Hehehe, so lookin' forward to this!

Name: Addie Mendalin

Age: 15

Appearance: Short, mouth length blonde hair with bangs, light blue grey eyes, pale skin, about 5'2, average build.

Previous Occupation/Backstory : Street loaner, who is vague on her
backstory, working odd jobs here and there, never giving one definitive
location of residence.

Preferred Weapon: Anything she can get her hands on.

Outfit: Army green pants, combat boots, dark purple t-shirt, black jacket, brown messenger bag.

Personality: Not defensive or open, sort of in between. Talkative,
but dodgy about her past. Kind, loyal, welcoming, friendly. Is a
determined sort of girl and a fierce fighter. She also likes to collect
things though, little odds and ends that she wonders if it will be
useful.

Name: Arista Nall

Age: 11

Appearance: Petite, fast, blonde hair, green eyes.

Previous occupation: Published author

Preferred weapon: Her father was a soldier so she's proficient with many weapons but uses a pistol called Firefrost.

Personality: Smart and brave. 

My first RP in a while, so I'm really excited! 

Name: Bianca Jacqueline Bourne 

Age: Just turned 15

Appearance: Tallish, maybe 5'5 with an atheletic build. Ice pale skin, and reddish brown hair that falls past her waist. Intense storm gray eyes, and the kind of smirk that makes teachers automatically hate you for being a know-it all.

Previous Occupation/ Backstory: She's a runaway. Her parents were rich, but put her into a boarding school. She couldn't stand it any longer, so one day she managed to steal a car and since then has been living off the land in the Rockies of Colorado. 

Perferred Weapon: A crossbow or the pistol that she always keeps tucked into the lining of her jacket.

Outfit: Versitile black cargo pants and an olive green tee shirt. A thin black windbreaker to keep her warm. A canvas messenger bag, and combat boots. Usually she ties her hair back in a high ponytail. As well, she slings her crossbow and a quiver of arrows across her back. 

Personality: A survivor with a heart of gold. She's terrified, but refuses to show it. She usually travels on foot, but recently, she has been scouting out campsites for the remnant, the other survivors that she feels sure exist. She's sad, but incredibly strong willed. Her only wish is to find her sister again and make good on a promise that she made long ago. Her sister is her biggest weakness.

Name: Tamar Alain. 

Age: 13

Appearance: Amerasian. Brunette, dark brown almond eyes.

Previous Occupation/Backstory: Scientist intern.

Preferred Weapon: She doesn't fight as much as the others. She's more the support crew, with the medications and food and extra ammunition. But when she does fight, she uses a small pistol.

Outfit: Jeans, grey hoodie, grey hiking boots, grey hiking backpack for all the stuff she's carrying. 

Personality: In the background a lot, but she helps out and is always logical in the few critical decisions she makes. But usually she steps aside for the others to do their work. 

asjdfasj;flasdj;asjfas;ldfasd

I NEED TO JOIN THIS RP.

To do something different, I'm going to put myself as my character. 

Name: Danie K.

Personality: me.

Apperance: Short dirty blond hair, black gloves, combat boots. 

Forgot to fill in the other info.

Previous occupation:

weapon: shotgun or slingshot

I will add a bit more information, since I was in a rush before. (I wanted to join this rp so bad!)

Danie is pretty insane, but protective. Does stupid things, can be emotional and an annoyance. (I know, I spelled it wrong.) Bossy, rude, a lyer. Usually the funny one and can come up with creative ideas.

Other: Usually found on her green bike.

Clothes: Wears a green beanie, with a black hooded jacket. Wears blue shoes that have too many holes.

YES!!!!! Noticed this JUST in time!!

Name: She used to have a full normal name, but the only name she can remember now is Bluebird.

Age: 17

Appearance: Like a California girl- blonde hair, smooth tan skin, blue eyes- except that she's five feet zero for life. The tips of her hair are dyed bright blue, though she doesn't remember ever dying them.

Previous Occupation/Backstory: She was a senior in high school when the apocalypse hit. She just barely survived the first few days, suffering such trauma (seeing family die, getting an infected cut to the foot) that she doesn't remember much about her past life.

Preferred Weapon: Bow and arrows, with which she is uncommonly good (though she has no idea how or when she got that way).

Outfit: White tank top, cropped dark green hoodie, tattered jeans, combat boots that don't quite fit (given to her by one of the other charries).

Personality: Has a confident exterior, but it cracks easily, revealing a girl who is unused to the wilderness and unsure of her place in the world. Bluebird both wants and doesn't want to remember her past; though the memories would give her a solid sense of identity, they could also contain things much better left forgotten. She has a slight bipolar tendency, alternately feeling able to lead the group and feeling absolutely useless. She's quite the quick study, but has a lot to learn about survival.

Koda says roff. Yes, Koda, I know you're obsessed with Scooby-Doo, but what do you want "off"? 

That's seven... when are we starting?

Bianca Jacqueline Bourne- 

I've been running for weeks now, maybe even months, trying to make my way across the country. I don't know where I'll end up. Maybe somewhere in Alaska. I really don't care, as long as the cops don't catch me and send me back to my New York boarding school. 

I set my compass in the pine needle carpeted earth. The light in this forest is of a dim, flickering green variety, but underneath its leafy canopy it is warm and dry. One of the benefits of being in the Rockies. I know where I am. The National Forest sign a few miles back said I was only 34 miles from Uruay, Colorado. It's comfortable here. Game is easy to get and there are piles of brush available to make shelters and fires from. Even the snowmelt helps, and the swollen streams of fresh water are plentiful. I could stay here. I could live here and no one would ever know. That's what I try to convince myself as I return to my shelter. I have been sleeping here for almost a week now, after I injured my leg and was forced to stop. But I know I can't stay. I have to find Katty, my little sister. I have to keep her safe. I promised. I can still see her brown eyes, dripping with tears as I left for boarding school two years ago. Haven't seen her since. But I promised and deep down I know that I can never break a promise to Katty.

Tamar~

"Tamar, can you sequence this? I need the data by this afternoon." Doctor Elizabeth Hallia handed Tamar a beaker full of a cloudy, goopy-looking white liquid. 

"Yes, Dr. Hallia," replied Tamar. Taking the beaker, she moved back to her own lab bench. Using a pipette, she carefully placed one drop of the liquid onto a slide and placed it under her microscope. Peering through the eyepiece, she jotted down notes onto a her lab book. "Dr. Hallia?"

Dr. Hallia turned around from her Bunsen burner. "Yes, Tamar?"

"The sequence is C-A-G-T-A-T-G-T-G-T-A," said Tamar, reading from her book.

"You are... done already?" Dr. Hallia looked over her glasses at her intern. "You sequenced a chain of polymers in less than..." she looked at her watch. "... ten minutes?"

Tamar bobbed her head. "I... I don't know, it comes easily to me," she muttered.

Dr. Hallia coughed. "Well, go over to Lab 8 and see if Dr. Sabine needs your help," she ordered. "If not, you're done for today."

Tamar washed her hands, plunked her lab book in its rack, slid her reference books back onto the shelf, and stuck her gloves into the sanitizer. Then, she slipped out the door and across the hall into Lab 8.  

Addie ~

The clatter of an empty can echoed off the alley walls. It was dark, though not so dark I couldn't see. Sounds of cars and people in a rush to goodness knows where were somewhat muted by the narrow walls. One of the many reasons I liked alleyways. Less sound, less people, more possibilities.

Those "possibilities" could be anything, from a new thing to find, like a hose, an old compact mirror, or a jar. Or they could be job opportunities. Depended on the alley.

Today though my focus wasn't as much on a job (though it should have been, I was lucky) but more on just... looking. My gaze was focused on the ground, which was wet and filthy, in hopes of finding something useful. 

"Hey kid, watcha think you're doin'?" a gravelly voice demanded. I glanced up, tucking a strand of blonde hair into the hood that framed my face. A silhouette stood outlined in a what looked like the backdoor of a restaurant. It was evidently a man, a large one at that.

"Nothing, just... lookin', I suppose," was my casual reply.

The man's face was hard to read, like it was trained to be in a poker-face, stern glare mixture. His eyes were almost the same way, though I read a bit more into them. He was thinking.

"For what?" he finally asked, like it were the safest thing to say.

I shrugged. "Not entirely sure yet."

"You need something?" he demanded, keeping his arms folded, though his frame relaxed slightly.

'A job' was on the tip of my tongue, though I refrained from blurting it out. Evidently though, the guy was used to reading people as well.

"Three hours to take out the trash and clean these dishes, and I'll give you a to-go meal and forty bucks. Take it or leave it."

I studied him for half a minute, trying to gage if this was truly legit. I then gave a firm nod, and ducked inside behind him. I was no stranger to this kind of work, and frankly, it was the kind I prefered. No backstory questions, no careful detailed work. Just get straight to it, give it some elbow grease, and no real thougt required. Get in, do it, get paid, get out. Simple. 

It was dark out by the time I was done, though I was given what I was promised. The guy, who's name I disovered was Gus, studied me as he forked over the cash. Again, I couldn't read him, though I got the vibe he pittied me. 

"Careful out there," was all he said as I left, though I understood the underlying meaning. He was wishing me well. Going out on the streets showed you the worst of humanity, but it also showed you the best. You just had to know where to look. To bad I, and everyone else, was about to see humanity's lowest.

Awesome. Full of awe. May I !!!!!!! PLEEEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE!!!!!!! join?

@Winter Firefly alright, I guess.

~ Luci ~

I nibbled my thumbnail. I had a bad habit of chewing on it when I was thinking and I had been thinking for a while, so it was torn down to the quick. I finally released it, having decided. 

A phone would be good. Phones were easy enough to use, but expensive enough to buy me a few day's chow and pay my little attic room's rent for the month. 

I pulled out a pair of shaded glasses and and a black baseball hat to cover my light hair and bright eyes. Tucking them in my pocket, I exited the room, telling the landlord I was going out for some air as I wasn't feeling well. The plump man nodded, stuffing some more Nibblets (A mix of bacon bits, mini garlic bagels, and spicy pretzels) into his mouth.

Once outside, I put on my baseball hat and sunglasses. I headed downtown, where the rich lived. I passed a bakery, which was closed for the night, and boarded a tram. I sat down in the back, behind a woman with a baby in a carrier and two toddlers on her lap. She noticed me looking at her baby and thrust her at me saying, "He's adorable, isn't he ?" 

"Yes, yes, adorable," I mumbled. The baby stared at me like I'd gone bannas and then screamed at the top of his lungs. The lady pulled him away and glared at me.

The tram stopped and I got off as quickly as I could.

Pulling my baseball hat down lower, I scanned the streets for a sign advertising brand new phones. I saw restraunts by the dozen, a infestation of makeup parlors, a spattering of fast-food places, and a few manshions. But not a single ATT&T store. It was growing dark, and I was growing despreate, so when I saw a dingy sign reading USED PHONES outside a shady building squashed between two ginourmous grocery stores, I hurried over.

Despite the softly glowing (flickering, really, as it didn't seem to be working properly) OPEN sign, it appeared to be abandoned. Just as good, I told myself. No witnesses. Assuming I could get the door open . . . I tugged on it, and it swung wide open, jingling faintly to alert the owner. Not that the owner was there . . . . 

I walked in. Old, 2025-style laptops pieces were sorted into rotting cardboard boxes. motherboards were strewn across the shelves. Memory cards for camreas, replacement keys for keyboards, they had it all . . . except for phones, it appeared.

Then I saw the single, dark gray, almost black phone. Simple with only one screen, it looked like it could be older than me. I picked it up, wondering if it worked. I pressed the power button. The phone lit up slowly. Apparently having no password, it opened the last app used : Text messaging.

There was only one text, to a " Dr. Debiith" It reads as follows.

Dear Dr. D,

  It turns out World War III will be a zombie one.

  My experiments have succeeded. However, it turns out, this imortality is not an intillegent, or pretty, one. End result : the equivilent of zombies.

   My suggestion is to flee the city.

    That's what I'm doing.

   - Dr. Pythacom