[karambit]

Today it is the 2nd day of July in the year 2009. Today the world was invaded by zombies.

No one has a clue where the disease came from, but that is the case with such things. Some people think it is Earth finally getting her sweet revenge, others a holy act of God for our indiscretion and sin. Who cares honestly, all people can do is try to survive, thinking about it just gives you a headache and naught for a better place to hide for the night.

They're fast. It isn't like those movies where they just shuffle along and moan at you. They scream yell and growl, not to mention they like running. Humans were meant to be predators, and damned efficient ones at that. Luckily they aren't the brightest bunch of flashlights. They seem to be driven by a single desire to eat anything that looks like food. They can open a door no problem, but it's apparently more cost-effective to bash it down.

Whatever it is causing this is infectious five ways from Sunday. Don't drink water unless you've boiled or otherwise cleaned it. One of them may have decided a swim in your local water source might be refreshing. Whatever you do, never ever get any of their blood or bodily fluids near you. Blood is the most dangerous to be around, but just about everything that comes out is a potential source of infection. Healthy skin is an adequate defense against it for the most part. It would be wise to wear goggles if you expect to get any in your face.

On that note. Unlike the movies they don't require a head-shot to be put down. They aren't dead already, which is a mixed blessing. They can be killed just like you and me, only problem is they don't feel pain. A bullet to the gut may slow them down, but until they bleed out or die from the resulting sepsis, be prepared to shoot again. Damned persistent.

OOC:
Above describes your enemy. However, be aware that some zombies are meta-humans as well. They can access their abilities and make them that much more dangerous. Be afraid.

Story is open, do whatever you want. Most people are unaware of meta-humans even now and some could mistake super-human abilities as symptoms of the zombie infection.

[rivergod808]

Cody Larsen
minutes to "z-day"

Cody walked into his apartment and tossed his bag onto the couch. He had an hour before he had to head to work. Walking over to the fridge, he took a drink from the orange juice and put it back. He grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. Tossing the remote back onto the table, he walked over to his bedroom to change for work. He considered calling in one of his sick days because he just didn't feel like going into work. He paused as he was putting on his dress-shirt. Walking back to his bag, he pulled out his cell and dialed a number.
"Hello? Mr. Palmer? It's Cody. Yeah...feeling a little down. I think I caught a bug from my nephew." Cody coughed for emphasis. His mother always told him he could pull a good sick story.
"I know it's late notice, but I thought I'd be up to coming in. *cough cough* But I just started feeling worse. Okay...okay...thank you so much, I owe you. And tell Ashley I owe her big time...*cough* okay, thanks. Bye"
Cody hung up the phone and kicked off his shoes and sat on the couch.
"This is going to be a good day." He thought to himself.

[Esquin]

OOC: I'd like to introduce a rule that mind tricks don't work on zombies. Just an idea Karambit up to you. Hmm and dowe have to make the change so quick? It does remove a lot of typical zombie storylines thats all. Can we have the infection take time, say a day maybe?


Layden Hart
Manhattan Genera Hospital
Z-Day. 20 minutes after infection.

Layden stuck the needle into the mans arm and the IV quickly started flowing. Perfect again, partly because of his steady hands, but mostly due to his abilities. If he focused enough he could see the veins under the mans skin, id made this kinda of work remarkably simple. At first he'd cursed the man who decided clinical psychology required a medical internship. But now not so much, he'd started to enjoy his time as a surgical intern. Next year he was transferring to medicine properly, his power gave him a very unique advantage in physical diagnosis, it felt natural really.

His pager buzzed and he quickly headed to the nurses station. A mass of paramedics were carting in people strapped to beds. They were foaming and thrashing about. Blood splashing across the sheets. Layden reached over the nurses desk and pulled out some gloves and a face mask and went to help. he held one of the more injured men down while he looked over his wounds. He was so beaten that he could barely move. As Layden examined the wounds he noticed something, this man, he should be dead, and the wounds weren't made by any knife or weapon, they were bite marks.

[SkyAngel]

OOC. oops sorry, lol what was i thinking... their zombies for god's sake. here's the revised version

Blake Lee Evans
The Mark of Z-Day

Blake stood there in the background watching carefully from a distance as the first few infections occurred. When Alex bit the doctor, and the doctor clawed the civilians, and everybody else went insane he knew at that moment that even from that distance, he isn’t safe from the un-undead people. He slowly backed out of the area trying to avoid detection, but his efforts were to no avail as one of the civilians noticed him, looked at him dead in the eye and released a loud growl. That was when he knew that its time to make a break for it. He made a valiant effort on trying to outrun them, he tried his best, but his best was just not enough as the infected ones easily caught up to him.

“Ugh... No no no no no... No crazy ass civilian is going to eat me for lunch... No... Not today... Maybe some other day... Just not today...” He said as he made a turn by the corner into the alley hoping for an escape route. Well hope just doesn't cut it for him as the alley he entered was a dead end. The moment he saw the brick wall in front of him, he knew that it was practically his death sentence. With nowhere to go he stopped as the infected approached him slowly, smiling at him, seemingly mocking him. With nothing else to do, he looks around trying to find a way out, there he spotted a ladder nearby, leading to an abandoned building. Just then, he could fill the adrenaline rushing through his veins, knowing that it is a matter of life and death, one slip and he's lunch. So there he used this rush to climb up the ladder beside him and escape from the grasps of death.

With the infected dumbfounded, Blake made a break for it, heading back to his apartment complex seeking shelter from the insanity surrounding him. Running as if his life depended on it, which it was, it didn't take long for him to enter his apartment building. There he entered his craphole of a room, with thin walls and bad wallpaper and sat on his bed.

Being alone in silence,, he overheard a phone conversation from his neighbor "I know it's late notice, but I thought I'd be up to coming in. *cough cough* But I just started feeling worse. Okay...okay...thank you so much, I owe you. And tell Ashley I owe her big time...*cough* okay, thanks. Bye"

"Bug huh... wonder what kind of bug makes people snack on each other's flesh?"

[benderboyboy]

OOC: Woot! First powerless main in the zombie thread! Strange that both mine and Esquin's character have such similar names and are both doctors.

My name is Doctor Langdon Kiden. A year ago, I was tracking Metas, humans who have super human abilities. Now, I'm not sure what I'm doing. I have killed people, powered and powerless alike. My current occupation is the same as my former one. I'm a doctor. Albeit I'm one illegally, I'm still one of the best around. Metas still intrigue me to no end but I realized, they were still as human as you and I. Because of that, I stopped hunting them. I won't say I'm a good guy. No. In fact, I'm far from one. But still, perhaps I could make some sort of change to the world, I could make up for my past mistakes. But that day will never come for all the wrong I did can never be undone and due to that, I am force to forever live within the shadows of men.

Langdon Kiden,
Underground med lab log

Alright, who do we have here today? Kiden entered the lab in a white coat, mask and surgical glove. He placed his plastic sanitzed toolbox filled with surgical equipment on the table. Beside him on the surgical table was a middle aged man. His skin looked horribly wrinkled and there were bits of white foam coming from the side of his mouth. He had been heavily sedated with tubes pumping liquid and breathing in the anesthetic.

Another teenage guy walked in after him, wearing the same set of ensamble. His name is John Willie. His wife, Linda Willie wants him cured. Paying a few good millions for his successful recovery. Else, the refund policy...

Yes, we have to pay her back everything. Kiden took out and layed in line a series of scapel from small to large. So, what's the status?

Yes. He collasped yesterday after saying he felt unwell. After that, and I quote the wife "It was like he was having rabies." He started foaming from the mouth and were attacking people. No one was hurt and they managed to restrain him in his own bed. The local hospital said they never heard anything like this before. The assistance explained, reading from a clipboard.

Right, the problem might be adrenaline or something as such. He moved over and slapped his glove. Alright, elevate him. Let's draw some blood and give him a thorough look through eh.

The assistant went over and pulled a lever and as the bed raised itself slowly, the fastest thing happend. John jumped from the bed, pulling away from anything that was attaching him to it and bit into the assitant's arm. The teen pulled back in pain and stumbled quickly out the door.

Kiden grabbed the largest of his scapel just as John jumped down and charaged at him, arms raised, a 'dead' look in his eyes. Kiden ducked and turned and spin before plaint his blade into the temple of zombie's head. A little move he learnt from his hunting days. I almost forgot how good this feels.

He pulled out his scapel just in time to hear screams coming from the hallway. Looking out through the half closed door, he saw his assistant rushing towards him like how John did. Behind him was some of his other 'employees', limping and screaming in pain. Kiden ran towards the door and shut it just as the assistant approached, throwing the zombie back. Damn thing is infectious!

He cleared one of the lap tables of microscope, empty pietry dishes and whatnot before baricating the door with it. Trapped in a room with infected humans clawing on the other side of the only exit, Kiden was stuck. He looked towards his dead patient. Guess I won't be asking for check.

[Lazarus]

Cornelius 'Lazarus' Meyers
Route 66, Arizona
Z-Day

The bar was a stereotypical biker hangout. The worn shack was built from random wooden boards and stolen road signs. The smell was always the same, cigarette smoke, spilt beer, and desert BO. The perfect dive for a man who wanted to stay lost for good.

Laz had lived a decent life, up until he just up and decided to say 'F#$% It All' and take to the road. Smatterings of his life included a good 10 years in the infantry, as well as some odd jobs here and there. But he finally realized that all he really wanted was to be left alone. To be able to go from one place to another, and just live, his way.

So he sat here, in a black leather jacket, jeans, black dingos, and a punisher t-shirt sipping his whiskey and watching TV.
The News was on, and there was something about an outbreak in some of the major cities. Laz huffed, probibly that stupid Swine Flu sh!t again... He remembered all the panic the media had tossed out over that one, and of course it was WHO overreacting again.
Lighting his cigar, he swiveled around, as he heard a skuffle in the back.

What the hell's wrogn with you man! One of the fat, bearded Hell's Angels barked at another guy who was stumbling around.
He don't look too good Bill, another man said, stepping over to check his buddy out.
Probibly can't hold his booze, take him out side for some air, don't want him puking in here. Bill directed.

Thats when all hell broke loose.
The sick man twisted his head sharply, sinking his teeth into his helper's bicep.
In the confusion, the newly injured man toppled to the floor and began siexing as the now re-livened man began jumping on random people and pummeling them, doing his best to bite them. Spit and blood were flying all over.

Getting up from his chair, Laz started to move towards the door. Shuffling slowly as more victims began suffer from similar siezures. Some climbing to their feet and attacking other bystanders.

Bursting through the door into the cool desert night, just before dawn, Laz reached behind him for his pistol, looking down at the 1911, he took a minute to think, as he was circling back to his Harley.
If you end up in a situation where you need more than 14 shots, you probibly shouldn't be there to begin with...
As he jumped on his bike, a mob of crazed bikers began to spill out of the small door at the front of the bar. And they were starting to charge straight for him.

Yeah, F#%@ This!, he spit as he kickstarted the Harley, the engine roaring like an angry lion.
A few got closer as he began to whip around, burning out for the road. He popped off a few shots to slow them down as he opened the throttle and tore off into the sunrise.

What the F#$% just happend?!?!, he felt like he was in some lame horror movie. And now, he had to decide what to do next.

[karambit]

Jacob Shaun
Ground Zero

Some blazing idiot had the good sense to think that the best way to make a social statement was to light a god damn car on fire. Sirens blazing they parted traffic like the red sea, what little traffic there was. It seemed like a pretty light day for traveling. About one minute from their destination Jacob felt a loud thump next to his knee. The man sitting next to him had been watching and began to explain animatedly. Holy S#$%. Some retard ran right into the side of the truck. Of course the driver pulled over so one of the crewmen could take a look at the poor guy. A couple guys got off and made a quick jaunt over to a motionless body. If he's dead hail a cop Jacob yelled while he stayed next to the truck.

The next thing Jacob remembered he was being thrown to the ground. The guy was all sorts of crazy, trying to bite and wailing on him without end. He was able to throw the man off and stand back up. Looking himself over quickly he saw the thick firefighter's jacket had kept that psycho from chewing on him. He whirled around and saw his attacker. No wonder you're pissed off. I would be too if I was wearing a pink shirt. The man charged him again and this time Jacob clocked him in the side of the head. F#$% my knuckles. He turned back to his friends only to see a crowd of people violently attacking his men. Jacob opened a box on the side of the truck and pulled out a fire-axe. Hey! Get off my crew assholes!

Time stopped right then. He saw a little girl covered in blood, clawing and biting an adult. Suddenly Jacob looked at the world differently and saw the little details he'd been missing. Everyone running around was a sickly pale color, and most of them had blood all over themselves. What finally sealed it for him was one man. His ankle was ripped apart so he couldn't walk all that easily. Instead he shuffled along, arms outstretched as he reached for someone. Dear god.

[Lazarus]

Originally Posted by karambit

Jacob Shaun
Time stopped right then. He saw a little girl covered in blood, clawing and biting an adult. Suddenly Jacob looked at the world differently and saw the little details he'd been missing. Everyone running around was a sickly pale color, and most of them had blood all over themselves. What finally sealed it for him was one man. His ankle was ripped apart so he couldn't walk all that easily. Instead he shuffled along, arms outstretched as he reached for someone. Dear god.

Officer Eric Sharpe had been watching from the other side of the street as the fire truck passed Mikey's Pizza. It was an old dive of his from way back when, he would stop in at random during his beat to make sure the kids weren't causing old Mikey any trouble. Suddenly there was chaos. He didn't see exactly what happened, but by the time he had gotten out the door, he saw things that made now sense, people were attacking the firemen.

It was something surreal, and before he knew what was going on, he had drawn his ASP baton and was moving in. One fireman had an axe, and it looked like he was trying to figure out what to do.
The shouting was pocketed with growls and cries, as Officer Sharpe moved closer. He noticed that the attackers were moving oddly, unnatural. Whipering a brief prayer under his breath he worked his way to the fire man.
Hey! Matchhead! the rivalry between the NYPD and NYFD was legendary, but even their insulting nicknames had become terms of endearment between the two services.
Hey! Get over by me, I'll watch your back!
As he said it, part of the mob looked to him, and began charging.

[karambit]

Jacob made his way to the Cop. I say run away. The people attacking his men had stopped, since they were all dead now. Run. The bloodied angry looking mob of people turned to them and snarled. To the truck. All at once they began to charge them. Now. Move. Jacob grabbed Eric's collar and spun him around. The doors had been left open and everyone had gotten out so it was pretty easy to jump in and slam the door shut. It had been left idling too. If ever he was happy Johnson occasionally screwed up it was now. Jacob threw the truck in gear and started moving just as Eric got in beside him. As they pulled away Jacob introduced himself. Lieutenant Jacob Shaun. Welcome to 62 Truck.

[Lazarus]

Originally Posted by karambit

Lieutenant Jacob Shaun. Welcome to 62 Truck.

The fireman had pretty much muscled him to the truck, not that Eric was particularly set on resisting. He locked the doors as Jacob began to speed off.
The immediate danger of being drawn and quartered having passed, he replied Patrolman Eric Sharpe, hope you enjoyed your visit to the Bronx.
Looking out the windows, he noticed that the incident they just escaped wasn't isolated. People were running and screaming, being chased down and mauled by frenzied rioters. It was total chaos.
Grabbing the radio, Eric called up to dispatch.
Dispatch, this is Officer Eric Sharpe, NYPD Badge number Fife-Eight-Six-Tree-Seven. I'm in NYFD Truck Six-Two. Over.

It took a few moments for the other end to respond.
Foxtrot Delta Six-Two, we have our hands full, rioting is reported in all districts. We have advised all units to be aware of a possible NBC threat. Standby for further instructions.

Eric went pale. New York had seen the darkest days of any city in the country and now, another major disaster had likely hit.
He looked to Jacob, swallowing nervously.
NBC? What in the hell is happening to those people?