Name: Abel O'Connell
Age: 23
Sex: Male

Personality: Abel is still figuring himself out. He's a nice enough guy, really. He's honest, patient, thoughtful, perceptive, witty and has a kind heart. Unfortunately he grew up in a place where an open heart would have been a closed coffin and so the years have somewhat numbed him to his own goodness. This ignorance of himself has made him difficult to understand or like and despite all his good qualities he tends to have a somewhat cold and awkward air about him. He has a terrible habit of acting defeatist and is all too ready to consider his attitude correct when things go badly. That said he's a grinder, he doesn't see the point in constantly talking about how shit things are, he'd much rather just march through it and distance himself from the stink. Finally, he's far too logical, often at the expense of all emotion.

Physical Description: Abel is about 5'10 and of average weight for his height. He's not slender or chubby but he's not all that athletic either. His muscles have some bulk to them, but it's only what he has naturally, he didn't exercise regularly before the outbreak. Some would consider him decent looking in the conventional way with his narrow blue eyes and strong square jaw. He has dirty blond hair that's short yet messy and a weeks growth on his face.

Currently he's wearing a black leather jacket with yellow stripes that run from the shoulders down the arms, a black t-shirt, regular fit dark blue jeans (with a black belt) and black hiking boots. He also carries a courier bag for the few supplies he has.

Weapons/Equipment: Abel currently has two weapons. The first one is a Glock 17 handgun with 16 rounds left in the magazine. He typically keeps this tucked into his belt, just left of his midsection. The other is a carbon steel combat knife that hangs from his left hip in it's sheathe. In his courier bag he has a few tins of canned food, two bottles of water, only one of which is full, a couple of lighters, a battery powered flash-light and a novel; 'A Brief History of Seven Killings'.

History: Abel was born and raised in Detroit, Michigan. Living with his dad, mom and older brother in a trailer. His father worked long hours as a security guard in a local Walmart and his mom, unable to find part time work around the hours she needed to take care of her sons stayed a stay-at-home mom. She was great at her job, installing every good trait she could into her sons. She didn't stress education too much, but taught them that knowledge itself was very important. Abel was an intelligent child thanks to his mom's gifted parenting, growing to love reading and even willingly going to a pan-African Saturday school simply because his best friend's mom made her son go.

Despite doing very well at school Abel dropped out completely at fourteen, right after his mom got breast cancer. This hurt the kid, badly. He couldn't focus in school and he found himself irritable during almost all recreational activities. He drifted away from all but his best friend and found himself resentful of his brother who seemed to react to his mothers cancer by staying out and getting into even more trouble than he previously had. When she died he was heartbroken and withdraw almost completely into himself. His father tried to make him go back to school after a few weeks but he refused, going to the library instead whenever his father forced him to leave the trailer.

After several months he began to heal a little bit, growing closer to his brother and reading for fun as well as the pursuit of knowledge again. His father made it so he could legally be home schooled, but as he couldn't afford not to work everyday this basically meant Abel had to educate himself, which he was more than happy to do. Until he was eighteen nothing much else happened. He read a lot, he got into games, he watched TV shows, occasionally did some labouring work for some of his dads friends and very rarely was forced into a house party by one of his few friends.

Unfortunately his life was once again changed forever when his brother was shot. It wasn't over anything all that dramatic. His brother did dumb things, sure. He stole cars, got into petty fights and committed the occasional robbery. He wasn't shot for any of that however, he was shot for stepping on someone's shoe in a club and telling them to go fuck themselves when they demanded an apology. This isn't what changed his life however, his brother was fine after some recuperation. A few months later Abel was at one of the house parties he was forced into on occasion when he heard a kid bragging about shooting a white boy in the same club Abel's own brother was shot in. Laughing about how he thought he was tough until he saw the .38. Abel had never been a violent person and had only been in a few physical conflicts in his lifetime, despite them being extremely common in his area. Hearing this kid laughing about almost shattering his family though, something came over him. He went into the houses kitchen and retrieved a sharp knife before confronting the braggart and asking him whether the kid he shot looked anything like himself. As the realization dawned on the kid he quickly reached for his waistband, but the guns grip was under his hoody and the blade entered his chest before his hand could touch his weapon. There were screams and until the court trial Abel wasn't sure how many times he stabbed the kid. Three times, apparently.

In a kind of fog he walked to the police station that night and handed himself in. For his cooperation and plead of guilty he only received six years with the possibility of parole in three. For the conviction of grievous bodily harm, which could have easily been attempted murder, this sentence was quite generous, but the judge told him he couldn't go any easier because he had taken the law into his own hands and that would always be a very dangerous precedent.

It may sound obvious, but Abel hated prison. He had always been a loner, but for the first time in his life he felt true, wounding loneliness in prison. He kept his head down, read a ton of books, exercised semi-regularly and took part in a book club. He made a couple of friends due to his love of books and relatively diverse wealth of knowledge and had something akin to fun discussing philosophy with some some-what like minded inmates. Despite his activities his incarceration still passed painfully slow. Thankfully he got parole after his first meeting and was a free man soon after his 21st birthday.

He enjoyed his freedom, but his time inside hadn't just stolen time from him it seemed. He found himself completely unemployable. It was hard enough for regular people to find steady work in Detroit at the time, let alone an ex-convict with a violent crime stained into his name. Despite this he sent out applications almost constantly for several months, growing all the more desperate in the mean time. His brother let him stay with him when he decided to move out of his fathers trailer, feeling guilty for not being able to pay his way. Reluctantly he soon accepted the work his brother offered him and began 'delivering packages' around Detroit. It paid pretty well, and despite it hurting Abel's spirit he didn't have the energy to pursue anything else. Eventually drugs lead to what they always lead to. Violence and desperation. He had began making riskier deliveries, dropping off payments and picking up packages as well as the more simple fiend deliveries. For this riskier job his brother gave him one of his spare handguns, a Glock 17. Of course he ended up having to use it.

During a money delivery the two guys he had to meet up with complained that the package wasn't enough. Abel knew they were just trying to take advantage of someone who they probably rightly guessed wasn't built for this line of work. One of them went for something behind his back, but Abel was quicker, levelling his gun at his head and telling him to drop whatever he had in his hand behind his back. Whilst he was focused on the guy on the right the dude on the left apparently sensed an opportunity and went for something himself.

Stupid, stupid man. Abel turned quick and let off a single instinctive shot into his chest. He had apparently been hit in the heart as unlike the wounding Abel had hoped for the bullet caused him to drop instantly and cease all signs of life. The other guy instantly dropped what turned out to be a large combat knife behind his back and went to the side of his companion. He seemed genuinely hurt, which for some reason confused Abel. He still ponders why he thought the man wouldn't care for his colleague. Picking up the knife for his own safety he took a few steps back, trying to process the situation he created. It was then that the truly shocking thing happened. The man he had killed opened his eyes, lunged forward and bit a chunk out of his friends face.

Abel almost tripped recoiling in surprise. He quickly retreated, getting into his car and speeding off. He went immediately back to his brother and told him what had happened. He knew Abel was telling the truth about killing the man, but he assumed the latter part of the story was a symptom of his obvious shock. Calmly he told his little brother to go to Pittsburgh until things calmed down a little and he could find out whether the police had anything on the kill. He told him to bring the handgun and dump it in a storm drain in Pittsburgh. Of course, by the time he got to the city of steel the apocalypse had began.

Life after the outbreak: By the time he got to Pittsburgh the city had began to descend into chaos, there had been an extreme amount of murders and the police all seemed way more on edge than usual, speeding all over the place. By the time the riots started later that night Abel had found an abandoned old warehouse to hide in. Over the next month this would be his base. As the city fell he used the riots as a cover to steal some supplies he badly needed. Food, water and a flash-light and batteries so he could see in the warehouse when he needed to. Over time he heard hundreds of gunshots, screams and other horrors. On his last journey out of the warehouse he grabbed as much canned food and bottled water as he could in the hope of holding up for a while, but dropped a lot of it when he was chased by someone who for all intents and purposes seemed to be dead. He knew he wasn't crazy, but there had to be a better explanation? Now he's once again running low and knows he'll have to go back out into the horror zone.

Name: Rachel

Age: 9

Sex: Female

Personality: Rachel isn't very... talkative. She never was much of a talker, even around her family, although that's not to say she didn't enjoy herself, nor that she was mute. Soft-spoken and timid to most, Rachel is everything you would expect from a girl her age going through what many refer to as "Hell on Earth". Become one she truly trusts and she'll start talking more, however compared to most her age she's still rather quiet. She's brutally honest, though knows when to keep quiet, and appears to be quite good at understanding a situation.

She's not overly athletic, and is far weaker physically than most, though is capable of accomplishing small feats. Her intelligence is slightly above average (keyword "slightly"), and her mind is still rather underdeveloped due to her being so young. In fact the only real pro in terms of her characteristics is her innocence and small stature, however both of those are just as equal weaknesses as they are strengths. In order for her to become a stronger person, it will take a lot of time and effort.

Physical Description: Rachel is short in stature, again even compared to those her age and sometimes even younger. She's also just as thin as she is short, and the apocalypse hasn't made her figure any better. Her freckled face is accompanied by innocent, dark blue eyes that seem to glow like the ocean, and her sweet smile is capable of bringing joy to even the most sorrowful heart. Her hair, such a dark brown it's practically black, is tied back in an unkempt ponytail, reaching down to lengths well beyond what is deemed "safe" for the zombie apocalypse, though she was assured by her mother that this wasn't a hazard. Her clothes include a simple hoodie of faded red which is patched in odd places, as well as blue jeans ripped at the kneecaps and a white, long sleeve shirt of minimal wear.

Weapons/Equipment:

• 9mm Pistol; 2x 9mm pistol magazines (15 rounds each).
• 750ml of water (3x 250ml bottles).
• 13x Non-perishable tin cans.
• Multi-tool (knife, phillips screwdriver, wire cutters, ruler, can/bottle opener, metal file).
• Simple sports watch.
• A letter from mum.

History: Rachel, before the outbreak, lived a poor but otherwise great life, to two loving parents and an only child. Growing up she was home-schooled, however made great friends with those who lived on the same street as her. Unlike most people turned poor, her mother and father worked hard to get stable jobs in the workforce in order to look after both themselves and their child, whilst also educating her in things such as maths, sciences, literature and whatnot. Despite not going to school until she was 8, Rachel was known as one of the smarter kids among her peers, though that could be because she never spoke up unless she was 100% certain her answer would be correct, or when she was called upon.

Living on a poor income was tough on all the family, however they used this opportunity to further their bond and pick up plenty of techniques on survival. It was only six months ago that Rachel's mother managed to score a high-paying job in construction, and they were finally able to start putting more filling meals on the table. Of course, they didn't know that the apocalypse was just around the corner and it wouldn't mean squat very soon, however they enjoyed what felt like luxury while it lasted...

Life after the outbreak: When news of the outbreak was told on the TV, Rachel's parents immediately knew what to do. Those early poor life choices that started them off finally gave them the experience that was needed, and Rachel's father drove straight to the nearest gunstore and food market with all the money they had, buying everything he could to help them along. Needless to say, many things were brought. Rachel's mother, on the other hand, stayed at home with Rachel and began sorting and figuring out what was essential and what was not, how they could carry it, where they would go and just what to do in general. By the time Rachel's father had returned home, all the preparations had been made...

For the following month, Rachel and her parents have been moving about throughout the city, unlike those who tried to stay in one place, they remained on the move. The trio figured staying in the city for a little while could actually be beneficial, since there are more supplies that one can find if they look in the right places, and they could then use that to further their survival outside the city. Since both her mother and father have forever been in Pittsburgh, one raised on the eastern side and the other the west, the three actually survived and almost thrived in this city-turned-wasteland, knowing almost every corner and just about all the great places to fortify on either side of the city. The trio essentially went base-hopping, going from group to group of survivors, exchanging things they needed for a place to sleep before moving on. This tactic worked well for them, and by the end of the month, the three were almost ready to head out...

... Then: bandits.

They attacked by surprise one night, in a disorganized and sloppy fashion. Rachel and her mother, having slept on the floor above her father, who was keeping watch for the night on the first floor, managed to make their escape while their father held off the bandits. The gunfire could be heard for miles around, attracting the unwanted attention of the living dead.

Rachel's mother was bit later that night.

Rachel already knew what happened to people who were bitten by the 'bad people', however she didn't want her mother to become bad like them. Pleading with her mother, Rachel tried just about everything she could think of to try and help her mother, however her mom knew that there was nothing they could do. Rachel wasn't willing to leave her mother's side, and there were still zombies tailing them... so, in order to protect her daughter, she had to knock her unconscious. Having found themselves in a drug store, Rachel's mother had managed to find a bottle of estazolam tablets, and had Rachel induce two tablets, which effectively knocked her unconscious. Quickly moving to the back alleyway, Rachel's mother cleared away some trash bags, set her daughter and all the possessions she could spare down, and covered her again in trash bags, hesitating before taking off with a semi-automatic rifle.

... And then, once she was a far enough distance away, she began shooting. A horde followed, however Rachel's mother made an effort to get as far away from that drug store as possible, taking down as many of those creatures as she could.

She made sure to save one, final bullet for herself.

Rachel continued to survive in the trash bags for the past three days without moving a muscle. Her memory remains foggy about what happened just before the incident, and has only had a simple letter from her mother to keep her there, in the trash bags. However, as time drew on, she began to think more and more about venturing out and finding her parents, and then finding a way out of the city. Yet, just as she plans to move out, she hears something so familiar at first that it almost seems foreign: footsteps. They draw nearer and nearer, lying just beyond the bags which cover her. There are no moans, no wails of the undead, and the steps sound orderly.

And then...?

"Cough! Cough!"

Name: Jessica "Jess" Lee

Age: 21

Sex: Female

Personality: Jess has always been observant. Often mistaken for being quiet, she tends to stay towards the side of a situation before jumping into it. Analytical and incredibly sensitive to even the slightest shift in mood, she takes her time when it comes to all the situations she's put into, even going so far as too delay her response even if it requires immediate attention (which isn't very efficient at times). Her first instinct is to carefully and dutifully assesses everything that's going on around her and weigh all her options. She is level-headed under extreme pressure, but does end up cracking from it every once in a while, something that happens very rarely for her. But when she cracks, she cracks, and it usually isn't a pretty sight to observe.

Despite people saying that she has a resting bitch face (something she doesn't mind having at all) when they first meet her, when she decides to be open and friendly to the people around her it usually changes their impression of her. She comes across as bitchy and icy, but that's really because she's shy and doesn't really know what to say, having spent a good chunk of her short life being cooped up at home doing schoolwork and studying every other thing. She isn't overtly shy, just introverted and finds solace keeping her thoughts to herself over being the one to take charge and leading a group. Likely, she would be a better tactician than a leader (another thing she doesn't mind at all).

What she greatly dislikes is inefficiency and recklessness, as well as incompetency, which signals you to how uptight she can be as well. Yes, she can be fun to be around. Yes, she can be friendly. But when she is in serious-mode, don't bother trying to joke around with her or mess with her as she's trying to figure out something which only further pushes her "bitchy" nature. Highly disciplined and sometimes a little snooty in demeanor when interacting with other people, she really can come across as

Physical Description: Jess is petite both height and build-wise. Standing at 5 feet and an inch, she isn't reaching the top of her cupboard shelf that easily. But because of that she is very light on her feet (even having run track in high school for her junior year, despite her height). She has the typical Asian dark brown hair but dyed it a few years back and has been keeping it the same lighter, chestnut brown ever since. An interesting thing about her hair is that it isn't pin-straight or curly, rather it falls in loose waves all the way down to her mid-back after getting it permed a year ago. She is fair-skinned and her facial features consist of larger than the average, almond-shaped brown eyes, a flat nose, and small lips. She is cute in her own right, but not necessarily a glamorous model.

Weapons/Equipment:

• A hunting knife
• A small first aid kit filled with the essentials
  
  
  
  • A box of 25 bandages of different sizes
  • A small 12 oz spray bottle of ethyl alcohol
  • A small roller bandage
  • A pack of Tylenol
  • 5 gauze pads
• Bottle of water and three packets of crackers
• Small flashlight
• Her outfit consists of: a heavy flannel jacket, a dark blue t-shirt, jeans, and camo boots.

History: All Jessica has ever been in her life is driven. She aims to be the best that she possibly could be, aiming for the highest honors in academics as she possibly could, ever since she first enrolled in school. Her parents never really pressured her to get good grades or anything, but rather pushed her in the right direction to wanting to get those herself. Highly critical of herself, she wanted to settle for nothing less than the best that she can achieve in her life.

And she got it.

She won spelling bees when she was in grade 2, she's fluent in Korean and English and is learning Mandarin in her spare time, she got those straight A's, she played the violin and piano and got special awards in her recitals, she was an honor student throughout most of her schooling life and was valedictorian when she graduated highschool. In a sense, she had managed to achieve everything she wanted in her life and she was only getting started with it all. She moved to Pittsburgh when she began university.

Life after the outbreak: She spent the first few nights in her apartment near her university in Pittsburgh when everything was still chaotic. She and her roommates boarded up the doors and took shifts standing watch. Everything was fine until they started running out of food about two weeks in. That was when they all started taking turns, making supply runs. Thankfully by then, most of the chaos had settled down. They managed to stay alive and safe for two more weeks, until the raiders came. They broke down the barricade on their front door and shot one of her roommates as soon as they saw him. Her and her two other roommates managed to escape using the fire escape ladder. But with all the shots going off in the building, it alerted all the nearby zombies. Sad to say, she was the only one who was alive and still walking by nightfall.

Later that night she was starving, the only thing she managed to grab out of her apartment was her hunting knife and her backpack which had a bottle of water and some crackers in it, as well as the first aid kit and flashlight that she leaves in when she goes out on her run. She holed herself up in the back of a pharmacy in the hopes that she could get some rest and then go out for supplies in the morning.

Name: Michael Wesley
Age: 24 years of age.
Sex: Male

Personality: Michael can come off as unapproachable, but that's mainly because he tends to be a bit on the quiet side, having spent literally the majority of this apocalyptic journey alone - thus making silence something he is intimately familiar with. While a bit cold-shouldering, Michael is a very down-to-earth, realistic man, calloused from witnessing the deaths of his loved ones. Focused on the task at hand, and mature, Michael can take on a leadership role rather easily - although he tend to be a loner, due to the fact that groups can easily limit mobility and survival chances. He isn't secretly evil, and is a naturally humane person. If he sees someone in trouble, there's a high chance of him helping. However, as stated before, he's realistic, and if there's no chance in Hell of them being saved without major loss on both sides, he will move on, albeit with a heavy heart. These trying times have made him merciless in certain situations, and he no longer hesitates to end the life of a human, if that human poses harm or threat to him or anyone close to him. Serious, and focused, Michael's first rule of survival is...'Survive'. Although he may not seem it at first, there are rare times where Michael will let down his guard and laugh/joke. It all depends on his mood and the situation.

Strengths:
Healthy/Athletic.
Exceptional hand-to-eye coordination/reflexes.
Experienced hunter/tracker.

Weaknesses:
Not a city man. Is more familiar in less urban territories/situations
Gets easily stressed/annoyed in large, loud groups.
Has trust issues to a fault. It takes a lot to gain his trust, and vice-versa.

Physical Description: Michael's body is well taken care of. At a healthy weight, and broad-shouldered, he has a lean, muscled physique, that comes with years of eating meat and vegetables, handling rowdy animals, and drawing bows taut. Hunting has garnered him a steady food supply over the time of the apocalypse, so starving has never been something that he has really experienced at this day and age. His skin is fair, having lost the healthy tan that it had developed before the outbreak. His face is rugged and mature, with a bear specking his jaw and chin. His hair is cut short to his head, dark brown, having been that way for as long as he could remember.

Weapons/Equipment: A heavy-duty, lightweight hunting backpack, dark black and brown. Inside the small pocket at the front are: Two small, speed-sticks of deodorant, a worn toothbrush and tube of toothpaste, and a compact pack of purification tablets. Hooked to the side is: A worn, dented, and reusable canteen. Inside of the main compartment are: Five small zip-lock bags of dried, packed balls of salted deer-meat, three bottles of purified water, torn rags, and a worn, miniature first-aid kit, containing two small bottle of alcohol and two small spindles of clean bandages. The bottles and spindles are re-filled/wrapped at different stops. His inventory is light-weight and essential, which he had in mind when he packed it all. He travels in a battered, yet practical and fuel efficient Dodge truck, originally a silver-color, yet stained dark burgundy in some places due to the undeads' blood.

As for weapons - A worn, yet highly-maintained and sturdy recurve bow, a leather-wrapped quiver with self-made, sturdy arrows, and a sharpened utility knife. His arrows are reusable, which he makes great use of, and is virtually silent;; It's rare that you would see him with a gun. The utility knife is strapped securely to his pants, and the bow is latched to a strap on his backpack; easy access. The quiver is peeking over his right shoulder, strapped to his back. A solid crowbar is strapped to the otherside of his backpack, opposite of his canteen.

History: Michael had always been raised to be a humble, hardworking young man. Born in a country home, a ways outside of the city limits of Pittsburgh, in a plot of land where the forest was cut-off at, hard-work was always a part of his daily life. Cutting wood for the fire, tending to the cows and pigs, and going hunting with his grandpa, deep within the woods...that's how his life was. His mother was single, and had died giving birth to him, leading him into the custody of his grandparents. He didn't mind;; to him, those two would always be his real parents, no matter what. He was taught his studies by his grandma, and was taught how to be a man by his grandfather.

He speared fish in the lake behind their home, he rode horses down the dirt trails, he helped build sheds and different contraptions for the animals and vehicles, and, the most fun of all, he hunted animals with Mother Nature, selling the fur and hide in the market whenever they went down into town - which wasn't often. When all of this happened, Michael and his grandparents knew nothing of it. They were getting old, and it was up to Michael to provide for the family;; he did so efficiently and immediately, spending his time roping the horses, tending to the pigs, chickens, and cows, and hunting deer, boars, and hogs in the forest. Whilst in the middle of tying down a dead boar to his old four-wheeler, he heard strangled screams, along with groans and gunshots from back home. Dropping the boar, Michael leaped onto his ride and blazed a path of leaves through the woods, going straight through the trail and blasting into his yard. What he saw...he would remember forever. His grandmother, her body bleeding out in her garden.

His grandfather, bleeding from multiple bite wounds on the neck and chest, feebly aiming a bloodied and spent shotgun at this...this thing. There was a lot of these things, and Michael's first instinct was to scream bloody-murder and charge in. Logic prevailed, and it was like watching for third person. bring up bow, notch arrow, shoot...through the heart. No luck. Notch, aim, shoot...through the back of the head. The rotten human fell. He began taking out the shambling walkers, dodging over tractors and crouching on top of old trucks as they began to move after him. Eventually, the herd fell, and Michael crossed the distance between his grandparents. After that, the memory got hazy.

Life after the outbreak: Ever since then, he has been travelling, after burying his only family, and gathering his supplies. He drives in a slightly fortified Dodge Ram truck - good gas mileage and decent enough speed. Good for hauling things, as well. He had found an abandoned cabin miles away from his old home, a bit deeper into the woods surrounding Pittsburgh. It was fairly easy to get into the city from the cabin, for supplies that Michael couldn't get himself. Now, however, animals were becoming less plentiful, and he was losing a good source for food and water. City scavenging trips were becoming more necessary, to the point where Michael has decided that moving into the city itself was safer than the constant back-and-forth.

Name: Olivia Henley

Age: 23

Sex: Female

Personality: Unable to fit into a single category best used to describe her, Olivia finds it relatively easy to get along with just about anyone. Although she enjoys meeting new people, she's very careful about who she invites into her life. Under the right circumstances, Olivia will not pass up on the opportunity to make a joke (sometimes inappropriate in nature), and she won't hesitate to use it as an icebreaker.

Physical Description: Olivia stands at an average height of 5'5. She has rich, olive skin tone which is accentuated by hazel eyes and dark-brown hair. Her body is well-toned due to her strict exercise regimen, and her scars are a limited few mostly associated to past childhood experiences.


Weapons/Equipment: A kitchen knife and a Hi-Point C-9 Handgun left on site by the bar owner.

History: Olivia was born and raised in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. She bounced between foster homes at an early age due to behavioral problems, and she never stayed in a single home for longer than 6 months. She was a troubled child who would often end up in a juvenile detention center, and her sporadic placements with unfitting families often pushed her to runaway, only to get picked up by law enforcement and turned over to the state.

From a young age, Olivia learned to find humor in just about anything. Rules meant nothing to her, and nearly every single one of her mugshots showed a smile that one could very well be interpreted as pride. Despite her behavior, Olivia was a bright child, although her abilities were never truly nurtured nor challenged. She's seen and done it all-fights, drugs, alcohol, sex-yet she has no regrets.

Before the outbreak occurred, Olivia was wrapping up her graduate education at the local university. She hoped to get a job as a meteorologist, and she was interning with one of the three major news stations of Pittsburgh for the past year. She lived alone in a one-bedroom apartment near the downtown area and held a job as a bartender to support herself.

Life after the outbreak: The chaos erupted when Olivia was at O'Reilly's with her co-worker, Chelsea. The store owner, Timothy, wasn't around, but they didn't wait on him to lock up the door to the rooftop bar, therefore denying access to anyone who wanted to go in. A lot of the days during the first few weeks of the outbreak were a drunken blur. The two girls learned how to ration the food that was available, but it was quickly diminishing and they needed to restock. They armed themselves before carefully stepping outside of the building for the first time in over a month. Not 5 minutes passed after setting foot on the street before Chelsea was pulled from behind by a biter and eaten alive. This made Olivia run as fast as she could in the opposite direction before finding shelter in a building and locking the door behind her.