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James Al Jones

"My imagination has always kept me working and moving forward. Now its all I have to keep me alive."

0 · 262 views · located in The Hot Zone

a character in “We Are Still Alive”, as played by Fated

Description

NAME; James Al Jones (ā€œJJā€, or ā€œAJā€, or ā€œJayā€)
AGE; 23
SEX; M
APPEARANCE; Badly cut short brown hair and green eyes. Sharp facial features and prominent cheek bones. He currently has an untamed brown beard. He keeps a fairly well maintained 6 foot body, but is beginning to look malnourished. Only has one set of clothing he managed to keep. Black t-shirt, grey and green plaid button up shirt, dark blue jeans, and 5 pocketed dark brown leather jacket with a cloth black hood attached to it. He has covered the arms of the jacket with grey duct tape to shield it from undead jaws. He wears black gloves and tan steal toed boots.
BRIEF BACKSTORY;
James Al Jones went by a variety of names such names as James, Al, Jones, JJ, AJ, and Jay. He had so many names because he had so many friends. James was a very patient guy, and could get along with almost anyone. He has a soft spot in his heart for the weird, weak, and picked on people and generally feels the urge to help or volunteer anyone when he can. He strongly dislikes people whom are mean and tends to stick up for others but not for himself. He has the heart to be protective. He still would acknowledge any of these names to this day even though his friends are gone.
Jay worked as a part time construction worker. He took the same job his dad and brother took working of constructing buildings in the city. How ever, he didnt plan on staying a construction worker he just liled working with his hands. Jay was a senior this year, and was preparing for a senior art show when they closed the road ways around to school down. He was working in the sculpture room around 4 a.m. running on soda and snacks to keep him awake when the outbreak happened. The college he went to touched the cityā€™s largest hospital, itā€™s because of this that the outbreak hit so hard where Jay worked. He found the only way for him to survive was by securing the sculpture room and hiding out there. At his disposal was a plethora of tools and resources to secure the room with wielded and boarded up doors. Jay managed to secure a total of four rooms that each connected to the last. First the sculpture room, which had all the tools one could ever need. The Sculpture Studio room, where the Juniors and Seniors of the Sculpture Department were allowed to work and stay in. The students had put in a small fridge, coffee maker, and microwave that no longer worked due to the lack of electricity, but a mattress that was used by late night working students like Jay. A clay room that had potters wheels, a clay chemistry lab, large canvas Tables, and three electric Kilns and one gas Kiln. And lastly the Court yard, that was used for wielding, the gas kiln, cutting metal, and any other dangerous tools. It was a walled in outdoor area with only two barricaded doors. One entering the sculpture room, and the other entering the clay room. There is a covered walkway that covers half of the court yard from the weather. On one wall is a 20 foot wide 15 foot high metal gate that allowed professors and students to park in the courtyard and drop off heavy materials into the studio. Jay now uses it as a parking place. James put up a wire near the top of the gate that stretches from one side of the gate to the other, and has draped a green tarp across it to keep him out of sight of the undead, even though they could not break that gate down.
James is in the Red Zone of the Outbreak, and cannot leave the safety of his fort. His only chance of survival has been this fort and as the days pass by that fort grows stronger and stronger.
PREVIOUS PROFESSION; Sculpture BFA College Student, part time Construction worker
OTHER; James is very creative and pretty handy with tools. This makes him a natural inventor, and he can find a use for just about anything. When it comes to fighting the undead he also uses his creative talents, trapping or escaping them with whatever he can find close by.

Equipment

He carries hand crafted weapons he managed to create within his fortification. Sharpened rebar spears, Scrap metal knives, and other deadly tools.

So begins...

James Al Jones's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: James Al Jones
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#, as written by Fated
The sound stayed steady as the sun rose above the Farland city skyline. He sat there on the roof of the west wall listening to the city breathing. It was echoing, erratic, and vast like the sound of an ocean shore. The sound grew louder as the sun rose stirring up the sounds source below. James sat there on his stool hunched over slightly in his hooded leather jacket. The silver duct tape wrapped around his forearms and lower legs he made for protection glistened in the sunlight. He tried to focus on the sun raise but couldnā€™t shake that sound. He looked to the horizon and watched the smoke from destroyed building covered parts of the lost city. Where he sat was the Fine Art Center(FAC), one of the few buildings left standing. He bent further to look over the edge of the roof to see the reason for the destruction. The source of the sound. Just outside his fortitude was what was left roaming the city. Below wondered the undead.
It was a mixture of breathing, grunts, and groans from the undead that engulfed the city. The sounds came from all around and never really stopped. The sound bothered James of course, being an eerie white noise, but he preferred it from the sounds of screaming he heard from the start of the outbreak. He tried to escape in the evacuation when it first started but the outbreak hit so hard and so fast in his area all he could do was hide. James held up here in the cities college campus in the sculpture rooms of the art building, and managed to make it safe for the night by using all the tools he found in the room. As the days past he pushed his fortification outward to the rooms that conjoined to the sculpture room. Using the tools he found he managed to fortify the Studio room, where the Juniors and Seniors of the Sculpture Department were allowed to work and stay in. The students had put in a small fridge, coffee maker, and microwave that no longer worked due to the lack of electricity, but a mattress that was used by late night working students like James. As well as a clay room that had potters wheels, a clay chemistry lab, large canvas tables, and three electric Kilns and one gas Kiln. And lastly the Court yard, that was used for wielding, the gas kiln, cutting metal, and any other hazardous tools. It was a walled in outdoor area with only two doors. One door entering the sculpture room, and the other entering the clay room. There is a covered walkway that covers half of the court yard from the weather. On one wall is a 20 foot wide 15 foot high metal gate that allowed professors and students to park in the courtyard and drop off heavy materials into the studio. Jay now uses it as a parking place. James put up a wire near the top of the gate that stretches from one side of the gate to the other, and has draped a green tarp across it to keep him out of sight of the undead, even though they could not break that gate down.
He never wanted to stay here, but do to the amount of undead roaming the city, and with the conditions of the roads he has been forced to stay. He spends his day gathering what food he can (mainly vending machines from the campus), and working of his fortification. Now, this was the safest place for him, and at the rate he has been working on the fort its being to look like a plausible home.
James stood up and walked back to the edge of the wall facing the inside of his gated court yard. He went to the ladder propped against the wall and climbed down into the court yard, which was hidden from the undead eye. He went through the large double doors located in-between the court yard and the sculpture room. Upon entering the sculpture room he looked around and checked his barricades. Fixing anything that needed it and moving through each room making sure it was secure. Since he had been held up in the FAC he had tried to keep himself working. James loved to work with his hands, and loved to be creative with them even more. He put together some weapons with the tools he had on hand. He cut some sharpened tips of half inch thick rebar into knives and spears, wielded nails and one of his rebar knives onto a metal pipe making it a spear and mace, carved out wooden knuckles and drilled 4 inch screws into them, and made the belt he uses to carry all these weapons with out of duct tape. Anything that he finds, James tries to make good use out of it. It saves him from having to risk his life try to find already made weapons when he is able to forge his own.
James grabbed his gear, a galloon glass jar from the clay chemistry lab, and a rubber hose. Today he planned on going out to find some more medical supplies and food because he was running low on snacks. But to do so he needed gas, and his Camry was dangerously low.
Going back into the court yard he saw that it had begun to sprinkle. He pondered for a moment if it was smart to scavenge during a storm but figured that if he went fast enough he could beat the rain. He pulled a wire hanging from his tarp the covered the gate. Like curtains, the tarp opened up revealing the city outside the metal gate. He peeked through the bars and saw only a few undead roaming the streets yards away. He went to the center of the double door gate and unlocked the padlock chain wrapped through the gates bars. Placing a precautionary Rebar Spear he kept near the gate he ventured outward into the city shutting but not locking the gate behind him.
He walked west down the street heading to the car he had yet to siphon. Crouching behind anything he could find and slowly making his way down the street. He hunkered behind one car and waited for the undead to walk past him on the other side. He peaked through the car windows as it past and grabbed hold of his screw knuckles, and slid his fingers through the holes. As the roamer came around the corner James cocked his hand back and was about to attack when something pulled him down.
A half of a man from underneath the car and yanked on Jamesā€™s right leg and tripped him down making him let out and unfortunate yell. The Undead thing attempted to bite through his ankle but couldnā€™t penetrate the jean and duct taped he wrapped around it. James bent over to try and strike the thing with his spiked knuckle but couldnā€™t reach well enough under the car. Thatā€™s when the roamer from before piled onto James after hearing his yell. James placed his left arm above himself to attempt to defend himself, and the roamer grabbed and bit at his arm. This roamer couldnā€™t bite through the leather and duct tape wrapped around his wrists either, but both of the undead had begun tearing away at the duct tape.
With his left leg he kicked the half man off and pushed against the car with his free legs to get some distance. With the roamer pulling and biting at his arm, James fought back trying to let out the least amount of noise as possible. He thrust his arm up into the roamer, throwing it off balance, and then yanked the roamer to the ground. James sat up as the Roamer sat up with him and began to reach and grab for his face. James managed to grab the roamers collar and dug his spiked fist into its skull. By now the half man crawled its way up to James, but could not grab a hold of him before James sent a barrage of jabs into its head, leaving 9 mangled holes in his wake.
James quickly stood up and found that the fight lured a 3 more undead his way. James ran to the car he hadnā€™t siphoned yet a used his rebar knife from his belt to pop open the gas lid. He throw the gas lid to the side and slid the rubber hose into the tank. He made a quick turn to face an undead just seconds from him, and drove his rebar knife into its skull. The other two undead where approaching quickly screaming and grunting for James. This caused more undead to pop out around nearby alleys, and from behind buildings.
James quickly sucked out the gas from the tank and gagged and coughed as the gas entered his mouth. Gas poured everywhere before he attached in to his gallon jug. Letting the jug fill on the ground, he went to face the nearby undead. He unlatched the Pipe mace from his belt and wielded it in his right hand and in his left was the spiked knuckles and rebar knife. With a huge swing he sent the mace into an approaching undead woman, and kicked down her undead friend. Mounting the second undead, he slide his rebar knife through her chin and the tip poked out of the skull. Standing up quickly, he grabbed his mace from the first undead head and drove the spear tip into the next undead that approached.
More and more came out of the woodwork as James fought them off. The street started to get too packed for James to handle and after thrusting his fist into another undead skull he went to grab the, now over flowing, jug and hose. He put a cork into the jug and sat it on the car next to him. He sent his knife into another undead head, but couldnā€™t free it from the skull. Quickly he left the knife behind, knowing he had more, and grabbed the jug with his left hand. He sprinted back to the Gate of his fort and ran across car tops to try and distance himself from some undead. Making it back to the gate in a matter of seconds he placed the jug down to fight off more undead.
Punching and swinging his mace around killing off one undead after the other. He tried to kill off the close undead so he could safely enter his fort, but the horde had grown to fast. He grabbed the jug and made his way through the gate. Quickly he grabbed his spear he placed near the gate from before and pushed out an undead that tried to follow him inside. He Closed the gate fast and with trembling hands latched the pad lock back on the chains. The undead crashed against the gate only moments after, but the 4 Undead on the other side couldnā€™t knock the gate down.
The bars of the gate where very narrow, and most large undead couldnā€™t fit their hands through the gate. Those that could reach, could not grab James through the gate. All of them however pushed their faces against the holes of the bars and bit ferociously at James.
James sat on his cars trunk inside the court yard and tried to catch his breath. He examined his torn duct tape guards and found that he was unbitten. Once he caught his breath he went up to the gate and pulled the tarp shut. Now the undead couldnā€™t see him, and he hoped with some time they would forget and leave him be.
He picked up the gas jug and placed it on top of his trunk. Getting ready to open the gas tank lid he was stopped when one of the undead pulled down the tarp from the right wall, revealing James once again.
ā€œDAMN ITā€ he shouted. ā€œLOSY SON OF A BITCH!ā€ He quickly went and grabbed his rebar spear and yelled ā€œFUCK YOU, YA PIECE OF SHIT! AHHHHH!ā€ and drove the spear through the culprits head.
He was beyond pissed at this moment. Being scared to death and almost eaten alive was bad enough but for some reason ripping down his tarp made him furious. He began screaming with each thrust he sent into the skulls, one after the other. Through a womanā€™s eye, then an old manā€™s mouth, a childā€™s forehead, a teens cheek. One after the other, and more and more came.
As he speared, his yells became more like whimpers, and eventually into a cry. He fell to his knees and began to bawl into his hands. He looked unto the pile of dead he created, and watched the undead horde walk on top of them. Reaching and biting for James. Never stopping.
ā€œ..Damn itā€¦ā€ He spoke softly with a hurt voice. James felt that he was losing this fight. Safe in these place, but trapped within the city. He feared he wouldnā€™t last long on his own.
He tried to calm himself down, and stay focused. He looked up the hole in the wall left from the wire on the pulled down tarp. He saw something that needed fixing, and suddenly got the focus he needed.
Grabbing a measuring tape, hammer, and nails, went to fix the wire. He propped up the ladder unto the wall, and climbed up onto the roof dragging the wire and tarp with him. Once on the roof he measured the length of his arm and then bent over the edge to measure the same distance away from the gate. Adding on a few inches he made his mark where the nail was needed. He hammered a nail through into the wall, and attached the wire and tarp to it. While doing this it had begun to rain. He carefully climbed down, and moved the ladder to the opposite wall to adjust and move the other end of the tarp. He couldnā€™t climb on the roof for this side so he stood on the ladder and measured the same distance from before away from the gate. He hammered a nail into the wall where it was needed and moved the wire to the new hook.
ā€œEasy fix.ā€ He said softly. From the top of the ladder he looked over the tarp at the undead on the other side of the gate. There had to be around 6 by now, pushing and reaching for James. ā€œThe gate will hold.ā€ He said to himself and began to climb down.
The rain made the metal steps of the ladder slippery, and with a gasp Jamesā€™s leg slid through a hole in between the steps and sent James plummeting below. He landed on his back next to the gate, and his head whipped down onto the concrete.
He looked up to the rain and saw the faces of the undead press against the gate as his vision went blackā€¦
ā€¦
ā€¦ he began to fade in and out of consciousness with the rain pouring harder and harder on to his face. Barely seeing the hands reaching for him.
ā€¦
ā€¦ Hands shoving and grabbing him, he thought of his mother trying to waking him up for schoolā€¦
ā€¦
the Sounds finally woke him up.
He came to and fought off the hands reaching for him. Standing up he saw the crowd he had drawn. There had to be near 30 or more pushing and fighting their way to him, pushing the gates to its limits. Quickly James got into his car, and backed in up against the gates and pulled the parking brake trying to barricade the gate.
He moved back into the covered walk way, looking in horror to the hoard, and then ran inside the sculpture room. He shut the doors and placed a plank of wood across the doors to secure it. He wasnā€™t sure how long the gates would hold and might have to hold up here.
He felt the back of his head and found blood. He ripped off some of his plaid shirt under his jacket and tied it around his head as a bandage.
James sat and listen in the dark room to the sounds of the hoard outside. He waited to hear the loud breaking sound of his padlock and the rush of the hoard coming to devour him. Minutes passed by and the sound hadnā€™t come. Instead he could hear the distant sound of gunfire. His heart stopped as the undead suddenly became quiet. He and the hoard listened carefully. Bang bang. More gun fire in the distant. The undead werenā€™t quiet for long, but their voice began to fade away.
James moved the plank and opened the sculpture door. He went outside in the court yard and found the gate was still standing. He also found that the Undead were no longer at his gate, but were instead heading to the source of the sound.
ā€œOh thank God.ā€ He said, feeling somewhat safe. Then it hit him. Whoever is making that noise is going to have a hoard of undead heading their wayā€¦ A hoard he createdā€¦

Setting

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Character Portrait: James Al Jones
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#, as written by Fated
James watched as the distracted undead dispersed completely from view of his gate. The green tarp was dangling and blowing in the wind from one the nail on the right side wall. He must have torn it down again after falling off his ladder.
A pulsing pain rung in his head. He wondered if he had a concussion or not from the fall. He tapped the back of his head and cringed slightly as he did. He looked at his hand and saw that his temporary torn shirt bandage was already being bled through. He had hurt himself many times throughout his life and had an alright knowledge of how to treat most wounds, but he feared this cut would be a difficult one to mend alone without any first aid. And if he indeed had a concussion, he wasnā€™t quite sure what that could mean for him down the roadā€¦
Bangā€¦ Bangā€¦
Gun shots rang through the air. ā€œFreaking idiot.ā€ He murmured. He thought to himself ā€˜most people who where foolish enough to fire a gun in a city like this would have died off mouths ago but somehow this genius managed to keep themselves alive somehowā€™. This thought brought back horrible memories of the sounds of the city within the first days of the outbreak. People did in fact pay for being so foolish. ā€˜Real peopleā€™ he thought. He imaged their lives. This was something he often thought about when it came to dealing with death. Be it hearing someone being eaten alive, and being able to do nothing about it, or even killing the undead. Every one of those undead is no different from him he thought. Just a bite away. They grew up with a family, a mother, a father, siblings, cousins, grandparents. They lived there whole lives working day to day, getting through school, making friends along the way. Thinking their biggest worries in life was what job they would get, one of his own worries in fact. Then worrying if they would meet Mr. or Mrs. Right.
He glanced to the bodies that lined the outside of the gate, and walked closer to them. He grabbed the bars. And looked down closely at one.
Bangā€¦ Bangā€¦
She was a beautiful girl he imaged. About his age he presumed. Her face missed its lower half. Most of her cloths on her were torn from her, and where they were torn sat gaps in her body where other undead ate through her until she herself turned. He thought to himself how pretty her face was, along with her hair. She had large eyes that where left open starring down at his direction. Stuck, and lifeless as the rain fell on her wet corpse. He thought to himself, if things were different. If he met her in a different life he might have asked her out. Got to know who she really was. Maybe fall in love with her. Have kidsā€¦ Grow oldā€¦ but he felt nothing for her. She was a corpse. He would never know her. She had no name.
Bangā€¦
Next to her was a kid dead lying face down. If this happened 10 years before, it could be him lying there. Or 10 years from now it could be his son. The boy had holes throughout his back. Five bullet holes that would have done nothing to stop him. Nothing to stop this undead child. He wondered if it was his parents that shot him. Shot him with the family revolver they bought to protect him from the horrors of the ā€˜real world.ā€™ How awful this real world had become he thought. He counted five shotsā€¦ his imagination created a short film inside his head of himself married to the dead woman who lied next to the boy. He saw him and her huddled in the corner of their house as their undead son approached them. He saw himself forced to fire his gun at his son trying to protect what was left of his and his wives lives. Panicking and wasting all but one shot at the boy. He imagined that the boy wasnā€™t alone, but had a group of undead with him. The same group that made him perhaps. They could not face them all with one shot. He tried to imagine, but could not quiet fathom, having to put that last shot through his wifeā€™s head to save her from a worse fate, and then having to suffer that fate alone with his dead wifeā€™s hand in his, and his son slowly eating him alive.
Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.
The gun shots rung through his pulsing head, as he gripped the bars tighter. He cringe his jaw and gritted his teeth. Shaking in anger with every shot he heard, knowing that this person would soon be dead. It was inevitable. One simply couldnā€™t move through a city shooting thousands of the undead. He was furious because he knew he wouldnā€™t go help this person. Despite how he hated the situation of the world, he knew if he wanted to stay alive. He would have to stay within this fort.
Bang. Bang bang bang. Bang bang bang.
He looked down at the dead girl and wondered if someone could of accidently saved her like this gunmen accidently saved his.
Bang.
ā€˜No.ā€™ he thought. He ran from the gate and into the sculpture room. He grabbed a back pack and started to shove whatever he could find in there. Rebar knives, pencil rod, a hammer, a mallet, hand saw, duct tape, chain, box of screws and nails, bottles of water and the gasoline jar from before. He through the backpack on, and grabbed a spiked knuckle, granola bar, a lighter and put it in his pocket. He grabbed one spear and his pipe mace, and ran to back to his gate. He unlocked the gate, and removed the chain, and stuffed it into his back pack. He had every intention of returning to this safe house, but packed this bag just uncase he couldnā€™t.
He swiftly moved to his car, through it in neutral and pushed it through the gate. The rain started to come down hard. He closed the gate again but did not lock it. He thought to himself that he must of had some sort of brain trauma if he really was going to risk his life for this. He got into his car and turned the key. Rolling down the windows and turning off the radio, he listened for the gunshots. Ran poured into the car as he waited for another shot. Seconds felt like hours, and a rush of fear hit him. ā€˜Was he too late?ā€™
BANG BANG
The shots went off and sounded closer than the last. He punched the gas and drove towards the sound. He drove down the road, weaving in and out of motionless traffic. Soon he came across a few undead moving slowly to the gun shots. Some turn and looked to him as he drove past. He hit one that went right under his car banging him around in the driverā€™s seat. He hit another that flew over his hood and smacked into the right side of the wind shield busting that side, and rolled over the top. More and more undead filled the streets as he got closer to the sound. He was avoiding the undead if he could, but would hesitate to run over them.
He didnā€™t hear a shot for a few seconds and wondered if he was in the right direction. He was about to hit another undead when its face lit up from the gun she fired. It was not undead but in fact the living gunman, and James just barely swerved to missed her. He then hydroplaned into a light post. He shook off the crash the best he could and pulled it into reverse. The car made horrible sounds as it unhinged from the poll. He put the car in park and stepped out. He looked to the woman popping off round after round at the gathering hoard. He swung his mace into the closest undead walking his way. He looked to her and shouted ā€œGET IN!ā€
She didnā€™t do as he said at first and from what he could tell was baffled by his presents. Thatā€™s when he saw the hoard he created from before coming around the corner from wince he came. They had grown to about 50 or more on their walk over. His eyes widened and he pointed them out to her. ā€œDAMN IT, IF YOU WANT TO LIVE GET IN!ā€ he yelled, and got into the car himself and waited.

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Michael Faraway Character Portrait: Toby Cleves Character Portrait: Jess Winters Character Portrait: James Al Jones
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As the van passed through the forest, Michael sat in quiet silence trying to figure out what HQ was doing, and why they had done what they had. When Jess spoke up and asked about HQ Michael sat up rigid, but answered her questions, in all fairness, what they had done at Black Falls, they deserved to lose Michael's confidence and he didn't feel the need for secrecy around anyone at the moment...

"HQ are my bosses - Head Quarters - They tell me what to do and when to do it..." Michael looked down the road, grimacing as the van was beginning to visibly slow, it was taking time for it to do so, but he could tell they were dropping speed. "I've been sent here... to Black Falls, I mean, on an information and recovery mission by HQ.. I'm supposed to go out to the city, take samples of infected, record their habits and so on... then I'm to return to.. what was... Black Falls, get picked up and take what i've learnt back to them." Michael chuckled sarcastically, "HQ told me my secondary mission was to rescue survivors if I found any..." Michael looked back into the van to make eye contact with Toby, and then looked to Jess with a confused face as he continued to speak, "I just don't know why they sanitized Black Falls... They knew it was a safe zone... One of the safest zones. It doesn't make sense... And when I asked them why? All they did was tell me it was compromised and to continue on with the mission... Something isn't righ-"

Suddenly the van completely halted and Michael looked to Jess disheartened slightly. "Damn... guess we're walking." He said as he hopped out of the car. As Michael exited the vehicle he felt the cool air brush across his face and for the first time, noticed that the forest was eerily silent. "That's odd..." Michael said cautiously, "We need to stick together, and I think it'd be best to follow the road for the meantime..." Michael looked to Jess again, "Thanks for driving... I'll make sure HQ looks after us when we get to the city..."

Suddenly Michael's earpiece buzzed to life "Officer Faraway, why have you stopped proceeding to point Alpha in the hot zone... it is imperative you get there asap." Michael gritted his teeth, trying to hold back another outburst at his bosses. "Because HQ, i'm stranded at the moment with two civies. Our transportation broke down..." Michael thought about it for a moment and then bit the bullet, "HQ, why was Black Falls -" Michael was cut off abruptly, "Proceed two miles down the road and turn left at Lauderdale Junction.. There's an old estate down that way, maybe you can find transportation there." HQ cut out and communication ceased.

"God damn it" Michael cursed, kicking his foot to the ground in frustration. "I just don't get it... There's somethin' they're not telling me." He said looking to Jess and Toby. He sighed deeply and shook his head, "Fuck it." he said, "We gotta go two miles down the road and turn left at some junction... HQ says there some kind of estate thing... maybe we can get another ride there..." Michael looked up to the two again, "I'm sorry..." he said apologetically, "I'll find answers as soon as I can and we can get outta here..."

Michael turned on his heels and began the walk down the road.


Meanwhile...


The woman was fighting off the oncoming horde with one bullet at a time. Her training had paid off and two out of three infected dropped like led balloons on the first time most of the time. "HQ, this is Agent Suarez, i've been cornered by a horde, I need immediate evac." The woman pointed her gun firmly at a fast running zombie and let the trigger go as she stopped it in its tracks. "Hah!" she chided the horde as it closed in slowly, "You think you can beat me!?" she taunted in her thick latin accent. She backed away a little more, trying to provide herself with as much space as possible, but she soon found herself backed against a nearby building, "HQ! I need evac..." she said firmly. The woman showed no sign of panic.

A nearby zombie lunged out and the woman ducked swiftly, bringing her leg up and around to connect with it's skull, causing the creature to hit the ground with a blood curdling crack. "Fuck you" she spat as she turned to see the horde going into a frenzy. Any sign of blood and that triggered them like sharks in chum. "Damn it" she hissed as she holstered her gun and removed the knife from her arm. "Let's get personal." she said as she began a fight through the crowd.

The woman picked a lighter patch of the crowd and ran forth, pushing over the first few infect and managing to make her way into a small clearing amongst the horde. Her clothes were made of a tough material, teeth had a hard time tearing it.... But it wasn't indestructible. The woman slashed her knife back and forth, the horde seemed to be cognitive that Agent Suarez wasn't an easy meal. She stood firm, ready to fight off any attack, unsheathed her gun again, sensing she needed all the help she could get and fired once when suddenly the horde went flying through the air and a car broke into the woman's circle and narrowly missed her as it turned to avoid hitting her.

The woman made eye contact with the driver as he swerved around her. Her face was emotionless, but her stance was that of someone frightened. Pulling her arms back to avoid having them ripped off, she jumped backwards just in time. The car hurtled into a lamp post and for a few seconds there was still. A man stepped out and yelled "GET IN!" but the woman just looked at him, this time a more baffled expression across her face. She looked him over and his car too, deciding that she'd rather take her chances elsewhere, but as she turned to make a run for it, leaving the man as her bait for her escape she saw the horde she'd created had now nearly tripled in size from his car antics. The woman turned around to look back to the man, that's when he shouted more urgently, "Damn it. If you wan't to live get in!"

The woman turned back to the horde and fired twice into the crowd dropping two infected, starting a mild frenzy within the horde who became slightly distracted by the officially dead zombie. She turned to the man ran to his car, opening the backseat door and diving in. "Ok, go!" She shouted firmly, "get us out of here!"

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Character Portrait: James Al Jones
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James jumped into the car at the same moment the woman darted for the back seat. She shouted ā€œOk go, get us out of here!ā€ Once she was in James floored the car in reverse into a 180 and punched it forward. They sped past a small group of the undead, but couldnā€™t get through the large 50 or more undead horde. James quickly turned in front of the horde, smacking the side of the car into a few and then drove off down a tight alleyway. The car lost its side mirrors and got bagged up a bit in the narrow path, crashing into garbage cans and undead. James managed to escape and burst out of the alley way onto market street. James was completely out of site from his previous location, and left the large horde funneling through the narrow alley. James turned left and drove down the road.

For a moment he looked at the review mirror to the girl in the back seat. They made eye contact but only to read each otherā€™s faces for a moment. James felt a strange sense of connection to this person and security. That he could trust her right now not to harm him. Maybe its because they are surviving together and have a common enemy, perhaps itā€™s just because she is the first living soul he has seen since the outbreak started. He starred for a moment into her eyes, not saying a word, and then they were back on the road.

The car clinked and clacked as it drove. The front tires shook making the remainder of the car ride bumpy and shaky. Steam started to come out of the hood and James figured he busted the radiator in the crash. ā€˜just a little furtherā€™ he thought to himself and made a few more turns on some streets. He had arrived to his street, and could see that the unlocked gate had not been touched. With a loud crack and a rough jerk the cars steering wheel seized up and the engine died. James through it in to neutral and let the car roll down the hill. The car shook back and forth as it fell and the left tire went flat. Jamesā€™s safe house was coming up and he quickly turned into the gate without stopping. The car smashed the gate open and once inside James slammed on the breaks coming to a complete stop.
Quickly James jumped out of the car grabbing his mace from the passenger seat. He went to the gate, and sunk his mace into the undead trying to get in. With a hard kick, he knocked the dead back away from the gate and moved quickly to shut it. Once closed he tied the thick chain around the gates bars and locked the padlock. The gate was secure and nothing would get in.

He turned back to see she had stepped out of the car. The rain had stopped but the storm clouds still hovered overhead and made the courtyard darker than daytime. He now noticed her fully now, and saw how attractive she was. With great curves and a athletic body. He was also more surprised how clean and healthy she was. James hadnā€™t managed the best hygiene in this apocalypse, and lived off a small amount of food. This woman had survived better off than he was he thought. A sharp pain throbbed from his left arm. He must have hurt it in the crash. He walked up to the smooth olive skinned woman, placed his pipe mace on the roof of the car, and put his right hand out. ā€œHi. Names Jamesā€¦ Iā€™m glad we got you out of that mess.ā€

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Character Portrait: Michael Faraway Character Portrait: Toby Cleves Character Portrait: Simon Marlowe Character Portrait: Jess Winters Character Portrait: James Al Jones
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Michael was a little taken aback when Jess said she'd go her separate way when and if they made it to town due to her not trusting HQ, and Michael was struck speechless when she suggested he discard them altogether. When the woman walked ahead and began to quietly sing to herself Michael just walked back a few paces taking in the harsh, but possibly true words of the woman.

Michael turned back to look at Toby and they exchanged a small glance of solemn woe. The truth of the situation, while it stung Michael like a wasp, was that; HQ wasn't telling him everything, but did it mean that he shouldn't trust them. All his career and most of his adult life he's been under the command of someone else. Michael has had to follow orders practically his whole life, and never has he had any negative impact or outcome because of it. He constantly put his life on the line for someone higher up, who always provided him with direction, reason and praise when he followed through with what he was told perfectly. But now... Now Michael was stranded in the middle of humanity's greatest shit storm. "What are you doing to me HQ?" he thought to himself.

As the group marched on down the road in a sad line, with Toby silently bringing up the rear, Michael had to turn his head as the distant roar of a motorbike grew louder and louder. It was only a moment or two after the noise first reached his ears when the biker raced past, slowly just long enough for Michael to glimpse of the rider - the man from the gate at Back Falls. Michael let out a "hey!" but the man was well and truly gone before Michael could even ask for his help.. Then again, what was Michael going to ask; "Give us all a ride will ya?" Michael bowed his head in frustration and just sighed as he exchanged a keep walkin' look to Jess and Toby.

As the sun arched upwards, higher and higher into the sky Michael began to grow restless as he realised patches of the forest were periodically going quiet. He looked up towards Jess, she seemed ok, then back behind him to look to Toby to see if he noticed anything and that's when Michael saw them... Just down the road; 400 or so metres. Standing about the trees, watching them silently - people. Michael stopped mid walk and mumbled out forward, "J-Jess..." he looked down the road towards the woman, she hadn't initially heard him, "Hey! Jess!" He turned back to look to Toby, "Can you see them?" Michael asked nodding down the road. Toby turned but suddenly there was no one to see. "They were there.. two seconds ago!" Michael turned his head back to Jess, "Did you see them?" Michael looks back down the road, "There were people, standing in the trees just down there... But..."

Suddenly the forest calm stops and the birds begin to sing again, filling the cool afternoon air with a sweet scent. The tension that had been hanging over this patch of the forest highway had lifted and Michael felt a cold shiver run down his spine. "We need to keep moving... Who knows what kind of crazy is sitting out here in the forest..." Michael moved past Jess and took the lead again, walking for about ten minutes when the group intersects a crossroads. "Left here..." he mumbles as he turns down a road and ten or so minutes later a stopped short by an elaborate iron gate that leads down an equally elaborate driveway of some sort. "Looks like a private estate out here..." Michael says out loud. He pushes the gate open and the group of three makes their way down the driveway for about fifteen minutes until suddenly a break in this part of the private forest lands reveals a huge dark grey structure that towers well and truly into the sky, casting an ominous glower across the forest. "Black Falls State Prison" Toby murmurs as the three pass a large sign denoting the structure before them.

Suddenly Michael's intercom bursts to life "We think you may have a usable vehicle in cell block D Officer Faraway" Before Michael can even reply HQ cuts out and his ears go silent. "What the hell is going on?" He asks back to HQ, but once again, no reply. "You might just be right..." Michael says grimly glancing to Jess and then Toby... "Whatever is going on... We have a vehicle in cell block D... come on." Michael says briskly as he steps through the initial the doors of the prison and into whatever lays inside...

Meanwhile...


The woman stepped out of the car slightly disorientated. The turmoil of an escape drive back to James' hideout knocked her around a bit. While tough, she wasn't indestructible and she smashed her left hand under her bodyweight against the back of the drivers seat... For the moment, it was useless. The man before her was more than keen to say the least to meet her. He introduced himself eagerly and extended a hand, "ā€œHi. Names Jamesā€¦ Iā€™m glad we got you out of that mess.ā€

She looked him up and down. "Barely and adult" she mocked sighing quietly. She pushed past him to take in her surroundings, eyeing his makeshift safe house with fascination, silent admiration, although she'd never show it, and disgust at how messy it was in some places... Mostly her disgust was aimed at the blood stain on the concrete nearby where a few undead, lay dead, for good now, on the other side of a fence.

She turned around and looked him back up and down, "I've done worse..." she says shrugging coldly. "You can call me Sierra Suarez" she says curtly. "I suppose I owe you a thanks..." she adds further, "Sincerely too" she added. "What is this place?" She moves around the courtyard initially, taking it in, the somewhat collapsed tarp that hangs across it, "Nice set up you have here" she says in a thick accent which masks too much whether or not she was using sarcasm or sincerity. "How long have you been here for? Surely not five months?"

Sierra moves forward to a nearby door and peeks inside to the pottery room. "An art studio?" She pulls her head out and looks him up and down, "I should have guessed" she says nonchalantly, "I guess it's true what they say... anyone can surv-" Sierra is cut off suddenly as her earpiece buzzes to life, "Agent Suarez... repor.... upda...Alpha... Far..y.. Companions... Test phase... don't...ort...Stay put."

Sierra sighs heavily leaning against a wall, grooming herself by rubbing off the blackened tar that is undead blood from her clothes. "Whether you like it or not..James" she says with a pur, "I'm going to be your new flatmate for a while..." She smiles coyly at James and turns away stretching. "So are you going to give me a grand tour or what?"

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ā€œBarely an adultā€ she said with a sigh and walked past James. James stood there still with his hand out in shock and confusion. It took a moment for him to register the meaning behind her words. His mouth dropped for a moment realizing that she was implying something about him ā€˜not being old enough,ā€™ then could only assume she thought he was hitting on her. To his knowledge he made no pass at her of any kind and was offended that she assumed otherwise. Then for a moment was he offended that he was shot down so quickly as well.

James dropped his hand to his side but his mouth remained slightly opened in awe and confusion of this woman who so far was all but polite to him. She looked and examined his fort as if to critique it rather than appreciate its safety. She gave a disgusted look to the bodies that lay just outside the gate and then turned to James saying ā€œIā€™ve done worseā€¦ā€ Shrugging and with the thickest accent ā€œYou can call me Sierra Suarez.ā€

"I suppose I owe you a thanks..." she adds further, "Sincerely too" she added. James was glad to hear her thank you at least.

"What is this place?ā€ she said then adding ā€œNice set up you have hereā€¦ How long have you been here for? Surely not five months?"

ā€œGodā€¦ has it been that longā€ James said quietly and looked down to the ground with a sudden drop in his spirit. James lost track of the days in the early weeks of the outbreak and had since didnā€™t bother with keeping track.

ā€œAn art studio?ā€ she claimed, then looked at James the same way she looked at his fortification and said ā€œI should have guessed. I guess it's true what they say... anyone can surv-ā€œ She was interrupted by someone in talking to her in what seemed to be an ear piece. James was curious as to whom she was listening to, but was more focused on her words said to him. He was baffled by how and why she judged him so harshly. Who did she expect to find out here? He was glad to be alive. Heck, even though she sounded cruel he still was glad she was alive. Why cant she just be glad they were both alive? James had forgotten how cruel people were, and was just in shock as to how that sort of behavior could survive in a world like this.

"Whether you like it or not... James" she says with a pur, "I'm going to be your new flatmate for a while..." He gave a small chuckle. It was almost funny how absurd she was.

She turned away from him and started stretching. "So are you going to give me a grand tour or what?"

He had no wordsā€¦ He lifted his hands up in a ā€˜what in the worldā€™ sort of motion, but said nothing mouth still left slightly openā€¦ She was just inviting herself to stay. But James was hurt, possibly still bleeding from the back of his head, and he was tired. He wasnā€™t against having extra hands around to help out either. So he thought he would give her a few nights, at least so she could get on her feet again. But if she became more of a burden than a blessing, he would get rid of her somehow.

He grabbed a lantern and brought it with him. ā€œThere is no electricity or windows, and this place is pitch black at night.ā€

ā€œWellā€¦ā€ He said with an irritated tone. ā€œThis is the cities collage. Particularly the Art building.ā€ He pointed to the clay room and said shortly, ā€œThis is the clay room.ā€ He walked into the door way of the studio room and said even shorter and more irritated sounding, ā€œStudio roomā€¦ā€

He pointed to a mattress, and said ā€œthereā€™s where I sleepā€¦ā€ He paused for a moment. Even though she had been rude to him, her behavior had not shadowed his own innate generosity. So he said rather reluctantly ā€œYour welcome to it.ā€

Pointing to the next door ahead he said, ā€œThatā€™s the sculpture roomā€¦ my only rule here is donā€™t touch my things without askingā€¦ā€

He looked rather annoyed at this point with how she acted and said ā€œIf your staying I need to trust youā€¦ Who was that you spoke too?ā€

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Character Portrait: Michael Faraway Character Portrait: Simon Marlowe Character Portrait: James Al Jones
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As Simon drove, what appeared to be a box wrapped in newspapers crashed into his face. Simon did not crash, and swerved only very slightly for for the instant it took him to remove the box. He kept it under his arm after shaking the box to determine that the contents were not heavy, like some types of explosive. Simon thought of how it might still be an explosive: It was something that had to be concealed with newspapers, after all. If someone wanted to confuse him with whether he should throw the package away or not, it worked. Sort of. Simon kept it.

Simon followed the car to it's destination, avoiding any of the creatures along the way. The man who stepped out of the car with the latin-american woman locked the gate as he made his way to within it. Oh well. Simon was used to being locked out of people's homes. He stopped the motorcycle, the whir of the engine ceasing slowly. As he came to a stop, and parked the motorcycle by simply leaning it against the side of the building, Simon reached into his pocket for his trusty lockpick before realizing he did not have it., It was lost sometime he could not remember. The time had to do with last New Years', and a funny situation with zombies and fireworks. Simon smiled for the happy memory. Things like that kept him going, no matter how cold or rough life would be to him as he pursued more memories like that. You could only experience so many things while well-fed. Checking the contents of the box, Simon found what appeared to be a box of beef jerky. Neat. He had been wishing for food, and something that would expand in a stomach was good for traveling with. Why else would so many people have dried food in the past? And now, the world is, unfortunately, more primitive again. Long story short, Dried food is amazing. Simon looked up the gate, and decided to trespass a little.

Simon climbed the gate instead. Breaking the lock would not be something that would be beneficial to anyone at this moment. He landed as quietly as he could, out of old habits of stealthiness tempered by a need for sneakiness in his former occupation and times he used to play pranks on others. Pranking was a nice hobby. The two appeared to have left, the only sign Simon had that their exit inside was not a mirage, besides the lock, was that he had heard conversation. He didn't hear it very well, but no matter. Gazing at the handicraft of makeshift buildings reminded Simon he should not enter it. Rube Goldberg might have traps for him in there. Who knew what makeshift traps people would make? Simon didn't, and that is why he stayed out. Instead, he turned his attention to the pile of corpses in the exterior courtyard. Raising his knife, he decapitated each and every single one, just to be sure they were dead. It was a simple matter. Simon cleaned the blade using one of the disposable rags from his suitcase, and then searched each body. finding nothing substantial, and letting curiosity getting the better of him, he decided to enter the building. He waved his hand out from behind the first pathway curve, and called out into the building.

"Hello?! Anybody here? I was walking by, and think I could be of use, a little, sort of. I am a doctor, or could be, kind of...I have beef jerky!" Simon mentioned. Simon waited in the entrance, waiting to see if anyone would come.

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Character Portrait: Michael Faraway Character Portrait: Toby Cleves Character Portrait: Simon Marlowe Character Portrait: Jess Winters Character Portrait: James Al Jones
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Michael stepped further and further down the hallway of the prison, light dimming as they went deeper in. "Was this some kind of high security prison?" Michael asked out loud, "I mean... there are next to no windows." Michael moved a little further, straining his eyesight to see into the blackening abyss of the prison's hallways; that's when Michael noticed why there wasn't any light... Sheets, wooden boards, anything that could block out light had been strung up, nailed over and used to cover any windows or light sources. Michael turned around to Jess who suddenly, it seemed, became much more cautious of the groups situation than before.

"Do you really think this is safe?" Jess asked out loud. Michael could tell this was not a comfortable situation for her, "I mean, can't we just walk the rest of the way, exercise won't kill us..." Jess turned around and walked backwards to see behind them. Jess kept looking around, then something rasping violently could be heard through the halls, like wind coming and going through small holes. Jess looked into a nearby room and noticed limbs, at first not moving, but then slowly shifting, "But they might" she whispered.

Suddenly panic hit Toby as he ran into Jess, making her stumble and knock some rubble to the ground. The infected we alerted immediately, the subdued state now fully gone and their heads propped upwards to locate the sounds origins. "Fuck" Michael hissed as he heard the shuffling through the dim light. Michael fumbled for a moment as Toby suddenly slammed into his body and the shouts of Jess echoed heavily through the prison "Go run! RUN!" Michael got to his feet in a few seconds and remembered the torch he had built into his headpiece. He switched it on and for the first time the reality of what the prison looked like hit him.

Blood splattered the walls, dry and black in colour. Limbs and bodies were strewn and built up in corners of the prison, almost deliberate in appearance... "what the hell?" Michael said recoiling at the sight, but his thoughts were soon cut off when Jess yelled again "I'll hold them off as long as I can, you two run for the car!" Jess fired a few times stopping a few zombies in their tracks. Michael's light provided some relief in the darkness as it showed him exactly where he was treading, but the trade off was the horror sight he saw across the floors and walls.

Michael moved forward down the hall, watching as Toby ran forward off into the darkness, "TOBY STOP!" Michael yelled, "You'll get lost!" BANG! BANG! BANG! Michael stopped running as he turned back to look down the hallway as Jess was slowly stepping backwards, but managing to keep the zombies at bay. Suddenly an ear splitting ringing filled the air as the prison's lockdown alarm began to wail. "What the hell!?" Michael cursed to himself over the din as he clasped his hands over his ears.

The noise was deafening, and Michael knew it would be attracting more zombies at any moment, and that was something Jess wasn't going to be able to handle alone. He looked down towards her, she was still holding them off, but the noise was definitely distracting. Michael looked down the other end of the hallway to see Toby standing there shouting something to him... Suddenly Toby fell to the ground without any sign of what happened to him. "Shit" Michael hissed as he bolted forwards without thinking. Michael was a few feet from Toby when suddenly a barred door slid shut cutting the hallway off and separating Toby and Michael. "Toby! TOBY! Are you ok?" Michael tried to yell over the alarms ringing. Michael clasped his hands around the door trying to slide it back open but it was no use... This was a prison after all and when a prison locks down... it stays locked down.

Michael jumped back though after he reasoned he wasn't getting to Toby through that door. "Hold on Toby!" he yelled, "I'll get you-" Michael was stunned when suddenly two figures stepped into Michael's light's way... Two men stepped out of the dark shadows, dressed in ripped jeans, and t shirts, covered in thick black dried blood, wielding a hand gun, rope and plank of wood. They weren't zombies thank god but it didn't more than a few seconds to realise they weren't here to help. "Leave him alone!" Michael yelled above the noise, but it was useless. "Fuck" Michael yelled as he watched the two men ignore his presence and effortlessly tie up and drag off Toby.

Michael yelled pathetically after the two captors of Toby but when he realised it was no good turned on his heel, withdrew his handgun from it's holster and pelted down towards Jess who by now had seemed to have made it halfway back down the hall. As Michael neared Jess he pulled his handgun up and pulled the trigger once, twice, three times, taking down two of the infected that were dangerously close to Jess. Michael grabbed her shoulder and pulled her around so she faced him as he mouthed "We have to run, Toby is gone!"

Michael turned around, looking for a way out of their situation and grimaced when he looked down the end of the hallway Jess and backed from... His light shone bright enough to see a whole horde of at least twenty infected shuffling - thankfully - not running, towards them. "Shit shit shit" Michael hissed. He turned around again and saw that he and Jess were in fact, standing at a T-Intersection. "Come on! This way!" Michael yelled as he pulled Jess down the hallway and Managed to get them both through another sliding gate just before it closed.

The two burst through the the sliding door and Michael tripped and rolled across the ground, slamming against a wall as the door closed, the alarm stopped ringing and the small horde behind them was left trapped. Breathing heavily, Michael looked to Jess wide eyed and confused, "What the fuck just happened?"

Meanwhile...


ā€œThere is no electricity or windows, and this place is pitch black at night.ā€ James said firmly. Sierra shrugged nonchalantly, quietly reasoning with herself that things could be much worse. She followed James quietly, listening to him as he spoke, but couldn't help but smirk coyly as spoke with slight irritation as he showed her around; ā€œThis is the cities college. Particularly the Art building.ā€ He pointed to the clay room and said shortly, ā€œThis is the clay room.ā€ He walked into the door way of the studio room and said even shorter and more irritated sounding, ā€œStudio roomā€¦ā€

Sierra actually laughed as he showed her his safe haven and for the first time realised she must be sounding rather distant and... Well, like a bitch. James pointed to a mattress, and said ā€œthereā€™s where I sleepā€¦ā€ He paused for a moment. Even though she had been rude to him, her behavior had not shadowed his own innate generosity. So he said rather reluctantly ā€œYour welcome to it.ā€ Pointing to the next door ahead he said, ā€œThatā€™s the sculpture roomā€¦ my only rule here is donā€™t touch my things without askingā€¦ā€ Sierra poked her head into the sculpture room, but the dimming light over the city was making it hard to define anything past silhouettes. "You seem talented" she said turning around, that was as good as an apology she reasoned internally if she had sounded brash earlier. He looked rather annoyed at this point with how she acted and said ā€œIf your staying I need to trust youā€¦ Who was that you spoke too?ā€

Sierra was honestly a little taken aback at his brazen questioning all of a sudden and for the first time saw a glimpse of why James had stayed alive for so long. "Hmmm" she said with hyperbole as she made a show of contemplation on whether or not she should tell James. She decided it would be ok. "They are my bosses..." Sierra said mysteriously, smirking while she spoke, "I work for the UN.. I'm a special agent, specifically, rescue..." Before James could ask why she hadn't phoned in to have him and herself rescued Sierra continued "UN official rescue and recovery."

Sierra leaned back against a nearby wall, "I'm waiting for an Officer who has been tasked with coming to the city... he's been held up." Sierra shrugged, "Apparently I am to wait in the city for a little while longer than anticipated." She looked sideways to James, "I'll help you out as much as I can..." She pushed off the wall, "But don't expect a-" Suddenly Sierra was cut off by the sound of another voice, "Hello?! Anybody here? I was walking by, and think I could be of use, a little, sort of. I am a doctor, or could be, kind of...I have beef jerky!"

Sierra looked to James, a look of stern concern coming across it suddenly, Sierra was kicking into special agent mode - be wary of everyone and trust nothing.

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Character Portrait: Michael Faraway Character Portrait: Simon Marlowe Character Portrait: James Al Jones
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Simon remained waiting for a moment. It was not only rude to be kept waiting, but also insane to not want beef jerky. this was the stuff empires used to be made of, and now, of all times, was the perfect piece of history to begin swarming all over the dehydrated food market. Simon stopped this conjecture, and decided to step in. It was against his better judgement, but he would rather invite himself in, and decided to explore a little as well. The entire area was well-fortified. It was like a spider, who would continue building the same web more and more and more, if left alone. Simon smiled. This was someone who could probably help rebuild society. They already looked like they were doing a great job, at the moment. Simon moved towards the various areas, observing them. He enjoyed how they looked. School was a great memory for Simon. Good times of great things. He was not very artistic, though. He just couldn't take the effort to create something from scratch. This area seemed dedicated to artistic pursuits. The voices he heard speaking in this area seemed to have come from the nearby studio room. Simon waved his hand into the doorframe, waving in what appeared to be a hello, but the axis seemed to be from the side of the door frame, before stepping into the room. The woman he saw earlier looked like a professional. But he doubted she was actually trigger-happy. People who did not practice excellent gun safety wouldn't survive easily...usually. Welp, whatever. His hand appeared before him, and he made sure to enter the room slowly, hands raised to the sides, his suitcase full of supplies hanging from one hand.

"I know I might be interrupting, but you obviously do not know the value of beef jerky."