hope tried their best to recapture a few of the main buildings. The King’s new guards—young and inexperienced as they were—managed to keep the zombies at bay for most of the night. Unfortunately, they also enforced a curfew with such vigour and enthusiasm that they hampered the efforts of those who were trying to retake the city. By the middle of the night these two armies, which really should have been one, had expended all their strength. The next morning, Waterloo awoke to the grim reality that the entirely of the city was under the control of the Necromancer.
Thursday was quiet from sun up to sun down. The hoard patrolled the streets, larger than ever before, but everyone knew better than to venture out. A few zombies were slain, but it was little more than a token effort on the part of the defenders, proof that they would continue the fight. It wasn’t till the sun set that the fate of Waterloo was truly decided. The zombies, organized into a communicative, strategic group, swept through the city, seeking out the King’s advisors and throwing the few groups of fighters that were left into disarray. We can only assume that none of the advisors escaped. With that, the city was lost, and the King began to plan his exodus.
By Friday, the hoard had swelled. From the Necromancer’s initial handful sprung a mass of zombies, hundreds strong. The King gathered together all of his people. They were less than 100. He offered two plans; some could flee with him, leaving the city to rot. For those that refused to give up, the King had one alternative; in the ruins of the city lay the components necessary for a particle accelerator. Could those parts be gathered, the awesome power of physics could be harnessed to form a city-destroying anti-matter bomb.
No one knows what happened to those brave souls who went back into the city to stop the zombie menace forever. It must be assumed that they perished in their noble attempt. The King himself was killed during his escape, and of all those who fled with him only 54 survived. Let us remember those brave men and women who fought for Waterloo. Let us fight like they did when the plague approaches. Let us be victorious, that those who died in Waterloo did not die in vain. Prepare, for if there is one thing the battle for Waterloo has taught us, it is that the threat is much closer than we think.
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