**An FBI background file lays open on the table, parts of it blacked out (Needed info is OOC in brackets)**
Name: Charlotte Edwards (Doctor Edwards)
Group: CDC
Age: 29
Occupation: Classified (Neurosurgeon, neurophysiologist and Pathologist)
Family Life: Classified
Hair: Black
Eyes: Brown
Weight: Around 120-130 pounds.
Blood type: Classified (AB+)
Immune: Classified
Reason for government interest: As one of the leading researchers in Neuroscience and Pathology, she could be vital to understanding the reanimates’ behaviour and physiology, as well as how the virus spread.
Bio: Born as a city girl, Charlotte grew up in downtown New York city. She was raised in a wealthy family who lived up in a modern highrise. She led a fairly normal childhood, excelling in her schooling and finishing public school with stellar grades. Moving into high school, she continued with her stellar grades, often found in the library studying up on her courses, all at the most advanced level of course. She didn’t have much of a social life because of this and was often taunted for being a show off and a nerd. She graduated with next to perfect grades and left the town and her past behind.
Moving down to Massachusetts, she bought herself a small condo and interviewed for a few part time jobs to help pay for school and necessities, eventually getting in at a local coffee shop. She started her schooling at MIT the following year, studying for a medical degree, along with Neuroscience on the side.
Five years later, she had graduated from MIT with her medical P.H.D and a degree in Pathology. She was accepted into the internship program at the Northwestern Memorial hospital in Chicago and soon after moved there to pursue her career.
Fast forward three years and she was head of the neurosurgical team at the hospital and was known across the country for her skill and talent. As she worked, she began to hear news of this supposed outbreak of a virus and began seeing more and more patients with symptoms. She began secretly taking samples from them, something she could lose her job over, and began researching it’s various properties.
She was alone one night, sitting in her office reading over yet another article about the reanimates when she heard a knock on her door. She looked up, wondering who the hell needed a neurosurgeon at this ungodly hour. Before she could even get up out of her chair a tear gas cannister was tossed in and before long, agents had filled the room and put a bag over her head, before knocking her out with the butt of a rifle. The small notification sound of an email could be heard from her laptop, something from the FBI about wanting to bring it’s most valuable assets into safety, either peacefully or with force.