L. A. is dying

My city has a tumor in its heart, a cancer that is threatening to destroy the host, destroy the state, destroy America.

The government, more so, the members of congress in their infantile wisdom have handed over a large portion of Los Angeles to the Zombies. It has been named the zombie zone by elected officials and zombie homeland by the degenerate half dead monsters that infest it. Explained to the public as a way of reaching across the aisle and finding common ground on which to base human zombie relations, the zombie zone is a huge blow to humans. With one sinuous line of the governor?s pen, and the president Obazy smiling over his shoulder, a large swath of Los Angeles was given over to the zombies. The creatures flooded the area within days, and the humans that failed to leave beforehand were as cattle at the slaughter. Some humans remained behind to fight for their property, given away by the government without their consent or recompense; others did not have any means to leave, or anywhere to go. The feeding frenzy of the zombies was and orgy of screams heard all around the perimeter of the zone, yet most of America sat secure in their homes, blissfully ignorant of the happenings in the heart of L.A., denying that it could ever happen to them.

Some citizens learned of what was happening, and in their outrage they went to their representatives in congress begged and demanded that something be done to help those trapped in the zombie zone. Their pleas were ignored. Other citizens begged for congress to send in the National Guard, and once again, congress remained resolutely silent.

Within days, the zombie zone was declared human free, eradicated as if they were offending vermin. Some few humans clung to life and learned how to survive and fight in the zone. However, they were seriously outnumbered and lacked much to defend against the walking dead.

I could not sit by any watch this horror without attempting to help, so I snuck in to the zone.

Throughout my career as a costumed crime fighter, I haunted the night and protected those that ventured into that world. But night in the zombie zone was death for a normal human, so I explored the zone during the day, avoiding darkened areas, as I quickly learned this is where the zombies rested and would awaken at the lest amount of noise. I found that most zombies stayed in large groups and hunted as if in packs. But some, for what reason I cannot fathom, chose to be by themselves. It was one of these monsters I came across, and learned how to tune my fantastic goggle to read what I could from their near black soul. It was from this beast I learned what it took to kill a zombie.

After my foray into the zone, I realized I would need a better mode of transportation than walking on foot. I went home and bought a 1945 Dodge power wagon and began making some modifications.

I am the Mirrorman, I protect humans, I protect good citizens, and I hunt zombies. Your doom or triumph will be at your own hand.