I got what I came for...





...Plus a few freebies:



Nice collection, no?

All hail the Dark One, who has protected us from the wrath of the zombies! When the Republic is cleaned up, I will finally ascend my rightful throne and... Wait, what? My Soul? Eternal damnation? I... HELP!!!!!

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The Caves and mountains rang with Ambrosio's shrieks. The Daemon continued to soar aloft, till reaching a dreadful height, He released the sufferer. Headlong fell the Monk through the airy waste; The sharp point of a rock received him; and He rolled from precipice to precipice, till bruised and mangled He rested on the river's banks. Life still existed in his miserable frame: He attempted in vain to raise himself; His broken and dislocated limbs refused to perform their office, nor was He able to quit the spot where He had first fallen. The Sun now rose above the horizon; Its scorching beams darted full upon the head of the expiring Sinner. Myriads of insects were called forth by the warmth; They drank the blood which trickled from Ambrosio's wounds; He had no power to drive them from him, and they fastened upon his sores, darted their stings into his body, covered him with their multitudes, and inflicted on him tortures the most exquisite and insupportable. The Eagles of the rock tore his flesh piecemeal, and dug out his eyeballs with their crooked beaks. A burning thirst tormented him; He heard the river's murmur as it rolled beside him, but strove in vain to drag himself towards the sound. Blind, maimed, helpless, and despairing, venting his rage in blasphemy and curses, execrating his existence, yet dreading the arrival of death destined to yield him up to greater torments, six miserable days did the Villain languish. On the Seventh a violent storm arose: The winds in fury rent up rocks and forests: The sky was now black with clouds, now sheeted with fire: The rain fell in torrents; It swelled the stream; The waves overflowed their banks; They reached the spot where Ambrosio lay, and when they abated carried with them into the river the Corse of the despairing Monk.

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Farm & Labor Secretary

Oh, I really enjoyed that last bit - with the Companion Cubebot throwing the zombies? The splat they make is just so satisfying...

Zombies should become the eleventh plague. I mean, really, they're just so much more effective than boils or rivers of blood. And they target more than just the firstborn! (In a related note, blood on your lintel won't protect you... it will just attract them like flies to shit.)

That said, I think it's time for this little angel to fly away home... I've done what damage I can, and I'll even leave you the Cubebot so that you can continue to derive amusement from launching zombies at the neighbors.

Don't worry, I'm sure you'll see me again. If you survive, that is. Sooner or later I'm bound to get bored with eternal suffering and infernal torment and want to grab a breath of fresh, possibly-zombie-infested air. And throw a few zombies for old times' sake.

One last piece of advice before I go... Nuclear winter isn't usually healthy for humans, so I'd suggest getting out of there. Maybe on the ship conveniently left in the harbor. I hear Isle de los Bounty is much more pleasant now that they've eliminated their rat problem.

It's been fun, kids. Enjoy your brief little lives, and I'll see you all in Hell.

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Generalissimo of the 1st Brigade

Transcript: Well test subjects. You probably haven't noticed in all the commotion that I've left. But let me present to you a final fact for your amusement, as you scramble to hatch some plot to escape the impendiing thermonuclear holocaust. While the experimental LUMP hyper-hydrofoil in the harbor may look like a good escape option, testing has suggested an insignificantly critical failure of stability that is likely to cause minor cases of dismemberment. Also, you would have to fight the remnants of the 2nd Brigade, since I ordered them to attempt to get to America on it. So how did I get away, you're probably asking through your tears of desperation. Well, let me go back a step or two. The British Embassy proved to be a slight disappointment. One of those treacherous Weighted Companion Cubes had told me that I would find plenty of tea and cake there, along with a helicopter to London. But the cake was a lie! Well, that might be too strong. The cake was all stale and covered in blood. And the helicopter had long since flown the coop with the last remaining diplomatic staff. But then I remembered all those interminable LUMP Junior Science fairs I judged over the years. It didn't take me long to fashion a rocket capable of lifting a small payload into Low Earth Orbit. And once I found a potato, no doubt left by one of the Irish serving wenches in that embassy, I was able to graft my cognitive core to it and use it as a small battery, thus doing away with the need to drag that bulky reactor around with me. And in low earth orbit, it was a simple matter to dock with, and integrate my main functions with this lovely International Space Station. And you know what, test subjects? What those pompous astronauts have been saying all these years is really true. From up here, you can't see borders. All those terms I spend trying to run tests on the people of the Republic seem so provincial now. After all, there's just the one lovely blue marble down there, floating in the big black void. And it's got literally billions of test subjects for me.
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Generalissimo of the 2nd Brigade