Name: Elizabeth Catherine Smith

Nickname: Lizzy

Age / Birthday: 17 / July 10th

Gender: Female

Nationality: Canadian

Appearance:


In-Depth Personality:
Just like her mother, Lizzy is a fairly determined individual. However, she is also rather stubborn and this has lead to interesting encounters between her and her mother. She is above par in school having an average of around 80 in school-- the effect of her mother’s constant reminders to do homework.

Lizzy has grown close to the nanny her mother had hired and often calls her “Mom” by accident. She has a touchy relationship with her mother and their time together has been severely limited by her occupation. Lizzy often makes their dinner and it’s rare that a goodnight hug is ever present.

Character background:
Elizabeth was born not knowing who her father was. Her mother rarely ever talked about him, and she didn’t care to ask. She was raised in a household where she was pushed to work hard in school and help with chores. She always tried to help out where she could to help her single, yet hard working mother. Lizzy was always good at reading emotions and the only thing she ever saw her mother as was stressed out.

In public school she excelled, hitting the top of her classes in grades one through six. She ended up skipping grade seven because of her flawless study skills and amazing memory, much to her mother’s pleasure. However, that was where the good parts of school ended for her. Grade eight was a nightmare. A constant stream of bullying and mockery at the middle school she was sent to left her crying herself to sleep on multiple occasions, often without the comfort of her mother’s arms.

There was hope to be found however. Her grade nine year at school was made better by tenfold by her participation in the school band as a percussionist, as well as her involvement in various activist groups run by the school board. Lizzy learned the drums very quickly and eventually pushed her mother to buy a drumset for her. This was quickly regretted by her mother as Lizzy’s bedroom walls were hardly soundproof, and on more than one occasion has her mother had to come in and tell her to stop.

High school was a breeze after that. There was the occasional fallout with a friend, or a stressful assignment that overwhelmed her, but it was otherwise a good time. Currently, she is about to start her Grade 12 year at school.

Equipment:

• Backpack: Small sling tactical backpack
• Supplies: Metal 20oz water bottle and a few granola bars.
• Medical Supplies: A few bandaids, alcohol wipes and a roll of 2” gauze.
• Miscellaneous Items: Google Nexus 5x with earbuds, drumsticks, wallet, soft shell jacket clipped to her bag, extra socks and a lighter.
• Hiking boots

Weapons:

• A small flip knife
• A lightweight hatchet

_{**I’m the GM, I don’t have to agree to this!**}

Name: William Francis Lyons

Nickname: Will, Francis

Age: 24

Gender: Male

Nationality: Irish

Appearance:


In-Depth Personality: William is your average as-expected man, with a love for exercise from boxing, unloading a few rounds at the shooting range, to crashing back at his home with his golden retriever Heidi. Due to his active and social lifestyle, he's a fairly in-shape and well-prepared man in terms of how to physically handle himself. Though he lacks any advanced knowledge on anything beyond basic first aid, any moderate understanding of sciences, or the patience to comprehend it; in a mad world, he doesn't have time for a college lesson or to bother humoring one. He's also never had to take a life, whether zombie or otherwise; seldom watching TV or having time for the movies between work and his extracurricular activities have left him the odd man out from most social media. When he will have to kill, it will remain with him as a horrid reminder of the new world, and he may even hesitate when met with children or infants to which are infected.

Character background: William Lyons was raised in Armagh, Ireland with a pair of loving middle-class parents, Alexandra and Thomas Lyons. A rather quiet but hands-on child, he grew to excel at physical activities whilst keeping his grades at an above average constant for the majority of his schooling. As a teenager, he was as mild as could be, unleashing any frustration he had upon the punching bag and relaxation at home with Heidi; his life only met diversity when he grew into his late teens and moved to his own nearby apartment upon Station Rd.

Working full time as a teacher and coach for the local Epicentre Youth Group, he'd spend the good majority of his days helping children come to quelling their quarrels with their guarding and allowing them to ventilate any pent-up emotions they had in a safe environment or through acceptable means - such as punching pillows, counting to ten, jogging, ec cetra ad infinitum. For a few years, he kept up his life to aid youths through their troubles until he met some trouble of his own. Once night whilst at the local pub, he met a woman who would tug at his heartstrings more than any other; her name was Rebecca Lavoie, the woman who seemed so mellow and relaxed on the surface, only to entice young William with hints of lascivious grandeur and more, should they decide to know greater of each other after a few drinks and an exchange of numbers. Their relationship took off - yet she soon had to find herself returning back home to Toronto due to a soon-to-be expired visa keeping her time short.

A year or so passed, with the two remaining in contact by basic social media - with William still quite new to it all, leaving him to be rather scatterbrained with anything new added onto his phone. Deciding that he had finally enough money saved to feel comfortable with a vacation, he had taken his flight for Toronto from Dublin and expected to see his lover once again. Unfortunately, this is when the local pandemic spread... William was staying at one of the local hotels before forced quarantines were established for all recipients of the building; one by one, they were led like cattle by what informal military personel could be afforded to handle the job before one of the infected residents had already turned on one of the higher floors and taken a few lives in their wake. While the military was busy fighting off the minor horde upon upper floors, William took the chance to escape from the chaos and leave the building as soon as he could; the streets were far less better off with cars piling into bumper-to-bumper traffic. Escaping by what street smarts he had by prowling about to his utmost extent, he snuck for one of the local closed gun stores to rob for a light yet simple firearm before sneaking out for shelter. He found himself to the bunker, taking the chance to seek refuge when he could.

Equipment:
• 10 MREs
• 20 Water Bottles
• Bedroll
• Dark-Green Coffin Tent
• Leather Wallet (ID/LTC/$75)
• Verizon Edge 7 Phone
• Weatherproof Boots, beige pants, dark-green waterproof hunting jacket and wool cap.
• Hunting Backpack
• Two Duffelbags

Weapons:
• SIG Sauer M400 Enhanced (10 STANAG Magines of 20 round capacity)
- 5 120-round boxes (559 rounds)
• H&K 45 (3 Magazines of 12 round capacity)
- 8 50-round boxes (376 rounds)
• Black Label Tomohawk
• Benchmade Fixed Black Knife

Name: Altai

Nickname: Hedgehog(Because his hair gets very spiky if he doesn't take care of it. Especially after he puts his head on pillow)

Age: 25

Gender: Male

Nationality: Turkish

Appearance: White skin but not pale, nor mid European. More like Southerns. He has long face with a little hooked nose, his brown eyes are shaped as almond. He is 180cm (I think 5 ft 10 or 5 ft 9, not sure) and 70 kg(154 lbs I guess). His hair is mostly white, 90% of it, thanks to his genetics. His hair is... How can I describe it... Shortened sides, front of his hair longer so he can spike it up.

He has short beard, which are really black and hard. His eyebrows are also opposite of his hair and a little thick...

He is not symphatic, very far away being of it. He actually looks really... He looks like he has dangerous and hard nature, which makes people don't get close to him most of the time. Which lead him to be little social and shy. Nothing he can do about it, if there is nothing funny or worth it, he won't smile.

He has well built Torso-really well built chest and shoulder while having normal sized arms. Yep, he is not gym guy. He was really overweight once, because of that his belly will never be "fit" enough to be flat. He is hairy dude, mostly upon his arms, legs and chest. But they are not white like his normal hair, they are black. He has scar on his right middle and ring fingers, from a fight in pub. One moment of silence for the bear glass that caused it.

In-Depth Personality: Reckless, cold-blooded, literated dude who has capability of understanding most of the thing while not getting into anything because he is very melancholic, self-hating, asocial and almost anti-social, trying to look tough and making everyone staying away from him. He wants to be really social but he is too shy and lack of confidence. But when it comes for non-social stuff, his Confidence will be on the top level of humanity. He can't make the first step to meet with someone, unless it's needed for his job/task. He is sarcastic, making tons of jokes and references that only he can catch.

He is protective against children because he has young brother-or he had, no idea what happened to him. He doesn't want to live but also trying to achive his simple goals, so he is planning to get himself killed after he achive these personal goals, which are truly simple for normal people.

He has sadistic attidues to humans and also he hate most of the people. He belivesed that he can understand people by just looking at them for ten seconds. He has moral and ethic issues which are completly different from normal society. He also has borders for himself.

He won't talk much until he gets comfortable and he will always scare that he is going to mess everything up-because when he gets angry, he goes nuts. No, it's not losing control of himself but more like... Being aware of it, and having fun with that mess...

He is creative and writing novels, trying to be well-known writer. Well, it was possible before the outbreak but... Never need to lose his faith on writing skills.

He has his side on most of the situations but getting involved always depends on the gain, so we can call him pragmatist. He also loves animals, mostly the cats, hedgehogs and turtles. But anything baby will do the job.

He also has smoking addiction and he knows the best tobaccos. He won't drink alcohol too much.

*****(If I need to write more, just tell me)*****

Character background: Born and raised in Turkey, a country which is witnessing many terror attacks and violance, a land where violance is normal and appreciated. He had to learn how to defend himself, how to fight, how to fight dirty. Truly dirty, which will involve every kind of items and cheats to stay on ground.

However, he was really smiling person once, until his 12. He was always interested in books and fiction, but after age of 12, he witnessed many family problems such as alchololic parents, violance at home etc. It drained every single energy inside him, and turned Altai in a stone golem.

He tried to enjoy in different ways, he got good at billards, dart and knife throwing, riding horse... But he was always bat at music. Can't sing unless he practice for months, also can't play any insturment. His drawing skills... Well, no. Just don't make him draw something.

He got in jobs at summers and learned the true life, how hard it could be. He learned people, he learned how people live and always been jealous about it. That's where he get his scars on the finger, a fight which involved glasses, knives, clubs and etc.

He got in law school but dropped it after 3rd year, then he was drafted to Military(service by requirement law), served about 12 months in Mechanised Corps. Learned how to choke someone instantly while trained to operate assault rifles and armored vehichles. He was involved in military operations against terrorist groups few times. An experience for him, another waste of year, another waste of time that he could spend better.

He spent his whole life learning things, reading stuff and watching films/TV Shows. He learned tons of unuseful stuff like Sherlock Holmes did.

Then he finished his Novel, it got published in Turkey and it made him some money, it was his turn in life. He believed it, many said that the book will be translated into English later. For that, he went to Canada so he could contact with the authors and universities, it was time to make his life great again.

Then the outbreak hits, and everything fells into darkness again.

Equipment: Packs of cigarettes and lighters, including one smooth black zippo. One black jeans, one green camo pants(cargo), black laether jacket, some normal jackets(I mean like hoodies but without hoodie. Don't know this in English). He wears fingerless gloves and military grade black boots all the time. He still has his military jackets and uniform. Enough with clothing.

Black backpack. This dude is a little gothic, probably being teen because he never could be one. :D :D :D Just kidding.

Angel of Death necklace, jagermeister canteen(full leather jacket baby), flashlight, and another regular life items such as razor blades and etc. Also painkillers. He is trying to be addicted to painkillers but failed to do that.

Weapons:

Pocket knife
Switchblade
If possible, a 9mm pistol which he obtained illegally. Some clips and ammo for it, and gun holster which he place under his armpit.

Name:
Jean-Jacques Adebesi Wells

Nickname:
"Lightning"

Age:
28

Gender:
Male

Nationality:
Half-Ivoirian/Half-French

Appearance:


Masculine with not even the faintest hint of femininity, Jean prides himself on his manly appearance. Standing at a tall 6"4, weighing in around over 250 lbs and a whole heap of chocolate goodness, his previous love for football and now rugby definitely shows in his appearance. The definition on his muscles are almost absolutely ridiculous, a six pack bordering on an eight pack. He's an absolute giant of a man, big shoulders, big arms, big chest and big legs. Some say that the only thing he's lacking is a big beard which he can't grow for the life of him. All he wanted was to braid his beard, instead he has to wait years to even grow a stubble. Does it have to be that hard? His stance and posture is one of confidence, head high and his walk is long and purposeful. Almost like he always has to go somewhere, some place to be. His back is straight and his chest is instinctively puffed out.

His eyes are first class, as Yessenia would say. "An eyes are a window to your soul" except in this case the window is made out of green diamonds, the house is made of gold and the soul is on fire. They are of the lightest green, almost bordering on white. In the torching summer sun or in the bright lights of the city, you can make out golden flecks in his eyes, shining through the lightest green. In the height of winter, his eyes turn into a very light bluish green, almost reflecting his mood in the season. No matter what however, they are always on fire. A wilful, strong soul is behind those eyes, predatory and to the wrong person, dangerous. They can be scary, ruthless and animal-like, staring at your soul like they want to tear you apart. To the right person, they are warm. Golden almost always. They give comfort, their confidence in themselves and in you is like a constant warm hug. They exude an underlying sense of wanderlust and adventure but have a loneliness to them. If you look hard enough, you will see a cold blue in them. A sadness. A crazed look. One of depression, of loneliness... and of forgetfulness?

He has a sturdy, rock solid jaw and thick eyebrows, he has a lot going for him. Jean has a faint scar on the upper right of his bottom lip from when he busted it in a tackle. Two scars, one deep and one shallow, right next to the kidneys from when he was still in Cote D'ivoire, slash marks from a territorial fight of old. Another scar appears across the side of the neck, just stopping before the throat. This and many other scars bore his body, one scar right under his ear from a man trying to tackle him, another crossed against his knee caps. Each one tells an adventure, a story.

His tattoos mark his history, every game, every fight, every tackle, every try... His tattoos speak a tale, 28 years long, continuing until the day he dies. Some may say it's obsessive but he believes in stories and that the skin is the best canvas to tell them on. However, there are three significant tattoos. His first ever tattoo is one he wears with pride, the wings of an angel displayed proudly on his upper torso with the word "Béni" on it, the French word for "blessed". He isn't a religious nut but he is a miracle believer and that faith chose him to be lucky enough to survive the damn ghetto and find a loving, albeit broken, family in a new country.

His next tattoo actually runs from both of his arms to his upper back. A serpent-like, thorny vine winding up his arms in a double helix around them, blood drawn from each thorn. The two pairs of vines go around behind the shoulder and splits to form a rectangle spanning form both shoulder blades. Etched in the middle are the words "lla loyauté, honneur, le respect". Loyalty, honour, respect. The three core values that he believes in. Every thorn prickling the skin is a sign of every struggle he had to go through to get where he is, each thorn weighing him down. Each vine represents his four fears. Black to represent failure, paired with a yellow vine to represent anxiety. On his left arm, a red vine to represent breakdowns and a blue vine to represent emotions. Each one he fears, each one he hates. Three are concepts and one is linked to them so therefore, in his eyes, they are unacceptable to be defeated by.

The third tattoo is of a heart. Not as manly as the others and he actively tries to hide it but it is placed right under his first tattoo, on the right hand side. A heart trapped in a cage, ball and chain, alone. This was latest tattoo he's been given and the one most relevant to his situation. The significance of all of these tattoos are only known by his artist, Tish. She is the only one that knows how he feels, how he expresses emotion through ink, how he has his mouth shut even though he wants to say so much, so loudly. She sees the struggle, she sees the pain and most importantly, she sees the condition. He uses these tattoos to tell his tale, to leave a message even when he is long dead. To leave at least a small mark on the world despite his failures.

Jean is not much for taking care of himself in terms of clothing. His fashion is varied. Some may say that the snapbacks, Jordan's, Van's, graphic t-shirts and jeans labels him as "Typical Millenial". While other may say that his additional love of sweatpants, hoodies and comfort clothes may speak volumes about his personality. He carries around a signed rugby ball by a famous former All Black, Richie McCaw from when he was touring New Zealand with his coach. He kicks it around, tosses it about but never does he drop it nor let anyone touch it. To him, it is like a holy grail. But to most, no matter what he wears, the scars he bears and tattoos he shows with pride, he's just a jock

In-Depth Personality:
Jean is supposedly, at least he wants to think, an image of masculinity. He is assertive, he likes getting things done on his own but appreciates when people want to help him but politely refuses. He needs to get what he wants and is confident in himself enough that he believes that he could do anything if he tried hard. Relentless in competition and approaches tasks with ruthless and brutal efficiency, he can scare weaker men with how he focuses on the field. Never say that this man isn't strong in mind and has one of the fiercest will in the world, his mother would say. This confidence in self may seem unattractive to some and his refusal to believe in defeat is both attractive and ugly at the same time. He can also seem hard headed and stubborn at times. This almost religious following of the "rules of masculinity" almost always borders on machismo. He can seem traditional and conservative in the way he acts and his personality but does it in a modern way. He treads a line between normal and excessive. But despite these faults, he is known to be respectful. To have strength, you must also respect those who have more than you.

His hate of weakness is an extension of his fear of emotions and it originates from the first six years of his life. Show toughness, show strength, show power and you will live in the ghetto. As an orphan, these were the most important qualities to have otherwise you were as good as dead. Show weakness, show emotions, show sadness of all things? You will be viewed as weak and quickly stomped out. You must have willpower. You must have this willingness in your heart to do anything and everything to survive. Put your mind in shutdown, build your walls high, lie when you can and keep your head high. Make a mask so thick you will not even recognise yourself and forget who you are, keep yourself as unrecognisable as possible to provide a mental wall from the pain. Every lie is a shield but this type of mentality does a lot to fuck you up. To a religious man, every falsehood, every red herring is just a burden to his soul but he can't seem to shake it. A limb of the mind cannot be severed so easily.

By all means, Jean isn't a religious nut. He doesn't preach in the streets, he doesn't have homophobia, he is t against contraception, gay marriage and things like that. He isn't against other religions nor the absence of one. He doesn't believe that pre-marital sex is bad, just as long you truly care for who you are making love with. "As long as I love her, why would He care?" He generally stays off the topic of religion. He has faith however. He has belief. He believes in miracles, he believes in the Ten Commandments, he believes in Him. He doesn't walk around like billboard shouting out "Y'all need Jesus!" He's politely going to church when he can. This is the only aspect of Jean that is so different from the rest. More reserved, calmer, a little more peaceful. But he does have dark places which is why he goes to church so much.

Since his birth Jean has, and always will be, lonely. No matter what anyone says, even the vows on a wedding day couldn't shake his thought of impending loneliness. This is for a number of reasons, one of which is the fact that he doesn't know who he is. However, he is certain that it isn't the confident hard ass he and his friends portray him as. Growing up an orphan and then violently being shoved into a family also creates a lot visible and invisible lines between him and the Wells. He knew that his father didn't love him, no matter what his mother said. This was all a marketing stunt, he wasn't a child of love. He was a child of money and profit. Also, the culture shock alone of transferring for a ghetto in the Ivory Coast to a happy home in America is mind numbing. He has built so many walls to restrict who he is that he feels lonely when people care for him. One lone person in this world knows him, and that's his baby brother.

Character background:
Cote D'Ivoire. The Ivory Coast in West Africa. The birth place of Jean-Jacques and one of the biggest trials of his life. Some would say he was fortunate to be born in such a stable place in Africa (at least when he was born) and that he wasn't caught up in a country with civil unrest, violence and absolute chaos. The Ivory Coast has one of the largest GDP's in Africa and it is significant in trading to the landlocked countries surrounding it to provide resources. It is the former home of many civilisations before the colonial period and has a rich history and culture. As a former French colony, the main language is a form of African French and it remains close ties with both it's neighbours and the West, particularly France. It was an economic powerhouse during the '60s and '70s but experienced political and social turmoil during the '80s, all of this under the reign of Felix Houphouët-Boigny. Unfortunately for Jean, this was when he was introduced to the planet.

He was born in the large city of Abidjan, a growing urban centre for population and economy. Unfortunately, every city has a dark side and therefore dark people. His biological parents were on the lower side of the economic scale and greatly suffered because of it. Living in the vilest ghetto in town, crime sprees weren't all that uncommon and people turned a blind eye towards killings. His father was a drunkard, constantly going from bar to bar asking for more alcohol. He was never there for his wife and when he was home, he was aggressive. Violent. Crazy. His mother was French, a poor former-nun who came into the wrong city at the wrong time. During the social turmoil of the '80s, some crimes were left in the air, crimes such as rape. Victims were forced to either abort their babies or raise them. His mother was a kind woman, would never hurt a fly really. Absolutely gorgeous woman, with soft eyes and caring touch. If you were looking from afar, you wouldn't notice the ugly scar running down across her right eye and the sad, mute look that dons that beautiful woman.

If Jean could remember his first four years, it would be filled with confusing and contradicting emotions. He would remember happiness and warmth from his mother, crying over his infant body with that pretty smile of hers. He would remember the love he felt when she sung him a lullaby to keep him asleep, her angelic voice filling his near-deaf ears, piercing through the confusing sounds of the outside world. He would remember her selflessness, curling up to him when his father was it his maddest. He would remember the comfort he felt in her arms. He would never forget the love that went away as she passed, blood spilling from her throat, his father crying over her dead body, bloody knife in hand. But, alas, he was a child, a newborn at that. He would only remember the hate and fear he felt from his father.

He was never there for him, his father. He left him at an orphanage and probably died in some whole. As a small boy, being left alone meant that you had to act strong, even in an orphanage. At the age of 5, he wasn't supposed to be recruited into a local gang. He wasn't supposed to lose his childhood so soon. He wasn't supposed to feel blood on his hands, hearing someone's skull cracking as the sound of a gunshot rings in your ear, the irony taste of crimson liquid on your tongue. It was a violent life but he had a simple job. He was already pretty big by this age and could go toe-to-toe with the big kids. His job was to follow the big kids as they walk around the ghetto, establishing territory and roughing up the homeless to get on their side, vandalising homes and telling the other gangs to back off. He always held his head high, unflinching eyes staring at the weak as they cower before him. He believed in the survival of the fittest, the strong over the weak, hate over love, strife over peace.

He always assumed that he wouldn't be adopted. Why would he? He was a hood rat, a thug and he was a halfie. No one liked halfies. Everyone knew his father was a drunkard and the people of the orphanage hated him for sneaking out at night, engaging in criminal activity. So when a sweaty, puffing, sunglass wearing American barged through the door looking for a kid, he didn't think anything about it and continued sharpening his pencil in the corner. But when he heard a sweet voice call out in a strange language, kind, strong willed, passionate but also... familiar. Like a wave of relief washed over him, a small warmth trickling into his heart. His eyes softened, muscles relaxed and pain he didn't even notice was there faded away.

Jean's eyes went shut and he went cold again. Everything was shoved into a cage, taunting voices, moving shadows. But there was still a buzz, a warmth. A crack in his armour, a lullaby faint but so clear in his head. They piqued his interest and so he started walking confidently towards them. Each step became heavier and heavier, each heavy breath was a struggle. He was getting nervous, an experience that felt unnatural to him. It was strange, it was like you were not in control of your own body. He finally got to the woman, he assumed to be the man's wife, and spoke in his slang-ridden Africa French. "Who the fuck are you?" His fingers were callous, muscles taut, a man's eyes in a boy's body. Yesenia widened her eyes before she smiled sadly at the sight. Such a young boy having gone through so much, with those eyes, with that face... He would be a perfect older brother. She knelt down and pulled him into a hug, ignoring his shocked face, whispering softly in his ear "You are no longer alone." He melted.

The paperwork and the meetings were hell. The orphanage wanted to get rid of him, the arrogant pest who corrupts but they wanted to make sure that the Wells knew what they were going to do. They were going to adopt a troublemaker, one known for violence and criminality. But Yesenia took it in stride, smiling through all of the worried faces, all throughout it all, he was clutching her hand tightly. Conrad expressed concern but ultimately kept his mouth shut. It was his idea but they agreed that she would be the one to choose the child they would adopt and by this point, he was still loyal to her. They had to leave of course, to sort out more paperwork and immigration but they came back. He always happy when they visited although he only expressed it in subtle actions. Grabbing a fistful of their clothes, cold eyes turning into the warm gold, the rare hug and small "thanks".

On his sixth birthday, Jean landed on US soil and got to meet his baby brother. He poked his cheek. "Ma, he's soft. Too soft. Too fat." He poked his cheek again, feeling the boy squirm from the touching in his sleep. When has he ever been that fat? Been that loved? His golden green eyes stared back at his amused but tired mother. "Fat is good though." And kept poking his cheeks, entertaining himself before falling asleep. Dom, when he woke up, saw his new big brother and tackle hugged him, surprising the older boy. "Fuck shit! It's a midget!" he exclaimed as he was tackled to the ground. This marked the first day of a wonderful brotherhood and the expansion of a little brother's vocabulary.

Jean took care of his brother most days due to how swamped both parents were. Taking care of Dom wasn't a very hard job and this was when bonds were formed. Most would say that he was a bit too overprotective of Dom and that he should ease off on the "I am big brother, I will kill you if you hurt small brother" but everyone would agree that he did a good job. If someone wanted to hurt his little brother, Jean would hurt them back in the most vicious of ways. In a way, he was the one that was most reliant on the other, Dom's calming words when he (unfortunately) appeared to be upset always brightened his day a little bit.

Miami wasn't all that different to Abidjan. The climate didn't change nor did the sun, torching down at his back. Although the Ivorian city was never this big, a city was still a city. The people however... they were happy. They acted like they weren't, honking their horns during a traffic jam, shouting at each other on their roads. They said they hated the temperature, the pollution, the crazy cocaine addicts. Dom himself pulled a tantrum and complained that he hated the fact that his ice cream melted so fast. But they never meant it, there was no power behind it. There was no real hate, it was more of a petty hate. He's experienced real hate, the kind where you want nothing but to destroy. Murder. Kill. Wipe the person from the face of the planet as revenge is the sweetest thing in the world. These disturbing thoughts and more floated around his head as the car approached High School.

He wasn't known for academics, to be the sharpest knife in the pantry in terms of knowledge about anything. He was very average in that fact, seeing as he was far too aggressive and shut-in to learn about some bullshit calculus or atoms or any of the bullcrap. It was his dream to be a footballer and excelled in it. Although he looked like he was on the skinny side, he was known to take hits and go toe-on-toe with beefcakes at Centre while also making the last minute adjustments to the plan. Never say that he wasn't willing to adapt and not analyse the field before him. He can read opponents better than most and it showed in his quick decisions. He was almost King of the school, popular with the girls and was at the highest peak in his footballing career. He was a star and was beginning to open up to those close to him like Yesenia and Chloe.

Unfortunately, his father (it seemed like both of his father's were both complete shitheads) finally fell from grace. He lost all respect for the man ever since he proved to be so distant, leaving him to take care of Dom all the time. His final fall was when it was proven that he was cheating on Yesenia. Jean was furious and it looked like he wasn't going to take this betrayal of loyalties just sitting there. It took his whole football team, Dom and his mother herself to keep him from tearing Conrad apart. Once more, he felt angry, felt hate. He always directed it at his father and if looks could kill, he would be obliterated from the face of the Earth.

He hated it all. Moving onto college in Toronto, his footballing skills came to a standstill, something changed. He couldn't even finish a semester before being kicked out of university for breaking out fights and tarnishing it's reputation. The shame was unbearable and he couldn't stand it all. He gave up football, his sport. He was picked up by a rugby coach and he thought that there could be a second chance for him, another hoorah in life. It was never going to work. Nothing was going to work.

Equipment:

• Currently wearing this attire
• Benelli M3 - Pistol Grip
• 30 shells
• Baseball bat
• Plastic water bottle
• Two snickers bars
• Rugby ball

Weapons:

• Benelli M3 (Will be found later)
• Baseball bat

_{**By putting this CS up in the OOC for approval, you have read all of the rules and have agreed to have fun. Welcome to the RP, my friend :)**}

Name:
Dural Kalti Warra
Nickname:
N/A
Age:
22
Gender:
Male
Nationality:
Aboriginal and Caucasion
Appearance:

Standing at 180cm and weighing in around 70kgs, Dural is a bit taller than average, and in good lean shape. However, due to a rare case of Horner's Syndrome when he was an infant, the melanin in the front layers of the iris in his left eye deteriorated slowly over the course of six months and he developed complete heterochromia in the afflicted eye. His eye suffered no physical damage and he is still capable of seeing clearly with it, however he is aware of how it makes him stand out. He also has matching tattoo sleeves on both arms, and a simple piece on his chest.

In-Depth Personality: (Both strengths and weaknesses included.)
Dural doesn't walk, he struts. He has the confidence of a king, he's impulsive, and will never shy away from a fight. He's the type that won't treat you any differently if he beats your ass or you beat his, unless it suits him. An irresponsible hedonist with trust issues, if something won't benefit him he'll have nothing to do with it, and expects the same from others. From this he's learned to be morally flexible, and follows the belief that the greatest evil is doing something that doesn't benefit him or those close to him. He doesn't trust easily nor does he grow bonds with everyone he meets, but those he does become blood to him. Unless it fucks him over.

Like many, Dural is a contradiction; Cocky and Arrogant in his presentation, but generous and caring to those close to him. Deep down he's ridden with insecurities, longing for affection and intimacy he doesn't believe he deserves, but craves.

Character background:
According to his older brother Adjar, Dural was born the son of a "drunk man and a white whore," and after his parents' affair and untimely death he felt the bitterness and blame of responsibility. Adjar blamed Dural every day of his life for the death of their father, saying "My father never would have been in that car if it weren't for your slut of a mother" every chance he could. In anger, Adjar constantly lashed out at his younger brother by either beating the hell out of him, having others do it for him, or making Dural denounce his mother as a "white whore" after ganging up on him with his group of friends.

Ignored by his mother's family for his taboo and illegitimate conception, he was orphaned along with his elder "brother" in the slums of Southern Australia where he was bullied endlessly for his "whiteness." Being too light to stand with his Aboriginal Kin and cruel brother, Dural was torn between two cultures and eventually abandoned his community for one that showed less interest in his melanin and more interest in his productivity.

At a young age Dural learned that no one would look out for him, and so he had to do it himself. Despite his intelligence and success in school, he quickly became the pissed off 'bad boy' in classes, getting into fights just as often as he aced tests. The one thing that stood out about Darul, other than his eye, is that he didn't know when to quit. Whether in a fight with someone twice his size or taking a class years ahead of his peers Dural wouldn't stop until he was unconscious or won, and there was no "gray zone" about anything he did. This talent, or curse, followed him wherever he went and resulted in him receiving a full-ride scholarship to study abroad as far away as he could, Canada.

Equipment:

• Duffel Bag
• Two-Way Radio
• Foldable Saw
• Swiss Army Knife
• Duct Tape
• First-Aid Kit (Bandages, Anti-Bacterial Ointment, etc.)
• Hand-Crank Flashlight
• Flint/Steel
• Zip-Ties
• 50m rope
• Numerous MRE's
• Crowbar
• Binoculars
• Whetstone

Weapons:

• Wooden Club (See appearance for reference)
• Compound Bow with 25 Arrows
• Machete
• Swiss Army Knife

_{**By putting this CS up in the OOC for approval, you have read all of the rules and have agreed to have fun. Welcome to the RP, my friend :)**}

Name: Samantha Park

Nickname: Sammy

Age: 24

Gender: Female

Nationality: Her family hails from South Korea.

Appearance:


(added a gif of her blinking. that's Ellen Wong, btw. I just recently rewatched Scott Pilgrim vs the World and Dark Matter and she was in both of those so when I was thinking about actors- hey presto)

In-Depth Personality:
When you're an intelligent pretty girl from a privileged background, it's safe to say Samantha has lead a pretty good life up until a week ago. Some might say she's spoiled- and some may be correct. As a result she's a natural optimist and somewhat sheltered. For her, the troubles of the world have always been in some other place. Often trusting and assertive of her positivism, she's eager to make friends. It may even be a little off-putting to negative folk on how open she is.

She isn't a hardened survivor in anyway. She's never been shot at or attacked. By luck she made it into a safety bunker before even encountering the virus. She's deeply worried for her family, but on the whole is pretty confident that everything will be alright. Her positive attitude is faltering however, as it's been a whole week and nothing but bad news has made it in through the radio. As a...well, regular human being, if she's attacked she'll run away. A life well lived does not prepare one for the end of the world. Sensitivity is the cost of her friendliness.

Character background: Her father's work moved her brother and mother to Canada when Samantha was an infant. Only her sibling Steven has memories of their homeland. Canada was her home- the people were welcoming and she was happy. There wasn't any of the negativity her father seemed to always be expecting- Samantha has adopted the behavior of optimism to counteract her father's ruthless pessimism. Despite being a good man, he somehow managed to make everything he accomplished seem worth jack squat. Poor Dad. Her parents made great money, her father an engineer and her mother an architect. (He often teased her of this, after all the "architect is just an engineer who failed first trimester." It was all in good jest, of course.)

She made excellent grades. Her brother faltered a bit, but he settled on learning a trade- perhaps become an electrical engineer. Her friends joked of how she had a stereotypical Asian family- focused on school and grades. She didn't mind- and as it was high school she probably rebuttled with a friendly racist joke as well. Par for the course. Her parents could have paid for a whole college education for both her and Steven- but she had most of it paid for and Steven's trade school wasn't nearly as expensive.

Indeed- Sammy's life was like the first part of a horror movie where everything is fine and dandy before the serial killer shows up and starts lopping off heads. Her brother found work and moved to New York from her town of Montreal a few days ago- and an old friend from high school wanted to reunite in downtown Toronto. In between jobs Samantha took on the offer- ready to have a fun time. She never made it.

Before she knew it, news of the sickness was spreading and a nervous Samantha found her way into a bunker. She thought she'd be there for a few hours- she clearly didn't understand the gravity of the situation. Mind in a daze she has only realized a deep feeling of dread she masks behind her usual optimism. Her brother and parents must be fine- surely the government has this all under control.

Right?

Equipment:
A purse full of civilian items. Wallet, ID, money, house keys, car keys, smart phone, lipstick, chapstick, some sunglasses. Obviously all very useful in the end of the world.

Weapons:
Other than a can of pepper spray her worry-wart mother convinced her to buy, nothing. If she finds something she'll pick it up- but Samantha was not packing heat when this all went down.

**By putting this CS up in the OOC for approval, you have read all of the rules and have agreed to have fun. Welcome to the RP, my friend :)**

Name: Amanda Catherine Smith

Nickname: Annie

Age: 37

Gender: Female

Nationality: Canadian

Appearance:
Annie normally dresses in a female suit, both at home and at work. She basically lives in her suits. She feels the need to keep up a good outwards appearance for business contacts and for the sake of her reputation.

She has also started dying her slowly fading hair color along with a good coat of makeup to hide blemishes and wrinkles.

Annie stands at 176 cm tall and is of average body type, perhaps a bit on the thin side due to stress.

In-Depth Personality: She is a very driven woman and does everything she can for her company. This often leaves her daughter in the second seat for her attention since she spends a lot of time on the phone or in front of a computer at home.

While she tries to spend time with her daughter she often has to reschedule something they agreed on earlier. A workaholic to the bone, and expects the same from her daughter, which she makes sure to tell her.

Character background: Ever since Annie was a young girl she has always worked very hard. Be it helping others, helping at home. In school with homework or helping other students to pass their exams. She never really sat down and relaxed. Always on the move, or buried in another book.

She had always been influenced by leftover hippie culture from her parents. The talks about renewable energy, solar, grow it yourself. Her parents were always free spirited. Live life in the now and hard work.

This drew her into sustainable engineering and agriculture development. She was always drawing this or that design for a house or another building, landscaping. She took some preperational classes in highschool before attending college, studying to become what she wanted to be.

During her last year of high school she got pregnant but still finished her studies. The father was not interested in a child and broke up with her. Annie has had a hard time balancing work and studies along with being a single mother, but it has worked out somewhat.

This did not stop her though as she went deeper into engineering studies and tried her best to balance work and family, but this ment hiring a caretaker along with working most of the time that she was not in school to keep the income up.

She started her own company about the same time. Providing smart and economical solutions to household problems. Selling solar panels, counseling people on how to live green and self-sufficient, garden and landscaping.

A few years back her business really took off, leaving her daughter with a nanny most of the time, even sometime when she is working from home. She has become quite successful in her business, but it's taking a toll on her. And deprives her daughter from a lot of family time.

Equipment:

• Medical equipment: a pack of cloth plasters. Five different sizes of bandages. A pair of scissors and a clamp. Along with disinfectant and soap. All packed neatly into a first aid kit.
• Supplies: varied items of food. Some cans, some fresh, some bread and other items. Also a waterskin and a purifier.
• Hygenical items: soap, shampoo, hair dye, washcloth and towel. Along with a razor.
• Extras: some bullets, extra clothes, along with a basic cooking set. All stuffed in and around a backpack she carries.

Weapons:
A shovel and a scavenged CZ P-07 pistol.

Name: Thalia Danielle Desjardins

Nickname: Tail

Age: 19

Gender: Female

Nationality: French-Canadian

Appearance:

Pre apocalypse



Post apocalypse:



In-Depth Personality:
Thalia is aggressive to anyone she isn't close to Because of the arguments with her uncle and fear of people judging her over her sensitiveness of her parents death. She is quite sarcastic to both friend and foe alike to keep people from taking advantage of her sensitiveness. She tries to be serious almost all the time because she feels she needs to be the person taking care of everyone else. This is because of her living off of Kate for many years until she got a job and she doesn't want to feel like a burden or have to be taken care of.

Character background:

Thalia Desjardins was born in the outskirts of western Ottawa. She learnt mostly French as her native language while taking english classes at school. She took archery lessons when she was 14 but they were cut short when her parents died in a car accident on the way to pick her up.

At the funeral she finds her uncle who she has never met before and proceeds to ask him if she could stay with him. He accepts and she packs up her things before going with him to his apartment in Toronto. She stays with him for a few weeks before they get in a fight over her parents and she grabs her stuff and leaves.

She stayed out in the streets for a night before the next morning she was caught by the cops and is brought into foster home. She stays there for a few weeks before escaping during the night. She ends up living in the streets of Toronto and made friends with a Employee at a Tim Hortons named Kate.

Kate was 21 and would give the food that they were supposed to throw out to Thalia. Thalia eventually moved in with Kate in her apartment and Kate became a sort of guardian to Thalia. Kate ended up adopting Thalia when she was 15. When Thalia turned 16 Kate taught her to drive, and got her a job at work with her when she was 17. With some of the money she earned she retook the archery lessons she never finished and bought a recurve bow.

When she was 19 she the apocalypse hit.

Equipment:
-Backpack
-Road Map of area in and around Toronto
-Iphone 5*
-Light autumn jacket around her waist
-Thermos
-a few Granola Bars and box of crackers.
-Chain bracelet*
-Earbuds with the left bud broken
-

(* could also be used as a weapon)

Weapons:
She has a wooden recurve bow, a butterfly knife and a couple dozen arrows.

Name: Phoenix Lancaster

Nickname: “Ace” his uncle who he has been living with for two years calls him this because he’s a good shot

Age: 17

Gender: Male

Nationality: American

Appearance: About 5’8, Lean but solid build about 142 lbs, dirty blonde hair and brown eyes.


In-Depth Personality: Phoenix is kindhearted, but generally uncooperative, rebellious, a bit rude and some would say slightly anarchistic. He is very intelligent and if he stayed in school would’ve had a shot at valedictorian, but that’s not what happened at all. He rebelled against his parents in a glorius act of defiance in order to live his own life and eventually forge his own path.
When he is around his peers, he is generally an introvert, having only a few friends, though some people who knew that he was from a prestigious family would kiss his ass, and when somebody does that it grinds his gears, he doesn’t like being treated as if he was higher or better just because he was a Lancaster. When he was around the people who he actually considered his friends, he would act slightly clownish making sarcastic and edgy comments from time to time and act out in order to spread positive vibes.

When he is alone he is a totally different person, thinking about why life exists and his purpose, in a higher sense and in terms of what he wants to be. In these terms he is pretty aimless. He at the moment on the other hand has a pretty clear goal which is to not die. In order to achieve this he currently tries to keep a clear and calm head as often as he can and he tries to make concise and pragmatic decisions. This isn’t always possible, he like everyone who didn’t die initially is pretty stressed out. He was especially shaken when his uncle died, but he must keep moving on so that his guardians’ death wasn’t in vain.

Character background: Phoenix was born to a wealthy family which owned a defense corporation, the Lancasters. He was the first and only child of the couple who actually owned the defense firm, therefore they wanted to make him their heir. They had him homeschooled and were very controlling of his life, making sure he has nothing to distract him from his studies, making sure he eats the healthiest foods, and only takes in things that will make him a suitable heir. At first he was a naïve child listening to his parents, not really knowing any better, but when he grew older, that air of rebellion emanated from him, his parents didn’t like it but they couldn’t shelter him from bad influences forever. He was sent to a prestigious junior high school where he did pretty well for himself. His parents made sure that he did extremely well, giving him the best tutors that money could buy. Phoenix made friends and did some sports, which his parents allowed, knowing that an athlete would attract prestigious colleges if his stellar grades and family name didn’t. He did cross country during the fall, wrestling in the winter, and tennis in the spring. He eventually got good at all of them though he did have some trouble with tennis and wrestling at first, he made the varsity teams as a freshmen when he went to the attached high school of private school he attended.

It seemed like everything in his life had worked out perfectly. The highest grades, the richest family and a star athlete. Though he had few friends he was looked up to by many, nobody knows why he threw it all away. On day he simply vanished and nobody knows why. It was his parents controlling behavior, the stress and pain that it caused him. He had to run, and only knew one person who might take him in, his uncle. His uncle was a military man and a rat racer, his family saw him as being a nut job, but Phoenix thought he was alright. In order to get to him he had to go through a major ordeal, literally hike to Canada. At this point there was a search going on and Phoenix had to make the journey by foot if he wanted a chance at victory. At this time he had assembled a basic kit which he used to navigate the north eastern section of the U.S. until he finally crossed the border into Canada which lead to him eventually finding his uncle’s property.

Jack Lancaster was a military man and a bit of a recluse. He had hidden himself away from the world especially after the death of his wife. He had served two tours in Afghanistan as a marine scout sniper and at the time was considering moving back to the United States and undergo training to possibly join the Navy SEALs. This changed when his nephew arrived. At first, Jack was going to turn him into the police so that he could go home, but once he heard what Phoenix was subjected to by his brother he decided to take in the boy. Jack lived in the wild and seldom went out. He only got supplies that he couldn’t forage for or make himself. Jack though he may have seemed like a crazy to many, but wasn’t really. He was just a guy who wanted to live a quiet life, he could sense a similar air in his nephew Phoenix when he told him his story. That’s one of the reasons why he took him in. After that Jack taught Phoenix survival and military skills that at first Phoenix thought was unnecessary, but eventually when the outbreak occurred his opinion on this will change and he will even be grateful to his parents for pushing him so hard, although at this point all of the knowledge he gained is somewhat useless, he is happy that he acquired an excellent work ethic. One of the skills that Jack taught him was sharpshooting, with that old M24 Phoenix became so fond of. Turns out he had natural talent in regards to marksmanship with a rifle at least, afterwards he was given the nickname “Ace” which was a relief to Phoenix because it was slightly less embarrassing then his real name.

One day he and his uncle heard the emergency broadcast system go off. It detailed the nature of what was going on, the outbreak, how it was to become a pandemic. It gave a list of locations and told those who were not yet dead to go to the nearest one, theirs happened to be in Toronto. They packed their kits up and got moving, Jack taking his trusty M4 and Phoenix taking his trusty M24. They went by car at first, taking about a half an hour to exit the forest and get on a paved road. The first road that they entered was a minor highway. Things were not looking good, it was mostly abandoned, there were some cars that seemed to be left behind and there was a single moving car that they encountered that was moving in the opposite direction that the two were heading in. There they also had their first encounter with the undead. They saw what seemed to be three bloodied people, aimlessly lumbering around on the side of the road, this even freaked out jack, the war veteran, who had killed dozens during his tours. When they made it to the main highway, they saw why the previous vehicle had turned back. The highway was backed all the way up, and they were everywhere. The two made a unanimous decision to turn back and then travel parallel to the highway until they got to Toronto, which wasn’t that far from their current location anyways. They did this and walked in the woods. They walked for hours and got into some encounters with the undead, they both killed and Phoenix was shaken by what he done, but Jack reassured him and Phoenix regained composure. Once they reached the city limits of Toronto, they got into a huge melee. Jack was surrounded and killed, his last words were “GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!!!” directed at Phoenix. He wanted to do something, but knowing that even if he could get him to the hospital provided that it wasn’t abandoned, there’s probably nothing that he could do. On that note he ran, and ran, and ran. He simply outran the undead, the endurance and agility from cross-country and tennis, later his wilderness lifestyle would finally come in handy. He eventually found an area with a very low amount of undead and is currently seeking refuge in an abandoned apartment building. He’s trying not to cry, as he reads the map and plans his next move, in reality he doesn’t know what he should do.

Equipment:
Medical kit
-Ethyl alcohol
-Bandages
-Gauze
-Medical Stitches
-Penicillin
-Basic dissection kit (a bit crude but can be used for surgery)
-A splint

Navigation/communication
-Compass
-Map
-Small hand radio

Tools
-Tomahawk
-Hunting knife
-Crowbar
-Bolt cutters
-Small spade

Gear
-Lockpicks
-Screwdriver set
-Flashlight
-Flares
-knife sharpener

Materials
-Parachord
-Duct tape
-Extra batteries

Survival
-Canteen
-Bedroll
-Water purification tablets
-Snares (2)
-Book detailing edible plants in the region

Rations/cooking
-Some beef jerky (homemade)
-Medium pack of rice
-Salt
-Cooking blend (spice)
-A pot
-A skillet
-A cooking grate

Apparel
-Light grey thermal (top only)
-Sturdy pair of dark blue jeans
-black windbreaker/raincoat
-Brownish-tan steel toed boots
-Travel pack
-Black woolen gloves
-Ski mask (usually wears as a hat)
-watch

Misc
-copy of Robinson Crusoe
-Rubix Cube

Weapons:



-Crowbar (can be used as a weapon if he has nothing else at hand)
Quirks: Carries Robinson Crusoe with him, he does this because he basically got addicted to reading as a child (surprising, right?) and reads that book over and over (he’s a quick reader) in order to feed his habit.
Hates having his ass kissed just because he’s a Lancaster, not that that matters anymore

Name:
Joseph Gaius Ferrier

Nickname:
"The Ferrier" (High School) "Joseph Finder" (Current)

Age:
35 years old

Gender:
Male

Nationality:
American born and bred

Appearance:
5'9", 160 (app.) lbs., military-style buzzcut, unkempt 5 o' clock shadow, white t-shirt under a brown leather jacket, dark jeans, dark brown combat boots over khaki socks. Caucasian, athletic build, former police officer, wears his gun in an over-the-shoulder holster, brown leather. Carries a second firearm in a black nylon ankle holster. Wears polypropylene kneeplates and shinguards under his jeans while on duty.

In-Depth Personality:
He is not a social person, despite how much he has been forced to fraternize. He is inquisitive, taking things apart, and studying passerby to learn about the workings of the world. He is a talented investigator. He has had trouble in the past with painkiller addiction, due to his subconscious need to "mimic the mind" of various perpetrators and victims in relation to his cases.

Character background:
Joseph Gaius Ferrier was born in Newport News, Virginia, United States, to an FBI agent mother and local Sherriff father. He lived his early life adhered strictly to a code of rules and regulations, and did little to stray from it. He showed a proficiency for baseball, though he had not the interest. What Joe really wanted to do was follow in his mother's footsteps. She came home every day with a briefcase, full to bursting with images of violent crimes and mugshots and police reports. His father, as he saw it, did little more than watch the city destroy itself.

During high school, Joseph started to stray, getting involved with a local gang. In a drug deal gone wrong, he was shot in the leg. He was sixteen. His knee still aches to this day, when signaling rain or snow. The bullet wound healed slowly, and Joseph was bedridden for the better part of eight months while his leg pieced itself back together with the aid of silicone and titanium, the bullet having shattered his kneecap. His delinquent friends visited him often, to the point where he suggested that they use his hospital room for drug deals. His parents worked often during this period, as a serial killer, having claimed the lives of two couples and six individuals with a pickaxe, was quite active in the town. He retained a strong hereditary sense of justice, and once paid to have a man shot, the individual in question was accused of assaulting one of Joseph's couriers. Joseph became known on the street as "The Ferrier", as in "One who operates a ferry", as he was the one individual through whom one was able to acquire cocaine, methamphetamine, heroin, cannabis, and prescription painkillers, and deliver them safely and reliably, as guns were unable to brought into the hospital due to the metal detectors at the door, and a constant security presence prevented people from getting out of hand. He paid his three regular nurses to ignore it. Joe enjoyed this for quite some time, amassing profits he'd never dreamed of. But, he was healing fast, on the "up and out" as they say.

When he was discharged, seventeen years old, he was at a crossroads. He'd lost his safe haven for trade, but found that he no longer felt the same enjoyment from the money. He wanted to do something, as teens often do. Despite his new lease on life, he passed his High School finals as the definition of average, and applied immediately to the FBI Academy in Quantico. He was notified that he needed a degree to qualify, and opted instead, for Langley's Police Academy, scoring high marks in Logic and Deductive Reasoning, low ones in Public Relations. He was twenty years old.

He served for four years as a beat cop in Newport News, before an argument with his father prompted him to leave his hometown in search of a career elsewhere. He found a job listing in Detroit, and found a place on the streets. After witnessing a murder of an unarmed civilian by one of his coworkers, and watching as Detroit PD ignored it, and protected the killer, he checked back through the department's record, revealing a long line of corruption. He fought for two years to have the cases reopened, but to no avail. Gradually, after receiving no help from DPD and IAF, he denounced federal policing altogether, and left the country after publicizing the information. At the time of leaving, he was twenty-nine.

He used his life savings to lease a building in Vancouver, Canada, hanging up a sign that read simply "Joseph G. Ferrier, Private Detective", and has used the rest of his life solving discount homicides, overindulging, and being a mean old bastard. At this point in his life, he finds himself in a six-year rut, temper growing shorter and shorter, bottles becoming emptier, baggies lighter. He finds it more and more difficult each day to keep his finger off the trigger, and his hand off his baton. His badge is no longer a shield in his mind, but a war banner. He is thirty-five years old.

Equipment:
- 5 oz. Stainless steel flask (Jim Beam, Devil's Cut)
- 5" Maglite, x2 AA batteries
- Detective Shield
-Polypropylene Kneeplates & shinguards
- Swiss Army Knife multitool, 4" blade, 13 tools total

Weapons:
-.45 Calibre Beretta M92fs, rechambered from 9mm (primary)
- 36" ASP Airweight titanium extending police baton
- Smith & Wesson .38 Calibre Detective Special (secondary)
- Cold Steel Kobun tanto-tip high-carbon stainless steel knife, kydex sheath