Full name: Daniel Ian Gregory
Gender: Male
Age: 48

PERSONALITY
High-risk, low-maintenance, and afraid to fail. Educated, but stubborn. Believes in order and control, no less than what is absolutely necessary. Will not settle for a no-win situation. Tries to keep the understanding that things have changed, maybe permanently, but will do what he needs to do to keep people alive. Finds solutions with thought and reason, trying to keep all variables in the equation at all times. Always has work to do. Intelligent and not afraid to show it, generally very fun and outgoing. Considers himself level-headed, but considers himself more human than anything.

EQUIPMENT
He was able to procure a previously-owned red Nissan XTerra 4x4. He packed it up with lots of rope, 23 gallons of gasoline, Maruchan ramen noodles (beef flavor), 6 cases of bottled water, a basic first-aid kit, non-fiction books about military history, a reproduction Civil War groundcloth and wool blanket, the toolbox from his garage, two spare tires, a blowtorch, a Remington 870 with ghost ring sights and an extended magazine tube, a duffel bag filled with an uncounted amount of Winchester 230-grain .45 ACP ammunition, and a Bowie knife on his gun belt. His gunbelt is a reproduction Civil War-issue waistbelt with a pair of Galco handgun holsters nailed into it. The holsters contain a no-frills Rock Island Armory 1911A1 and a semi-custom Glock 21 race gun, with an extended barrel attached to a static compensator, a beveled magazine well, a trigger job, a shorter recoil spring, raised target sights, and a ground-down grip for better handling. He has 17 additional magazine pouches riding on the space next to the holsters.

APPEARANCE
Short and stocky, like a farmer. He stands at 5'8'' with 144 lbs beneath his skin, and noticeably at 40+ years of age. He wears brown hair and green eyes with a slew of scars from doing tough work in his childhood. Standard garb these days is a black t-shirt, blue jeans in semi-good condition, brown Wolverine Bulldozer boots at his feet covering two pairs of wool socks, and grey hoodie under a reproduction Civil War infantry jacket whenever he travels in the cold. He never goes anywhere without his black cowboy hat, which has protected him from the sun at numerous Civil War battles.

HISTORY
Danny grew up an intellectual who loved doing stuff. His primary goal in life was to learn and to impart knowledge to others, leading to his career as a high school history teacher. On the side, however, he could be found riding mountain bikes, playing Hockey, and reading every book in sight. Danny is a smart man; he is one of the most distinguished teachers in his school, covering most social sciences and physical education when needed. He eventually fell in line with a military reenacting group that portrayed impressions between 1855 and 1921 (basically Civil War through World War One), and co-owns a gun shop that is typically operated by his best friend, Riley James. He is a caring, outgoing individual with a deep commitment to his kids, Riley and Jen, and after the death of his wife, it only solidified. Danny refrains from anything that could have him looked down on. He doesn't drink, smoke, curse, or generally say 'I hate' ever. He is sometimes considered too content of a person to actually exist, but he knows he is just doing things the way he wants them to be for his kids. He is also the town gun nut, due to his Class 3 firearms license (I.E. fully automatic weapons and tactical explosive devices) and owns several guns; he sometimes sells (legally, of course) his weapons to the townsfolk when they are in need of a reliable saddle-gun or coyote-killer or general plinker gun.

Then there was the quarantine. Another totally unneccessary waste of fear, Danny surmised. Nothing's gonna be worse than the Spanish Flu pandemic of the early 1900s. Then he saw the President give a speech during primetime about it. Worse, the speech was short, and obviously not in the Oval Office; it was very obvious some Hollywood guys had painted a White House mockup to try to help the American people think everything was okay. Of course, it was easy for the President to say such things, because he had a whole staff of highly trained ex-Special Forces-types willing to die for him. What a joke.

Danny scoffed when he saw the broadcasts; he felt a fool when they went off for good. His first order of business was to secure his business, the smallest gun shop downtown that he'd co-owned and operated for 16 years. Things were surprisingly not as nutty there as he'd thunk, usually any would-be raider could be easily bribed with a few boxes of ammunition or a Mosin-Nagant. Soon, people stopped showing up, and he had to shoot down the first groups of infected that would gravitate toward his work outside. The next two months were spent inside his building, living in some form of harmony with the employees of the diner next door who had smashed through the wall that divided the businesses and offered a bucket of chicken in exchange for a couple of guns. When the infected finally besieged and assaulted their store, Danny's only friend in the world, Riley James, stood behind to fend them off and, eventually, take his own life. Now he's looking for his kids like they were Hansel and Gretel, trying to pick up any bread crumbs he might find.