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“There was this about vampires : they could never look scruffy. Instead, they were... what was the word... deshabille. It meant untidy, but with bags and bags of style.”

"How can you protect yourself by carrying a sword if you don’t know how to use it?"
"Not me, sir. Other people. They see the sword and don’t attack me," said Maladict patiently.
"Yes, but if they did, lad, you wouldn’t be any good with it," said the sergeant.
"No, sir. I’d probably settle for just ripping their heads off, sir. That’s what I mean by protection, sir. Theirs, not mine. And I’d get hell from the League if I did that, sir."

“Who shall I shoot? You choose. Now, listen very carefully: where's your coffee? You've got coffee, haven't you? C'mon, everyone's got coffee! Spill the beans!”

“If they look as though they're worried, we'll move in.'
'And do what exactly?' said Polly.
'Threaten to shoot them,' said Maladict firmly.
'And if they don't believe us?'
'Then we'll threaten to shoot them in a much louder voice,' said Maladict. 'Happy? And I hope to hell they've got some coffee!”

“I am a bundle of suppressed instincts held together with spit and coffee.”

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Corporal Maladict

July 2016

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