Name: Janice Fresco
Nicknames: Jan, Sharky
Age: 22
Gender: Female
Appearance: Average height with a stocky build, medium blonde hair pulled back in a low ponytail, with jeans, cowboy boots, gloves, and a letter jacket as her usual attire. She’s got her sword in a scabbard on her belt, with her rifle and swim bag on her back. Janice usually just carries the baseball bat with her.
Sexuality: Meh.
Weapon(s): Carries a metal bat, as well as a sword and a rifle with a few boxes of bullets. Jan prefers the bat and the sword, but she is a pretty good shot with the rifle.
Skills: Great cook, competitive swimmer, good listener.
Family: She’s not sure if her parents are dead. If you count her team… yeah no.
Personality: Janice is an interesting case. People who see her in passing have described her as 'an enraged pretty gorilla threatening a lion.' People who have spent plenty of time with her have said that 'she's a nice girl, but do not piss her off unless you want to die.' Janice can only be patient for so long until she snaps.
So, anger issues aside, she's pretty caring. She acts kinda like a mom to all of her friends, even if they’re older than her. She’s not going to hesitate to rip you a new one, but at least it’s not because she hates you. Janice has a deep guilt about a lot of things, but she’s not a touchy-feely person. She won’t want to talk about it.
History: Janice has always been a country girl at heart. Lake house in Oklahoma, ten acres, with plenty of poison ivy and enough blackberries to stain hundreds of shirts. Her dad was a techie and a hunter, and her mom was a history teacher at the local high school. She grew up fairly uneventfully, learning to shoot at a young age. Her mom gave her an appreciation for history, as well as a well cooked meal. She joined the swim team after she figured out that running sucked. She was good enough that she could swim in college, and even made a couple of trials cuts. Nothing too crazy. Her parents were proud of her, of course. They wouldn’t be proud of her now, though…
---------------
A breaststroking zombie is probably one of the most hilarious and terrifying things in the world. It's definitely not a legal breaststroke, but with the lack of human officials right now there's probably no one who cares. (That, and the pissed off zombie would probably eat the official's face off.)
It's strange, what you think of when you're in deep shit. Some people think about their family, others think about their God, and occasionally some think about how their asshole in-laws are going to get all of their money if they die. Janice would be damned if she said she didn't think of that stupid breaststroking zombie in a speedo.
She was at a swim meet when the first zombies popped up. The girls had written it all off as another doomsday hoax, and as captain she couldn't find a reason to convince the coach to cancel. Janice had just finished for the day, and she was more than ready to head back to the hotel and take a hot shower to work out the swims she'd swam today. After getting dressed, she'd went over to the concession stand, bought a yellow Gatorade, and headed back out on deck to cheer on some of her teammates. The 200 breaststroke had just started, and for some reason they weren't starting. There was only one person in the water, oddly enough, doing a worse stroke than some kid who'd just started swimming. It was so terrible, and the person was leaving chunks behind him.
Wait, chunks?!?
Then she heard the screams.
Janice stood still for a minute, then snagged her swim bag, and ran back to concessions. Grabbing as many bags of fruit snacks and candy bars as possible, she put them in her swim bag and sprinted out of the now-infected building. Since she'd came with the team, her car was currently sitting at home, and there was no way she was taking the gas guzzling charter bus back to the hotel. Her only option? The pool had a bicycle rack, and some stupid newb had forgotten to lock up their bicycle. Bad for them, good for Jan.
She took the bike and pedaled off, avoiding zombies as she went.
That was the last she saw of her team mates or her coach. Survival of the fittest, she guessed, but she still wishes she could have done something to help them. Janice doesn't want to lose anyone else to the hordes. She won't if she can help it.
Love Interest: Is love really appropriate at a time like this?
Nicknames: Jan, Sharky
Age: 22
Gender: Female
Appearance: Average height with a stocky build, medium blonde hair pulled back in a low ponytail, with jeans, cowboy boots, gloves, and a letter jacket as her usual attire. She’s got her sword in a scabbard on her belt, with her rifle and swim bag on her back. Janice usually just carries the baseball bat with her.
Sexuality: Meh.
Weapon(s): Carries a metal bat, as well as a sword and a rifle with a few boxes of bullets. Jan prefers the bat and the sword, but she is a pretty good shot with the rifle.
Skills: Great cook, competitive swimmer, good listener.
Family: She’s not sure if her parents are dead. If you count her team… yeah no.
Personality: Janice is an interesting case. People who see her in passing have described her as 'an enraged pretty gorilla threatening a lion.' People who have spent plenty of time with her have said that 'she's a nice girl, but do not piss her off unless you want to die.' Janice can only be patient for so long until she snaps.
So, anger issues aside, she's pretty caring. She acts kinda like a mom to all of her friends, even if they’re older than her. She’s not going to hesitate to rip you a new one, but at least it’s not because she hates you. Janice has a deep guilt about a lot of things, but she’s not a touchy-feely person. She won’t want to talk about it.
History: Janice has always been a country girl at heart. Lake house in Oklahoma, ten acres, with plenty of poison ivy and enough blackberries to stain hundreds of shirts. Her dad was a techie and a hunter, and her mom was a history teacher at the local high school. She grew up fairly uneventfully, learning to shoot at a young age. Her mom gave her an appreciation for history, as well as a well cooked meal. She joined the swim team after she figured out that running sucked. She was good enough that she could swim in college, and even made a couple of trials cuts. Nothing too crazy. Her parents were proud of her, of course. They wouldn’t be proud of her now, though…
---------------
A breaststroking zombie is probably one of the most hilarious and terrifying things in the world. It's definitely not a legal breaststroke, but with the lack of human officials right now there's probably no one who cares. (That, and the pissed off zombie would probably eat the official's face off.)
It's strange, what you think of when you're in deep shit. Some people think about their family, others think about their God, and occasionally some think about how their asshole in-laws are going to get all of their money if they die. Janice would be damned if she said she didn't think of that stupid breaststroking zombie in a speedo.
She was at a swim meet when the first zombies popped up. The girls had written it all off as another doomsday hoax, and as captain she couldn't find a reason to convince the coach to cancel. Janice had just finished for the day, and she was more than ready to head back to the hotel and take a hot shower to work out the swims she'd swam today. After getting dressed, she'd went over to the concession stand, bought a yellow Gatorade, and headed back out on deck to cheer on some of her teammates. The 200 breaststroke had just started, and for some reason they weren't starting. There was only one person in the water, oddly enough, doing a worse stroke than some kid who'd just started swimming. It was so terrible, and the person was leaving chunks behind him.
Wait, chunks?!?
Then she heard the screams.
Janice stood still for a minute, then snagged her swim bag, and ran back to concessions. Grabbing as many bags of fruit snacks and candy bars as possible, she put them in her swim bag and sprinted out of the now-infected building. Since she'd came with the team, her car was currently sitting at home, and there was no way she was taking the gas guzzling charter bus back to the hotel. Her only option? The pool had a bicycle rack, and some stupid newb had forgotten to lock up their bicycle. Bad for them, good for Jan.
She took the bike and pedaled off, avoiding zombies as she went.
That was the last she saw of her team mates or her coach. Survival of the fittest, she guessed, but she still wishes she could have done something to help them. Janice doesn't want to lose anyone else to the hordes. She won't if she can help it.
Love Interest: Is love really appropriate at a time like this?