Old character stories.

[Sam Akabara]

Cause i dun want mine to die. Cause it was awesome.
Sam Akabara (Alternate universe)
Chapter one: Before the outbreak.

In a shithole in England, born and raised, fighting foreigners in alleys is where I spent a few of my days (Mind you I did this using a wide variety of gardening utensils, my favourite of which was the mighty shovel). Got an O level in cooking and joined the army. From there I thought it'd be plain sailing. Got put in the catering corps. You'd think it would get even easier. I was 18 when the gulf war happened. I was in that shit for two goddam years, right behind the front line serving soup to injured soldiers. We'd phased out the last of the L1A1's and everyone had these shitty L85A2's. Those things broke, constantly. Lucky me being a cook I didn't have to use one. Well, there was that time in the mess when this suicide bomber infiltrated the base...Bits of roast beef everywhere, but that’s neither here nor there. Through a series of "favours" for the Colonels wife and a generous application of boot polish I made corporal right before it happened. I was put in charge of a mobile soup kitchen. God that thing was SHIT. It stunk, it barley worked and some Afghans dog kept pissing in it. Luckily I wasn't the one who ate it but the dog accounted for why 30 guys in the battalion had cholera...
Anyhow, I was packing the damn thing away. Alone. AGAIN. Because that fucking dope siskins had the runs. Can’t think why. And he was the only one with me thanks to the "Iron lady's" budget cuts. I was the only man from the catering corps there. They hit us in the middle of the night, about four hundred of them. Being the resourceful fellow that I am I hid in the kitchen utensils while those bastard Arabs ripped the base to shreds. Took a good fifty of our guy’s hostage.
Knowing I had to do something and quickly I promptly took a dishcloth (God bless the Royal dishcloth manufacturing company Brighton RDMCB) and, imitating a nearby Arab, wrapped it around my head in a way akin to theirs. I then grabbed some left over greasy cooking oil from a pan, and smeared it over my hands and face. Using one such pan I took out a nearby Arab, took his poncho and infiltrated the Arab base. Here I found an Arab cooking tent. Sneaking inside and while none of the Arab cooks were looking (They were too busy playing with some bird of ours who worked the comms array) I promptly made a deadly concoction of curry, bacon, beans and old rotten carrots for the enemies dinner. While they all ate happily I stood in the shadows, waiting for my chance. Eventually the fools got the shits and dashed to their latrines, arses stinking as they went. Trying to stifle a laugh I trailed them to the latrines. When there I promptly beat the shit out of the jailer, stole the keys to the POW compound and disarmed all of the guards.
Making my way to the POW area, I disarmed several more guards using witty anecdotes and some cheese I found in the fridge. (Must have been her majesties cheese, because it soon killed them)
I rescued approximately 400 soldiers that night including five members of the SAS regiment who were out there on patrol. (Yes I am the one responsible for saving the Bravo Two zero patrol)
We promptly kicked the shit out of the shitty (Literally) Arabs and called in an airstrike from our American allies to bury the stink beneath the mountain. Of course, being the Americans simply bombing the strategic points wasn't good enough, so they bombed a nearby peasant village too "just to make sure".
I promptly returned home to the UK where I was rewarded a Victoria Cross and a date with destiny.
Taking the measly army pay I got after being discharged (After what happened to the Arabs they deemed my food a lethal weapon) I bought passage to America. There I took the citizenship test and explaining that I wouldn't take jobs from Americans as I would only be doing the jobs no sane person would do I got my green card and dual citizenship. After that, well, I travelled. A lot. I did a lot of jobs and worked in a lot of back alley takeaways. I was operating on both sides of the law at one point. For instance I was in Miami the one month, doing illegal organ harvesting for the Mafia the next I was working as a cop in NY for six months, taking bribes from the Mafia. Eventually I worked my way over to Colorado where I spent two years as a hunter/trapper, scouring the rocky north and the Canadian border for game. I shot my fair share of tourists I can tell you. But once the hunting season was over in the second year I headed on down south again, this time towards Texas. It was here that I found no signs of life and discovered my love for revolvers. Stealing a bike from a member of the Hells angels was not my smartest move perhaps, but I did it anyway. And that's how I was driven out of Texas, never being able to go back. That was the least of my worries however as I soon found myself in Sacramento. God that place was a dump. But I got some interesting work there from a Chinese fellow who went by the name of Mr Chang, Larry Chang.
My Chang had sent many men to Los Angeles to deliver a black box. These men always returned empty handed. I promptly headed down there with the promise of money, beer and free Chinese takeaways for a year if I returned with it.
Unfortunately Las Angeles turned out to be one of the BIGGEST vampire nests this side of the Mississippi. I had to stake, stab, slash and shoot my way through there. The "Black box" I was looking for happened to be possessed by one of the fuckers, but I was damn well getting it back.
I found the damn vampire with it in some seedy bar, he knew I was coming; I'd killed twenty of the bastards getting to him. And it isn’t easy fighting vampires; those bastards regenerate wounds faster than you can say FUCKING LOOK OUT HE'S HEALING A GUNSHOT WOUND WITH HIS FUCKING MIND RUN FOR YOUR FUCKING LIFE. It was THAT BAD. But this guy was nasty, he was mean and he was old. But, thanks to a clever application of holy water I defeated him by ramming my shovel through his heart, followed by his head, Damn that was tough. The box had "Pandora" written on it. I found it in the ashes of the recently re-deceased. Deciding I didn't want to put biblical myth to the test and to not push my already well strained luck I promptly returned the box to My Chang. Who I witnessed open the box only to have his soul sucked out of him, after which the box promptly resealed itself. Bastard hadn't even paid me. But I did find the coupons for free Chinese food for a year! Score!
I promptly hid the box in a very secret location (No, not under my mattress.)
After this I headed down to Nevada, and to the rather shitty city of Los Venturas. God that place was a shithole, But I went around doing odd jobs again and getting involved with the local triad syndicate as a fishmonger (Fishy business I can tell you) then the shit hit the fan properly, and I realised life may get a teensy bit hard from this point onwards. There they were. Zombies. It was a cold, dark night, a storm was raging and the wind was howling. I was walking through a rather generic back alley when suddenly, all was quiet. I was in the Eye of the storm. Suddenly it happened. Hordes of the bastards came at me like a bad Michael Jackson music video. Fortunately I had my trusty colt Single action army on me and was round the back of a hardware store. I shot the lock off and burst inside, threw some wank against the door and grabbed a shovel. I then burst through the front door, kicking and shoving my way into oblivion as I fought my way down the strip, through zombie and hippie alike (I couldn't tell the difference between the two). Damn they were worse than the vampires. At least when THEY bit you they only took SOME blood, but these greedy bastards wanted everything! I made my way out of town eventually, and standing on a hill I looked down upon the city, and I heard the moans of the dead as they slumped around, doing nothing but creating an eerie background noise.
The fight had just begun.
To be continued....

[Sam Akabara]

Big Bobs strengths:
He's big.
He's got a lotta endurance.
He's strong.
He's got a beard.
He's an expert mechanic, for Big Rigs anyhow.
He's good at making Melee weapons.
Street smarts.

Big Bobs Weaknesses:
Loner.
Racist.
Slow.
Unfit.
Not tech-savy.
Not the smartest guy in the world iin terms of pure academia.

Big Bob...Where to begin..Born in Wichita, Kansas in 69' to a stout republican type by the name of Harry Mckennon and his wife peggy-may.
Big Bob didnt have the easyest life, growing up in an all white community and present with very racist views. He graduated from a generic high school with a 0.5 Grade point average. Shortly after he grew his beard and became a truck driver for Big ass trucks co. Small ass trucks co. No.1 competitor.
Here Big Bob found his love of suspenders and hats with "hilarious" phrases on them.
Big Bob spent the next twenty years of his life tourin the country makin speedy deliveries with big rigs to all kinds of important businesses. He even did a big of drug smugglin on the side too.
Big Bob found out some other things while he was a trucker too. For one thing he found that his right arm had a constant sunburn, and that he had an affinity for prostitutes.
He was also quite fond of killing them. During those twenty years Bob killed over Seven Hundred people all over the states, some prostitutes, some hitchhikers, some stupid pansy boy bikers in bar fights.
Big Bob may not have been the smartest guy out there, but he sure was honest, and he had some fine street smarts. He could keep any rig runnin and knew how to improvise. He was especially good at improvising ways to remove corpses. One of his favourite methods was selling them to a Russian Kebab shop in Texas.
Big Bob had a fine life, the big rig, the hats, the open road, the prostitutes. But that all changed one day when those goddam liberal zombies with their ideas had to turn up and ruin everything.
Big Bob was made privy to the knowledge of the existance of the zombie menace when he picked up some shitty little hitchhiker near the state of San andreas, who was headin for Venturas, just like Bob. The guy was actin all funny, and Bib Bob dont like funny. He'd planned to know him off at the next stop, but the guy turned then and there in the cab. Damn liberal basterds always turnin when you dont want 'em to!
Zombie never got to beat Big Bob though, that dumb zombie got it when Big Bob ripped the zombies head off with his hands. Messy.
Big Bob headed into Venturas proper, where he found the city in ruins. Realising that these Goddam liberals had ruined his life again, Big Bob decided he would exterminate every single one of them bastards until nothin remained but him and his Big Rig.
And thus the epic saga of Big Bob Mckennon began, and he fought tooth and nail through that town, killin liberals as he went.
To be continued....