Age:38
Gender:Male
Occupation:Day Laborer, Safe Zone 88.
Bio:Wayne Richmond is a man with few worries, even when the world is teetering on the edge of oblivion.
A prolific cannabis user before the attacks, with a string of related felonies to his name and a small chunk of prison time to boot, Wayne has never been much of a fan when it comes to systems. He's wayward, but not chaotically so; he respects authority, just not when it invites itself into the homes of those it governs.
And so, the Safe Zone has become somewhat of a living hell for Wayne. There's little privacy, little room for lethargy, and the military run things with an iron fist. Not that he dislikes soldiers, of course. The same soldiers who allow him to sleep at night, also saved what's left of his family-- ironically, his grandparents who are near their end already.
His parents? Brother? Sister? He doesn't know. They were in California when the attacks happened, and he hasn't heard from them since. He expects the worst, but truth be told, he doesn't care too much. His pre-disaster life drove a wedge between he and they. They'd told him he was wasting his life, that he was a failure, with no prospects and doomed to be a leech until the end of his days. He wholeheartedly agreed with them, and as they slowly stopped calling and emailing him, slowly stopped all their correspondents and attempts at contact, the happier he became.
He was a free man, finally. No bonds to hold him back, he could forge his own path and care not for the consequences of loved ones. Wayne then spent nearly a decade bouncing from one social security cheque to the next, all the while feigning a non-existent back injury. Most of his money went on dope and snack food; his life was a shambles to an outsider, but to him, it was perfect. No responsibility, no stress.
Just getting stoned and happy, perfek!
When the attacks came, Wayne was in New York, visiting his grandparents, whom he still cared for... although possibly because he knew they wouldn't be around much longer. He didn't want any emotional baggage from their deaths, for not doing enough to know them, and besides, they had a much more liberal attitude to his lifestyle than his immediate family.
As the national and global situation deteriorated, Wayne threw his grandparents in their car, jumped behind the wheel, and drove them to the Safe Zone advertised on the radio and tv. About 10,000 people had the same idea though, and the transport systems quickly crumbled.
Wayne led his grandparents through the traffic on foot, despite their protests about leaving their car behind. It took them an hour to reach the entrance to the Safe Zone, and Wayne's heart sunk when he saw the mile long ques. Lighting a spliff, he resigned himself for the slow wait, sure of himself that there'd be room in there for all of them.
And that's when the infected struck the waiting masses. Screams sounded on the outside of the crowd, and then there was shouting, and then all Hell broke loose. The crowd surged towards the military blockades, and the military was forced into use live ammunition to hold the line. Dozens were shot dead indiscriminately - a depressing consequence of illogical human panic - but Wayne managed to lead his grandparents through the chaos, and onto the right side of the barricade.
He was ushered into a medical tent by a team of soldiers, as a squadron of Apache gunships reared their ugly wasp-like heads from behind Manhattan, speeding towards the ensuing chaos.
Wayne didn't see what happened next, but he heard it.
The amount of people killed that day has always been actively hidden or masked by the military regime ever since.
Four months later, and Wayne has gone through a major transformation. With his precious dope in short supply, and no wellfare system to carry his lazy ass, he's had to apply his efforts to an actual trade. Wayne had no real skills to speak of, and so found himself day laboring for the military, carrying boxes this way and that, and helping with the transport of munitions. It was hard work, and he'd already figured that his back would give way long before the fungus would get him, but he had little choice in the matter.
Most of his earnings, he spent on paying for his grandparent's incredibly expensive medical costs. Arthritis meds and blood-thinners were the new gold in this post-apocalyptic world, and Wayne ran a very fine line between ensuring his grandparent's continued survival, and the Safe Zone 88 equivalent of bankruptcy.
When word came out about the Safe Zone's dwindling supplies, and the subsequent call for volunteers to locate replacement stocks, Wayne ... [to be continued]
Weapons:Heavy-duty steel crowbar drop-forged, approx 1 meter in length.
Military issue combat knife.
Glock-17 (Unsure if I want him to start with one yet, guns sound useless in this RP ((too much noise!)))
Items of Note:Burnished steel crucifix on an aluminum neck chain.
Walkman Cassette Player + Headphones + Tapes
Small pouch of tobacco mixed lightly with cannabis, and rolling materials.
Brass Zippo Lighter, low fluid.
