OUTBREAK: ZERO is a semi post-apocalyptic pandemic roleplay set in the fictional city of Lethford, USA. Current season: Winter, 20/21.
March 2020. The world is in pandemonium as one month ago, GHNv-20 was confirmed, five months after the beginning of norovirus season. The number of the infected are in the higher hundred thousands, and the death toll is at an estimated 250,000, with about seventy percent of the rest of the population experiencing mild to moderate illnesses connected to the S. pyogenes bacteria.
The fear of the unknown has caused mass hysteria and panic.
In an attempt to provide a semblance of safety and control, military personnel patrol the streets, even here in Lethford City, and the police force is trying to keep up with the rising street violence, assault, and theft.
Welcome to OUTBREAK: zero. Will you survive?
HAYANA
SITE OWNER + HEAD ADMINISTRATOR
Hi! I'm Haya. I'm pretty much your girl for everything! If you have any questions regarding our plot, membergroups, etc. don't hesitate to ask me. I'm also in charge of coding, graphics, anything skin related, and advertising/affiliates.
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ADDI
ADMINISTRATOR
Hey! I'm Addi. Hit me up if you need help with anything. I'm always for plotting so don't be shy. I like coffee, booze, and working out. I'm back from a long hiatus the dead so if you need anything, best ask the others until I get back into the groove of things!
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FINNLEY
GLOBAL MODERATOR
Hi hello! My name is Finnley, or Finn, call whichever and I'll be there for you (yes like the FRIENDS theme song). I am in charge of the claims and helping with miscellaneous things. Let me know if you have any questions!
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outbreak
/ˈaʊtbreɪk/ zero /ˈzɪərəʊ/
a sudden occurrence of something unwelcome, such as war or disease. number, no quantity or number; nought; the figure 0.
The sound of Dalton’s voice down the phone line earlier that day had grated, even over hundreds of miles of patchy phoneline. That honeyed little reminder that he should never have made the move from New York. Had they stayed put they could’ve handled this situation in a far less … barbaric … way. Jack had felt his own jaw tightening to the point where his teeth had been on the verge of cracking. Like it was any less barbaric anywhere else. The only gloss New York had left was on its Upper East side where they were undoubtedly ignoring the rules, continuing to hold their swanky little events, reassured by their chief of police that it was all going to be OK.
Like hell it was.
Jack stared down into the dark, fetid alleyway beneath him, grimacing faintly as he braced himself. If they had any sort of hold on this they wouldn’t have had the military patrolling, there’d have been some sort of street light reaching back here to at least show whether or not he was going to break an ankle having to leap down the last ten feet. If it hadn’t all been going so damn badly Gordon Westridge would’ve done the right thing and kept himself at his mistress’ home for the night instead of creeping back in just as he was about to walk out the door with the Klimt painting tucked neatly under his arm. Westridge wouldn’t have known honourable if it had been staring him right in the face though. His wife trapped in Milan by all of this and him continuing on his tawdry little affair as though she were still there in the apartment, monitoring everything he did.
Dear God. Letting out a long breath, Jack pushed off. The painting swung awkwardly in its protective case against his back, the weight of it almost taking him down as he hit the cracked blacktop. A stagger backwards, a hand flailing out that caught at the edge of a dumpster with the sort of wet squelch that had him groaning as he caught himself. He shook his head, bile rising up his throat as he heard the splat of something flicking off into the darkness. Wisdom would’ve stopped him painting himself into this particularly rank corner in the first place but since Zoe had started to push for answers wisdom was the last thing he was in possession with.
A divorced man, still clambering around the city as though what he were doing meant half as much as the woman he’d let go. Definitely foolish.
Jack resisted the urge to wipe the remnants of what he’d planted his hand in on his little black outfit. The sweater was cashmere, there’d be no saving it after that. Although, given his luck, it didn’t really matter did it?
The shift of light at the end of the alleyway pinned him like a deer in the headlights, both hands rising even as he ducked his head slightly to try and see past the flare of it. Enforcement of some sort. They were the only ones who’d dare to be out at this time of night, spotlighting themselves as well as him with that flashlight. ”I’m on the job,” he called out, knowing that this was a double edged sword that could quite possibly swing back and take his head with it. ”Can I reach for my badge without you putting a bullet in me?” Tensions were high, high enough that one wrong move could quite possibly see another night of violence breaking out here.
Shit had hit the fan. The world was coming to an end, and this little shit-show of a town was showing it. It was just a little virus in her mind, though; she already knew someone that had died of it. But she was numb to that person, numb to life at this point. She had seen a lot of death, being in the military. People died every day, and she feared that she would follow in those footsteps. But she fought for life, for her. Her daughter was the reason that she tried to survive, that she hadn't turned to drinking away the sorrow in a while. Though, each time she asked about her 'daddy' she wanted to drown herself in the bottle.
She still loved her husband, or rather, ex-husband. But after being away so much, living a life as a single parent for so long. The way she acted towards him. She didn't blame him for leaving. She never could. But learning that he was also coming to this town, for reasons he wasn't sharing with her - she was not ready for that. She still cared for him deeply, still loved him as if they had gotten married yesterday. She saw a future with him, and she fucked it to pieces. Even trying to co-parent with him before seemed to affect them both. And at the same time, ruin their daughter's image of them together.
But she couldn't worry about that now, not with what was happening in the world. All these fights, looting, practically ending the world as they knew it. She wondered where everywhere else looked like. Especially since she was sent orders to come here, was this the worst of it? With all the tension in the air, primarily because of the curfew and the power outages, she knew that it was only going to get worse. And that was why she was wandering the streets, in uniform, sending people home when she saw them. She was supposed to call it in, but she was giving them a break. Unless they were violent.
She held her flashlight up, moving it as she walked. Eventually, her flashlight illuminated an alleyway and made a shadow turn into a person. His hands instantly went up, and a voice called out that he was on the job. She aimed the gun, growing closer as he asked if he could reach for his badge. She nudged her gun as if a nod, "Go for it. But move slowly, for all I know, you could be reaching for a gun."
How many times had he hovered on the brink of this? Hearing someone return home early, finding himself cornered, his breath held so long that his lungs burned like wildfire, crawling out of his strategically planned and not always dignified back-up entry points, spotting a uniform just a moment before he was seen doing any of that. Having an ‘in’ at the department helped … usually. These were extraordinary times, ones Jack knew that he should’ve been paying a little more attention to. The world was locked down, people weren’t going to be trading their tawdry little black market goods, at least not of this sort, while society was breaking down around them.
A few months wouldn’t have hurt but that itch had been there and he’d taken the sort of risk he had spent so many years averse to. He’d be damned if he could avoid scratching it.
For that brief moment as the officer turned towards him, her flashlight silhouetting her behind its blinding cone of light, he’d thought it might’ve been Zoe. A similar build beneath the uniform, a gleam of dark hair, that stiff shouldered posture that meant business from the very start. He’d taken great joy in slowly working that out of Zoe, breaking down her dislike for the slick son of the city’s police chief down one snarky comment at a time.
Not Zoe though, not with that faint huskiness to the voice that emerged as the gun she carried came up. Hidden by the shadows behind that light while his own eyes narrowed to blue slits, the screen of long dark lashes doing nothing to keep the light out. Jack kept his hands up a moment longer, a sigh hissing out of his lips. ”I’m not carrying,” he promised. He never did on a ‘job’. At times like this it would’ve been wise but if he was caught the possession of a weapon would make it all the worse. Another risk he was typically averse to that was now coming back to bite him on the ass.
One hand dropped slowly, fingers spread, held in the light so she could see exactly what he was doing. Jack used two fingers to edge up his sweater, grimacing as the damp remaining on them glued the fabric to his skin for a moment. The badge sat on his belt, his perennial get out of jail card. It was always a toss up, wasn’t it? Between the thin blue line that stopped other people looking too closely and between it being realized that the thief slowly working his way through the city’s criminal upper echelons. ”Robbery-homicide,” Jack announced, knowing that she had to have seen his badge number at that distance. ”There was a call about a possible theft, I thought I’d check it out on the way home. Did it go out over your radio or did I just have the good fortune to run into a diligent officer?” Misfortune, most certainly misfortune. Jack pressed the tip of his tongue hard against the back of his teeth, lifting his hand back into the air.
'I'm not carrying.' Came the reply to her request, and she found herself scoffing. "That's what they all say," she breathed, watching him like a hawk. She had heard horror stories of people getting fucked over because they believed someone when they said they weren't carrying. She had to be cautious, and she was going to be until the guy could prove that he was allowed to be out. She adjusted her mask, pulling it tighter up her nose. It was itchy, annoying, but she wasn't about to get this virus and take it home to her daughter.
She watched him, taking in his slow movements as if he were prepared for her to shoot him if he moved too quickly. And then she took notice of his badge, the light moving down to shine on it, and took a step forward to get a better look. 'Robbery-homicide. There was a call about a possible theft; I thought I'd check it out on the way home. Did it go out over your radio or did I just have the good fortune to run into a diligent officer?'
Juno raised an eyebrow, lowering the light so that it shined on the ground. "You decided to check out a possible theft...by yourself? You detectives are weird with how you all work." With that statement, she put her gun away, holstering it at her hip. "I didn't hear anything on my radio, besides a sighting of a person out after curfew. Was told to check it out, ended up being you."
Jack let out an exasperated sigh, far more pissed at himself about this entire matter than he was at the woman now holding a weapon on him. Not a cop perhaps, not one on the clock anyway. There wasn’t enough navy polyester behind the glow of that light she held for that. That didn’t make it any better, he’d still sounded exactly like the stereotypical criminal. ’It wasn’t me…’ ‘I’m not armed, I swear’. And the next thing you knew they were practically red handed and you were fishing a six inch switch blade out of a pocket or patting the clumsy lump of a .22 tucked down a sock. He tucked his chin slightly, levering his arms higher to try and make it clear that there wasn’t an outline of a weapon on him. ”I’m not all,” he managed in clipped tones.
At least that was what he liked to tell himself. Not a common criminal, not taking these things back – could you really steal what had already been stolen after all? – for profit or so he could stick a needle in his arms. He would’ve said not common in any way but there were roots there that even Dalton couldn’t truly ignore. From common stock perhaps but he, at the very least, had tried to elevate himself above the lofty platform his father had dumped himself upon.
Watching her adjust her mask, Jack felt that momentary kick in the gut that he wasn’t wearing his. He should’ve been. Would’ve been by the time he got himself to the street. It had been a risk foregoing it but that added layer of annoyance to working was trouble he didn’t need.
Wasn’t this the same. He’d screwed up more than once tonight and now it was all coming back to bite him on his firmly honed behind. Perhaps he could’ve hung up his lock picks when things with Zoe had started to go south, handed over the intelligence he’d gathered to people who were doing this legally. He hadn’t though and now he knew that perhaps the lid would be blown off of this whole thing and Zoe would find him in a few hours, sitting behind bars like the common criminal he was trying desperately hard not to portray here.
It would perhaps have been wiser to assume the position against the chain link and allow the woman to pat him down without any resistance but all it would take was her taking a look at the architect’s map tube that was snug between his shoulders for him to figure something was up. Instead he was about to throw himself at the vague theory that if she was an officer she’d trust in the vagaries of what went out over the radio these days. Everything, being the exasperated response to that question. Jack’s lips twitched as he held his ground against her stepping closer. She lowered the light at least. ”Overstretched as a way to describe the department at the moment doesn’t come even close to it. I figured if this was just some kid taking a poor choice of routes home I’d save our people wasting time and resources on the matter. If it was something more I could call it in with a lot more clarity than some fear wracked resident.” Bullshit, all of it. The only person with a poor choice of routes home had been him.
A feigned guilelessness crept over Jack’s features, lending him that boyishness that had gotten him out of all sorts of scrapes over the years. He allowed his sweater to drop back down over his badge, smearing his fingers down it again in the process. He was going to burn the damn thing when he got back. ”Are you certain it was me?” he asked, winging a dark brow. Inching sideways, eyes narrowed, Jack made to study the alley behind her. Then he slowly twisted, looking behind him. ”Surely it would make sense that if we both got a call that there was some third party also out here somewhere.” Not likely, curfew had been enforced as strictly as their stretched thin forces could mange it. Maybe enough of a possibility to shift the spotlight further from himself though.
