WanderingJester
Cool shuppy waddling away from explosions
Name: Laurence "Phantom" Stanton
Age: 26
Appearance:
Gender: Male
Strengths:
Weaknesses:
Personality: (2 paragraph minimum.)
Phantom doesn't like to share, whether that's material possessions, his time or stories about his life. This in turn makes him not very trusting of others, and given his profession, not very trustworthy either. He had been an outcast from the medium sized rural town that he came from, and he had been fine with being the loner since he understood what the word meant. However, Phantom's pet peeve (or his redeeming quality, however one looked at it) came from this: he hates owing someone something, and would do his best to get even, in good or bad deeds.
Phantom's also, though he's only experienced this with a handful of individuals in his life, an extremely loyal friend. It takes a large amount of effort on the other person's part, through the persistence and patience of a saint, in order to get through the sarcasm and offhandedness of Phantom. Once they do though, the thief would go through thick and thin for that person. Case in point, Phantom even risked his own neck pre-outbreak to lure away a squad of policemen so that his friend could get away after being corner and about to be arrested.
History: (3 Paragraph minimum.)
Laurence Stanton grew up in the back woods of western Tennessee, Stanton grew up as the child of a drug addicted mother and an absentee father. The town, luckily, was large enough for him to get lost in the crowd, though not as big as Memphis to the South. Stanton jumped from trailer park to trailer park, baring his mother service several men per day just so they can survive. Through all of that, he did his best to block out the fighting, arguing and drug abuse that his mother went through. After he turned 12, the boy couldn't take it anymore and ran away from home, vowing never to turn into his mother. Left on the streets, Stanton quickly took to shoplifting and such. After being caught and tossed into juvenile detention center, he learned the skills of the trade from another boy there, and upon release, hit the streets improved and trained in the cell blocks.
Pickpocketing his way around town, Stanton, or "Phantom" as he was known by the local criminal element at this point, graduated soon into full on burglaries. Soon he had been able to open any door, whether through locks pickable or not, mechanical or even electronic. Otherwise he just jimmied the thing open with a steel rod or something. Either way, the less than legitimate pawn dealers of the area, as well as the local police department all became familiar with the young man, among other things. One of the local gangs actually recruited Phantom to roll with them for a little bit, and the thief managed to snag more than his fair share out of the heists they pulled on the wealthier houses in the area as well as the nearby country club.
Things got heated then, as the rich and powerful began pursuing their own vendetta against Phantom. The thief wisely decided to lay low, taking refuge in one of the many trailer parks far from the outskirts of town. However, an old acquaintance found him after a few days and convinced him, against Phantom's better judgement, of one more job, getting the thief enough money to skip town. The thief reluctantly accepted, figuring that he would get away from that backwoods, and on to bigger and better things. Little did he know that the job was a set up by the local police department, and Phantom found out only once he was handcuffed and sitting in the back of a squad car, too little too late. Fortunately for him though, the outbreak occurred soon after.
Writing Sample: (3 paragraph minimum, topic: First night of the zombie apocalypse and how your character survived.)
Phantom's head bounced off of the dirty barred window, as the bus hit a bump on the highway. The young man woke from his uneasy sleep, a nightmare of sirens and shouting. He blinked a bit and looked around. The guard up at the front of the bus had a newpaper in his hand, and the rest of the prisoners were either sleeping, muttering to themselves, or looking out of the window. He shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs in his mind. The young man remembered what happened. The trial, if they could even call it that, had been quick. The pisshole of the lawyer they assigned him told him to get himself a plead bargain, and of course, what else was he going to do? So the thief plead guilty, and instead of seven years in jail, he only got three, two if he was on his best behavior. The hell with that, I don't got two years to give to these assholes.
Now Phantom was stuck in the back of a prison bus, handcuffed to some chain that ran across the floor of the vehicle. The thief jostled the paper clip in his mouth. He had to face plant himself after the trial, but it was worth it. The young man bid his time and his tongue, and knew he would only have one shot at getting out of there. He knew he couldn't have done it with the vehicle moving, or at the beginning or end of the trip. His only hope lied in having the driver deciding to take a gas and bathroom break between the courthouse holding cells and the state prison. Phantom snapped back to attention as the bus slowed. It was time.
However, it wasn't a gas station that they stopped that. It seemed that traffic had turned into a gridlock, and so the bus slowed to a halt. The lone guard in the front put down his newspaper and checked out the front windshield with the driver about what's going on. It grew quiet in the bus, too quiet. The sun was setting at this point so the light made for less than ideal visibility. Then the gut feeling hit Phantom, the same one that told him not to do the last job, the same one that told him it was a set up, and the same one that told him the paperclip was worth smashing his face on the floor as he "tripped" on the way out of a courtroom with the judge that just sentenced the next three years of his life in a state prison cell. The thief quickly slipped the paperclip out of his mouth and began undoing the cuffs.
Suddenly screams rung out in the distance. The guard in the front reached for the gun at his side, alarmed. People were running past the bus in the opposite direction, panicking. The prisoners began to stirred up, yelling at the guard and driver in front.
"Yo let us out of here man!"
"What are you doing you dumbass? Drive!"
"Oh god, what the hell is going on?"
The guard merely turned around and pointed his weapon at the convicts. "Shut up! Next one that say something gets a bullet in his head!" He then turned again, looking and yelling at the driver to radio for information. However, his attention shifted to the front door of the bus, where a man began to pound on it. Phantom looked up and froze.
No, not a man, the corpse of a man. The flesh rotten away from the skin and the clothing bloodied and torn. It looked like something had bitten the corpse's throat open when it stilled lived, and now its undying eyes focused on the driver, who looked petrified in his seat. Phantom quickly snapped himself out of it and finished the cuffs around his hands, and moved on to his feet. A bang and crash showed that the guard had opened fire on the corpse, but only succeeding in breaking the glass of the door, allowing it easier access. Just as Phantom finished the second cuffs, a scream, more terrible than the screams of the dying in the shootings he had been neared, rung out. The corpse was now on the unmoving driver, and eating him. The prisoners more or less were in riot mode, some jumping up and down, other banged on the windows. All the noise of course made more of the monsters appeared around the bus's front, and Phantom decided he had had enough. He quickly pushed open the fire escape of the back, and hopped out. The thief ran, even as the screams multiplied behind him. He slid down the ditch and quickly continued, eventually breaking into a nearby house, switching his clothes, grabbing what he could and leaving. The young man decided to head west, hoping that the infection hadn't spread beyond the borders of the Mississippi.
Only later did he found out just how mistaken that notion was.
Would you like to start as one of the first five of the safe haven?: No thanks.
Age: 26
Appearance:
Gender: Male
Strengths:
- Living on and off the streets since his youth, Phantom's survival abilities is quite sharp. In general, his survival instincts is up there with veteran soldiers. One would need it in order to simply survive in drug ridden areas of the county where he grew up.
- Phantom fights dirty and effectively. Raking eyes, groin shots, sand in eyes. Any and all advantages he could get in a conflict he'll take. If that means sneaking up on a band of enemies and killing them all in their sleep, or poisoning their food supply, so be it. He combines basic physics to armed combat. A quick twist here, and other blow there, and you can get a body full of broken bones and joints. Average (in Tennessee terms) with firearms. He couldn't be too bad given his home state.
- Phantom didn't get his nickname for nothing. Making a living as a thief, his main sustenance comes from pick-pocketing and burglaries. This made him quite well at breaking and entering (loud or quiet), as well as generally being forgettable presence in any crowd.
Weaknesses:
- Phantom has trouble with authority. Just a by product of his adolescent, where cops became his natural enemies due to his profession. The rules say one thing, and Phantom answers with "to hell with them."
- Selfish. Living on the streets taught the young man to look out for himself first. If that meant everyone else drowns in the ocean while he has the single life raft, then so be it.
- Has panic attacks. They're not regular, and actually seemingly random (they're not, he just hasn't figured out what triggers them yet). When one occurs, he feels like he's about to die of a heart attack, and must play with something in order to calm down. His most regular method is to shuffle a deck of cards in his hand.
Personality: (2 paragraph minimum.)
Phantom doesn't like to share, whether that's material possessions, his time or stories about his life. This in turn makes him not very trusting of others, and given his profession, not very trustworthy either. He had been an outcast from the medium sized rural town that he came from, and he had been fine with being the loner since he understood what the word meant. However, Phantom's pet peeve (or his redeeming quality, however one looked at it) came from this: he hates owing someone something, and would do his best to get even, in good or bad deeds.
Phantom's also, though he's only experienced this with a handful of individuals in his life, an extremely loyal friend. It takes a large amount of effort on the other person's part, through the persistence and patience of a saint, in order to get through the sarcasm and offhandedness of Phantom. Once they do though, the thief would go through thick and thin for that person. Case in point, Phantom even risked his own neck pre-outbreak to lure away a squad of policemen so that his friend could get away after being corner and about to be arrested.
History: (3 Paragraph minimum.)
Laurence Stanton grew up in the back woods of western Tennessee, Stanton grew up as the child of a drug addicted mother and an absentee father. The town, luckily, was large enough for him to get lost in the crowd, though not as big as Memphis to the South. Stanton jumped from trailer park to trailer park, baring his mother service several men per day just so they can survive. Through all of that, he did his best to block out the fighting, arguing and drug abuse that his mother went through. After he turned 12, the boy couldn't take it anymore and ran away from home, vowing never to turn into his mother. Left on the streets, Stanton quickly took to shoplifting and such. After being caught and tossed into juvenile detention center, he learned the skills of the trade from another boy there, and upon release, hit the streets improved and trained in the cell blocks.
Pickpocketing his way around town, Stanton, or "Phantom" as he was known by the local criminal element at this point, graduated soon into full on burglaries. Soon he had been able to open any door, whether through locks pickable or not, mechanical or even electronic. Otherwise he just jimmied the thing open with a steel rod or something. Either way, the less than legitimate pawn dealers of the area, as well as the local police department all became familiar with the young man, among other things. One of the local gangs actually recruited Phantom to roll with them for a little bit, and the thief managed to snag more than his fair share out of the heists they pulled on the wealthier houses in the area as well as the nearby country club.
Things got heated then, as the rich and powerful began pursuing their own vendetta against Phantom. The thief wisely decided to lay low, taking refuge in one of the many trailer parks far from the outskirts of town. However, an old acquaintance found him after a few days and convinced him, against Phantom's better judgement, of one more job, getting the thief enough money to skip town. The thief reluctantly accepted, figuring that he would get away from that backwoods, and on to bigger and better things. Little did he know that the job was a set up by the local police department, and Phantom found out only once he was handcuffed and sitting in the back of a squad car, too little too late. Fortunately for him though, the outbreak occurred soon after.
Writing Sample: (3 paragraph minimum, topic: First night of the zombie apocalypse and how your character survived.)
Phantom's head bounced off of the dirty barred window, as the bus hit a bump on the highway. The young man woke from his uneasy sleep, a nightmare of sirens and shouting. He blinked a bit and looked around. The guard up at the front of the bus had a newpaper in his hand, and the rest of the prisoners were either sleeping, muttering to themselves, or looking out of the window. He shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs in his mind. The young man remembered what happened. The trial, if they could even call it that, had been quick. The pisshole of the lawyer they assigned him told him to get himself a plead bargain, and of course, what else was he going to do? So the thief plead guilty, and instead of seven years in jail, he only got three, two if he was on his best behavior. The hell with that, I don't got two years to give to these assholes.
Now Phantom was stuck in the back of a prison bus, handcuffed to some chain that ran across the floor of the vehicle. The thief jostled the paper clip in his mouth. He had to face plant himself after the trial, but it was worth it. The young man bid his time and his tongue, and knew he would only have one shot at getting out of there. He knew he couldn't have done it with the vehicle moving, or at the beginning or end of the trip. His only hope lied in having the driver deciding to take a gas and bathroom break between the courthouse holding cells and the state prison. Phantom snapped back to attention as the bus slowed. It was time.
However, it wasn't a gas station that they stopped that. It seemed that traffic had turned into a gridlock, and so the bus slowed to a halt. The lone guard in the front put down his newspaper and checked out the front windshield with the driver about what's going on. It grew quiet in the bus, too quiet. The sun was setting at this point so the light made for less than ideal visibility. Then the gut feeling hit Phantom, the same one that told him not to do the last job, the same one that told him it was a set up, and the same one that told him the paperclip was worth smashing his face on the floor as he "tripped" on the way out of a courtroom with the judge that just sentenced the next three years of his life in a state prison cell. The thief quickly slipped the paperclip out of his mouth and began undoing the cuffs.
Suddenly screams rung out in the distance. The guard in the front reached for the gun at his side, alarmed. People were running past the bus in the opposite direction, panicking. The prisoners began to stirred up, yelling at the guard and driver in front.
"Yo let us out of here man!"
"What are you doing you dumbass? Drive!"
"Oh god, what the hell is going on?"
The guard merely turned around and pointed his weapon at the convicts. "Shut up! Next one that say something gets a bullet in his head!" He then turned again, looking and yelling at the driver to radio for information. However, his attention shifted to the front door of the bus, where a man began to pound on it. Phantom looked up and froze.
No, not a man, the corpse of a man. The flesh rotten away from the skin and the clothing bloodied and torn. It looked like something had bitten the corpse's throat open when it stilled lived, and now its undying eyes focused on the driver, who looked petrified in his seat. Phantom quickly snapped himself out of it and finished the cuffs around his hands, and moved on to his feet. A bang and crash showed that the guard had opened fire on the corpse, but only succeeding in breaking the glass of the door, allowing it easier access. Just as Phantom finished the second cuffs, a scream, more terrible than the screams of the dying in the shootings he had been neared, rung out. The corpse was now on the unmoving driver, and eating him. The prisoners more or less were in riot mode, some jumping up and down, other banged on the windows. All the noise of course made more of the monsters appeared around the bus's front, and Phantom decided he had had enough. He quickly pushed open the fire escape of the back, and hopped out. The thief ran, even as the screams multiplied behind him. He slid down the ditch and quickly continued, eventually breaking into a nearby house, switching his clothes, grabbing what he could and leaving. The young man decided to head west, hoping that the infection hadn't spread beyond the borders of the Mississippi.
Only later did he found out just how mistaken that notion was.
Would you like to start as one of the first five of the safe haven?: No thanks.
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