twenty-seven hours .

[. s p o r e l e t t ♪]

ooc: It's late, I'm bored, and I want to see some messy, zombie-survival action! Anyone wishing to join this may. Just jump in feet first and do whatever you want. This here rp is strictly crack!

**zombie info: Zombies are alive. They can be killed, and do not come back from the dead. They are the result of missile radiation, which almost always results in radiation sickness and death, but sometimes alters humans to a primal, aggressive state. A very small percentage of people have proven to be resistant to the radiation, and suffer minimal or no ill effects.

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It was perhaps a little over a day and a night since it had happened. The event which changed everything, which killed millions and turned the lives of billions more upside down, and eventually would put the entire world in jeopardy. That last bit is getting a bit ahead of things, but I think of course you know of what I'm speaking.

It was the apocalypse.

Let me explain this a little more clearly, so it's easy to understand. Russia and America... well, they never liked each other very much, did they? Lots of psychological warfare going on between those two--I don't even know how much Russia spends annually on boxes of "XS" condoms to ship to the US. But in any case, in the year 2059, the spy-clone scare over in Russia was enough for someone to get hasty with their button-pushing finger, and missiles ended up being sent hither and thither across the arctic ocean, conveniently drifting right over Canada, whom most everyone seemed to have forgotten about, and causing large amounts of havoc and destruction in both warring countries.

On the plus side, US counter-missiles managed to intercept the most dangerous projectiles, namely the ones headed towards places like NYC or Washington (which is apparently not the Washington I thought it was *sob* ). Unfortunately, it was impossible to stop every single one, and missiles found homes in several towns and rural areas across the US, causing huge blast zones wherever they hit and sending clouds of radiation into the air. Panic was everywhere; people in areas further away from any blast sites jostled in the street for the chance to escape the toxic landmass, generally creating increased mayhem and confusion.

It was for that reason that nobody noticed the zombie uprising until it was far, far to late.

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In a decrepit, crumbling apartment complex in the city of Detroit, which had received a glancing hit from one of the Russian missiles, Rebbecca England was lying face-down on the floor of her ruined apartment, dark blood crusting the hair at her temple. Most of her room was all dust and rubble; the only thing that stood out were the bright yellow and green rain-boots on her feet (she insisted that they were adorable and chic). The hour was currently 5:03 AM, as proudly stated by the glowing numbers on her battery-powered digital clock. It was still dark outside, and would be for another hour yet, but in the darkness the woman stirred, groping about for something to hold onto as she clutched at her head and wondered what in the nine hells had just occurred.

It was already twenty-seven hours after the impact of the missile, meaning that she had been unconscious for a good long time. It was quite possible that she had even been in a coma for some f that time, although she didn't quite have the cognitive abilities to consider that option right at the moment. Right now her only concern was finding something to drink, so she stumbled to the kitchen, kicking chunks of plaster and fallen knickknacks out of the way as she went, and fished a pitcher of juice from her dead, lifeless fridge. The milk was beginning to smell a bit chancy, but there wasn't anything wrong with the juice that she could tell; she drank it down straight from the pitcher.

Rebbecca's next order of business was to find her way out of the apartment, find a light source, and find other humans, probably not in that exact order. She had only been living there for six months, and didn't have much cash to burn on the salary of a part-time waitress, so she didn't own a flashlight. However, she did discover, upon stumbling blindly in the direction of the door, that one of the walls was busted down into her neighbour's pad. Becky noted this with curiosity and, after a moment, decided to go investigate. Maybe there was still someone in there, and they would have a flashlight. She wanted to maybe take some of her more important possessions with her, but with the hour and lack of electricity, she wasn't going to be able to find anything without a light. Clambering over the rubble and calling out in a voice slightly hoarse from disuse, the girl hoped that she wasn't the only one to have survived whatever had caused that explosion.

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name: Rebbecca "Becky" England
age: 21
birthday: April 3, 2038
gender: Female
eye colour: Brown
hair colour: Blonde
height: 5'1"
weight: 107 lbs
race: Caucasian
markings: Trio of birthmarks on right shoulderblade

» Effective yet strange fashion sense.
» Athletic build; erratic eating habits.
» Part-time waitress and college student.