Thanks to a no-warning war crime, a bomb was released on Edge City, one of the largest cities in the northwestern United States. Though the bomb had killed those in close-range, mostly everyone in the city survived. However, the bomb had major side-effects, as the entire city was coated in infectious disease from the bomb's leaked residue- a simple side-effect, or perhaps the true purpose of the bomb itself.

In any case, the vast majority of the city's population have become 'infected'. Though calling them zombies would seem most appropriate, unlike the many horror films these infected people are incredibly quick and even a little more cunning. But one thing they do have in common with zombies is that they have serious homicidal tendencies, becoming incredibly violent towards anything not infected... though even with no non-infected around they'll mostly attack anything on sight, even their own.

Not much is known about the infection, it being a new development with little time to investigate or deal with. How people catch the infection is unknown, though some are thought to be 'immune'. The surviving, non-infected people try to flee the city, it being the only real chance of survival. The good news it that there is a military blockade- a safety camp- on the outer edge of the city where these survivors flock to.

It is on the quest of getting to this safety camp that two survivors meet, and where the story begins...

~ Story created by Absurditea, written by Mayor Mayhem.

Played By: Mayor Mahyem
• Name: Thomas Hood
• Gender: Male
• Age: 26
• Appearance: Tom stands at 5'11" and weighs 153lbs, having a lean yet naturally muscular build. He has short, sandy-brown hair, hazel-green eyes, and a lightly tanned, caucasian skin tone. Hair cut short, he has light sideburns on the sides of his face and a soul patch for a chin-beard. He has a small, old scar over the end of his right eyebrow, cutting through it some.
• Bio: Tom- for whom he's better known rather than Thomas- has always been a cool, fun-loving guy. He likes to linger on the lazy side and is known for playing it cool. He's comical, witty, and sarcastic, rarely taking anything seriously and always the inner life of some sort of social event he's found himself in, which usually consists of bar-going or generally palling around. He makes for a good time for sure, but little is known about his past life. After the bomb hit, Tom found himself still alive in a city full of homicidal maniacs. Though he's managed to keep his typical disposition for the most part, Tom instantly catered to 'survival-mode', almost taking it to it a bit too easily for what's considered normal...

Played by Absurditea

Name: Silas Riley
Gender: Male
Age: 23
Appearance: Silas is around 6'2" and 140lbs. He's a skinny man not packing too much muscle, however do not be deceived by his weedy stature as when needed he can support a fair amount of weight. He has warm chocolatey eyes and long sooty black hair which comes in waves to around his chin. His skin is pale and milky, with a light brown birthmark in the shape of a T on his left shoulder. He usually keeps his face clean shaven, however he can sometimes be spotted with a 5 o'clock shadow.
Biography: Silas is somewhat of an introvert, although he does enjoy socialising, he doesn't like being around people constantly. He grew up with his grandmother on the edge of the city, finding pleasure in the simple things in life, such as reading, cooking and much to his surprise, crochet. He's a little bit on the nerdy side, having a vast collection of comic books and video games, and he often lives in a bit of a dream world, envisioning himself as the main hero of the land. When the bomb hit, that was however not the case. His grandmother didn't survive the blast, and the people around him were all turned into those murderous creatures. Struggling to cope with the loss and deal with the realisation that it was every-man-for-himself, he packed a rucksack and ran. He met a small group of survivors, equally as hopeless as himself, but within the week, the group slowly thinned out until once again he was alone. Knowing that he was to suffer the same fate if he didn't buck up his ideas, he scavenged some more useful supplies as well as a lead pipe for protection, and started his journey again with his dreams of being the hero restored to their formal glory

It'd been a little over a week since the bomb hit. Nine days to be exact. Tom had all but abandoned all when he'd packed his stuff and set off. Sure, he'd stayed in his crummy apartment for the first few days, but hell, it was like those crazy assholes outside could just SMELL you. It was only a matter of time before he'd make a wrong move and they'd come after him horde-style. So when he'd spotted the first opening, he'd high-tailed it out of there.

Nine days wouldn't seem like a lot, but so much had happened. Every day brought something new, and every day was just another struggle to stay alive. Yet somehow, Tom had kept his spirits up. Or at least put on a damn good mask to cover his true feelings.

Day nine. Noon. The sky was blue and the autumn air was crisp and cool. Tom now found himself slowly and carefully pacing through some rubble from where the bomb had originally hit. Thanks to the nearby buildings being partially destroyed they were easy to excavate. He'd heard the other day that there was a military camp just outside of the city. If he was seriously going to trek all the way through the entire city to get there, he'd need more supplies.

His simple white shirt was dirty, his blue jean pants had holes in them, and his brown combat boots had more blood stains on them than he cared to count. On his back sat a mid-sized backpack. A brown belt looped around his waist with canteens of water strapped to them, among a few other things. A 9mm pistol sat on his right waist-side, for instance, a tire iron on the other. These were his only given weapons.

Pulling the tire iron out, sure to not want to cause a scene with a loud gun, Tom jumped from the broken foundation of the building to the inside. It was a gas station, and though it'd obviously been looted many times before, there was usually always at least a little something left...

It can't have been too long since the bomb had hit, but to Silas it felt like years. He'd already lost so much and he felt like he'd aged about twenty years. Before the disaster, his life was simple. He'd get his food prepared and his laundry done by his grandmother, he'd never have to lift a finger or do anything that he didn't like. He was the definition of spoiled, believing that for the rest of his days he would be the eternal child, living the Peter Pan like existence with nothing but his comics and video games to keep him going.

However, that couldn't be further from the truth. Being so ill-prepared for real life meant that he was basically a ticking time-bomb for the infected. Those horrid creatures prowling the streets would go for anyone, as he'd witnessed, and he knew he'd be one of them if he didn't sort himself out. He'd met up with a small group of people in a similar situation, and they'd vowed that they would stick together until the end. It turned out that the end wasn't too far away from the beginning, as one by one they were picked off. It ended up with Silas and another girl, a small redhead called Perry whom he found incredibly attractive. She was actually incredibly handy in what she dubbed as "survival-mode" and he assumed that she would be the one to see him through this. In a way, it was his fault that she was shredded by the infected. He sneezed when they were walking through the city, and she couldn't get away from the hoard as quick as he could.

He didn't have time to feel guilty though, he had the realisation that no-one was going to look after him now and baby him. He had to man up if he wanted to make it through alive. He ditched the vast majority of the things that he took with him, like photos and comics, and picked up some things that would actually help him on his journey.

He didn't have a back-pack like he figured would probably be a better plan, he had a messenger bag that he strung across his body to try and distribute the weight better. He also carried with him a lead pipe he picked up from a pile of rubble, it was jagged at one end and a little rusty, but it was the best weapon he had. His jeans were torn and grubby, dust coating the black denim, and his shoes were covered in all manner of dirt. He'd traded his shoes with a body, his converse although looked good, were not practical. Instead, he opted for a set of boots.

Before his group was tragically disbanded, he was told of a military camp for survivors outside the city limits. He wasn't sure which way that was or even if it actually existed, but he knew that if he had any hopes of surviving long term, he'd need to make it there. That was his main goal and the thing that kept him going, even though all he wanted to do was give up.

He'd spent the previous night asleep in the remnants of a hospital. He decided that would be a good port of call for the medical supplies, blankets and the chance to sleep in an actual bed.