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Michael Fairaday

"We have to remember who we are. Survivors. Fighters. Humans".

0 · 167 views · located in Post-Apocalyptic America

a character in “Bullets and Brains”, as played by Mr. Baneling Squishy

Description

Michael Fairaday
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"Human nature is one thing. But we have to stay strong and work together."




The Basics




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Full Name: Michael Jorjen Fairaday

Nicknames:
Jorji, MJ, Mike, Michael, Officer

Gender: Male

Age:
29

Ethnicity/Race: Caucasian

Sexual Orientation:
Straight

Prior Occupation:
NYPD Officer

Current Occupation:
Hunter/Scavenger




What's on the Outside




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Hair Color: Black

Eye Color: Blue

Height: 6'3

Weight: 178 lbs.

Tattoos:
None

Piercings:
None

Scars: Bullet wound by his shoulder.

Character Color: Orange?

Description: Strong, enduring, and perceptive could be used to describe him. As he was an officer of the law, he is in a fit physical condition. He is fairly tall, muscular, and has some worn knuckles. He has long hair and clear eyes as well. He also sometimes walks on a limp, but it doesn't slow him down.




What's on the Inside




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Personality:
{Cautious, caring, protective, kind, merciful}
Michael is a fairly simple person. His parents were killed during a gang shoot out when he was six, which inspired him to become a cop. He sympathizes with victims, and wants to make the world a better place for everyone. He is often the voice of caution and reason, and would rather put himself in danger then let anyone else take risks. He is particularly protective of the younger members of their group, especially James Milo. He fears that they may lose their humanity and ability to care about and for others during this apocalypse, and often tries to remind and reinforce this to prevent that. However, he is very cautious and will not trust a stranger quickly, as he knows what people are capable of when they are desperate.
Hobbies:
He collects baseball cards, used to compete with other cops for the number of people they saved, and played on the NYPD baseball team.

Habits:
He has a habit of making jokes regardless of the situation, started as a coping mechanism for what he saw while working for the NYPD and now this. He avoids talking about his parents, and often will play harmless jokes on people to help improve moral.

Oddities:
Despite being a bit humorous and jokey, he constantly makes sure nothing he does is too dangerous and endangers the group. He also is allergic to shellfish.

Likes/Loves:(At least 5)(repeat format if more)
  • Protecting others
  • Keeping the group safe
  • Improving moral
  • Baseball
  • Helping people
  • Jokes
Dislikes/Hates:(At least 5)(repeat format if more)
  • Criminals
  • Abusive people
  • Selfish people
  • Shellfish
  • Seafood





What Makes Us Special




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Strengths and Weaknesses

Character Skills/Talents:What is your character good at doing? (At least 2, Repeat format if more)
  • Firearms
  • Being empathetic and understanding

Character Flaws/Weaknesses:What is your character bad at doing? (At least 2, Repeat Format if more)
  • Overly Strong sense of justice at times
  • Isnt that good at unarmed combat or with a knife


Secrets:
Has a fiancée he has been unable to find who was pregnant with their child, and he never learned how to swim well.

Fears/Phobias:
Afraid of one of the group dying, and of drowning.
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What's Done Is Done




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Biography

Place Of Origin: NYC

Birth Date: November 2nd

History:
Michael was born to Elliot and Jordan Fairaday, in Manhattan. He was a very fun loving kid, and was very close with his parents. However, when he was six, his parents were murdered. He was adopted and raised by his aunt, uncle, and grew up among his cousins. However, losing his parents made his mark on him. It gave him a stong sense of justice, and the desire to help others and do what is right.

During middle and high school, Michael would often get in the way of bullies...and teach them a thing or two. Whenther through intelligence, using his observational skills, or simply through a physical altercation, Michael took them down. He had many friends as a result, and people knew not to mess with him. as many of his friends were the people he defended, and the people he defended were typically intelligent people, he had a lot of smart friends.

These friends would later come in handy as he became a cop. A few of them ended up working in labs full of high tech equipment, and he was always able to get forensic evidence processed before anyone else. As a result, he closed a lot of cases and had detailed forensic reports telling him exactly who it was with no margin of error. He became a sort of star among the police, and his friends enjoyed the reputation as being labs so effective they were trusted by the NYPD. After all, if tis good enough for cops, its good for a lot of rich people. It was mutually beneficial.

Eventually, he met someone. A beautiful woman, named Elaine Porter. They went on quite a few dates, before finally becoming engaged. Soon after they discovered she was pregnant. He was just about to meet her when it happened. in the chaos, he was unable to find her. Not knowing what else to do, he tried to help and save all his friends, but unfortunately many victims were taken to the labs to be processed. As a result, he was too late to save anyone. As the city became overwhelmed, he did his best to try and save people and kill zombies, but eventually decided to flee the city and search for his fiancée. During his search is when he found the group.

Happiest Memory: Discovering his fiancée was pregnant.

Saddest Memory: The death of his parents.



So begins...

Michael Fairaday's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Nathan Durand Character Portrait: Michael Fairaday Character Portrait: James Milo Character Portrait: Adam Dawson Character Portrait: Annabelle Marie Richards Character Portrait: Aspen Bates Character Portrait: Layton Bates Character Portrait: Kat Savchenko

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Michael:

Michael was unsure about how the groups split. Two people seemed to immediately disregard it, and Nate had for some reason or another chosen to bring Milo with him. Michael was very cautious and very concerned for the younger members of the group, same as Robyn. And he was fairly certain they shared a special worry regarding Milo. The boy could barely speak without causing himself intense pain. Granted, he seemed good with a pistol or a hunting rifle, but he was still worried about sending a boy so young out on these trips.

Of course, if they didn't, he would just sneak off on his own. Milo hated be treated like a kid, even though he was one. Michael just wanted to keep him safe, a residual influence of what he did in the NYPD. Saving people. And he had...concerns...about Nate. He was worried he might be abusive, or a pedophile. Michael couldn't help it, the NYPD and his High School had taught him to constantly be aware of dangers.

However, he knew he couldn't talk Milo out of it. He hated being babied, and as far as he knew, Nate babied no one. That, and he had to admit Milo has certain skills. He seemed like he was the only one, or at least the best, at sneaking past zombies. He didn't have NYPD weapons training though.

Hoping Milo would be safe with Nate, he turned his attention to the rest of the group. He noticed Annabelle running off behind a building. He decided to follow her, and make sure she was okay. When he caught up to her, he noticed a pile of puke nearby. 'Are you okay? You are not sick right? I could walk you back if you are" he said, asking with his usual kind and polite voice.

In truth though, he knew he felt worse. He had a nightmare last night, about his fiancée, and his unborn son. Perhaps that is why he was so protective of Milo. But then again, Michael cared about anyone he believed to be innocent or a part of their group. Didn't matter how useful they are, all life is precious in his eyes. "you going to get sick again?"

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Nathan Durand Character Portrait: Michael Fairaday Character Portrait: James Milo Character Portrait: Adam Dawson Character Portrait: Annabelle Marie Richards Character Portrait: Aspen Bates Character Portrait: Cyan Kress Character Portrait: Kat Savchenko

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The quiet was eerie. Without realizing it, one grows very used to the sounds of the hustle and bustle that is bound to be produced by cities during everyday monotony. The sounds of cars, engines revving and horns honking, and the presence of others. Distant laughing, shouts, or talking just gets tuned out after so long of just living life, just white noise that no one really notices. But, now, when it's completely absent, one starts to miss it. Even nature seemed to have lulled itself into a quiet state from the shift of the norm, the trees no longer sounding as loud as swift breezes blew through their branches and the birds didn't sing their songs with the same vigor as before. At least, that was how it felt to Cyan. Like the world was slowly walling itself away, receding into a dormant state. The only sound he could hear now was sneaker soles scraping against the pavement.

Cyan kept himself near the front of the group's small herd. Tucking himself in the interior, just behind their temporary leader, Nathan, and little Milo, but in front of the good doctor and Kat. With his shoulders hunched up to his ears, the hood's drawstrings pulled taunt, and his arms pulled inside his hoodie's bulk, Cyan looked a bit odd as he kept pace with the rest. The mute looked odd most of the time, both lanky and pale, without much substance to his body at all, and generally looking like a bully's prime target, but he had a real reason as of now.

He hated the cold with a -- Ahem -- fiery passion. If the weather so far as dipped anywhere below 70 degrees, he was absolutely miserable. The teen cursed himself for not staying back at 'Home' with their true, yet unofficial, leader and the others, where he could of at least cocooned himself in blankets as he worked. But, alas, he guessed he was a tad more useful out here than back at base, more eyes to look for supplies and more hands to carry it. His own miserable state was no excuse for being lazy.

With his head in the clouds, Cyan heard nothing of the orders barked at them from Nathan, nor the witty but rather unnecessary comment about cute flip flops. He had just continued walking along at his same pace looking at the scenery, unaware that the group was splitting itself up and going it's separate ways until reality started to seep back in, and he realized he was alone. Pausing his walk, a small burst of panic seizing in his chest, he took a moment to free his arms from his jacket, turning in slow circles to try and find a familiar face.

Being alone was dangerous for the mute. He couldn't cry out if he needed help, and he wasn't fit enough to fight off any unpleasantness that might come his way. Cyan didn't carry a gun like the rest, either. He was a terrible shot, wouldn't even be able to hit a target at point-blank range, and would do more harm than help if one was placed in his possession. So, to stop any friendly fire and avoid casualties, he steered away from firearms. The only means of protection he carried on his person was a crude bat, the head of it being a mess of two-inch nails for 'effectiveness', clipped to his belt.

Seeing a wisp of a jacket disappear into a doorway, Cyan broke into a light jog toward a large supermarket building. They must have went inside when he wasn't looking. Thank the heavens that they hadn't up and left him while he daydreamed, because then he would be in some serious trouble.

Stepping carefully over a rotting pumpkin that held the sliding doors ajar, he nearly knocked into Adam as the doctor recoiled. Pursing his lips in dismay, Cyan moved out from behind the other man, not wanting to get pushed back into the moldy holiday decor. The room was dark, and the teen found himself squinting to try and make anything out.. There were only a few (And rather weak) light sources. One being the door Cyan had just entered from, and the other being the flashlight crudely duct-taped to Nathan's rifle. Following the beam of light with his eyes, and the tense muttering of his group mates, he, too, spotted the horde. The teen sucked in a breath through his teeth, eyes blown wide in fear. Cyan's hand dropped down to his belt, fumbling blindly to unhook his bat, not being able to tear his gaze away. Whatever may happen next was most likely not going to be pretty.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Michael Fairaday Character Portrait: Annabelle Marie Richards

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#, as written by krashby
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The crunch of leaves warned Anna of a presence behind her. Member of the group or one of the undead, she could not be certain. What she did know is that she had been foolish to go off alone from the group. She spun herself on the spot, raising her pistol to meet the level of whatever had followed her.

It was only Michael. Hastily she lowered the gun back to her side. Relief washed over, and she let out a breath she didn't even know she was holding. "Sorry," she mumbled, eyes fluttering uncertainly between him and the ground. "I didn't know if you were one of those... things." Though if it had been a zombie, she was unsure of whether she would have actually pulled the trigger. Perhaps she would have simply frozen in place, the way she had when she saw Daniel that final time. Those warm brown eyes she knew by heart widen in panic and fear as he screamed at her to flee, that look of utter terror forever etched in Anna's memory, and still she had not moved. Only after he had become transformed into something less than human right before her eyes had she ran.

She shivered, shaking the memory away as she pulled her jacket tighter around her. Little good that did. "I'm fine," she replied, avoiding looking Michael in the eye, least he see through her. Michael, now, Anna saw him as a survivor. He had that kind of look in his eyes. A former police officer, Anna thought of him as tough, enduring, good with firearms. Before realizing how kind and protective he was, she had actually been a little frightened upon meeting him. But what Anna found most remarkable about him was his attitude in this whole situation. Constantly he made the effort to pull together the moral of the group and hold them together. He made jokes, for Christ's sake. Constantly. Anna couldn't imagine how he did it. Surely he had lost someone. Everyone had lost someone, and that as well could be seen in the eyes. Anna certainly hadn't been cracking any jokes since losing Daniel.

But than again, perhaps she just wasn't that kind of person. Perhaps she wasn't as strong.

"I think something I ate disagreed with me," she continued. She twirled a piece of hair between her fingers. "That's all, really. I don't need you to take me back; that would only waste two pairs of hands." A pause. "Thank you, though." She looked around the side of the building. Mostly everyone had scattered, disappearing into this building or that for supplies. She felt a sudden rush of gratitude for Michael for lingering behind and ensuring that Anna wasn't left alone. "We don't have much time. Let's search together." Confidence growing, if only a little bit, she lifted her head to finally make eye contact. "I know that Nate said food and medicine are most important, and they are, but I was thinking about clothes. Coats and jackets, I mean," she added quickly in fear of judgement. "If we have the chance. We're never going to make the winter with what we have."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Nathan Durand Character Portrait: Michael Fairaday Character Portrait: James Milo Character Portrait: Adam Dawson Character Portrait: Annabelle Marie Richards Character Portrait: Aspen Bates Character Portrait: Layton Bates Character Portrait: Cyan Kress Character Portrait: Kat Savchenko

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#, as written by Felilla
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There was something about the silence that Layton Bates found disturbing. He had lived in the city his entire life, so he was accustomed to the bustle of everyday life. It felt strange to be in a world where everything was an eerie silence. Well, not completely silent. He could hear the scuff of people's shoes against the pavement and if he tried hard enough, he could hear the breathing of the others. Layton adjusted his brown coat, wishing for something a bit warmer. He could remember better days, when all of this was some delusional theory he had thought up. He never imagined he'd be living it. Aspen let out a silent sigh next to him. She had changed drastically in the past month, but then again everyone had. When things were simpler, Layton would tease his sister for wearing so much makeup. It was odd seeing her without anything but the occasional dirt smudge on her pale face. Layton could feel a stubble on his chin. The other males in the group had long since given up shaving, but it was a small comfort for the teenager.

He hiked his old backpack up, the one he had kept since the beginning of this entire thing. It was almost empty, save for a granola bar or two ad his dad's wrench, so he knew he'd have to fill it up to the brim. He only had to hope that wherever Aspen decided they were going would still have food and medicine, as well as some gum. It was his sister's routine to go to simple places like gas stations and small, family owned stores before hitting the houses. She, unlike the others in the group, would avoid grocery stores (or any large store for that matter). She had told him about her theory, and he was kind of starting to believe her. He ran a hand through his brown hair as Nathan barked out orders. Layton was kind of glad he decided to not join the military. He hated being told what to do.

Aspen glanced over at him and he nodded back. It was not unlike the two of them to have some unspoken communication. They were closer than most siblings, even before the outbreak. The past month had bonded them closer together than Layton thought possible. He figured if they could live through escaping New York City, they could live through this winter. Secretly, he wished they could've brought a car. It would be so much easier to carry things, stuff as much as possible into the vehicle then drive away. That way, they could get warmer clothes, blankets, sleeping bags, whatever was needed to survive a harsh winter without the comfort of indoor heating. However, he also knew that cars were too loud. They would attract zombies left and right if they brought one.

The Bates siblings separated from the rest of the group. They had survived two weeks on their own, they knew what to look for. Aspen swung her rifle onto her shoulder. In the past month, layton had also noticed that she was getting very comfortable with weapons. She was a hunter, but she had always seemed reluctant about holding a gun. "Look for ammunition, too. We'll check the gas station first. Zombies seem to avoid them."

It was like Aspen to notice things that others seemed to disregard. She probably had some theory about why zombies avoided gas stations too, but she never really talked about her theories unless she was sure they were true. Layton walked backwards as his sister walked normally. The two of them had become comfortable with doing things like this. A zombie could easily sneak up on you, so could a trigger happy human. Their boxer pup Lila Belle walked between them, treading almost silently. When they approached the gas station, Layton swung his flashlight around. He didn't see anything, so he nodded to Aspen. The two of them entered the abandoned building as their dog waited outside. Aspen ducked behind the counter to looked for medicine while Layton started moving through the aisles.

He started by finding some toilet paper before getting any canned foods. The gas station must not have been very popular when the world was normal, because most of the stuff was still in place. He left the refrigerated aisles alone, knowing that anything in them would've already gone bad. Honestly, he would kill a man for a bowl of ice cream. When his bag was almost full, he made his way over to Aspen, meaning to ask if they were checking out the houses next. He bent over the counter, nearly giving her a heart attack. "Don't do that! Find anything good?" she stood up, grabbing baby wipes and hand sanitizer off the counter.

"Course I did. Do expect me to not find anything?"

Aspen rolled her eyes as she did a look over. "Let's move."

"Where we going next?"

The older Bates sibling looked at her watch, "It's already been fifteen minutes. We should probably head back."

Layton nodded and the two of them left the gas station.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Nathan Durand Character Portrait: Michael Fairaday Character Portrait: James Milo Character Portrait: Adam Dawson Character Portrait: Art Character Portrait: Robyn Dempsey Character Portrait: Annabelle Marie Richards Character Portrait: Aspen Bates Character Portrait: Layton Bates Character Portrait: Elias Grant Character Portrait: Kat Savchenko

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|| Outfit ||
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Silence had long since befallen the world. No longer were there honking horns, laughing children, or large planes zooming above head. There were often dying and fearful screams here or there, mingled with the sounds of Mother Nature, whom had reclaimed her lands. But the most prominent, ruling, and horrifying sounds were the groans. Not the kind you hear coming from your parents' and older siblings' rooms late at night when they think you're sleeping tight, all snug as a bug. The groans of corpses, walking and rotting and looking for flesh to devour. It had been some time since the living dead (and not the sexy ones with fangs that Hollywood and lonely female writers pushed to the unwashed masses) had overtaken the world. Those that didn't join their ranks either ran or died trying. Art was one of those who ran. If it weren't for her Kela and Robyn and Nate, she figured she might have died after a month. Art was agile, flexible, strong, intuitive, and she knew how to survive in the wild. But there had been more than a situation or two where running wasn't an option and her hunting knife wouldn't have been enough to save her. Despite this, she still volunteered to go alone while some others headed in a group to ransack a ghost town (zombie town?) for supplies. Nate and Robyn, of course, insisted that she go with the group but she decided otherwise and left fifteen minutes ahead of them.

The silence around the town was not quite so...silent in her neck of the woods. As out of place as could be was the Mission Impossible theme. She was humming as she darted around, crawling under cars, twirling around corners with watchful eyes. Her Timberwolf/Husky padded playfully around with her, her tongue lolling out of her maw and dripping with saliva. To others, it may seem as neither of them took the situation seriously or simply didn't care. The fact was, she was confident. She hadn't seen signs of any hoardes and figured she'd be able to escape easily, whether she had to drop some stuff or not. Her target was not the grocery store. It was the local Dollar General. Her trusty GPS lead the way and she was quick to heft her empty backpack, tightening her grip on the straps. “Kela. No room for failure. No barking. Understand? No ladridos.” The blue and gold eyed dog gave a low snort in response. It had taken a month for her to train Kela to respond to her new commands and it was well worth it. She was the perfect companion for keeping watch, her species heightening her senses and her training and wolf blood heightening her instincts and reactions. The canine was strapped into her harness once used for farmers market trips, prepared for transporting the necessities when Art had a little red wagon.

If there was one thing that Art would absolutely not put up with, it was funk. Toothpaste, extra toothbrushes, deodorant, soap, rags, and various other toiletries were put into the bags that went into the cart before she set out to fill her own backpack, constantly sidestepping to avoid fallen merchandise with the flashlight of her phone strapped to her thigh lighting up the place. Candy was the first on her list. She needed her sugar and would not do without. She had stocked up on stuff and was headed out when she spotted a cute jacket and squealed just a bit, snatching it up quickly. She figured she might as well grab some more clothes. Winter was coming and not to mention, washing clothes had become a luxury. And poor Joshamee and Isabelle were growing like weeds. She stuffed every bit of clothing that she could into a black thirty gallon trash bag, hauling it over her shoulder and finally leaving. No signs of the undead. While her backpack wasn't quite heavy, the clothes had caused her to walk hunched with knees a bit bent; She didn't want it to tear. Sucking it up, she braved the nippy air and maneuvered her way back towards "home". It wasn't too far of a jog but she had to walk this time around.

And then she heard it.

The sound of feet dragging against grass and concrete, groaning and moaning. She wasn't even a mile away but running wasn't an option. Kela lowered her head and issued and low growl, her lips pulling back to reveal a nice set of sharp teeth. “Estable. Maniobras evasivas.” She didn't need to bring her finger to her lips to hush her pal - and she couldn't - to send the message. “Ir a Robyn,” she whispered. Kela gave a light nod of understanding as her human companion set down her black bag of clothes into the wagon before pulling out a notebook she had gotten for Cyan, writing quickly.

Clothes & stuff in big bag. Lots of hygiene products. Few games for the kids. Snacks too. Found zombies and I'm going to go check on the others. Robyn, write my story if I don't make it back. And take care of Kela. I love you guys.


P.S. Bury me in the powder blue jacket with the white faux fur lining the hood. It's fabulous.
♡Art♡


The dog took off at a careful trot down the street with perked ears, towing her wagon with her. Taking a deep breath and telling herself that everything was going to be fine, she headed off towards the sounds. There weren't many, just four. But where there were four, there were more. She only prayed that they were all in small groups and not traveling like a pack of wolves. The idea of killing them made her stomach turn and she could feel tears well up in her eyes. Don't see it as killing them. You're liberating them. If, God forbid, you were to become one of them... Would you want me to let you roam around, rotting and looking for humans to eat? Or would you want me to end your suffering? It isn't cruelty, but now the greatest kindness you can do someone.
Nate was right. Drawing out one of her bowie hunting knives, she whistled loudly and drew their attention. Moaning and groaning, they shuffled towards her and she walked towards them. Crying the whole time, she jammed her knife into each of their faces, using as much force as she could muster. Rotted flesh and blood that was almost tar covered her hand as the bodies fell. Her vomit wasn't too far behind, making the stench all the more terrible. If she lived then she would definitely down some Listerine. Painfully swallowing the disgusting aftermath, she headed out, taking more careful steps.

The others might need her help. She wasn't quite as useful as the others; She was a decent shot with a bow and arrow but she didn't have the equipment and using her knife made her vomit. She wasn't just going to abandon them though. Her creeping turned into a jog as she followed Nate's previously given directions, finding that they weren't too far away. The pumpkin wedged between the automatic doors gave away their presence and it made her heart clench. What if they were in there and dead.... Or dying. Taking a breath that tasted of vomit, she grimaced and headed in. “Olly olly oxenfree,” she whisper shouted. It didn't take her long to spot them. She maneuvered her way to Nate's side, excusing herself silently. Seeing what they were all staring at caused her to puff up her cheeks, heart dropping. “I got stuff, babe. Kela is on her way back to base now... We could run.” It was a futile attempt, she knew. She knew Nate would probably prefer to take down the zombies now.

♤♡♢♧♤♡♢♧


The cart was heavy but she was strong. She couldn't let down Art. Nose to the air, Kela trotted past vehicles with zombies trapped inside, abandoned homes, and decapitated and decaying bodies in the streets. Her wagon pulled smoothly behind her as she headed to the outskirts of town. There was no pep in her step until she saw home. A small farm house encircled by vehicles, the grounds littered with tents for those switching out for guard duty or those who simply didn't want to sleep indoors. She gave a long, low pitched howl as she stopped before taking off. She barked at Elias as she passed him but didn't stop until she reached the steps of the house. She howled and barked more, vying for Robyn's attention. Joshamee and Isabelle were the first to reach her, removing the harness and freeing her from the wagon. “Robyn! Robyn!” While Izzy had been holding the antsy canine in an attempt to calm her down, Josh had gotten Art's note and began screaming for Robyn.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Michael Fairaday Character Portrait: Annabelle Marie Richards Character Portrait: Esther Lille

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#, as written by krashby
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Michael had not yet responded when Annabelle had the sudden feeling that something was amiss. She peered back around the side of the building. Aspen and Layton had emerged from the gas station and now headed towards the supermarket. Anna could remember many of the others going to that same place. Why had they not yet emerged? Nate had been very specific about the time restraint of this scavenger hunt, and even he was no where to be seen. Anna's stomach sank. What was happening in that supermarket?

Before she could further contemplate or investigate, a figure emerged from around the corner of the supermarket. It was too far to make up clearly or distinguish gender or age, but Anna could see the gore which covered it. One of the undead. But, no... it couldn't be. The figure was moving too quickly, and in it's hand it held some kind of club or bat. Anna's knowledge was limited, but even she knew that zombies were not nearly coordinated enough to lift objects and carry them for any amount of time. This was a human, another survivor, though not one Anna recognized.

It was well known in these days to be wary of outsiders. Outlaws and bandits were free to roam the streets, willing to kill you without so much as a bat of the eye for a granola bar. Anna had seen it herself. Worse yet, she had experienced it. Five days after Daniel's death and her narrow escape from the undead-filled university, after the whole world had gone to hell, a desperate and starved Anna had been scavenging a ransacked drug store for supplies. The search was in vain, and she stepped outside empty handed. She was immediately ambushed and seized by two thuggish men who held a knife to her throat and told her to give them everything she had. "Please," she had begged them, tears stinging her eyes. Droplets of blood had formed where the knife pressed into her skin. "I don't have anything, I have no food... good God, let me go. Please." But even after they searched her and found her to be speaking the truth, they did not leave her be. They told her to give them her jacket, her shoes, her clothes, even the locket which hung around her neck. Everything. And with the way their eyes had hung to her curves and their hands had lingered over certain areas, she feared that they truly wanted everything. And even if she gave it she knew they were going to kill her anyways.

Her savior had been, ironically, the zombies. When the men proceeded to try to force Anna's clothes off, she had let out a bloodcurdling cry of terror. The sound summoned the hoards. With the undead upon them, Anna's assailants ignored their victim as they turned to defend themselves, allowing her a moment of chaos through which she could slip away and escape. As she fled into the trees and ran, she hoped that the bastards were killed. She didn't dare look back to she if it was so.

Strangers were dangerous; few could be trusted. But even if Anna was no stronger, she at least had numbers on her side now. The group protected each other. This stranger was alone. And judging from the blood, possibly injured. Anna felt her compassion rush through her, and without saying a word to Michael, she took off suddenly to follow the stranger. They -- she, Anna realized as she come closer into view -- entered the supermarket, Anna following at a distance behind. She paled at the sounds from inside. She heard Nate's voice and shattering glass and the rush of movement and clash of chaos... and the undeniable moan of zombies. Had she been a braver person, Anna might have pulled her gun out and rushed inside to help. But instead she became frozen just outside of the doorway. The dark-haired stranger in front of her (was that blue in her hair?) did not move any further inside either.

Anna swallowed hard as she worked up for courage. She gripped the handle of her pistol firmer, just in case. The stranger was putting out a cigarette, simply watching the chaos inside. Finally Anna spoke. "Hello," she said. She had meant for her voice to be strong, unafraid, but instead it came out as little more than a mumble. She dared not raise her voice long enough to draw attention of the zombies within. "Are you okay? Are you injured?"