[CHAR] The Risen: Fear the Fallen

[deegee]

It is 10:40 PM. I am sitting in a supermarket security office with another survivor. We met today, and until this moment, he has gone by 'Ryan' only. He is a man with too much nervous energy, constantly biting his nails, or working away at a terribly broken pair of glasses with wire and a small phillips-head screwdriver. I produce my recorder and iPhone, and ask if I can ask him some questions for my ongoing memoir of the great death. He chuckles at first, shaking his head in disbelief, but then grows serious when he sees I actually have juice for my phone. I snap his picture <insert here> and flip on my clip-on reading light to take notes. (my interjections omitted)



...(in a loud but insistent whisper) Hey, man! Douse that light. You want to bring 'em all in here? Use your head.
...I don't care if it helps you write. You want to write - do it in the daylight. You really serious about this? Waste of juice, you ask me. If I had a working iPhone, I'd be listening to Modest Mouse, or CCR, not taking strangers' pictures.
...I already told you. Ryan.
...(exasperated) Ryan Alexander Canfield. Good enough?
...what is there to tell? (pause) Fine. Ask away.
...I'm 29. Birthday's in... uh... six weeks? What day is it, anyway? Hold on, let me check my fucking calendar. What kind of questions are these? (he wipes at a perpetually-teary and bloodshot right eye. -ed.)
...About 6' tall. Used to weigh around 190ish. Now? The belt has been taken in a notch or two. Who's to say?
...what did I do? When?
..."before?" Shit, man. Don't see what difference it makes. I had a bunch of jobs. Guess you could say I wasn't 'career minded.' uuuhhh... short order cook. Bike courier. Studied graphic design at college. Shit-load of good that'll do me now. Oh -- built a school once, in Zaire...
...what do I have? Oh, you mean tools of the trade. I picked up this AK-47 in a farmhouse in upstate NY. (it is, in fact, a Chinese Norinco type 56, with fixed wooden stock and folding bayonet. -ed.) No rounds for it right now though... I also have a pistol. Took it out of one of the dead ones' pockets. Guy in Albany said it was made by FN? I dunno. "Fuckin' Nasty." That's right. It's a 9mm. Holds thirteen rounds. I have three. hahahaha.
...Huh? Oh, this? Just some old aluminum softball bat. It's light. It works.
...Can I sleep now? Enough with the questions, man.

[The DudeMan]

Name: Grant Remy Hunter
Age: 29
Birthday: May 16
Height: 5'11"
Weight: 185lbs (Pre-Outbreak)
Gender: Male
Orientation: Heterosexual
Occupation: Owner of video game development company
Hometown: Indianapolis, Indiana
Current City: Boston, Massachusetts



Biography:
Grant was born and raised near Indianapolis, Indiana as the youngest of three. He grew up in what can only be described as 'Geek Culture' hence his middle name, Remy, named after Remy LeBeau or Gambit of the X-men. His parents were good people who never had a lot of money but always found a way to provide for their kids. For all intents and purposes Grant grew up in a happy, if average home.

His parents sacrificed a lot for their kids to have the lives they wanted and Grant intended to pay them back tenfold. As he went through school he made sure he had good grades, made sure he did the sports, and the clubs, and a whole slew of extracurriculars so that he could get himself a full ride to a good college. Which is exactly what he did, MIT to be specific. Which is when he moved to Boston for school.

And then came his college job, a video game tester in Cambridge and he decided then and there that he wanted to work in that field for the rest of his life so he switched his major from Biological Engineering to Writing with a double minor in Art, Culture and Technology and Entrepreneurship & Innovation. It took him 5 years but when he graduated he had a full time job waiting for him leading a project at the company he started as a tester.

His successes earned him substantial gains and he was able to do exactly what he had intended to do, he bought his parents an upscale house in one of the nicest parts of Indianapolis where even his freeloading brother could stay.

But his successes came with a cost, since he had moved to Boston he had really hadn't made many friends, Briana was his only real friend and they met years ago when she lived in Chicago and he lived in Indianapolis. She's the best friend he's ever had and he even loved her family.

After a few years leading projects Grant set out to start his own company that he could build from the ground up. Though his independent game flopped due to its limited release he was able to come back with back to back hits, Champion City and Epics:Vendetta. Two games that made him a name in the world of RPGs.

When the outbreak happened he was in the middle of working on the ironically titled Apocalypse Warrior, and when the dead started to rise there was only one place Grant could think to go, Briana's.

There's only one thing on his mind now, his one job in all of this and he can't, no he won't fail. And so for 124 days and counting he's made good on that goal...

Weapons:
Remington R-15 with Scope
Ruger SR1911'
Machete
Schrade Survival Hatchet
Timber Wolf Extreme Tactical Bowie Knife

Backpack: Cabela's Elias 40-Liter Backpack
Filled mostly with medical supplies, what food they can find, and water bottles. Other items include a deck of cards, a couple of ponchos, batteries, and a flashlight.

Apparel:
A ball cap, dark gray button down shirt with rolled up sleeves, black cargo pants, waterproof black boots. A black canvas jacket from time to time.

[Lady of Lore]

Name: Briana Argent

Age: 27

Born In: Chicago, Illinois

Resides In: Boston, Massachusetts

Family: Younger sister, Katie, MIA. Older brother, Jeremy, MIA. Father, Calvin, MIA.

Occupation Prior To Outbreak: Program leader at Soul Shelter, a refuge for the homeless, impoverished, battered people of Boston founded by Briana and her older brother, Jeremy.

Current Status: Alive, Immune

Terminus Release: Initially? Home, in my apartment, watching the chaos on TV with the rest of the world. But I knew it was coming before then. I was sitting in a tiny Thai restaurant on Charles Street when I got the call. My dad was in town. But he was doing that speed-talking thing he does when he's anxious, I could hear the fear in his voice. He wanted to meet me. I told him where I was, he burst in the door minutes later, and I will never forget the look on his face when he took my fork full of pad thai, put it down, and shoved his glasses back up his nose. I'd never seen that look on anyone before. It scared the hell out of me.
He paid my bill, literally threw the money at the waiter and dragged me out of the restaurant back to my apartment. Only after I'd locked the door and sat down, bewildered, did he tell me what was going on.

Except he didn't really tell me anything. It was too much information to process, too many details spat at lightspeed. Hours until an attack? Something about a bioweapon? Death, mutations, dead rising, Michigan, a cure, everything was explained in the USB…
All I caught before he slammed the syringe into my thigh was that everything was about to change. And then I blacked out.
I woke up fourteen hours later to a dark apartment, no father, and a tiny USB chip on a thin silver chain wound around my hand. I called Grant immediately. I tried called my dad, but the line was disconnected, and mom's cellphone was off. Plugged in the USB, but it wouldn't open unless it was a specific computer in 'Station 7 Labs', which I could only assume was connected with the Michigan thing.

I had the TV on when Grant arrived, waiting, watching, hoping it had been some kind of bad dream. Only after the first news reports rolled in, after the nightmarish scenes started flashing across the monitor did I tell Grant everything I knew, which honestly wasn't much. I couldn't figure out why my dad had drugged me, or why the injection site hurt like a bitch. All I knew is I needed to get to Flint, Michigan.
We left the city, started heading west.
We have a long way to go.

Gear: Grant carries most of the weapons. I had no idea how to use any of them, but I learned pretty fast. I usually keep the machete strapped to my back. My brown leather messenger bag holds a surprising amount of crap, and the USB hangs around my neck at all times.

Journal Entry One:
Boston, June, 2018

It's been one hundred and twenty-four days since The Outbreak, but who's counting?

Everything happened so fast. No one knows exactly how or why the Terminus virus was released, or who pulled the trigger on the proverbial gun, but within weeks most of the world's population was gone. Not everyone died. Most that did rose immediately after, filling our streets with ravenous nightmares. We were so unprepared. No one knew what to call them or how to deal with them, and not all the methods devised in a hurry worked long term. They say everyone carries the virus inside them, even those that were seemingly immune to the airborne form. They say in some places, the animals are changing now, that the virus adapted to affect the animal kingdom, but instead of killing them it mutated them, made them faster, stronger, smarter. They say the more the animals feed on dead human flesh, the more powerful they get, so now we burn the bodies we drop.

They say a lot of things, though.

Survivors roam dead countryside and brave the dangers of the cities to resupply, their only goal to survive. Keep moving, stay vigilant, be smart. We fight the rambling dead, we fight the mutated animals, but we fight each other, too. There are no laws anymore, no judge or jury, no one to reign us in and keep us civil. Fear rules the world now. Fear of the dead, and fear of the living. It's kill or be killed, trust no one, watch your own back, and for those few that still retain some kind of humanity or moral compass, it's even harder to keep living.

…No, not living. It's not living. It's enduring.

But I refuse to just…survive. I don't have a solid plan, I don't have any idea how I'm going to get to Michigan and I have no idea exactly what I'm going to do (or what I'm going to find) when I get there. But I know it's up to me to fix this. After all…

I know who ended the world.

I know why it happened.

I know where the cure is.

And I'm going to fix it. I'm going to fix…everything.

[Penguinimus]

Name: Isaac Singh
Age: 35
Birthday: April 16
Height: 5'9"
Weight: 132lbs (pre-outbreak)
Gender: Male

Orientation/Status: Heterosexual/Separated.
Occupation: Meteorologist
Hometown: Yuba City, California
Current City: On route to Boston, MA.

Biography:

Childhood - Isaac was born an only child to Indian-American Gurren Singh and French Canadian Rita Leblanc. For the duration of his formative years, Isaac grew up in and around Yuba City, California. Much of Isaac’s childhood revolved around his interest in physical sciences. His successes earned him high honors and a scholarship to the University of California, where he obtained a Masters in Atmospheric Science.

Hobbies and Skills - Much of Isaac’s pastimes involved the outdoors: camping, hiking, canoeing, spelunking. His tech savviness, due to his career choice, is above average. Post terminus, Isaac’s hobby skills helped him to become a survivalist, capable of evading or distracting hordes and other survivors.

Family and Career - Isaac’s career path took him to several different locales across the country, first to Colorado where he met his wife, Lucille. The two eventually bought a house in Florida and had a daughter, Mila. Domestic issues and an out-of-state job offer for Isaac fueled Isaac and Lucille’s separation, with Isaac leaving to take the job in Virginia.

Two years after the separation and several days into the Terminus release, Isaac was hiking in the Appalachians. His initial encounter with the virus involved ravenous wildlife. The situation continued to worsen as some of his own traveling party succumbed to the affliction. Fleeing the mountains, escaping crumbling military factions, and seeking the whereabouts of his wife and daughter became top priority in the following months.

Psychological profile:

Although Isaac never fully embraced the faith of his family, Isaac was raised with Sikh traditions and values.

Traumatic events in his nineteenth year combined with workaholic tendencies caused Isaac to turn inward, socially.

Isaac’s separation from his wife and daughter has left him with a lingering sense of guilt and displacement.
Post Terminus, several of Isaac’s encounters with civilians and the military has left him completely distrustful and calculated in his interactions.

Gear and Weapons:

- Backpack with rope, medical supplies, maps, hooks, camping gear, crank flashlight, binoculars, animal traps, a tool kit, and clothing for various weather conditions.
- Heckler & Koch Mk 23 Mod 0
- Browning X-Bolt long range bolt-action shooting rifle
- Flare gun
- USMC Tactical Knife

Apparel:

- Woodland fatigues
- Nike Special Field boots
- Kevlar vest
- Hybrid Helmet
- M17 Gas Mask
- Gloves
- Backpack

[Penguinimus]

.

[Demonic Roberts]

Name: James Deacon
Age: 32
Birthday: June 8
Height: 6'5''
Weight: 200lbs
Gender: Male
Orientation: Heterosexual
Hometown: Boston, Massachusetts
Current City:Boston, Massachusetts
Family: Samuel Deacon(Father), Ava Deacon(Mother), John Deacon(Brother), Linda Deacon(Sister In-Law), Jackson & William Deacon(Nephews)
Occupation: Former United States Marine, ATF Agent


- James Deacon

Biography:

James Deacon was born in Boston Massachusetts to Samuel and Ava Deacon. James has an older brother by four years, who is married to Linda Deacon and they have two boys named Jackson and William. James grew up hearing his father's war stories and spending his down time camping, fishing and of course hunting. While in school James joined the JROTC and excelled at it, John on the other hand excelled at what James called Book learning. James enlisted in the Marine Corps as soon as he was able to and was off to boot camp where his brother went off to medical school to become a Doctor.

James and John would not see each other for the next few years, with James fighting in many conflicts overseas while John was becoming a Virologists. The two brothers did see each other at a family Christmas party a couple of years later where John introduced his girlfriend, Linda to his family.

James would serve with honor for many more years until he decided not to re-enlist, he was 27 years old at the time. He instead opted to join the ATF and proceeded to work as a field agent stationed out of his hometown of Boston, Massachusetts, in order to be closer to his family as his brother recently married and was expecting twin boys. James continued to serve his country by working tirelessly on catching criminals and putting them behind bars. He would sometimes help his father out at his Military Surplus store and would help maintain the bunker in their basement.

Gear/Weapons:
1x Colt M45A1 close quarters battle pistol(holstered on right hip)
1x Glock 19M(holstered on vest/harness)
1x KA-BAR Fighting Blade
1x Condor 3 day Assault pack(Various things stored like MRE's, ammo, first aid kit, etc.)


- James all geared up