Status: INFECTED

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Date: Monday, July 25 2027
Time: 14:37
Location: Franklin, Nevada (Population: 3,037)
Status: INFECTED

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Task Force: DISPATCHED
VIPER Team: DISPATCHED
SOHRAS: PENDING

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ETA: 15:40

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END MESSAGE

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OOC: That's all that you're going to get for an intro. Where you are, and what you are doing is up to you, although now would be a good time to work in any kind of back story regarding your character. I don't think I've really made any mention of it, but this is Phase I of an infection.

Phase I: Infection is introduced into the populace. Minimal infection/public awareness at this time.
Phase II: Infection begins to take hold in a substantial percentage of the population. Public awareness is increased, mass panic begins to take effect. Most infections have been Phase II as of this time.
Phase III: Infection is extremely prevalent in the population. Mass non-infected casualties arise and widespread panic occurs. Only a handful of Phase III infections have ever taken place.
Phase IV: Infection is devastating. Less than 10% of the initial population is alive or uninfected. Most survivors will have left of established a stronghold area. This Phase permits SOHRAS, as stated in the UNIPL.

BEGIN

Jason walks around, keeping a keen eye out for zombies.

ooc: Can't really think of anything else.

ooc: I'm a bit confused to what exactly is happening right now. Are our characters together? Are we in the city? The desert? Are we just supposed to make something up?

OOC: I'm sorry, I haven't been terribly clear. As of right now, everyone is in the city, doing something. Where you are in the city, and what you are doing is completely up to you. There are some stores grouped together in a strip mall, a fairly large park near the center of the city, a few suburbs type areas where most everyone lives, a power plant, town hall, etc... everything that a fairly small size city has. As for the zombies, nobody appears to be infected right now. It's likely that you've heard about the infection on the news or read about it on the internet, but as far as you know, it's only gotten as far as Russia, and Northern Africa. If you were to look around right now, there would be no infected persons. Most of the people here are just enjoying their Monday afternoon. None of your characters are together, and probably don't know each other. I'm sorry that I didn't make this more clear in the intro.

ooc:
I think that clears things up a bit.
I'm guessing we're all unaware of things then, right?
I'm not sure how well a hunter fits in with the city, but oh well. Correct me on this if necessary.

-

A large man sat in the seat of his pickup truck, his elbow on the armrest and his face in that respective hand. Traffic was stop and go at best, the opposite of how fast his patience was thinning.

"...COME ON!!!" He shouted as he snapped, smashing the car horn subsequently. He then grabbed the wheel with both hands and leaned his head forward onto it.

In the bed of his truck were several coolers, which were filled with deer body parts and cooling agents. All of the coolers were shielded from the hot sun by a cover, but he worried even that wouldn't save the meat at this rate.

OOC: The above post is a good model of what I'm looking for right now.

ooc: Thank you, that clears it up alot.
---
Jack entered the door to the local police station, smiling to the secretary behind the counter. "Hello," he said as he drew his badge, "Jack Phelps, LAPD. I spoke to the chief earlier about a meeting?"

The secretary looked up from her work. A woman in her late 20's, she wore a grey uniform, neatly pressed, and free of dirt or markings. Her nails were well manicured, and painted ruby red, much like the lipstick on her face. Only briefly she looked at Jack, and returned her gaze to the computer monitor in front of her. She was quick, efficient, and a good secretary. She had a nametag that said: Marsha. "The chief will see you now," she said, not glancing away from her work.

Dax bent over the control panel, beads of sweat dripped off his nose and on to the metal casing. He carefully connected two wires and ever so gently welded them together. It had been a long day of tedious and dangerous work at the power plant; not to mention the hot sun beating down on the back of his neck. He had to repair an unusually high number of circuit breakers and power cables today. It was a wonder that the old power plant still ran as well as it did.
Dax stood up and picked up his radio. "Chief, I've got the number six wire re-connected. Everything is green on my end. I'm heading back to my truck, over." He didn't wait for a response, and began to walk to his truck. He was a good two miles from the outskirts of the city and he wanted to get back in time to pick up a package he had ordered—two long range hand radios. He enjoyed taking apart and putting back together things like that.

"Thank you," Jack replied, fingers fumbling slightly as he put his badge back into his jacket pocket. He was slightly nervous; after all, he was far from his jurisdiction. He did he best not to show it as he walked for the chief's office.

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STATUS UPDATE:

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Date: Monday, July 25 2027
Time: 15:03

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Task Force (306): ON ARRIVAL
Task Force (327): ON ARRIVAL
VIPER Team: ON ARRIVAL
SOHRAS: IN POSITION (READY)

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EIPL: 15%
EBS: STAND-BY
DEFCON: 4

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END MESSAGE

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ooc: Does this mean we are now in the middle of zombie land?

OOC: As of right now, everything seems pretty much normal, if somebody saw a zombie, there would be a panic, and there is not. The military hasn't arrived yet, or at least, you can't tell if they have. It pretty much seems like a regular Monday afternoon.

Dax steered his truck into the parking lot of the local camping store. He got out of his beat up truck and entered the store. He was immediately hit by a cool breeze from the air conditioner. He approached the man at the counter. "Excuse me sir, but has a package for Dax arrived yet?"

OOC: Glyph I'm assuming you'll be doing all the npc interactions
.

The man behind the counter took a few seconds to look at something on his computer. "I apologize for the inconvenience, sir, but it appears that we are experiencing a quarantine on all shipments. Nothing goes in or out. I'll talk to the store manager and see what the problem is," he said. He walked to the back of the store, opened a door that said ; employees only. Minutes passed...

ooc: I have no idea what any of that stuff means >_>
My guy will just be walking around, keeping a keen eye out for zombies until the zombie land part starts.

"Hey, could you guys hurry up back there? I need to get home!" Dax shouted after several minutes of waiting. He was once again reminded why he hated people.

ooc:
@Blaster: I think the point Glyph is trying to get across is; you shouldn't be even remotely suspicious of zombies, that you should be doing things normal people do.
We don't even know when we'll become suspicious. It might not even be today.

@Glyph: For the record, I'm assuming all of my "equipment" listed in the sign up is somewhere back home (which might not be in the city, unless that's an issue).
About how fast does a place go from phase I to II? Does it vary from one stage to another? Or would we not know? Also, would we know of other places being infected? Namely those nearby to us?

-

After over an hour of driving, much of which was spent low speeds or stationary, the big hunter pulled into the driveway of a meat processing plant.

Once he'd found a place to park, which wasn't long at all, he killed the engine and slid out of his car, locking its door behind him. With his body no longer confined by the quarters of the truck, he took a good few moments to stretch out, groaning with relief.

After that was done, he headed into the building, finding the equivalent of the front desk. "Hey there," he greeted as he approached, then leaned forward on the counter some. "I'm Jake Mcgaw, I have two bucks I'd like to sell." His attention quickly wandered to some things beyond the desk, rather than focusing on the worker.

-
ooc:
I'm not really sure how hunters sell their stuff in real life. Correct me on what I'm doing if needed.

Roy looked out of the window of his apartment, bags around his bloodshot eyes. His usually bright silver hair seemed dull and lifeless, and his posture indicated something was seriously wrong. He opened his wallet for what must have been the fiftieth time today, looking at a picture.

It was of a woman, with long, blue hair. Her hair had been dyed (there was still bottles of the stuff lying around his apartment), and she had a wide grin on her face.

"Rei..." The man muttered, letting a sob wrack his shoulders. A sniffle, and he stood up straight. "I need to get to the bank, I guess..."

He put on a brown leather jacket with deep pockets, and slipped his handgun into it. He had no intentions of robbing the bank, and in fact had a license to conceal and carry. He stepped outside and locked his door, slipping his keys into his opposite pocket and walking downstairs to his modest little car.

ooc: Well I really have no idea what to have my guy doing right now, so I'll (hopefully) think of something and post later.

OOC: @Everyone: What we've got so far is sort of like a prelude. Think of it as the beginning of a horror movie, where we get to know the main characters, and develop a sizeable amount of secondary characters to kill off.
@DB: The equipment that you listed earlier is at your house. Either that, or you'll find it pretty soon. As for the phase question, that will be explained in the segment below.
@Blaster: Right now, you have no idea that this town is infected. Everything seems pretty normal, although that will change pretty soon here.

ooc:
@Glyph: This is sort of a re-do of my post before, to address the issues we talked about yesterday.
If there's still issues, lemme know.

-

After over an hour of driving, much of which was spent at low speeds or stationary, the large man pulled into the driveway of a charity organization of sorts.

Once he'd found a place to park, which didn't take long at all, he killed the engine and slid out of his car, locking its door behind him. With his body no longer confined by the quarters of the truck, he took a good few moments to stretch out, groaning with relief.

After that was done, he headed into the building, finding the equivalent of the front desk. "Hey there," he greeted as he approached, then leaned forward on the counter some. "I'm Jake Mcgaw, I have two bucks to donate." His attention quickly wandered to some things beyond the desk, rather than focusing on the worker.

-
ooc:
I figure its the kind of charity place that takes meat.

@Camping Store:
Several noises could be heard from the back room of the small store. Glass shattered, something heavy dropped to the floor. A somewhat muffled scream pierced the quiet of the store. Trouble was afoot.

@Hungry Mouths Charity Compound:
The inside of the building was fairly uninteresting. Some office plants, a few seats and the main desk filled most of the floor space, and two doors led out of the room. One was the entrance, and the other was, presumably, where the donations were stored. "Two bucks? Bring your truck around back and I'll help you load them into the freezer."

OOC: Regarding the acronyms and stuff that you can see below, just disregard it for now. If it's important, you'll find out what it means, but mostly I just like to use a lot of capital letters.

Logan Thredmon; novelist. Searching for inspiration, he was browsing this particular Times bookstore in the corner, just two buildings apart from his three-floor flat. Just home from shopping, with a grocery bag dangling on his right arm. "When The World Succumbs" - says the book he's reading. Logan merely laughed at the title, thinking of how, as a child, he used to believe that zombie apocalypses are as real as this corn-on-a-cob he was munching on with his other hand. I mean, a disease that mutates people into monsters? Come on. Though..... that would make good material for the next book, I do believe.

Dax heard the comotion in the back and took a few steps back from the counter. "Hey, is everything ok back there?" He shouted. He waited a few seconds and then ran out to his car. He withdrew a 2' crowbar from a pack in his back seat and re-entered the store. He aproached the counter slowly, with the crowbar raised slightly over his head. He made sure the pointed end was in a good position to puncture an attacker. Once more he called out to the back room, "Hey, anyone there!?"

ooc:
If I had a nickle for every fourth wall breaking moment, I'd have... more nickles than I could keep track of.

@Squipix (and Flaxfire): Recognize the name?
It was actually a coincidental accident. I would have thought I'd have tried to avoid such a thing.

-

"Okay." Jake said pushing off from the counter, then lumbered out of the building back to his truck.

Bringing the truck to life and going through the appropriate gear changes, he brought the truck around to the backside of the building. He found a spot next to the building and brought the rear end of the truck closest, then parked, killed the engine, and got out.
Next was to remove the cover shielding the coolers, then open up the trunk door.

-
ooc:
I don't know the specific name for the back door of a pick up truck, nor do I know how to drive a stick (or is it called standard?).

OOC: I'm pretty sure the back door of a pickup truck is called a gate DB. But I could be wrong.

ooc:
Tailgate, I think, yeah. Thanks.

Jason was walking by the store when he heard the scream, so he found a 2' crowbar laying in the middle of the street, and ran inside the store, then ran deeper in.

Flaxfire wrote:"Thank you," Jack replied, fingers fumbling slightly as he put his badge back into his jacket pocket. He was slightly nervous; after all, he was far from his jurisdiction. He did he best not to show it as he walked for the chief's office.

ooc: Just a reminder of where I was.
---
Jack entered the door to the chief's office without knocking and sat down. "Sorry to barge in on you sir, but it's important. I'm assuming you got the call from my station about why I'm here?" Jack didn't even wait for an answer before continuing, "I've tracking a serial killer who we believe has moved to this area. He killed at least 7 different women in the LA area. I've been put in charge of the case, and my superiors thought it would be best if I continued to follow him. I'm here to ask for your assistance, as we belief he might be acting as part of a cult." Jack pulled out his notebook and began to search for his notes on the killer as he waited for the chief's response.