Morgan Jennifer Train
Age
28 years old
Sex
Female
Appearance
Morgan is a relatively tall girl, standing at five feet, eight and a half inches. She has long, light blonde hair that she rarely wears up and just let's it hang around her shoulders. Morgan's eyes are dark hazel and in most light they look grey. She has a small, slender nose and her lips are almost always chapped. Morgan is usually dressed in a ratty t-shirt or tank top and jeans and a pair of sneakers. She wore those clothes even before the outbreak started. She has long nails, because she never bites nor clips them (unless it's REALLY necessary that she do so.)
Job before outbreak
Waitress at Denny's.
Skills
Morgan grew up in a bad part of Philadelphia (but let's be honest, are there any good parts?) so from a young age she knew how to handle herself. But it did help that she had four older brothers. She grew up playing street hockey and getting in fights with other bitches from the block. For a white girl, she was pretty tough. She's a good fighter still and can handle physical pain very well just by putting it out of her mind. Sometimes she even invites brawls with men two times her size and five times her weight. That's always a fun thing to watch. She's also a really good smooth talker. People tend to generally get along with her even if she made a bad first impression. You might even be able to call her a 'kiss up' in some cases because that is basically what she does.
Weapons
Well, BECAUSE she grew up in Philly, Morgan was accustomed to having a switch blade an a can of mace on her at all times. Unfortunately, her last can of mace ran out the last time some wacky tried to bust in and steal her stuff, but she still has her switch blade. Over the years she acquired two pistols and a shot gun. She stole the pistols from some dead cops and she found the shotgun in a farmers house out in Montana (don't ask.) She keeps very close tabs on all of her weapons and makes sure to use her guns with care because she doesn't want to waste the bullets. You never know when you won't find anymore bullets and then you're shit outta luck.
Equipment
With her at all times she has her backpack, which is really just a potato sack with shoulder straps and a draw string. Inside her back she has a few journals where she records everything that has happened every day since the beginning. She also carries with her a sweatshirt, a hat, a lighter, a pack of cigarettes, a picture of her family, a canteen of water and whatever food she can find. She tries to travel relatively light, but when you've got nothing but a sack on your back and it has all your provisions, then it's not that possible.
Bio
Philadelphia: The City of Brotherly love. The city were one out of every hundred people is subjected to violent crime and fifty of the rest of those hundred are in on it. Man o' man, what a great place to live. Morgan was raised in a small apartment with her father, her mother, her grandmother, and her four older brothers. This apartment also included three bedrooms, one bathroom, a rent that they couldn't pay and constant bickering over who got the last popsicle in the fridge. Well, at least after four boys, Morgan's mother was glad to have a daughter. Finally, someone who would paint nails with each other and braid each other's hair and do general girly mother-daughter stuff. Yeah, fat chance. Morgan took after her brothers, the boys. Big, tough, mean boys. Well, big, tough and mean to everyone but their little sister. It's needless to say that no one in Philly ever messed with Morgan Train.
She went to public school, and she was literally one of only three white people there (the other two were two of her brothers) but she got along pretty well with everyone. She didn't talk smack or try and start fights unless someone REALLY deserved...unfortunately, she took that attitude that most people deserved it. She got by with straight D's and C's all of high school and graduated just to go to community college. Well, Morgan's dear old parents couldn't pay for even community college, so she dropped out and got a job. Good old Denny's. Can you say "Would you like a refill on your coffee?" or "Do you want hash browns with that?" Good, you're hired. Well, as long as you smile when you say it. And no, it doesn't matter if that smile translates into "I want to stab your eyes out with this spoon." She worked at Denny's for years. 7 years, actually, from when she was 19 to when she was 26. Hey, she even became head waitress! But then the pestilence grew. People started dropping off the map and coming back as something not quit...human.
Morgan locked herself in the upstairs of her small house (yes, that she had bought with her Denny's money, because her parents kicked her out) and she demolished the stairs and all the access to the top floor. She had stocked up on provisions and decided to wade out of initial siege up there. Once she had discovered that daytime could be her cover, she devised a plan on how to get out. She was smack in the center of the city, and traveling by night wasn't an option. Her best choice was to leave at dawn one morning and hope she could find shelter before dusk. All she wanted to do was get out of the city that was ridden with the undead. As she walked, she could always feel their eyes upon her from the shadows. They were watching and waiting. Waiting for the sun to set so that they could kill her. Hungry, starving, in need of food they watched her, but she still walked. Actually, most of the time she ran. It took her a few days to get out of the city, but by cover of day she was able to always find shelter before the sun went down. They hunted her. They tried to get it, but she wouldn’t let them.
Once she was out of the city, things got easier. There were more woods to hide in and the roads were less cluttered. Most of the time she spent just walking down the roads, heading from dead city to dead city, trying to find someone, anyone who was alive. Alive…for the first time. The first time she saw another person her heart leapt, and her constant feeling of being alone vanished. His name was Michael, and he was from Pheonix. How they had crossed paths she would never know. Morgan and Michael traveled together for a while, but it was all to be in vain because…well, she doesn’t like to talk about it.
Now she just walks. She walks anywhere and everywhere and at any given time she’ll be walking. Walking, walking, simply walking in her ratty, worn out shoes and her torn t-shirt or her slash tank-top. She walks, hoping that something in the next city will be even just a little different, a little happier, a little safer than the last.