Dr. Katherine Sinclair used a copy of the Plutonic Codex to beat off an undead Jeffery Dahmer, seriously questioning the choices in life that had led her to this point.
The cultists were all dead and/or disabled (mostly the former), but the undead were still roaming. The spell must have had some serious sustainability, if that was the case. It would probably be gone by morning, but half of Sloth's Pit would probably have been wrecked by then, if she knew Sigma-10.
Following this, she stumbled into Site 87, clutching a book to her chest, and ran past the empty receptionist's desk — the entire town, including S & C Plastics, was evacuated. She ran into the elevator, to the basement, and towards Occult Studies.
To her surprise, someone was waiting for her down there: Montgomery Reynolds, a tall, round figure with grey hair, standing in stark contrast to Katherine's short, red-headed figure. She stared at him. "Monty! What are you doing here?"
"…I slept through the evacuation order." This couldn't be farther from the truth. He had decided to stay behind.
"Right, well." She shoved the book into his arms. "Burn this. Now. Furnace, right over there."
Montgomery threw the Plutonic Codex into the furnace, panting. "Now, what's going on? Pardon me for saying, but-"
"I look like hell?"
"Indeed."
"…you wouldn't believe me if I told you."
"Try me."
She sighed, and leaned against the table before her, shaking her head. "…you remember the story on the news a few weeks back? How Putin was exploding after someone broke into the Kremlin Necropolis and vandalized Stalin's body?"
Montgomery's eyes widened. "…no."
Katherine simply took out her smartphone, and started playing Dschinghis Khan's Moskau.

Elsewhere in the town of Sloth's Pit (which had been evacuated for only the third time in the year- a new record low), a sniper took aim at Joseph Stalin's head. She considered the absurdity of this situation; she was watching the rotting corpse of a dictator from a country that had died out decades ago give a speech to two dozen other zombies, in English no less.
Seren Pryce injected some tranquilizer into her veins; the last batch was starting to wear off, and she needed to make this shot count. Her breath was slow, her body relaxed in the same way a tiger's body relaxes right before it pounces on its prey.
"Rise, my comrades, rise from your graves! Rise up against the oppression of life and sanity! The brains of the elite shall give us knowledge, the hearts of the people shall give us strength, and the balls of the bourgeoisie will be crushed in our teeth. We are the undead majority! Untote aller Länder, vereinigt euch!"
The zombies gave a moaning cheer.
Seriously? thought Seren. Someone has to be giving him lines. Ol' Joe had to be more eloquent than that.
She lined up the sights so that the bullet would travel though Stalin's head, and hopefully do minimal damage to the building behind him; it was a camera shop, still sold old Kodak and Polaroid cameras, and film. Seren had been in there a few times, and it was kind of nice.
She took a breath. Waited for her heart to pause between beats.
Pulled the trigger.
The head of the leader of the Kremlin exploded into a fine, green mist. Immediately after, several task force members stormed in from side streets, shooting at the zombies with almost as much precision as she had, killing all twenty-four of them in twenty-five shots.
Shot number twenty-five, unfortunately, had ricocheted off of a lamp post, and shattered the glass on the camera shop's storefront, the bullet itself impacting in a perfectly good Polaroid Camera from the 1980s.
"Almost no collateral," said the squad commander in Seren's ear. "Good job, everyone. Pryce, take a break. Your vitals are way off. Take it easy with the tranqs from now on."
"Yes, sir."

"…we're dealing with communist zombies."
"A communist zombie," replied Katherine. "Stalin went the way of the dodo for the second time in his existence. The body's being shipped back to Moscow tomorrow."
"The GRU are gonna throw a fit," said Monty, putting his head in his hands and scratching his beard. "You do not want Spetsnaz on your ass. I learned that the hard way in Prague."
"…I'll ask you about that another time, Monty." She turned off the song. "And it's not just Stalin. There does seem to be a theme with the resurrections, though."
"That being?"
Katherine turned on another song; Blue Eyed Blondes's Maneater. "Dammit. Meant to hit Talking Heads."
"Get to the point, Katherine?"
"But it's atmospheric, Monty." She sighed, setting the phone aside, volume low. "The theme is psychopaths."

"…this is twelve kinds of fucked up."
"In various colors and flavors."
MTF-Sigma-10 members Ruby and Blake Williams- known as "The Wonder Twins" by the rest of the task force- had their assault rifles leveled at a zombie wearing the skin of another, female zombie, whose writhing carcass was on the other side of the dog park, with bite marks in its flesh. The breasts of the skin suit swung low, one of them on the verge of falling off the zombie's body as it swung a knife in the direction of the agents, growling gutturally.
"Okay, let's see," Ruby said, backing away slowly. "We've already seen Lizzie Borden and Albert Fish here. Who do you think this is?"
"Let's see… wearing skin, big knife… naked… I'm gonna say Ed Gein."
"…yeah, that makes sense." Ruby aimed her sights. "One clean shot."
"Ready when you are, sis."
Fire erupted from the ends of their rifles. Ed Gein's head popped off. The corpse groped around on the ground, picking up a new one from a nearby zed that had already been dispatched.
"Oh that is fucking cheating!" Blake aimed a few shots at its kneecap, causing it to fall to the ground. "Sis! Cauterize!"
"Right!" Ruby took out an incendiary grenade — nicknamed WOOMPH grenades by Sigma-10 — pulled the pin, and threw it at the revived psychopath. The entire dog park caught fire after that, but at least Ed Gein was dead. Again.
"You know what the worst part of this is?" asked Ruby as they watched the park burn.
"The fact that we just destroyed an important piece of Sloth's Pit property, the therapy we're all gonna need after this, and we saw Ed Gein naked?"
"…you pretty much covered it."

"Son of a bitch."
"Yup." Katherine took up her smartphone again. "At least we know who's behind it, now."
"Who?"
"They call themselves "Satyr's Reign"." She held up her phone, opened up to a Horizon Initiative Database Entry. "Cult that worships madness, and wants to bring about the end of the world by…"
"Bringing back history's worst psychopaths?" Montgomery scratched his beard. "Why not bring back Hitler while they're at it?"
"Even they have standards, Monty." Katherine got a text on her phone, which chimed to the tune of a Voltaire song. "…you're fucking kidding me." She took up her bag from the table, starting for the door. "C'mon, we gotta go."
"Why?"
"Because they're bringing out the real obscure shit, and they need our help."

Elizabeth Báthory was healing faster than the bullets could tear new holes in her. The false vampiress had been revived through magic which had been specially crafted for her. She moved like a robot, seeking out only one thing: the blood of virgins. Nothing else was in her mind, not even hatred, which should have concerned her half-rotted brain. But it didn't. Elizabeth could not feel concern.
Unfortunately for MTF-Sigma-10, there were several among their ranks that were classified as virgins by the Countess's standards. So, they ran, ran out of the music store where they had been fighting her, into the street, still firing at her.
"Who is this b- who is she, anyway?" asked one Raymond February over the radio, panting softly.
"Countess Elizabeth Báthory, also known as the most prolific serial killer in history," Said Dr. Sinclair over the radio. "She is incredibly powerful. Stand by until we get there."
"Which will be when?" asked February, in between firing his pistol at the creature and saying a prayer every other breath; his time in the Choir Boys had taught him that prayer at least keeps up morale, if nothing else.
"Give us a break!" barked Monty, over the radio; the car they were in was making audible screeching noises. "We had to mow down Benito Mussolini and Jack the Ripper on our way into town!"
February hid behind a tree before speaking again. "Hold on. How'd you know it was Jack the Ripper? They never caught him."
"He looked like Ebenezer Scrooge with a sword cane," Sinclair explained. "We just kind of assumed."
"All right," February said, praying under his breath. "Where are you?"
"We're turning onto Novel Road right now. You said she was on Rock Street?"
"Yeah," panted February- before a decaying hand punched through the tree, barely missing his head.
"Monty?" Sinclair said over the radio. "Shortcut."
"Right."
There was a blinding flash of light, and suddenly, a Toyota Prius was skidding to a stop in front of the music store- only to collide with the store itself, destroying several guitars, ukeleles and basses in the window. The car itself was remarkably undamaged.
Katherine Sinclair emerged from the car along with Montgomery Reynolds, each holding a long yew walking stick in hand. They crossed them with a resounding crack of magical energy, both yelling, "Revertere ad sepulchrum tuum, diabolus!"
A flash of green light illuminated the area; the Countess didn't even blink. Katherine did. "Shit."
"Again!" "Monty said, crossing his stick with hers, and shouting the incantation once more. The Countess advanced, unfazed. "Why isn't this working?!"
"She's too powerful!" Katherine slammed her staff into the ground, a barrier of light forming around her. "We need to figure out another way!"
Montgomery turned to look at the music shop behind them. "Katherine?"
"Yes?"
"You know how you keep saying music is a form of magic?"
"Yeah?" She started getting the idea, looking at a half-broken ukelele.
"…you know that song I hate so much?"
Katherine looked at one of the guitars and grinned, biting down on her finger to draw blood. She drew a line of blood on the staff in the shape of a crude musical note. She called out, "I call upon Euterpe and Erato! Play me a song so that I may be saved!"
A force of pure creative energy started playing the Lovin' Spoonful's Do You Believe In Magic, and several other instruments joined in. "Song's only two minutes long!"
"Don't you dare sing along," Montgomery said, bringing up his staff and crossing it with Katherine's. ""Revertere ad sepulchrum tuum, diabolus!"
They chanted this incantation, the light growing stronger as the song played, before finally, as the music died out, a wave of light scattered throughout the town. The countess was vaporized, and several other zombified psychopaths followed soon after.
Katherine fell to her knees, drained. She was vaguely aware of the fact that several Sigma-10 members were cheering for her, and she should have felt appreciated, but instead, she felt like she needed a stiff drink.

As dawn came, Katherine helped herself to a mug of mead in the only good bar in Sloth's Pit, the Black Garden. She rubbed her head and looked at her assistant. "Monty?"
"Yes?"
"…I fucking hate this town. If it's not were-unicorns, it's killer Christmas trees. If it's not killer Christmas Trees, it's fucking zombie psychopaths summoned by a cult that worships madness. If it's not that, then…"
"It's not a normal day here, is it?" Monty patted her on the arm. "C'mon. Let's get you back to your apartment. You need sleep."
"…I'm taking the mead with me." With that, she got up, and started walking to her car. Montgomery followed, and they drove into the rising sun, and home.