[hider=Scenario #3]
[b]Scenario:[/b] [url=https://www.google.co.uk/maps/@41.9044002,-88.0084627,412m/data=!3m1!1e3]CVS Pharmacy/North Grace Street[/url]
[b]Scenario Type:[/b] Open
[b]Scenario Post Frequency: [/b] At least 1 per 48 hours, or I ask for GM’s approval on DayZing your char ‘n looting his/her stuff. 
[b]Max Players:[/b] 3
[b]Current Players:[/b] SyrianHamster, Dragonbud
[b]Loot Level:[/b] Maybe, maybe not. 
[b]Walker Density:[/b] Low.
[b]Bandits:[/b] There's a good chance.[/hider]

[hider=Hannah’s Group]
[b]Members:[/b] Hannah Banks, Camellia Morgan, [s]Woodrow Hepburn[/s], Oskar Rennold. 
[b]Weapon Pool:[/b] M14 (1 x 11), M4A1 CQCR (1 x 24), Winchester Model 70 (x20), Heavy Duty Tyre Wrench
[b]Vehicle:[/b] Humvee | 40% Fuel | 25% Condition | Seats 6
[b]Equipment Pool:[/b] Apache helmet, military radio, 2 x can of baked beans, box of stale bran flakes, map of Chicago, protein mix.
[b]Location:[/b]Outside of the pharmacy.[/hider]

"You're doing great kid," said Hannah, twisting in the passenger seat to check the Camellia situation. "I know first aid too, but this big mama's gotta be up front. Besides, I'm so wired I'd probably make things worse."

"Where we going?" Oskar asked, spinning the steering wheel to avoid a group of walkers amassed on the road. "I'm running out of clear tarmac." 

Hannah looked back towards the front, and took in their location. She knew Chicago well, having visited the city several times in [i]better days[/i], but she hadn't ventured out into the suburbs. The HUMVEE's inbuilt GPS had been torn from its socket some time ago, judging by the thick dust on the ugly mass of wires jutting from a hole in the front of the dashboard. 

[i]Figures.[/i] 

A sign passed them by, heavily faded from twelve months of neglect. Hannah made out a familiar and much cherished word in this fallen world, and made a decision. 

"Take the next right," she said. 

Oskar shrugged; as far as he was concerned, if Hannah had a plan, then that was good enough for him. No need for questions. He slowed the vehicle down, and guided it around the burnt out husk of a bus. The walkers were thinning out, and with bit a of luck, they'd left the herd that was chasing them far behind. A junction came up ahead, and as Hannah had instructed, he took the right. 

The road went on for some time, and Oskar felt uneasy at the lack of mechanical carnage that was so common elsewhere across the city's transport routes. Cars that would have clogged the way, seemed to have been moved to the side; corpses littered the area, and crudely painted signs dotted the side walks. He looked at the former Apache pilot questioningly, but she merely stared on unconcerned. 

Camellia moaned from the back seat, and for a moment Oskar thought she had turned; he took his eyes from the road to look into the HUMVEE's cracked rear view mirror just to make sure.

"WATCH OUT!" Screamed Hannah. 

Something hard hit the front of the hummer, sending the speeding vehicle at a sudden right angle. The sound of grinding metal blotted out Oskar's senses, and in a fit of panick he hit the breaks - just as Hannah tried to fight him for the controls. The sudden friction on the tyres added to the HUMVEE's faltering trajectory, and it flipped over onto its roof in a clumsy, yet powerful display of driver error. It skidded for fifty feet, before coming to a gradual standstill on the middle of the road. 

[center]***[/center]

"Yeah fuck you, fuck you and fuck you," spat Woody, hacking away at the writhing wall of limbs with his good arm, and the rusted hatchet he'd found in some poor bastard's tool shed. 

The walkers only seemed egged on by his enthusiasm, and they pushed ever harder to buckle the flimsy wooden barrier the old man had come to call his Alamo. Their jaws snapped at him through holes in the shed's wall, whilst bloody fingers extended themselves beyond their reasonable reach in an attempt to clasp him. The only thing keeping them at bay, despite the old man's hatchet, was the work bench he'd shoved against the structure's interior. The walkers couldn't get behind him, the hedge flaking either side was too thick for them to push into. He could run, but for now, he was done running.

He coughed suddenly; blood gurgled up through his throat, and into his mouth. He winced at the foul taste, knowing full well he was sampling the flavours of infection. He spat it onto the floor, and grimaced at its black colouring. 

"I aint goin' out like this, you fucking bastards," he cursed, hacking at an arm as it reached for him. The appendage fell lifelessly to the floor soon after. "I'm gonna die somewhere peaceful, I'm gonna die somewhere with the sun shining on my black ass, and you, well, YOU ALL GONNA DIE!"