[url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DYhpmlEB-JI][i]Tick-tick-tick-tick[/i][i][b]-[/b][/i][b]Drrrrrrrrrr![/b][/url]

It was a decent, shiny morning when Fred awoke, grumbling a little and instinctively reaching for his gun. He sighed and stood up, stretching. The window opened and he climbed up onto the roof of his house to check up on the plants he'd taken up there, and then checking to make sure that nobody else was up he check the other little spot where he had some weed growing. Fred wasn't a user but it was always nice to have just a little more influence over some people. With that he went back inside, and tiptoed into his basement again hoping he would not have to meet the family placed into his house. He'd already went by three days without talking them, and hoped he could go longer. When finally in the basement's lab he checked on his experiments of bits of ghoul tissue but... it had died overnight, and he was being really aimless with them for now. At least, he had positive confirmation of the treatise upon them being overwhelmingly right. A disappointed sigh escaped the Canadian and he wiped a bit of annoyed sweat off of his brow. [i]Oh well.[/i]

Morning exercise came next so he used his massive axe to split a little wood, and then deciding it was prime time ran across his pier and somersaulted into the water. After a brisk swim he got out and stood on his pier reflectively. He wasn't sure what he was reflecting on but he was always told a little more phiolosphizing was good for you. After thirty unfruitful minutes he wondered who was he kidding, and decided that there was nobody to be kidding. Thus, he quickly ran back inside and ran even faster when one of the patrons of his home raised their voice to hopefully finally greet him. "Fuckers in my house." he muttered under his breath, and locking himself in his room with a definite "click." There Fred lay on his bed a little longer, and decided to get his shit together. A live sample was exactly what was needed, and these bastards going scavenging were exactly what he needed to help him. He folded up his hazmat suit and gasmask, cleaned out his pistol and grabbed two magazines in addition to six on his belt. Then he put on some clothes. He decided on a red checkered shirt with jeans and boots combination decorated with polarized aviators that put the word "Lumbersexual" in people's heads. As an afterthought he took his axe, some of his scientific equipment, an old radio, a med-kit, and some of the stuff he needed for the diabetes. He turned around in a mirror and sighed. Even as the world was ending people would still see him and think he was a hipster or some shit. Oh well, naught he could do. With that he crawled out of the window again, noticing with delight through another window the one of his co-habitants was about to knock on a door to his room. 

Fred took the long rout to get to the lads recruiting for the scavenging venture, singing a song in some foreign language that he doubted anyone could understand and the better for it. He noted some of the traders and said hello to the very few people he knew. How few... he was one of the few people who did not come to refuge and had their house here for a start. While never saying it himself out of humility Fred always thought that his fighting was largely what cleared up the place and made it seem the best choice for a community to hole up. Yet, after those first few weeks he became a recluse, trying to make sense of all the bullshit that the new world was made of. But, it was all turned upside down before he even knew it was. He was trying to update social media telling people to stay safe when the last damn internet had actually gone out three days prior. It was infuriating how all this shit was going on, and just as life seemed to be looking nice. Just as he was recovering over the batshit crazy things that went down in Haiti and Brazil, there was now this. It was funny come to think of it, he thought it was a hallucination and decided to fuck it and stop trying to cope with them. Little did he know this psychotic rage had saved many lives, and perhaps even him. 

Realizing that various thoughts had distracted him Fred looked up and realized that he was already nearing the soldiers and such. After waiting for the others to finish signing up he waved and smiled. "Hey man!" he shouted, getting nearer. "Look, I heard of this scavenging trip and just want to sign up. I'm a damn good shot, and I can kick quite a bit of ass even unarmed. I also know how to distinguish at least some good shit, medicines and agricultural stuff. I just have one thing to ask, if it is possible to get you guys to help recover a ghoul. A live one." he said, knowing the hardships that entailed. Lowering down to a half-whisper he continued. "Look dude, it's the only way to test a whole lot of things on them. You know I'll more than pull my weight, just help me out with this eh?" he said, bits of the Canuck accent coming out as the matter became somewhat emotional for him. Fred was just a naturalist, a historian more than a researcher but he would damn well do what was needed. He just hoped the grunts would agree to it.