• Age: Ooh, well. That's a tricky one isn't it?¹⁾
• Size: A little taller than usual but very skinny. Emaciated even. ²⁾
• Appearance: Bandaged, gore drooling, bones poking out. It's all the rage you know.
• Personality: Surpisingly upbeat for a Zombie.
• Character Traits:
• - Fond of using words like “Wheee”, “Whoopwhoop” and “Scooteroo!”.
• Physical Traits: His right foot is missing. In it's place is a castor wheel.

Makiwa was not at all perturbed to find himself gaining consciousness in New Pittsburgh after a Drive Kill, as he didn't feel any different from the day before and was only vaguely aware that he might be a zombie.

Several attempts at getting to his feet, which failed due to a wheel attached to one foot, left him some moments for contemplation³⁾, soul searching⁴⁾ and retrieving a finger that had detached itself. Re-attaching body parts would soon become a finely honed skill aided by a kindly gifted roll of duct tape.

It did not take long for Makiwa to realise that he was in fact zombified. Undead. Or, as his remarkabley upbeat philosphy would have it, unalive.

It was not unusul to find this wheel footed Zombie whizzing around the outposts with child like abandon, returning often to collect various body bits that had become detached and left behnd.

In truth, Makiwa was most unlike his fellow race aside from his atypical zombie appearance, which made his cheerful demeanour all the more incongruous and perhaps disconcerting. While most zombies spend their days drooling over cerebral snacks, Makiwa spent his tooling around on his squeaky wheel - as long as the rain hadn't rusted it solid. It was however, not unknown for him to partake of the odd grey matter pie. He just never made a meal of it.

And so the days passed in an unhurried sort of way without trials, troubles or tribulations. The happy chappy zapping around the island letting out 'whoops', 'wheeeeeees' and the occasional 'scooteroo' are all we see for some time. It could be said that his entire existence was - and let's be straight here - if not one of gay abandon then at the least one of mildy amused distraction.

And then, one day, a day like any other, a day that would shy away from any scrutiny attemtping to discern anything unusual or interesting about it - indeed, a day that would, in the course of time, happily blur into many other non-descript days and ultimately a day that would become so indistinct it would be impossible to pick it out of a too long sentence with way too many commas and focus on it. Something changed.

Makiwa began to be irritated by an odd squirming sensation in his head. For some days he passed it off as a maggot or two, worming their way around his skull. Soon though, he was shocked to discover the squirming sensation was accompanied by a voice. A voice that grew rapidly in both coherence and inistence. Demanding to be heard. Demanding to be free. Demanding to be brought back to the world.

Guessing correctly that this was not in fact maggots, he was nonetheless clueless as to the orgin of the voice.

At a time when it seemed his very sanity was at stake a rather fortuitous or perhaps serendipitous meeting occurred. Ultimately this meeting would lead to the zombies demise. A wish, it has often been said, should be handled with great care. Evermore so when the wish being granted is at the hand of a woman of the Joker persuasion.

Being careful what you wish for isn't always enough. The price to be paid may be high but often the mere granting of the smallest of wishes can set in motion events that none could ever have predicted.

In Essence