[hider=Fuad Najasere]Name: Fuad Najasir
Group: Walkers (Currently with Terry)
Age: 25
Occupation: None – former student, failed EMT training
Family life: single.
Sex: male.
Hair: brown.
Eyes: brown.
Weight: 185 lbs.
Blood type: O+.
Immune: yes.
Gear: backpack with mismatched clothes. A sawed off 12g Remington shotgun w/ half a box of shells. A crowbar. He has a “fanny pack” of various emergency medical equipment while there are other medical supplies in his main pack.
He made “armor” out of motorcycle riding gear. Instead of the whole jacket, he cut off the sleeves and legs in two different sizes: medium for the warmer weather and then XL for when it was cold and had to go over clothing. While he was bitten and almost had an arm broken, this DID save him from the bite getting to actual skin and possibly infecting him. Additionally, he found a steel gauntlet on a corpse, which he uses in the OPPOSITE hand he swings his crowbar with. 

Picture: [img]http://i1246.photobucket.com/albums/gg612/azseth/S2char.jpg[/img]

Bio: Fuad was born in a predominantly Arab suburb of Phoenix, AZ. His family were Muslims, as was the majority of his community. He grew up fairly privileged, his father being a business executive for a computer company and his mother ran a series of Arab based shops locally. 

Fuad had little problems growing up and all seemed well enough until his older brother died due to severe medical complications brought on by a pulmonary condition. He remembered his brother sobbing the night before, not wanting to die, being scared and unsure. He loathed his family for years after, as all they said were religious spoonfed crap. “It’s in Allah’s hands.” “You’ll be happier.” “You won’t suffer any more.” None of it consoled him and he had to be medicated once his heart rate wouldn’t slow. 

His brother never woke up. 

After that, Fuad became somewhat estranged to his family after he ceased practicing and accepting Islam into his life. At first, it was just a choice for himself, but after family resented him and made comments about it, he began having more conflict with more and more family members until he really ceased talking to anyone but his mother, father and sister. He gradually hovered in an area between deism and being an atheist, and some days agnostic. But mostly, he didn’t really care. After finishing school, he got a partial scholarship for running cross country and went away for 2 years.

Not long after, he dropped out and came home. He decided finally that he wanted to do something to help people, not just work a job to make money like his father. Now that he had grown up, he seen that while his father and mother were great providers, they were not around as parents, not good role models. They had OTHER people take him to school, make dinner, drive him around. They were always too busy focusing on money or their social image. 

After fighting and almost threatening to leave forever, his father finally decided to give in and pay Fuad’s way through EMT training. He studies and practiced but the first time he took the test, he failed. He was pissed and crushed, but a few current EMTs and the instructor even said that over 80% of EMTs failed their first test, and over half still failed the second.

He was in the middle of studying for that second potentially failed test when The Awakening happened. It was horrible and he still had nightmares about it. He heard about it on the news, but it was all downplayed, but the internet, you can’t lie on the internet. He read and watched himself into a paranoia and told his family they needed to leave. 

His father said they couldn’t, his mom and sister were both sick. Then, to Fuad’s amazement, his father started telling him how it was a hoax and not real, and if this alleged outbreak WAS real, then the holy and righteous would be saved. The middle of a global pandemic, and his father used it as an opportunity to throw Fuad’s lack of faith back in his face. 

Later that night, he was still reading up on things when he heard arguing downstairs, then yelling. Then some crashing at the front door. He heard his father yelling and then screaming in pain. He looked down the bottom of the stairs and seen two forms over his father, one was his sister, and she was tearing into him as he screamed.

Then he looked and his mother was standing less than 10 feet away in her door way and she rushed him. He knew instantly what was happening, and why they were “sick” earlier, but it was too late now. He didn’t say anything or react, instinct just pushed her outstretched arms in the directions of the stairs, which she feel down at horrible angles, mostly on her head and neck. 

Then, she hissed and started to try to crawl back up the stairs, her neck bent at a horrible angle. He threw up on the stairs. After a moment, he turned to his room, grabbed a baseball bat and the largest of the 3 set samurai sword set he had (a gift from a highschool girl friend actually) and threw some clothes in a bag. Then he opened his window and crawled down the pipe, the one he used to sneak out for years and shimmied down.

The scene around him was straight from a horror movie. It wasn’t like the movies. There were no cars peeling out. No explosions. Just people. People running. People screaming. Forms moving in the night. No houses were on fire. There was an occasional burst of gunfire, but everything going on around him was almost overwhelming. He took off at a light jog, picking up speed when he needed too, never realizing his cross country days would help him run out of the carnage.

He’d been running, walking, or driving East ever since, hearing that the Marine Base in Missouri was an infection free zone[/hider]


[hider=Jon Erikson]Name: Jon Erikson
Group: CDC Group
Age: 29
Occupation: Government top secret data clerk and server technician
Family life: Single
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Brown
Weight: 185 pounds
Blood type: O+
Reason for government interest: Jon has top secret clearance to the top most tiers of the government. He is also capable of running and maintaining computer networks of top secret level.

Picture: [img]http://i1246.photobucket.com/albums/gg612/azseth/Urban.jpg[/img]

Bio: Via his CIA service record, Jon Erikson was born and raised in the streets of Chicago. His early childhood was typical, he grew up playing hockey and taking krav maga lessons until his parents both lost their jobs and could not afford to pay for either. He continued to train at the Krav Maga center while working to pay for his lessons by cleaning and helping maintain the grounds. His parents fought most of the time, each blaming the other for their financial situation and Jon distanced himself from both as most kids do.

Eventually his mother filed for divorce and about a month later, both were killed by a drunk driver. Because he had no extended family and no care takers, he was given to the state at age 14. His schooling lagged as he had no true guidance and motivation.

Eventually he dropped out and worked full time training and tending to the Krav Maga center. He was given a small room there and that seemed to be enough for him. His training led him to meet a handful of recruiters for the military and one day he signed up for the army. After taking an asvab test, his scores were too low to enlist.

One of the recruiters noticed his computer comprehension was through the roof however, and he then set Jon up on a government grant that allowed him to go to college for 5 years almost free. He was moved to Washington DC to learn how to institute a government top secret server from top to bottom and maintain it and it’s security.

Over the 5 years or so, his job was mostly menial data entry and systems checks although his job would take him outside the country and all over the US on a routine basis. He was trained in how to use firearms, hand to hand combat (on top of his krav maga background), first aid, outdoor survival and a myriad of other arenas that the CIA deemed necessary.

When The Awakening happened, the government started pulling in a handful of assets inside and isolating them to keep accountability. Later, when things got exceptionally bad, they put together a CDC/Homeland Security facility, called The Southern Facility where they would gather assets that they knew were immune and who would be of some value once the outbreaks ceased.[/hider]


[hider=Harris "G0dzI77A" Godson]Name: Harris "GodZI77a" Godson
Group: CDC Group
Age: 22
Occupation: Former hacker; acquitted of crimes to work for gov't
Family life: Single
Hair: Sandy brown
Eyes: Hazel
Weight: 155 pounds
Blood type: B+
Reason for government interest: Harris is a (former) world renown computer hacker. His skills are unparalleled, and he also has a lot of background in computer and networks, from the ground up.

Picture: [img]http://i1246.photobucket.com/albums/gg612/azseth/damon-drecker-s2-1024_zps7fc6a0d0.jpg[/img]

Bio: Harris was born in a privileged home, not really knowing much hardship, aside from those that he brought down upon himself. His parents were wealthy, his father being a top executive at a global petroleum company while his mother was simply a rich, pampered socialite. The two rarely had time for him, especially as he got older, and he spent most of his time being raised by housekeepers and the such.

Because he lived in a large, relatively isolated home and was home-schooled, he took to computers and the internet after being exposed to them one time. He quickly got sucked in, doing everything from building computers, social networking and gaming to maintaining servers. At the young age of 10, he got into hacking, and if Harris was a savant in terms of computers and technology, then his prowess at hacking may have had him labeled a god.

He found him doing things not really because he needed to, but simply because he could do them. He would steal money and identities, he'd change his grades and even wrote erroneous articles in newspapers and on websites. For many years, he stuck to what one could consider low key crimes. He didn't need money, or great grades, he simply did it because he could. His parents didn't care one way or another.

Then at 13 he was exposed to the powers of actual malicious hacking and took to it. He started compromising corporate servers, hacking sensative mainframes and eventually got to the point that he was worming his way into government systems and causing chaos. These activities were not limited the the US and he was on half a dozen lists globally as a wanted criminal, even though they had no idea who he was or what he looked like. "ZIL" or "Godzilla" was his screen name and he was revered in the underground world of hacking and even was made mention in large, public online circles.

The fact that he was rich and had cash resources, then was extremely intelligent, compounded with the ease at which wireless devices would be purchased and used, he was untraceable for over 7 years. Then, just like every other successful man who falls from grace, he was brought to heel by a woman scorned.

After he posted pictures of him at a party to which she was not invited, and there was a picture of Harris with his arm around another girl, she flipped out and called local authorities to let them know about him. She wasn't thinking at the time, and simply called to tell them that he was "watching and trading a shit load of child pornography," not realizing that in doing this, the metaphorical Pandora's Box was opened.

After a simple test of his security protocols, none of which were available anywhere else, nor were the agents able to even poke a small hole in it, they realized they were dealing with someone more capable than a rich kid watching porn. They called in the FBI and had no idea that in doing so, they'd be reeling in one of the biggest catches in the history of E-Cases. What started as serving a warrant for suspicion of distributing child pornography turned into a feeding frenzy.

At 20 years old, Harris was put in prison on a myriad of hacking related crimes, ultimately given 55 years without chance for parole. At no point in his stay would he ever be allowed to touch any electronic device with any form of interface.

Prior to going to prison, he and his lawyers came up with an agreement: Harris would be released into custody, be allowed to live at home, but on a form of modified parole and house arrest. He would be monitored at all times, via multiple methods, to include 2 agents near him at all times. He was given a computer that was monitored by a modified program he created that would only allow the most basic of computer access, similar to parental filters on tvs and devices.

He was miserable and sullen, a shell of who he used to be even in spite of aiding in the closing of several investigations. He finally found interest again on Valentine's Day, when things started to go wrong. He spent the first day looking at things online in regards to this when without warning, agents came into his room and removed him.

He was driven for hours, from Illinois to Missouri, and when the vehicle stopped at a facility, an agent entered the vehicle and explained that, in light of the potential epidemic around the world, he would be moved here for future considerations. Once the situation was handled, he would be released, but an asset like him could not be jeopardized.

Harris had no idea what exactly was going on, but when he tried to fight, he was hit with a stun baton and woke up in his room. After repeated conversations with people via the comm system, it was deduced that more or less, he was stuck here, nothing he said would matter and he'd be let out eventually, and things would go back to how they were before being imprisoned.[/hider]


[hider=Christian Joseph Darly (Chris or CJ)]Name:  Christian Joseph Darly (Chris or CJ)
Group:  Walker
Age:  31
Occupation:  Former Marine.  Prisoner.
Family life:  Most of his family was murdered. 
Hair:  Brown.
Eyes:  Hazel.
Weight:  200 pounds.
Picture: [img]http://i1246.photobucket.com/albums/gg612/azseth/6endofwatch_zpsifjjnpd8.jpg[/img]
Blood type:  B-.
Immune:  Yes.

Gear: He has a pack with a mix mash of clothes.  He always, always looks for socks.  He has a Smith and Wesson MP15 (AR15) with (2) twenty round magazines.  He has another 36 rounds in a baggie in his pack.  He carries a Taurus 9mm revolver with 6 rounds chambered and 3 in the same baggie as the other ammo.  He also has another baggie with miscellaneous rounds he's acquired that he cannot use immediately.  He then has a hatchet, an old KBar, and a pocketknife.  In another grocery bag, he has an assortment of hygiene and medical supplies.  He also carries a can of WD40 and paratrooper cord, about 12 feet. 

Bio:  His life is a series of highs and lows, always to the extreme.  Unfortunately for Chris, the lows seemed to always dominate everything else.  

As a kid, he was born and raised by his parents in Indianapolis.  His father worked as a manager at a chain of mechanic shops which paid fairly well and his mother worked at one of the stores as a receptionist.  The both made good money and that allowed him to play football and wrestle in junior high school and take boxing lessons.  Two days after taking the state championship in his weight division though, tragedy struck.  While driving home from a family dinner, a drunk driver fell asleep at the wheel, cut across the median, and hit the family vehicle.  Chris was asleep at the time but his parents and the other driver were all killed.  

He felt like he had lost everything, and he felt alone.

Chris went to stay with his aunt and uncle who lived close by, hoping that less change would help him cope and deal with the loss.  In high school, he was quiet and withdrawn and while his grades were not horrible, they paled in comparison to his grades before the accident.  His uncle and aunt tried to help where they could but nothing seemed to work.  The only things he seemed to enjoy were wrestling and football, but eventually football wasn’t an option because his aunt and uncle could not afford it.  He stuck to wrestling and boxed when he could.  

His last year of school, he struggled mentally.  He was apathetic and struggling to find SOME thing in his life because he didn’t know where he was, who he was, or what he wanted to be.  That all changed when he talked to Sergeant Bonders, a Marie Corps recruiter.  What he laid out in front of Chris, he ate up and at that point, Chris seemed to have this light about him.  For the first time in as long as he could remember, things seemed to make some sense.  Even his family noticed it and while they were nervous, they were happy and supportive.  

He was 19 when he went to bootcamp after spending some time in the delayed entry program, but when he got to Parris Island, he continued down a path of success and personal growth.  He finally seemed to know who he was.  He became an infantry man and hit fleet just in time to head over to Fallujah.  

And part of him would never leave.

As Marines geared up and got ready to take back the city from insurgents, morale was high and the Marines were excited, ready to kick down doors and slay bodies.  When they were sent in, they did just that, and it was a thrill ride and rush like no other.  They had taken a few casualties, but so far, no KIAs.  

Things were crazy and it was during the second week of combat operations where things took a drastic turn.  His squad was given orders, and they did, but they didn’t know that this 3 story home was going to be one that was heavily fortified.  After a fierce firefight, there were 6 Marine casualties, and Chris moved them all out of the fight, one after another, then went back in to clear the building.  Succcessfully.

There were 14 insurgents inside, 9 of which Chris was personally responsible for killing.  Of the 6 casualties, 4 later died of wounds suffered in the fight.  Because of his actions, he was awarded the Navy Cross, the second highest award besides a Medal of Honor.  People congratulated him, he had his moment of fame, and he was bitter and resented ever moment of it.  Every picture.  Every handshake.  Every thank you.  Because he was given a medal for failing to bring home 4 of his brothers.

He felt like he lost everything.  He felt alone.  Even with his family and friends there.

He returned home and his transition back into society was rough.  He started drinking heavily and isolating himself.  He wasn’t working and living off of unemployment for a few years, then finally started going to the Hospital of Veteran Affairs for treatment.  It was there that he met Maggie, and his life changed forever.  

She was what he was missing and she helped bring him to a new level of happiness.  She was supportive but assertive and kept him moving in the direction that he needed to.  Eventually, they married and had two children.  He began to get closer to his family and things were great.  Eventually, he started going to school and using the GI Bill, eventually landing a job at a bank.  

A year later, his family decided to host a reunion and the entire family went out to California out in the mountains.  It was the first time the family was together in almost its entirety since before the death of his parents.  Those circumstances are what make the outcome all the more tragic.  

In the late hours of the night, unbeknownst to anyone there, a cartel hitsquad was on its way to the gathering.  One of the family members were directly involved with the Mexican government and was part of a group leading a push to remove the Cartels from power.  Obviously, this didn’t go over to well.  It was extremely uncommon that an American would be targeted in America, but tonight was one of those exceptions.  

Whether the entire family was a target or not would never be known, but the silent night exploded into gunfire and screams.  Chris managed to wrestle a shooter to the ground and take his weapon, shooting that man and two others before getting hit in the back of the head and falling forward.  As his head swam, someone stepped over him and fired a shot.

He woke up some time later in a hospital to find out his family was dead.  All of them.  His wife and kids included.  He survived because the shot fired at his head was at an angle, just enough to cause a ricochet and a concussion.  The muzzle flash burned the skin to prevent him from bleeding and he now has a golfball sized scar on the back of his head.

He felt like he had lost everything.  He felt alone, even with a nation behind him.

Eventually, he was a witness in a case, as the head of the Cartels was caught and brought to the US on various charges, prosecuted on a joint investigation by the US and Mexico.  He testified as to what happened, but the truth of the matter is that there was little case there.  He had not seen faces, heard anything, and was not reliable.  He was there to show the terror of what the Cartels were capable of.  The case was a failure and the Cartel Lord was found guilty of some parking fines and made to pay both the governments a small sum of money.  The Cartel lawyer did a great job.

The lawyer and the Lord walked out, down the steps, and stood in front of cameras, answering a few questions.  They shook hands, smiled, and amidst the flashes a round ripped into the head of the Cartel Lord, and another two into the lawyer.  There were screams and panic, and when the area cleared, Chris stood there with his hands up in the air.  He was arrested immediately.  

Initially, there was fear that there would be attacks on his life, but the power vacuum created in Mexico meant that all the other Cartels were now trying to grab what they could, and it was a bloody mess.  He was given a lawyer who profusely pushed him to claim insanity, or loss of control, something that would get his sentence altered and keep him out of an actual prison.  

He wouldn’t have it.  At every step, even when counseled by his lawyer not to, he stood up and admitted to his actions and intentions, and that he would do it again.  He stated he was willing to accept whatever the sentence was.  He was given 2 life sentences despite nationwide protests and even government pushes to have him acquitted.  

He could have done more to get less, but he would not.  He didn’t care.  If he stayed out of jail, he’d just drink himself to death or do something self destructive.  Looking back, he realized his life meant nothing.  No good had come of it.  

He had lost everything.  He was alone.  

He was in prison for a year when he was transferred to another prison after an altercation.  It was Valentine’s Day and he had his head on the window, his mind off somewhere distant when the bus swerved violently twice and then there was a loud crash.  The bus came to rest on its side and he opted not to move.  He didn’t care to be free.  

What good was freedom when you had nothing?   What would he do?  What difference did it make.  

“Chris, get up.  Look.”  He heard the voice and he shot up, gaze moving around.  There was one other prisoner but he was dead, his neck twisted violently.  He looked around again.  “Chris.  LOOK!”  He heard the voice at the back door so he went and looked, trying to see the owner of the voice.

It was the voice of his wife.  When he got to the back of the emergency exit, he looked froze.  

It couldn’t be.  He saw his son in a car.  Screaming.  And some man was trying to get into the car, banding on it and screaming.  Chris found a piece of metal and picked the lock to his cuffs then kicked out the emergency exit and bullrushed the car.  He didn’t know what he was up against, so he just gave the man a running punch to the side of the face.  To Chris’ surprise, the man just jerked, looked back at him, and attacked.  

He realized then that there was screaming everywhere, helicopters flying, and things breaking all around him.  The man before Chris, he wasn’t a man.  He was something else.  His eyes weren’t the same and he had a wound on his neck.  There was blood everywhere below his chin.  And he was strong, gripping Chris and pulling him in with a strength that surprised him.  Instead of fighting it, he pushed forward, setting the thing off balance so that they both fell, Chris landing on the other.  

Before he had a moment to react, Chris was stunned as, before he could move, the man bit into his forearm.  Sheer adrenaline shot through him and he pulled back, the wound bleeding slightly, and brought a few elbow and forearm shows down onto the...thing.  After all movement below him stopped, he ripped a clean part of the man’s pants off and wrapped it around his wound.  

He stood up and looked around, seeing no immediate threat and then looked back to the car where his son was, only to see a young black boy there.  He looked around, confused, shaking his head.  He didn’t see his son.  He screamed for him, looking around.  He couldn’t be far.  

Then he heard a shotgun cock and he turned around, seeing a man with a shotgun and a woman behind him carrying random food and drink.  “Get away from my son.  Now.”

He did.  Without a word.  He was confused and angry, standing there with no idea where he was or where to go.  He didn’t see his son, or his wife.  Just people fleeing, some giving chase.  He opted to find a room on a 2 level apartment and barricade himself inside with some supplies and a pistol he picked up off of a dead body.  

He spend the next few nights having feverish dreams and hallucinations of his family, crying and screaming.  And wishing he had the courage to put the gun to his head and pull the trigger.  

Personality:  Chris is crazy.  To a degree.  He hears voices, sees images, and at times is guided by his dead family.  Not only them, but his former Marines.  People he has met and seen die since the Rising.  They are generally manifestations of his conscious telling him what to do, or his senses making something stand out to him that is going unnoticed.  

He is prone to bouts of silent depression.  He is grim and dire at times also, he is a realist.  He has been hardened by his experiences and what the world has become and often is at battle with himself over decisions.  That is when he starts to see and hear voices, as his thoughts, instincts, and morals all clash.
[/hider]