OOC: As usual, my writing falls below professional quality, but the creative elements bear glimmers of creativity. All are welcome to join, but please only post your character sheets and no actual posts yet. I want to see atleast a reasonable figure of players sign up before I open the flood gates.

Containment Failure

It started as small colums in the local newspaper.

"Hitchiker found brutally slain"

"Unknown remains discovered by dog walker"

"Police arrest suspects related to local murders"

It was something no one really paid attention to. The 21st century was a violent time to live, especially in the cities. People killed each other every day... you know, over drugs and money. It was just another one of those darker parts of life that you ignored. But then one day the reports made it onto TV news, and started making front page stories.

"Suspected cultists butcher family on outskirts of town"

"Police report two casualties whilst perusing suspects of murders"

"Hospitals confirm unknown disease spreading through wards"

This was when people started to sit down and listen to what was happening, but by then it was already too late. The infection had already reached the majority of the population. Any response now was useless. As days went by, the stories became more and more frequent and the headlines became filled with tales of horrific bloodshed. Riots broke out in the cities and the larger towns. The government dismissed them as some form of organised violence and told us not to worry... but we knew something was not right.

"89 dead in mid-town riot."

"Town of Avery under military blockade"

"West Cross Hospital quarantined"

By now you didn't need to read the news, the infection was everywhere. On the streets, in the fields, on the roads. People washed through in blood, chasing others and eating them like some kind of insane canibals. No one knew what to think, or do. Some barricaded themselves in their houses with a supply of weapons and food, whilst others took flight to areas of the country that were less effected. All the while the government assured us everything was under control. What a joke.

"Military quarantine overrun around Washington!"

"New York succumbs to infection!"

"President Declares Nationwide Martial-Law!"

The police and military were deployed in force with orders to shoot and kill anyone who may be infected. It was genocide. I feel sorry for those who remained in the cities. If they survived the encounters with the infected, then they were gunned down by panicked security forces later on. Planes took to the sky and started bombing the worst hit areas in an attempt to blow holes in the spread. Reports came in from London and Paris - the infection had reached them too. Within days the world began to collapse, but I still remember the last headlines.

"New York bombed off the map!"

"Military falls back to California!"

"Police forces deteriorate across U.S!"

That was four months ago. My name is Joseph Carbel, a once-upon-a-time shopkeeper in the city of Arkansas, now a travelling refugee in the fit of an untold madness. In my company are others, a merry few, who out of chance have found me, or have been found by me. We travel down a long forgotten interstate inside a van covered thickly in armoured plate... it's the only safe way anymore. Although bright sunlight creeps in through holes in the plating, it is still very dark in here. As a rule we only travel in the day, because at night is when the infected are at their most potent.

We are low on food and water, and not only that, but the van is running out of petrol too. A stop is required, but I dread telling my companions, because as each one of them knows, a stop means an extreme possibility of death. The interstate offers several abandoned gas stations with little or no urban housing surrounding them, which is good because it means less chance of there being infected… but we have been caught off guard before.

Looking down at the gas-meter I sigh. Nearly empty. Turning my head away from the road I call back to my friends.

"We're running out of gas, I'm going to pull over at the next gas station. Get ready."

--------------------------------------------------

In this Role Play, you will play the part of one of Joseph's group. This is not a run-and-gun zombie horror, this RP is focused more at survival, and dealing with the realities of the situation. Obviously it is staged in America, with a population... last time I checked, around 350 million? Considering most of the population is infected, there's around 300 million people out there waiting to eat our faces off. No matter how big Rambo was, or how many bullets he could stuff into his machinegun, not even he would be able to survive without being realistic about the situation. What i'm trying to say is, you might have a shotgun with x amount of shells, but pulling that trigger would alert a horde of untold numbers, and I would very much like to see how quickly you could pump said shotgun when a dozen or so infected are forced upon your character by the expectations of reality.

Let me re-emphasise. This RP is about survival, not about who can look the coolest, it's about trying to play the parts of people stuck in an end-of-the-world zombie accopalypse in a realistic manner. Consider every action your character makes carefully. You just smashed an infected's head in with a pole. Did you get blood on your hands? Did it go in your eyes? You've just walked into an apparantly deserted house. Were you quiet about it? Did the door slam? You've just seen your family brutally ripped to pieces by a pack of the infected, how do you feel? Upset? Angry? Nothing? Shock? Can you move freely, or are you too traumatised? You hopefully understand what I mean by this.

And now... the character sheet. I don't usually use them, but I feel these days they're needed. Leaking information about your character every post or so can become confusing to others. Sam forgot Ted's mum had cancer 8 posts back and accidently made a cancer joke. That's an example of what I mean.


Full Name: Joseph Carbel
Gender: Male
Age: 37
Appearence: (INCLUDE VAGUE REFERENCES TO HEIGHT AND BUILD) Joesph is a fairly tall man, around 6,2, and is of an average build. He wears a pair of green camo combat trousers (or pants for you Americano's) and a dirty white vest. He has long greasy hair and the colour is a very dark brown/bordering on black, but is highlighted in grey around the sides. He has a long beard that reaches the base of his neck in length; it is mostly grey. He gives the impression of someone who has never been in touch with his bathroom mirror, even before the infection.
Background Story: Joseph Carbel was born and raised in the city of Arkansas. He was unremarkable in school, and barely passed the basic state education afforded to him. Although he was obviously never proven to be intellegent, he understood the more basic and practical things in life. Whilst his friends were sitting at home learning math, he was in his dad's garage changing a tire. Leaving at the age of 16, he went into the family business - the running of a general store. There he earned a good wage and quickly worked up the ranks before reaching the position of his father's right hand man. Joseph was never much to look at, but the money in his pocket and the cars he fixed up from scrap and drove around town got him the attention of the ladies. Safe to say he has a fair few bastard children... or did. He never married, he wasn't a family man. All of his school friends who were married were going through their costly divorces around the same time he was helping his father move the store into a much more glamouros comcerical district of Arkansas.
The infection had been in the news for a while, and Joseph, being a man of practicality, studied its progress. As it evolved into a major health concern, he had already moved his parents down to their remote holiday retreat in Mexico, but remained behind to manage the store. He was never known to be paranoid, just prepared, and therefore he was not about to sell up shop and move with his parents just because of some disease rampaging through the country. It wasn't until he saw a convoy of tanks and trucks pass by his shop that he realised it was something that was never going to simply go away. With that in mind he jumped into his white delivery van and took flight from the city just in time to escape the subscequent quarantine, and headed north - knowing all too well Mexico's borders would be closed. He was heading towards Canada, where he thought the infection may well find it too cold to live. He wanted to find himself some desloate plain and dwell there - no people - no infection. Things weren't that easy however.
Four months on the road, and Joseph had become lost. He didn't know where he was. Signs had been torn down. He had no map. Every town he passed by hoping to find non-infected turned out to be another ambush. So he decided that whilst he may not be able to find Canada, if he just heads north, he'll find it, right? wrong. Entire parts of the country had become impassable. Bombed or just too dense in infected to even be risked. He found himself constantly trying to cut around these areas, but ended up going in circles.
Covering his van in pig iron and wire mesh, Joseph gave up trying to find his promised land, and instead resolved to staying on the move constantly. Sticking mostly to the country, and sometimes visiting urban areas for bulks of supplies. Along his way he came across a few other survivors who were willing to join his campaign of survival.
Items of importance: 44. Magnum Revolver, a dozen 44.rounds, a tool kit stashed in the back of his van, a monkey wrench always secured to his belt.


--


Full Name: Jenna Taylor
Gender: Female
Age: 22

Appearence: Jenna is of a moderate height, about 5'10'' and has a pretty solid build. She is wearing a pair of tanish cargo pants, a black long sleeve shirt, and a blue paramedic overcoat. She has short black hair that is about three inches long.

Background Story: Jenna Taylor was born in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. She did well in school, graduating High School with a 3.67 GPA. She was accepted to a community college and moved to Allentown when she was 18 in order to pursue a medical career. After a two year program, she graduated and was certified as a paramedic.

The first reports of the infection began a mere 18 months later. At first it was just a minor note, just another of the yearly viruses that make a big splash in the news and then fads to the background a few months later. However, this virus proved to be different. As the weeks went on, more and more reports of it grew and as panic began to spread across the nation, the hospitals began to become filled. It didn't take long after that for them to become overrun with the infected and serve as nexus for the infection to spread outward in all directions. Jenna was lucky and the hospital she was working at had taken the infection seriously and had given out masks, gloves, and other supplies to help protect their employees. In the weeks before the hospitals began to close down or be overrun, she had seen dozens of infected and had gotten to know not only the signs of infection, but also how, at least in theory, the infection spread.

Thus, once her hospital was quarantined, Jenna and the others in her ambulance decided to head west, towards the less populated regions of the country. Three months later, only Jenna was left alive. Low on supplies and out of fuel, she was incredibly lucky when Joseph Carbel and his well armored van drove past her ambulance. Since then, her medical expertise has proven very useful for the other survivors as they continued their journey across the country, always trying to stay one step ahead of the endless swarms of infected.

Items of importance: Walther P99 9mm Pistol, 2 16 round magazines, 32 9mm rounds, first aid kit with various aid supplies (pills, bandages, gloves, masks, etc.), a small survival knife



Full Name:Scarlett Mason
Gender: Female
Age: 17
Appearence: It's hard to tell Scarlett's exact height due to the frequency of cringing, slouching and balling up in corners but Scarlet is about 5'6" with a weight (even at 17) of just shy of 100 pounds. Wearing a tattered pair of skinny jeans and a tight The Smiths t-shirt Scarlett's main feature is her long black hair and flowing bangs which cover her entire left eye and a large portion of her right. However somehow with all of this she has proven time and time again to be capable with both gun and knife. Scarlett had just graduated high school a year early with a full scholarship to MIT prior to the outbreak, her brother's reaction had been to make fun of her and ask her if she was going to cry about it.

She did, then two weeks later when he caught the disease she had shot him dead along with her stepfather. Her mother had been attacked while at the store and never made it home.
Background Story
Scarlett had by all accounts a great childhood until 14. Her father had taken her hunting and fishing and to dance classes and treated her like a princess. Then in 2005 he walked into the bedroom to find his wife sleeping with another man, went out got drunk and ended up plowing into a smaller school-bus killing 6 of the children inside and putting 3 more into a permanent state of paralysis. He was currently in a maximum sentence penitentiary serving his 1st of 10 life sentences. His wife was currently married to that man. Who also happened to be one of Scarlett's teachers.

Naturally Scarlett wasn't all that happy about the situation, and fell into a depression the likes of which the internet has never seen. Taking emo to new levels Scarlett at very least became a shut-in, and refrained from making many of the stereotypical emo comments that have plagued our community for the past decade. Instead she focused on martial arts, shooting and work with a butterfly knife she had bought in her room. Counselors were brought in, then psychiatrists, then trips to the mental hospital and all determined she was fine. Just very angry. Her grades served to the prove this, she maintained a 4.0 average throughout high school even after the crash and received a distinction for receiving one point off on her SAT. Resulting in a 2399 score. They threw a party for her - she didn't go.

Scarlett had gone to a stress relief camp her father-in-law had sent her to while he and her mother where at Hedonism in Jamaica. Naturally this caused Scarlett more stress, upon return from this camp her brother-in-law had told her of the disease outbreak. And how millions of people had died, how her fathers prison had been one of it's hot spots and he was probably dead to. She had cried and told him that if he ever got this disease, she's kill him. He laughed and told her she couldn't kill a butterfly. For the first time in 5 years Scarlett had smiled and winked at him and said "Maybe." And walked away.

As Scarlett walked out of her house with a backpack full of food, stepping over her brothers lifeless corpse to exit the house. Her father in law impaled to the kitchen table with a 12 inch butchers knife. She grinned and hummed a little tune. It sounded a bit like Killer Queen.

20 minutes later she had run into Joseph Carbel, and now months later, she sat silently in the back of his van while he told them they needed food. She gripped the butterfly knife she had acquired and smiled, breathing slowly. There was a pistol wedged against her back in her jeans, and a collapsible riot baton in her right pocket, but she probably wouldn't need them. The knife would do just fine.

Items of importance: Riot Baton, S&W M1911 pistol, butterfly knife and backpack filled with assorted junk and food.

Couple other notes of importance: Scarlett has a death wish and thinks she's unstoppable. That'll change keep in mind she's emo and super subject to mood swings. On top of that she's less than 100 pounds so while it may sound like I'm trying to make her sound super cool more like this is her impression of herself. She'll change i guarantee it.

edit 2: I'm also willing to change the backstory of my character so you guys meet her in travels if you'd like... perhaps at the service station.



Full Name: Mackenzie Broad
Gender: Male
Age: 21

Appearance: Mack is a 6'1" farmboy-turned-cityman, but that doesn't mean he's lost any of his farming muscle. Unfortunately, it does mean he's still got a beer gut. Aside from that, Mack keeps his black, yet browning hair fairly short, and doesn't mind a bit of stubble across his jawline. He's graduated from blue jeans to carpenter jeans, and still cant resist a good long-sleeve button-up shirt.

Background Story: Mack was born in a small, rural town in northern North Carolina. His childhood leading up to his twenties was nothing special, although his farming family's heritage help build his body. Nevertheless, he was fascinated with more "outlandish" scenery, and was often picked on for being a daydreamer, interested more in Star Trek, H.P. Lovecraft, and Stephen King more than Tobacco, Corn, and Beer. "At least," some would say now, "he eventually got into beer." In all honesty, it wasn't like he didn't like any of it; he just didn't want to make a career out of farming.

Whatever life he'd led during his childhood, however, Mack still wanted to pursue the art of fiction writing, still enamored with science-fiction and fantasy. At his parents blessing, he attended community college the next county over, eventually transferring to New York. However, when news of the infection began to get worse, Mack's understood that, like the characters of books, you had to run. They were the only ones who survived in their stories, and he had no intention of not joining the survivors now.

He traveled pretty deep into the New York backwoods before his car, a trusty but old sedan, finally popped a tire just inside town. Mack was very thankful his gun-nut friends from home had made him buy a civilian-model Styer AUG, because it was the only thing that got him into the lonesome corner store/garage uninfected. It did help, though, that the former owner of the shop had left a very-well supplied pump-action shotgun.

A few weeks later, with snacks and drinks running low - besides the beer, of course, which Mack didn't want to use quite yet - an odd looking van slowly trudged through the area. With a laugh, it didn't take long for him to realize that it was a repair van seemingly on a metal and armor binge. The store had an old fireplace, and Mack was glad for once to have the chance to use it to attract the drivers attention, belching smoke out of the chimney as quickly as he could.

After disposing of the remnants of the local infected - those who Mack had thought had learned to stay away from the garage - it didn't take long for Mack to agree to join Joseph and Jenna, being that he hadn't seen a real human in weeks, and therefore missed company. Taking whatever they needed or could use from the place, they sped off out of town, Mack in tow.

Items of importance: MSAR STG-556, 3 30 round magazines (5.56mm NATO rounds), Mossberg 500 Home Security .410-gauge Shotgun, 32 .410 shells, 6' hunting knife



Full Name: Hector Sun
Gender: Male
Age: 32

Appearance: Robust man of stocky build stretched thin of late by the sudden change in lifestyle and diet. 6 feet tall with a mane of black hair and faint stubbles on the chin. Usually dons a strange outfit consisting of a black balaclava under a midnight blue motorcycle helmet with a clear visor; brown leather jacket and denim overalls; black leather gloves; and brown, thigh-high boots to protect himself.

Background Story: Hector was born and raised in the famed Windy City of Chicago prior to the outbreak and lived a pleasant, plebian life as a neighborhood mechanic. Being a skeptic, he was quick to catch onto the outbreak prior to its escalation and quickly deduced the safest place to hide would be the endless plains of the Mid-West and acted on this idea. He sold his house to an unsuspecting, newly wed couple and spent the money obtaining the necessary equipment to brave the chaos. He took with him a Ford F-450 with enough equipment to begin a primal lifestyle and set off with a Yamaha ATV in tow.

After entering Indiana, Hector began to see the drastic escalation of the outbreak and became acquainted with the reality of the ‘disease’. Since then, he has always worn whatever outfits he can piece together that will leave no part of his body exposed and sleeps at all times in enclosed spaces with a weapon next to his hand. After leaving civilization and upon entering the Great Plains, he has searched endlessly for a shelter that will protect him at night with an undisturbed view of the surroundings.

He has finally found a satisfactory location in a niche between a rocky formation jutting out of the ground and set about securing the perimeter. He was satisfied in a secluded part of the globe and a few makeshift walls finally allowed him to raise a fire at night in what seemed like eternity. However, he still sleeps lightly with a weapon at his side, dressed in protective gear as experience has shown that the infected strike when he is least expecting. As the days pass by and as he lost count, he wonders if the worst of the outbreak is over. Little did he expect to see a makeshift, armoured truck make its way across the plains in the far distance. Aroused by curiosity and a longing for human company, Hector reluctantly mounted the ATV and set out to investigate.

Hector lives with the grief of having to abandon his family during his flight as they cared little for his doomsday preachings. In fact, before he left, his parents declared him clinically insane and disowned him. What he saw during his travels has convinced him that they are lost to the infection and each night they haunt his dreams.

Items of importance: Yamaha ATV, Remington Shotgun with a pouch of shells, Silenced Colt Pistol with a spare magazine, Bandages and Ointment, Water Bottle, Simple Repair Tools, Two Small Containers of Petrol, Hatchet


Name: Meghan
Age: 26
Gender: Female (As if we don;t already have enough. lol)

Appearance: Standing tall at 4'10", she has a little extra weight in all the right places. She has long dirty blonde hair that is pulled back into a pony tail, and light blue eyes. She is wearing a pair of khakhi shorts and a green short sleeve shirt that reads "Zombie. Eat Flesh". She has a wonderful sense of humor. She is also wearing a pair of shoes that have a puzzle design on them. She has one tattoo on her shoulder, and scars on both of her wrists.

History: Meghan was oblivious to the danger that she was in when her husband came home from work one day and said he wasn't feeling well. Later that night, as she was sleeping in her bed, she suddenly woke to the sounds of her 10 month old baby crying. When she turned over, she realized that her husband was no longer in the bed. But these weren't the normal teething screams. So, she got up to see what was going on. She wished every day after that, that she would have stayed in bed. Her son, as helpless and beautiful as he was, was no longer screaming by the time she reached the door. He lay lifeless. Half in his crib, and half on the floor. She threw up uncontrollably, causing her husbands attention to turn to her. She ran for the bedroom and slammed the door closed, locking it. Running to the window, she picked up a lamp and threw it through, sending shattered glass everywhere.

Two weeks later, after finding shelter with her parents, she blamed herself for her sons demise. If only she would have listened to the warnings. If only she would have protected him better. She reached for a pair of scissors and sliced her wrists. By the time her mother found her, she had lost half of her blood.

Two more weeks passed, and the state of things in the world got worse. Infection had broken free and was turning people into monsters. She had studied cannibals in her life, hoping to one day become a Forensic Pathologist, so she knew their ways and wants, but these people were different. It was like they couldn't control themselves. She feared for humanity.

So, she hugged her parents and kissed them goodbye, and headed out to find an isolated place where no one could find her and she could finally finish what she had started. At least, that was the plan when she hitched a ride with Joseph and his band of misfits. She realized that these people were survivors like her. That each and every one of them had a simular story to tell. She decided to just buckle up and hold on because she knew it was going to be a bumpy ride.

Items of importance: A picture of her husband and her son. A razor blade.

--------------------

Post only your character sheets, I will add them to the main RP post when they have been accepted, which I'm sur ethey will be. No one starts the RP until I give the word please
 

Full Name: Jenna Taylor
Gender: Female
Age: 22

Appearence: Jenna is of a moderate height, about 5'10'' and has a pretty solid build. She is wearing a pair of tanish cargo pants, a black long sleeve shirt, and a blue paramedic overcoat. She has short black hair that is about three inches long.

Background Story: Jenna Taylor was born in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. She did well in school, graduating High School with a 3.67 GPA. She was accepted to a community college and moved to Allentown when she was 18 in order to pursue a medical career. After a two year program, she graduated and was certified as a paramedic.

The first reports of the infection began a mere 18 months later. At first it was just a minor note, just another of the yearly viruses that make a big splash in the news and then fads to the background a few months later. However, this virus proved to be different. As the weeks went on, more and more reports of it grew and as panic began to spread across the nation, the hospitals began to become filled. It didn't take long after that for them to become overrun with the infected and serve as nexus for the infection to spread outward in all directions. Jenna was lucky and the hospital she was working at had taken the infection seriously and had given out masks, gloves, and other supplies to help protect their employees. In the weeks before the hospitals began to close down or be overrun, she had seen dozens of infected and had gotten to know not only the signs of infection, but also how, at least in theory, the infection spread.

Thus, once her hospital was quarantined, Jenna and the others in her ambulance decided to head west, towards the less populated regions of the country. Three months later, only Jenna was left alive. Low on supplies and out of fuel, she was incredibly lucky when Joseph Carbel and his well armored van drove past her ambulance. Since then, her medical expertise has proven very useful for the other survivors as they continued their journey across the country, always trying to stay one step ahead of the endless swarms of infected.

Items of importance: Walther P99 9mm Pistol, 2 16 round magazines, 32 9mm rounds, first aid kit with various aid supplies (pills, bandages, gloves, masks, etc.), a small survival knife
 

Full Name:Scarlett Mason
Gender: Female
Age: 17
Appearence: It's hard to tell Scarlett's exact height due to the frequency of cringing, slouching and balling up in corners but Scarlet is about 5'6" with a weight (even at 17) of just shy of 100 pounds. Wearing a tattered pair of skinny jeans and a tight The Smiths t-shirt Scarlett's main feature is her long black hair and flowing bangs which cover her entire left eye and a large portion of her right. However somehow with all of this she has proven time and time again to be capable with both gun and knife. Scarlett had just graduated high school a year early with a full scholarship to MIT prior to the outbreak, her brother's reaction had been to make fun of her and ask her if she was going to cry about it.

She did, then two weeks later when he caught the disease she had shot him dead along with her stepfather. Her mother had been attacked while at the store and never made it home.
Background Story
Scarlett had by all accounts a great childhood until 14. Her father had taken her hunting and fishing and to dance classes and treated her like a princess. Then in 2005 he walked into the bedroom to find his wife sleeping with another man, went out got drunk and ended up plowing into a smaller school-bus killing 6 of the children inside and putting 3 more into a permanent state of paralysis. He was currently in a maximum sentence penitentiary serving his 1st of 10 life sentences. His wife was currently married to that man. Who also happened to be one of Scarlett's teachers.

Naturally Scarlett wasn't all that happy about the situation, and fell into a depression the likes of which the internet has never seen. Taking emo to new levels Scarlett at very least became a shut-in, and refrained from making many of the stereotypical emo comments that have plagued our community for the past decade. Instead she focused on martial arts, shooting and work with a butterfly knife she had bought in her room. Counselors were brought in, then psychiatrists, then trips to the mental hospital and all determined she was fine. Just very angry. Her grades served to the prove this, she maintained a 4.0 average throughout high school even after the crash and received a distinction for receiving one point off on her SAT. Resulting in a 2399 score. They threw a party for her - she didn't go.

Scarlett had gone to a stress relief camp her father-in-law had sent her to while he and her mother where at Hedonism in Jamaica. Naturally this caused Scarlett more stress, upon return from this camp her brother-in-law had told her of the disease outbreak. And how millions of people had died, how her fathers prison had been one of it's hot spots and he was probably dead to. She had cried and told him that if he ever got this disease, she's kill him. He laughed and told her she couldn't kill a butterfly. For the first time in 5 years Scarlett had smiled and winked at him and said "Maybe." And walked away.

As Scarlett walked out of her house with a backpack full of food, stepping over her brothers lifeless corpse to exit the house. Her father in law impaled to the kitchen table with a 12 inch butchers knife. She grinned and hummed a little tune. It sounded a bit like Killer Queen.

20 minutes later she had run into Joseph Carbel, and now months later, she sat silently in the back of his van while he told them they needed food. She gripped the butterfly knife she had acquired and smiled, breathing slowly. There was a pistol wedged against her back in her jeans, and a collapsible riot baton in her right pocket, but she probably wouldn't need them. The knife would do just fine.

Items of importance: Riot Baton, S&W M1911 pistol, butterfly knife and backpack filled with assorted junk and food.

Couple other notes of importance: Scarlett has a death wish and thinks she's unstoppable. That'll change keep in mind she's emo and super subject to mood swings. On top of that she's less than 100 pounds so while it may sound like I'm trying to make her sound super cool more like this is her impression of herself. She'll change i guarantee it.

edit 2: I'm also willing to change the backstory of my character so you guys meet her in travels if you'd like... perhaps at the service station.
 

Full Name: Mackenzie Broad
Gender: Male
Age: 21

Appearance: Mack is a 6'1" farmboy-turned-cityman, but that doesn't mean he's lost any of his farming muscle. Unfortunately, it does mean he's still got a beer gut. Aside from that, Mack keeps his black, yet browning hair fairly short, and doesn't mind a bit of stubble across his jawline. He's graduated from blue jeans to carpenter jeans, and still cant resist a good long-sleeve button-up shirt.

Background Story: Mack was born in a small, rural town in northern North Carolina. His childhood leading up to his twenties was nothing special, although his farming family's heritage help build his body. Nevertheless, he was fascinated with more "outlandish" scenery, and was often picked on for being a daydreamer, interested more in Star Trek, H.P. Lovecraft, and Stephen King more than Tobacco, Corn, and Beer. "At least," some would say now, "he eventually got into beer." In all honesty, it wasn't like he didn't like any of it; he just didn't want to make a career out of farming.

Whatever life he'd led during his childhood, however, Mack still wanted to pursue the art of fiction writing, still enamored with science-fiction and fantasy. At his parents blessing, he attended community college the next county over, eventually transferring to New York. However, when news of the infection began to get worse, Mack's understood that, like the characters of books, you had to run. They were the only ones who survived in their stories, and he had no intention of not joining the survivors now.

He traveled pretty deep into the New York backwoods before his car, a trusty but old sedan, finally popped a tire just inside town. Mack was very thankful his gun-nut friends from home had made him buy a civilian-model Styer AUG, because it was the only thing that got him into the lonesome corner store/garage uninfected. It did help, though, that the former owner of the shop had left a very-well supplied pump-action shotgun.

A few weeks later, with snacks and drinks running low - besides the beer, of course, which Mack didn't want to use quite yet - an odd looking van slowly trudged through the area. With a laugh, it didn't take long for him to realize that it was a repair van seemingly on a metal and armor binge. The store had an old fireplace, and Mack was glad for once to have the chance to use it to attract the drivers attention, belching smoke out of the chimney as quickly as he could.

After disposing of the remnants of the local infected - those who Mack had thought had learned to stay away from the garage - it didn't take long for Mack to agree to join Joseph and Jenna, being that he hadn't seen a real human in weeks, and therefore missed company. Taking whatever they needed or could use from the place, they sped off out of town, Mack in tow.

Items of importance: MSAR STG-556, 3 30 round magazines (5.56mm NATO rounds), Mossberg 500 Home Security .410-gauge Shotgun, 32 .410 shells, 6' hunting knife
 

Full Name: Hector Sun
Gender: Male
Age: 32

Appearance: Robust man of stocky build stretched thin of late by the sudden change in lifestyle and diet. 6 feet tall with a mane of black hair and faint stubbles on the chin. Usually dons a strange outfit consisting of a black balaclava under a midnight blue motorcycle helmet with a clear visor; brown leather jacket and denim overalls; black leather gloves; and brown, thigh-high boots to protect himself.

Background Story: Hector was born and raised in the famed Windy City of Chicago prior to the outbreak and lived a pleasant, plebian life as a neighborhood mechanic. Being a skeptic, he was quick to catch onto the outbreak prior to its escalation and quickly deduced the safest place to hide would be the endless plains of the Mid-West and acted on this idea. He sold his house to an unsuspecting, newly wed couple and spent the money obtaining the necessary equipment to brave the chaos. He took with him a Ford F-450 with enough equipment to begin a primal lifestyle and set off with a Yamaha ATV in tow.

After entering Indiana, Hector began to see the drastic escalation of the outbreak and became acquainted with the reality of the ‘disease’. Since then, he has always worn whatever outfits he can piece together that will leave no part of his body exposed and sleeps at all times in enclosed spaces with a weapon next to his hand. After leaving civilization and upon entering the Great Plains, he has searched endlessly for a shelter that will protect him at night with an undisturbed view of the surroundings.

He has finally found a satisfactory location in a niche between a rocky formation jutting out of the ground and set about securing the perimeter. He was satisfied in a secluded part of the globe and a few makeshift walls finally allowed him to raise a fire at night in what seemed like eternity. However, he still sleeps lightly with a weapon at his side, dressed in protective gear as experience has shown that the infected strike when he is least expecting. As the days pass by and as he lost count, he wonders if the worst of the outbreak is over. Little did he expect to see a makeshift, armoured truck make its way across the plains in the far distance. Aroused by curiosity and a longing for human company, Hector reluctantly mounted the ATV and set out to investigate.

Hector lives with the grief of having to abandon his family during his flight as they cared little for his doomsday preachings. In fact, before he left, his parents declared him clinically insane and disowned him. What he saw during his travels has convinced him that they are lost to the infection and each night they haunt his dreams.

Items of importance: Yamaha ATV, Remington Shotgun with a pouch of shells, Silenced Colt Pistol with a spare magazine, Bandages and Ointment, Water Bottle, Simple Repair Tools, Two Small Containers of Petrol, Hatchet

OOC: Ok... Just reading over all these profiles, we all seem to have a different idea of where this 'Interstate' is. Can you please clarify for us Rokdar? I can adjust the profile in accordance.

P.S. How long until we get going? I'm excited.
 

OOC: Well, it seems that we have enough people now, so now all we need is Rokdar to get things going.
 

Planet Shaker I'm confused, everyone is just saying where they met this guy not where he is now. Read the part where he says you are a part of his group already?
 

OOC: Damn... I must've missed that line. Sorry. I'll modify it if Rokdar wants. I was on the way to meet you guys anyway.
 

OOC: I'm glad this has seen some more interest. We're just about set to go by the looks of it. Planet Shaker has raised a valid point though, I didn't name the interstate out of my ignorance concering the U.S's transport system. Having done some research, I've chosen Interstate 70, heading east bound towards the east coast for the pure reason that it cuts through the middle of the country and would mean people from most areas could have reached it. But let's remember Joseph has been on the road for four months now, and could have met your characters anywhere, it's just at this present time the group is travelling down Interstate 70.

On another note, I'm alright with Planet Shaker's decision to start seperate from the group, but I should stress that I want him to meet up with us pronto.

I'll leave it a few hours or so before I start the RP, just so everyone can take in this information and raise any concerns they may have. Thanks for showing interest
 

(OOC: I'm in.)

Name: Meghan
Age: 26
Gender: Female (As if we don;t already have enough. lol)

Appearance: Standing tall at 4'10", she has a little extra weight in all the right places. She has long dirty blonde hair that is pulled back into a pony tail, and light blue eyes. She is wearing a pair of khakhi shorts and a green short sleeve shirt that reads "Zombie. Eat Flesh". She has a wonderful sense of humor. She is also wearing a pair of shoes that have a puzzle design on them. She has one tattoo on her shoulder, and scars on both of her wrists.

History: Meghan was oblivious to the danger that she was in when her husband came home from work one day and said he wasn't feeling well. Later that night, as she was sleeping in her bed, she suddenly woke to the sounds of her 10 month old baby crying. When she turned over, she realized that her husband was no longer in the bed. But these weren't the normal teething screams. So, she got up to see what was going on. She wished every day after that, that she would have stayed in bed. Her son, as helpless and beautiful as he was, was no longer screaming by the time she reached the door. He lay lifeless. Half in his crib, and half on the floor. She threw up uncontrollably, causing her husbands attention to turn to her. She ran for the bedroom and slammed the door closed, locking it. Running to the window, she picked up a lamp and threw it through, sending shattered glass everywhere.

Two weeks later, after finding shelter with her parents, she blamed herself for her sons demise. If only she would have listened to the warnings. If only she would have protected him better. She reached for a pair of scissors and sliced her wrists. By the time her mother found her, she had lost half of her blood.

Two more weeks passed, and the state of things in the world got worse. Infection had broken free and was turning people into monsters. She had studied cannibals in her life, hoping to one day become a Forensic Pathologist, so she knew their ways and wants, but these people were different. It was like they couldn't control themselves. She feared for humanity.

So, she hugged her parents and kissed them goodbye, and headed out to find an isolated place where no one could find her and she could finally finish what she had started. At least, that was the plan when she hitched a ride with Joseph and his band of misfits. She realized that these people were survivors like her. That each and every one of them had a simular story to tell. She decided to just buckle up and hold on because she knew it was going to be a bumpy ride.

Items of importance: A picture of her husband and her son. A razor blade.

(OOC: Hope that's ok. I may have gotten a little carried away. heh.)
 

OOC: Are you really 4'10? Holy fuck
 

OOC: Alright, let's get this show on the road. All hands on deck!

Chapter 1: Interstate 70

I knew not where we are headed, but I've seen enough bloodied signs to know this was Interstate 70. I've spent my entire life in a single city, with the ocaisional visit to Mexico, the very mentioning of this road means nothing to me. Where does it go? What does it hold? I don't know, and I don't care. It's long, straight, fairly open and deserted, what more do we need? Mackenzie says that heading the way we are, we'll wind up back on the East Coast, which would be bad, but who knows, maybe things have calmed down since then? I remember hearing a military broadcast not long ago advertising a safe haven in Florida - which is pretty near, right? The land surrounding the road is rich in greenery and small woodlands, scarred here and there by the odd colum of grey smoke rising from out of sight. I'm used to seeing them, there has been many fires since the outbreak. They are small villages and towns, contested between the infected and the survivors. If you put your ear to the wind and listen carefully, you'll hear no end of gun shots and painful gut wrenching screams.

I eye a gas station a few hundred yards onwards, and am thrilled to notice that no residential structures, save for a single large country house, are in reletive range of it. Grinding to a gentle halt, I engage the handbreak and take time to rub the sweat from my soaking head. The sun is high today, and is not having any mercy on the carrion. My companions sit in silence somewhere behind me. Our journey on the road has taught them much - mainly, that it's my van, and therefore I am incharge. I give the orders, and they, well, they just shut up and listen. Any other way and they can go dive infront of a tractor. Especially Mackenzie, his knowledge of these parts, no matter how vague, seems to be undermining my authority. If it weren't for his competence when it comes to dealing with the infected, I'd of left him behind days ago.

I claw at the dashboard with grubby hands, unable to see the glovebox's handle. A few seconds pass until I finally locate it and pull it open; reaching inside I withdraw a small pair of cheap, plastic bonoculars. Peering out through the wired mesh that covers the windshield, I take note of every little detail concerning the petrol station. There are six pumps, each catering for diesel - good. By the looks of it, the place is in pretty good shape, meaning no other survivors have got to it first, and more over, there couldn't have been that many infected around. Behind the pumps there is a large kiosk, about the size of a regular shop, where through shuttered windows I can make out shelves of preserved goods. Perfect. Between ourselves and the gas station, there are several abandoned cars littering the Innerstate, more so than other parts. This worries me slightly, but there are no signs of anyone being inside of them. We'll have to be quick.

"Alright, listen up people." I say with a raised voice - not shouting, but just raised. No need to alert the infected, just incase they are listening. "We'll be at the gas station in a minute, from the looks of it, its sealed pretty tight. The keys for the pumps are probably inside, so we need to get in. That's my job, considering none of you know how to open some shutters without triggering an alarm bell." I end with a smile.

I glare at Jenna. Her company I appreciate the most, she's a erm... let's say, a retired paramedic. More than that, she's treated the infected, although judging by the conclusion to some of her stories, rather unsuccessfully. But still, it'd nice to know that if one of those bastards bites me, she might be able to do something useful. Failing that, if someone enacts a bit of friendly fire, she can atleast give the basic medical attention required. With that in mind, I've never trusted her to be put into the heat of action - she's too soft. With the infected you need to act and not think. Sometimes I wonder whether she thinks too much.

"Jenna darlin', I want you on lookout. Stand by the van, and don't move from the van unless you got a damn good reason to. If you see anything, anything at all, I don't care if its just a green eyed squirel, I want to know about it. Watch the roads, any outbuildings and that house over there. Understand?"

She nods. Good girl.

"And when I get the shutters up, I want you on medical supplies. First-aid kits, plasters, bandages, whatever looks useful, grab it. We wont be stopping in a while and I want to use this chance to get everything we need."

She nods again.

I look across at Mackenzie. As much as I dislike the man, I can't deny his abilities. Built like an ox with an assault-rifle to suit - never one to sit around. Twice he's saved my ass, although I hate to admit it. One time I recall was right after we found him, one of the infected jumped on me from a concealed alley way, but it fell with two bullets in its head before I even had time to notice. This is why I give him the benefit of the doubt, despite his continuing 'ideas' and 'notions'.

"Mackenzie, I want you on over-watch. Explore the outside areas, and I'm talking the car-park, the outside toilets, the garbage containers, everything. I don't want any infected jumping on us from two meters away, that would be very... unpleasant. Check back on Jenna, and I mean, make sure you do. I don't want the sweet nurse to end up in a dog bowl. When you're done doing that, keep an eye on that house with her, it's about two hundred yards from the station, and on that note, don't go fucking anywhere near it."

He makes no gesture, merely he returns my gaze and cocks his rifle.

In the corner, and sitting quietly, is Meghan. She doesn't say much but she seems nice enough. I keep seeing her clutch some scrumpled old photo in her hands... no doubt a reminder of better days. She doesn't do much in the way of fighting, but she makes us all laugh, which is a God given fucking miracle in times like this. I glance at her green shirt; it has the most eye catching motif. Zombie. Eat Flesh. I smile.

"Meg, you're going to take it easy. Once I get the shutters up, you're going to get food. Anything in cans is good - food that will last, and liquids of all kinds. Alcahol, fizzy drinks, I don't give a fuck, just so long as it keeps us alive. Understand?"She looks at me briefly and then looks away."Good."

Now, the last of my group. Her name is Scarlett, and she... to put it frankly, scares me. Quite well too. She doesn't say much about herself, but then she doesn't say much anyway. Her and Meg are suitors. I gather she went through some hard shit during the outbreak though, but then, who didn't? All I know is, the girl is a fucking whack job. I've seen her pull off some crazy shit with that butterfly fuck toy of hers, and that's what makes her my back-up.

"Alright Scarlett, you're with me. Watch my back whilst I crack open the shutters - if I find out I got a tooth mark in my shoulder by the end of this, you're going face first into the nearest densely populated town." She shrugs at this and almost admits a sort of sly smile.... well, thinking of it, that would probably be her dream situation.

"Alright then, here we go. Don't fuck this up, I want to be out of here in minutes."

I release the handbreak and ease the accelerator. The van moves gracefully and the smooth road beneath offers us a peaceful, if very short, ride. I swerve to avoid the abandoned cars, and up the speed as the station draws closer. Before long I'm slamming on the breaks as we reach the middle-most pumps, and with a breath of the stale air, I open my driving side door. As I do so, I hear the dull thump of the others closing the rear doors. Mackenzie begins taking a slow walk towards the outer pumps, whilst Meg and Jenna sit by the van. Scarlett follows as we move low and quickly towards the front of the kiosk. My vision darts everywhere, ever looking for signs of danger. There is a fuse box mounted upon a short brick colum to the left of the main doors, and I suspect this to be connected to the shutters. A quick inspection confirms this, and I immediately get to work.

I dabble my fingers in the wiring and start trying to find out what connects to what. In the corner of my eye, blocking the sun from view, I can see the blury outline of Scarlett staring down at me.

"Come on, come on!" I mutter to myself. Which one of you fuckers is wired up to them?

OOC: I hope my writing is alright, I've gotten really rusty since I stopped reading books on a regular ocaision... and do forgive my minor using of your characters, it's my way of giving you all some direction.

All important information is highlighted in bold, blue. Take note of those particular extracts.
 

(OOC: Yes, I am only 4'10" in real life.)

Meghan shoved the picture into her back right pocket and climbed out of the van, closing the door behind her gently as not to draw unwanted attention. She waited patiently with Scarlett beside her for Joe to open the doors.

Looking around, she took note of the house in the distance. It reminded her of the house in Psycho. Her thoughts dragged on to parts of that movie that were most memorable. Then her mind wandered over to the newer version with Anne Heche, which took her to the movie 6 Days 7 Nights which took her to David Schwimmer which then took her to Friends which took her to her favorite episode with the Smelly Cat music video. This was how her mind worked tho. It wandered from memory to memory, completely misguided.

"Meghan, wake up woman! Time to go" Scarlett hit her in the arm and jarred her out of her day dreaming. It was then that she realized just how dangerous her day dreaming could be. But, at least she wasn't thinking about....

She pushed off from the van and walked over to the door as Joe throws the shutters up. All looks calm and very well preserved. Almost like the owners had just closed shop yesterday. She waited for the front door to be opened.

(OOC: I'm stopping here so others can catch up and let us know what they are doing the whole time. Feel free to have my character grab everything she can off of the shelves. lol.)
 

The sun beats down relentlessly on Hector's back and before long he was breaking a sweat. It didn't help that the motorcycle helmet would constantly fog up with perspiration. Never the less, he continued relentlessly and worked the ATV like a racehorse jockey. He could see that he was slowly gaining on the armoured van and, before long, the van would grind to a halt. Hector slowed down and kept himself out of sight for the time being because, even though they most likely are not infected, there's no judging the level of hostility they may display if he approached them. People are mighty protective of their possessions in these hard times.

The best course of action, Hector concluded, was to get close without them detecting him and eavesdrop on their conversations. Only when he can determine who they are and, more importantly, if they would put holes in him without a second though should he revealing himself.

Thus, he parked his ATV behind a collection of bushes off the interstate, a good distance from the petrol station, and scurried through the terrain towards the lonely building with his shotgun in hand. As he did, he saw five humans exit the van and one of the males began to patrol around the perimeter and forced Hector to stop at a distance of approximately five hundred meters from the commotion.

"Damn these great plains. There's absolutely no cover," he muttered to himself. He decided to lie prone behind a rock and peeked around the side to observe the group's next move...
 

After Joseph had finished up his speech, Jenna began to recheck the supplies in her first aid kit. She still had plenty of masks and gloves, but was running low on just about everything else, especially pills. Zipping it back up, she then looked around at the rest of her companions. She had been traveling with them all for some time now, but she really didn't know them too well. After all that she had seen, all the wild eyed looks from those bitten and sobbing family members in the background...

Snapping out of these thoughts as the van pulled up to the station, Jenna waited for others to get out before leaving herself. She then stood by the front of the van, glancing over everything in sight. It was quite, with a hint of smoke in the air. Besides the sounds of everyone moving around, doing their tasks, there was nothing else to be heard. This was both a comfort and something to be worried about. The lack of sound meant that there was nothing in sight, but that also meant that any noise they make would be heard for miles around and that would only mean trouble. While the infected were dangerous, they were not the only evil out there and Jenna knew what lengths people would go to just to survive another day, she had seen it on the three months of Hell before she ran into Joseph and the others. Still, the sooner they got that shutter open, the sooner they would be out of here. Leaning against the van, she sighed but continued to remain alert, even checking behind the van every 30 seconds or so, keep her grip on her pistol tight, hoping that she would not have to use it.
 

...Wake up woman time to go...

Scarlett grabbed the steel knife from her back pocket while giving Meghan a gentle shove. If she understood anyone in this van it was her, and she spoke a little more to Meghan than any of the other survivors. Not that this was a large conversation by any means. Scarlett enjoyed silence and the horror of what had happened lent itself to it. In many ways the infection was the best thing that had happened to her, the horror that everyone had gone through had made them more understanding of why she hated the world and people seemed to accept her more, she wasn't quite sure if she wanted this acceptance but it was a refreshing change.

Squeezing the knife to pop the latch Scarlett resorted to her usual nervous maneuver of rapidly opening and closing the knife over and over again. As Joe through the door open, Scarlett turned back to Jenna and cocked her head inquisitively?

"Jenna is there anything you need supplies wise?" Still flicking the knife open and closed while noticing just how nervous Jenna seemed. Jenna seemed stunned that Scarlett had talked to her and took a second to register.

Finally she began to make her response.

OOC: Included some Basic Butterfly Knife Technique/Info
 

"Jenna is there anything you need supplies wise?"

I look away from the fuses to stare up at Scarlett. The constant clicking and swishing of her knife is starting to iritate me, but I'm not going to ask her to put it away because it'll probably trigger that psychotic little bitch into some kind of killing spree. I shift my eyes back to the fuses and continue to poke around. None of the bastards are labled, if I hit the wrong one for all I know I could trigger an alarm, and that would be bad, if not embarassing. Sweat streams down my forehead, dripping to the floor in the same rythm of my frustration. It's impossible for me to know what fuse is going to open the shutters, but is it worth the risk? Looking back at my van, I remember that we have no supplies, and barely any fuel - we might not make it to the next station, and I'll be damned if I'm walking. I choose one of the fuses at random and then start to cross the wires. Please, Lord have mercy, let this be it. There is a buz and a small flicker of sparks as I short circuit the fuse - and then, worst of all, a silence. I raise my head and look around.

The shutters are still down but nothing else has made a noise or movement. Lucky. I try another and peform the same operation. I jerk backwards as I see a strip-light from within the kiosk flicker to life. I stay still for a few seconds listening out to any movement, with each tick of my crappy wrist watch echoing the events of my life. Nothing stirs. They must be on an emergency generator, I've probably knocked out their main power supply. Confident we haven't alerted any infected, I attempt another. This time the money train shows itself, and the shutters spring to life. The gentle grinding of metal signals their rise. I back away from the fuse box and draw the 44. revolver stuffed in my back pocket. It's show time.

I look back at the van and wave my arm towards the kiosk. Meg walks over towards the sliding doors beside the fuse box but I quickly halt her advance with the thrust of my hand.

"Careful woman!" I hiss, trying not to be loud. "Allow me."
I walk over to the doors and inspect them. They're sensor activated and could probably be opened from the fuse box aswell, but to Hell with that. I grab my wrench from inside my trousers - it is a weight that I have become so used to that I only ever notice it when it isn't on me. Funny that. I poke it at where the doors meet and manage to quietly knock it through the breach. Using the strength of a small time Arkansas shop keeper, I haul one side open. It screeches but I don't care, if there were any infected they'd of come upto the windows the moment we opened the shutters. Right? I place the wrench firmly back into my trousers and raise my revolver to shoulder height.

Peering in I notice the kiosk has several aisles stretching about 40 feet long, and we seem to come in at the central one. Towards the back I can see two green doors looked over by a sign stating 'Storage - Staff Only'. Nothing but the gentle breeze outside makes a noise, and nothing but the smell of cleaning products can be smelt. I think it's safe.

"Scarlett." I whispher. "Check the back room, I'll help the girls with the stuff."

Turning to Meg I nod. "It looks good kid, remember, cans, drinks, whatever. We need it... but be careful."

OOC: I'm not taking full control of what happens in this RP, you may find what you like in the backroom, that's your part of the story. The same goes for the rest of you, remember each of your posts accounts as your contribution to the RP's creativity. Although I've nailed down a vague plot, it's flexible. I'll reign you in if anything jeprodises its main features.
 

[OOC]Damnit....now I gotta play ketchup.[/OOC]

The van came to a halt as it pulled close to the gas station. Mack hadn't said anything much for most of the ride, save for some cursory chit-chat; he was only glad to actually see people. REAL people, not those infected freaks. He was glad he'd met this gang of people, even if everyone - himself included - had become a bit messed up from their experiences.

Joseph, hitting the handbrake, turned towards his little group and began delegating tasks to everyone. If there was only person whose company thoroughly aggravated Mack, it was Joseph. If Mack could say it, he would sum it up as this: he's a god-damned jackass. For starters, when someone refers to themselves as "Mack," it's a good idea to refer to them the same way. Unfortunately, Joseph continued to call him "Mackenzie", despite the fact that it's a commonly feminine name, and doesn't have anywhere near the masculinity of "Mack." For Mack, it was enough to be annoying at the very least.

Second of all, Mack didn't like being talked down to. Maybe he was just reading into things too much, or maybe he just wasn't gauging the effect the whole infection deal had on Joseph. In either case, Mack felt like he was being talked to in the same sense that a parent would talk to a rude child. He had listened to enough of that bullshit when he had lived with his parents, but he lived with it just like he did then: Joseph had the keys to the van, which meant he had the balls to be the leader. And Mack was no leader, so he just kept on trucking with Joseph and the gang.

"Mackenzie, I want you on over-watch. Explore the outside areas, and I'm talking the car-park, the outside toilets, the garbage containers, everything. I don't want any infected jumping on us from two meters away, that would be very... unpleasant. Check back on Jenna, and I mean, make sure you do. I don't want the sweet nurse to end up in a dog bowl. When you're done doing that, keep an eye on that house with her, it's about two hundred yards from the station, and on that note, don't go fucking anywhere near it."

Mack simply cocked the rifle in response. It was the only pleasant, non-violent, passive-aggressive response he could give at the moment. Goddamnit, he hated being called "Mackenzie"!

In any event, the van eventually found its way to the gas station, and everyone exited accordingly. Mack briefly thought about about handing his .410 shotgun to Jenna, since Joseph made it seem like she couldn't do much shit without proper assistance. However, Mack didn't want Joseph bleating at him for giving her a gun she couldn't handle, either, so he just slung it over his back, confident that he could use it well if she needed assistance.

Because Joseph had given him such detailed instructions, Mack decided to check the car-park first. Finding nothing but heavily-looted vehicles, including one that was more chassis than anything else, he proceeded to the side building labeled "Restrooms." Mack quickly left that building with the strong sense that whomever had taken the last shit in there had done so weeks before, all things(including smell) considered.

Peeking a look back at the van to make sure everything, Jenna included, was fine and dandy, Mack quietly trotted around the corner and made himself known to the trash cans outside. Unfortunately, they too had been ravaged by the hands of previous survivors. Hell, Mack was beginning to wonder if the only thing left un-vandalized was the store itself! Behind the store, however, he could see a mid-sized storage shed. He thought about just going on and checking it out, but instead stowed that thought away, quickly trotting back over to the van. Joseph would run his ass over if he didn't physically check up on Jenna.

"Hey Jenna," he said as she turned to meet his footsteps, "If everything's good here, there's a storage shed behind the store that I'm gonna go check out. If you hear a gunshot, it's me blasting some infected face in." He made a quick check over his shoulder to see that Joseph was still working on the shudders. "Look, I won't be long. Besides, he asked me to check everything out." He un-slung his .410 and handed it over to Jenna, who handled it very gingerly. "It's ok, it doesn't pack much of a kick."

Taking no more time, Mack began trotting again around the store. He came to a halt, however, when the shudders popped open loudly, almost startling poor Mack. Well, looks like I'll be stuck with "van guard" duty again... Sighing loudly, he quickly made his way back to Jenna, who was already preparing to head inside for medical supplies. He quickly slung the .410 over his shoulder, muttering to himself and her "Well, I guess that shed's gonna have to wait." Then, a little bit more loudly, he said, "Tell Jo about it, and see if he wants me to check it out anyway." And with that, he grudgingly leaned up against the van, his eyes wandering towards the house in the not-so-distant distance.

 

"Jenna is there anything you need supplies wise?" Scarlett asked, flicking her knife open and closed in a slightly disturbing way.
Taking a second to compose herself, Jenna responded.
"Oh, umm. I could use some clean water for treating wounds and any clean cloth for making slings and whatnot I guess."

Just then Mackenzie walked over and began to talk to her.
"Hey Jenna. If everything's good here, there's a storage shed behind the store that I'm gonna go check out. If you hear a gunshot, it's me blasting some infected face in." He then made a quick check over his shoulder before looking back at her. "Look, I won't be long. Besides, he asked me to check everything out." He then un-slung his .410 and handed it over to Jenna. "It's OK, it doesn't pack much of a kick."

And with that he slowly began to head towards the shed, leaving Jenna holding a .410 slightly awkwardly in her hands, knowing that trying to tell Mack that checking out the shed wasn't exactly the smartest idea was useless. Fortunately, a few seconds later, Joseph managed to open up the shutters and began to check the station out. Sighing with relief, Jenna handed back the .410 to Mack and nodded when he asked her to tell Joseph back the back shed.

Slinging her kit onto her back, Jenna waited for the building to be cleared before getting the go ahead to enter. As she passed Joseph she paused and said.
"Mack seems oddly fixated on that back storage shed and he wants to know if he can check it out." Joseph nodded and said that he would talk to Mackenzie shortly.

Entering the store, Jenna passed by Meg who was busing herself gathering up supplies and headed for the main counter of the place. Checking under and around the counter, Jenna soon found a small first aid kit and quickly opened it up. Much to her surprise, it was fully stocked but only had some basic supplies. Still, she emptied it and placed everything in her own oversized kit. Discarding the empty kit, she then walked over to the nearby medical supplies shelf and began to rummage through it. It seemed that a good amount of the pills had already been taken by customers before this placed closed down, no doubt in a futile attempt to ward off the infection. It almost made her sad to think that people had actually believed that some cold medicine would have done anything, but then again, there was not much even the fully staffed hospitals could have done to help those in the mid to late stages of infection. And far to few came in freshly infected, even if there was a slim hope for them...

Again shaking these thoughts away, Jenna focused on the here and now and looked over the remaining pills. Gathering all the important ones, Jenna placed them in several side pouches on her belt, being careful to check for damage and the expiration date on each one.

Once she had gathered up all the useful pill bottles, Jenna then began to head for the back storage room to see if Scarlett had found anything she could use.
"Hey, Scarlett." Jenna quietly said to the half opened door. "Found anything I could use?"
 

The backroom door creaked open slightly and Scarlett coughed through the smell that protruded. This was definitely were someone had come to end it. Not everyone who got the disease let it take them, it was something Scarlett had considered constantly and she thought maybe she'd borrow the razor Megan thought she was hiding if the time ever came, she'd also toyed with the thought of hari-kiri with a butterfly knife but wasn't sure it was long enough. A 4 inch blade might not kill her completely, and that would suck.

That being said she'd also thought about letting it happen, turning on this merry band of fuckwads and eating the shit out of them. She'd start with Joseph, the ever-wise fucker who clearly despised yet respected her craziness. Moving onto the nurse so if she did die they wouldn't be able to heal themselves the rest of the team would probably kill her by then, but it would be too late. She would have cut the group off at the head, and removed it's heart to play it safe.

Grinning while she covered her mouth with a sleeve, Scarlett looked around the dimly lit room, a lot of this shit was rotten but she'd be able to find a few items of import she was sure.

And there it was. This person hadn't meant to kill themselves. They'd OD'd. Scarlett smiled as she bent down and grabbed the little balloons, lifting them up to the light to verify the contents. She snagged the burned spoon near the corpse as well, almost smashing the still packaged sterile needles at the same time. This would come in handy later, it'd been a while since she'd gotten her fix, and while she would prefer blow over H she wasn't going to complain. She hadn't had a fix in a while.

There were some other essentials scattered around and Scarlett quickly sorted through what she would need to get high and what she could spare for Jenna. Grabbing everything that looked important Scarlett turned for the door.

Then she realized it, swore, turned back and snagged the lighter from the addicts pocket. Testing it quickly to make sure it worked she headed back for the service station.

"Hey Scarlett, Found anything I could use?" She heard Jenna call.

"Yeah" she whispered under her breath, "but it's mine." Walking out the doors she handed Jenna a few bottles of Vodka, some peroxide and a few of the sterile needles as well as the one lucky find, an intact IV bag. Definitely this addict had been prepared.

"Some dude was set up for the long haul in there and got his-self killed" Scarlett shrugged and headed outside hoping for the chance to shoot-up before they had to leave.