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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OPEN MODERATOR POSITION
outbreak
/ˈaʊtbreɪk/ zero /ˈzɪərəʊ/
a sudden occurrence of something unwelcome, such as war or disease. number, no quantity or number; nought; the figure 0.
[attr="class","dilyrics3"]Your lips feel warm to the touch You can bring me back to life On the outside you're ablaze and alive But
[attr="class","dilyric3"]you're dead inside
[attr="class","dibody3"]
"Another one." he told the barkeeper as he raised his empty glass. Suspended. The word still echoed through his head, hazel eyes glaring a hole into the wooden counter. Not to mention the pay cut he had to grudgingly accept. It was his own fault but it also wasn't. If only his partner would have listened to him. The amber colored liquid burned in his throat but it was a good burn. It was that kinda burn you needed when you're stressed or upset. Demetri was both. Stressed and upset. "Idiot." he mumbled to himself, exing the new glass. He was talking about his missing partner but himself as well. In the end they both were idiots.
"Another one."
"Another one."
As much as he wanted to drink the rest of the day away he still was nothing more than slightly buzzed. A heavy sigh escaped his lips, long fingers wrapping themselves around the cold glass. He wondered if he should just order the whole bottle - or perhaps a row of shots just for himself. Demetri usually wasn't the kind of guy to drown his worries and problems with alcohol but he just felt like doing it after visiting the Police Department and having to listen to the most annoying speeches of speeches.
"Anoth- goddammit just give me the bottle." he ordered, swirling the leftover sip of bourbon in his glass. What was he going to do for two months without being able to work? Two months. Sixty days. 1440 hours of staying away from the police station. Demetri had to temporarily give back his badge and gun. His hip never felt so empty and light before. He was banned from getting access to police files. There was nothing he could do. Knowing himself too well he knew he was going to investigate his partner's missing case and the other missing cases which it all began with. There was no way he was going to let him go like that. No one could stop him - except for the bottle in front of him... at least briefly.
Sighing once again the suspended detective filled his glass taking a big sip.
there is a swelling storm and i'm caught up in the middle of it all
"Dean you wouldn't believe the crap that came out of this patient's mouth today!" Brynlee huffed into the phone as she yanked her scrub bottoms down her thighs. Her phone pressed against her ear and shoulder as she struggled to remove them from her legs. Her brown eyes quickly moved down in frustration to try and see what was hindering her, only to realize she had forgotten to take her shoes off when she entered her apartment. With a quick huff, she kicked them off and booted them towards the shoe mat near her door. Dean was her eldest brother, and her sounding board. He was the first one she called after long days at work, seeing as another coworker called out and caused her to work a double shift at the hospital.
It was like that lately, just short staffed and frustration. She did her best to put on her professional smile and bite her tongue but once she was off duty? Oh it was on. Except, Dean seemed to have his hands full. A loud shriek came through the phone and another 'hey stop that!' followed through. Her nieces and nephew were a handful. Dean wasn't paying attention, his grunts and 'leave your brother/sister alone' were constant. Which meant she was not getting the conversation she had hoped for. Or her release of frustration by venting. "Forget it, you're busy. Tell the monsters I said I love them," she said quickly and hung up before Dean could protest, or thank her. With a quick motion, she tossed her phone down on the couch and removed the rest of her scrubs. She immediately collected them and started the sanitization and cleaning of them. So they'd be ready for the next double she was sure was going to happen.
A quick shower and towel dry later, she found herself staring around her apartment. She didn't want to be there. Sure, she was tired and needed the sleep, but she was restless. Her mind racing, legs and hands twitching. Overly tired, that's what she was. But she knew if her head hit that pillow, she would start replaying all the things she didn't get done at work and anxiety would build in her. So the whole laying down thing wasn't going to happen soon. Instead she walked to her closet, pulling on a pair of black denim jeans, a white t-shirt that had a little useless pocket above the right breast and her staple jean jacket. Topped off with a pair of combat boots, she looked about as average as possible. A quick hand ran through her hair, keys clipped to a belt loop, phone in pocket, and wallet stored in the inner pocket of her jacket, she was out the door.
She made it down the stairs of her apartment building. It was nice, she made a decent salary to keep from living in a run down place, but also knew she didn't want to spend her whole paycheck for a flashy place. She looked left and right, as if a sign would pop up that said "hey go this way". But when none appeared, she stuck to the familiar sidewalk to the left and headed towards the busier parts of town. As she walked, she triple checked that she had her medical ID, aka free pass, to be walking around without much question. A quick "I was called into work" normally helped speed through things. It didn't happen a lot, but she has been a part of one of those awkward stops for no reason. She blamed her red hair, it stood out and was like a beacon to be noticed.
Before she knew it, she stood in front of a friendly place. A bar. Oh did she feel at home as she opened the door and made her way inside. A nice breeze of air, thanks to the air conditioner, brought over familiar smells of spilt alcohol and a lingering cigar smell. She paused a moment before a grunt happened behind her, which made her hop skip out of the way and towards the actual bar. She moved around a few chairs, unconsciously steering clear of the people scattered about. Bryn wasn't dumb by any means, scatter brained, perhaps. But she knew to keep a little distance from strangers, especially as they sloshed around their drinks and touched their mouths constantly.
Germaphobe? No. But working in medical, made you aware of a lot of things. She slid into a barstool about 2 stools away from a man palming a whole bottle of... wait was that the bourbon? She waved at the bartender, recognizing the man and flashed him a toothy smile. "Is that all the bourbon you have?" She nodded towards the other bar patron before sneaking a small look at him from the corner of her eyes. "Cause I could really use a Kentucky Mulled Cider after today..." Yeah, definitely something with a bit of a punch would be needed.
demetri | tag; open | OOC: i got a little carried away.
[attr="class","dilyrics3"]Your lips feel warm to the touch You can bring me back to life On the outside you're ablaze and alive But
[attr="class","dilyric3"]you're dead inside
[attr="class","dibody3"]
He took a good sniff of his personal and favorite nectar as he swirled the golden liquid around. It was a sticky sweet, slightly sour but also smoky scent which burned through his nose - lingering in the back of his throat. It wasn’t his favorite brand but it was good enough to bust some stress which was building up inside him lately. Demetri’s hand hovered over his waist for a moment before he continued and adjusted his shirt. His side felt so light and hauntingly empty without his badge or his gun, the handcuffs, the radio… he missed the weight of his equipment. A woman yelling in the background made him whip his head around - but it turned out her yelling wasn’t an indication for danger it was just a drunken wohoo.
Having already turned his head he decided to take a look around. The bar was awfully full despite the ongoing pandemic. However, he honestly couldn't bother to say or do anything about it. It was just this tiny piece of normalcy he needed right now and if someone was to take it from him now they would be in big trouble. Tomorrow? Fine. That's okay. Close the bar, keep a six feet distance from other customers. But today he deserved his damn drinks.
He tried to keep himself busy to distract his thoughts and refrain himself from thinking too much about something he had no control over. The barkeeper had placed a small bowl of salted peanuts, smaller than the size of his palm, in front of him and he popped one into his mouth. Ugh. Demetri wasn’t the biggest fan of peanuts. Creamy peanut butter yes, raw peanuts no. This peculiar man didn’t even like the crunchy peanut butter with the bits and pieces in it. There was just something about the texture that bothered him. Throwing in two more peanuts he decided those were more than enough and quickly took a sip of his bourbon to wash it all down. Much better. Pushing the bowl aside and as far away from him as he could his ears perked up as a woman’s voice near him asked about the bottle of bourbon.
Now, he wasn’t the nicest person out there but he wouldn’t keep someone who needed a drink from getting their favorite or their preferred one. He slid the bottle over to the redhead sitting at the bar a couple of stools away from him. "I would like it back once your drink is done." The male then turned his attention to the other barkeeper. "In the meantime I’ll take three silver bullets." Hazel eyes watched the barkeeper's hand as they moved around swiftly behind the counter, grabbing a bottle of liquor after another, adding some gin and then the scotch, a slice of lemon peel and it was done. After he placed them in front of Demetri he took one and with an abrupt back-tilt of his head downed it. He couldn’t help himself but grimace a little - hadn’t had one of these in a long time.
there is a swelling storm and i'm caught up in the middle of it all
Brynlee didn't grow up Lethford, but she was that social butterfly person. When she moved there, a while before all the pandemic madness started, she went out at night. Got to know some of the local bar staff and managed to even make a few friends who she actually kept up with on the regular. Well, used to keep up with on the regular. Now even some of the harder partiers were cautious about leaving their homes unless they really needed to. And they used to lecture her about being more careful, especially since she should know all about it since she was an essential worker. But all she knew was that as long as she didn't go around licking door handles and everyone's hands, she'd be okay.
"I would like it back once your drink is done."
She let out a soft chuckle as he passed her the bottle, not the bartender, who upon further inspection was Sam tonight. Sam got right to work on the man's shot order as she palmed the bottle of scotch before boosting herself up in her chair. Sam was busy, and clearly this man was having a young life crisis, so she would help herself. Besides, she knew he way around a bar thanks to her years of bartending back in college. With a quick slide over the bar, her feet hit the rubber mat on the other side. She briefly met the eyes of the actual worker there and he gave her a quick "just don't get hurt or else my boss will kill me." Before he walked towards other patrons on the other side of the bar.
While the man was downing his shots, she got to work gathering her supplies for her own drink. Though she did not work there, it all made sense how things were kept, so she busied herself without taking forever to find all the ingredients. After it was warm and inviting, she took a sip and let out one of those commercial 'ah's' before she settled her eyes back onto the originally owner of the bourbon bottle. Well, she had nothing better to do, so why not make a new friend? Or at least make him a familiar face. She picked up a short glass and a clean rag from the stack and started wiping the glass. Brynlee skipped the ice cubes because he didn't look like he wanted to have to work around those.
She poured him a nice glass, being slightly over generous with it and put the bottle back on her side of the bar. Out of his reach for now. "You know, they say the best person to talk to when you have problems isn't a therapist," She mused as she shrugged out of her denim jacket and place it on the bar where she had been sitting. She walked over, picked up the drink she made for him and placed it down in front of him and pushed it towards him slowly. "They say to talk to your bartender." Brynlee grabbed her own drink and leaned down so her elbow held her up and she was at eye level with him, using the bar as her barrier between them. Not that it was a large one. But she was never a shy one.
"So, bourbon for your thoughts?" said a smirk across a freckled face.
[attr="class","dilyrics3"]Your lips feel warm to the touch You can bring me back to life On the outside you're ablaze and alive But
[attr="class","dilyric3"]you're dead inside
[attr="class","dibody3"]
He exchanged his empty glass with the new one she had pushed over towards him. His eyes rested on the glass for a moment before he let out a heavy sigh. Fingers tapping the clear, solid material as he thought. "I don’t think there will be enough bourbon." he finally said, taking a sip of his drink, his gaze wandering towards the already half empty bottle. Nope, definitely not enough. He downed the second shot awaiting him and grimaced ever so slightly as it left a burn down his throat. The first one went down smooth, the second one not so much. "And to be honest I’m a little paranoid talking to strangers. No offense. Comes with the job." he added with a shrug, as if he didn’t care - well, no, he actually didn’t care. He wasn’t one to talk to anyone about anything to begin with. He never quite understood people talking to their hairdressers about their lives. People nowadays and just really always had been giving their personal information to others recklessly all the time - and that’s how a lot ended up being a case for him.
Even if he would be willing to talk to someone - anyone really - about his problems… where would he start? Was there even a beginning of it all? Maybe there was. Maybe it was his stupidness causing all the problems he accumulated. But maybe he wasn’t as much at fault as he thought he was. The risk that came with the job was always there, accompanying them daily, but it just happened to hit his close circle - and it hit hard. All those times an officer lost his partner, a district his man, a wife her husband or husband his wife… it never felt like something that would happen to him because it never did - until now. Demetri wasn’t used to losing someone. The one time he had lost his parents as they were arrested and send to jail was more of a relief than anything else. The few break ups he went through? Over in a breeze. It was always him ending it and he would just burry himself in work to get distracted. There never was someone he really felt attached to anyway.
"How about a thought for a thought?" he offered, lifting his head to look at her in front of him. "I’ll tell you something about my problems in return for one of yours. Just to be fair you know. I don’t like revealing something about myself without any benefits." Hazel eyes fixed on her face, he returned the initial smirk she gave him. He quickly took another sip of the bourbon before parting his lips ever so slightly to think a moment about what to tell her without being too direct. "I lost my job because of a mistake I made. Well, technically I didn’t lose it entirely but I’m suspended. So I spend my free time in bars like this, brooding."
there is a swelling storm and i'm caught up in the middle of it all
She watched him with curious eyes. He was definitely weighed down with something heavy, enough that it was showing through his breathing and the way he was nursing that glass in front of him. As he downed the one she gave him, she watched his face contort. Ah the lovely bourbon after that first taste. It always seems to get rougher until suddenly its going down like water. And thats when you were in trouble. As he mentioned the paranoia coming with the job, she flashed him a smile. “Oh, please let me in on this game. Okay,” She said, drinking some of her own drink as she looked to the ceiling, mulling over possible ideas of what he did.
“Paranoid, bourbon loving, handsome.” She started off, before she stood back up and put her hands on her hips. She made a show of looking left, and then right, as if suddenly there were people close around them. Which there were not. She slowly leaned back down, not getting straight into his face because how rude. And she was a medical professional, so she knew better. But she lowered her voice as she put up a hand to block the no one beside them from seeing her mouth move as she spoke. “You’re FBI right? No, wait, Secret Service.” Probably wildly wrong, but that was the whole point of it. Speculate wildly to make him smile and ease up. Brynlee was that ever person to do such a thing. She looked left and right again without moving away from him. “International spy?” Her eyebrow quirking up at that.
As he looked back up at her, she waited patiently for his proposition. She leaned a bit back into her own side of the bar, her face falling back into her casual small smiled look. Friends used to swear that her face naturally rested like that, unlike others who had a case of what they called RBF. A thought for a thought huh? So he did want to talk about it, but wasn’t willing to give it up without something in return. “You’ve got yourself a deal. But be warned,” She stood back up and uncapped the bourbon that she was holding hostage, reaching out and filling up his not so empty glass. She had a feeling that he was to appreciate more of the drink as this conversation went on. She placed the bottle down and grabbed a white cloth that was near by, still completely in her ‘bartender’ roll. She started wiping down the bar top beside him before she continued her warning, “My secrets may shock you. And I will plead the fifth till I am blue in the face if you bring me to court.” That playful smirk returning.
It fell a little as he went on about his vague, yet telling enough, problem. She nodded though, pulling out another glass and started mixing a drink. She had decided she was going to at least entertain him with different drinks she knew how to make, sticking her best to bourbon since he seemed keen on it for now. “Well at least I don’t need to worry about what I may confess,” she joked, since he was on suspension, he wouldn’t be a great witness in her case. Not that she had one or anything. “Was your mistake something that could not be reversed?” She asked, trying to understand why he would be suspended from whatever job he actually had. Though in her mind, international spy seemed to fit perfectly.
She whipped the white down over her shoulder, and placed her hands on her hips. Well, the deal was a thought for a thought right? “I preform medical procedures that I haven’t done since school or never at all because of being as short staffed as we have been. And I’m concerned I am going to mess up one day and its going to cost us.” She wasn’t talking about money costs at the hospital. She was talking more her life or someone elses. This wasn’t new news, being short staffed everywhere meant people were working insane hours or doing things outside their normal tasks. But it was her reality. It was the one she faced every time she suited up at work and walked in the doors. She should really not be seeing many patients at all. But she was making rounds as if she was in residency all over again.
[attr="class","dilyrics3"]Your lips feel warm to the touch You can bring me back to life On the outside you're ablaze and alive But
[attr="class","dilyric3"]you're dead inside
[attr="class","dibody3"]
Demetri watched her with curious eyes as she leaned back instead of forward. Considering the number of people in the bar not sticking to the six feet distance rule it would have been too late already. If one of them was infected, all of them would be by now. His gaze found a wet spot in the counter in front of him where a glass with ice cubes used to stand just earlier. The cubes had melted as he made no use of them enjoying his bourbon at room temperature. He wiped at it with his thumb, creating a circle in the water. Before he replied to her extraordinary assumption about his occupation he tossed a napkin on it, watching the tissue soak up the moisture. “Close but yet not. Suspended detective would be the right answer.” he said, his lips touching the rim of the glass, pausing to give her a short-lived smirk of approval for the try, before he took a sip, eyes looking at her over the rim. “You did get the law enforcement part right. It's worth a drink of your choice on me.”
The frowny detective let out a “Ha!” at her mention of bringing her to court. He did appreciate her refilling his glass without further comments or orders. “Being a cop comes with a natural dislike of lawyers, prosecutors and judges.” he replied quickly before she continued on. He could immediately count off a batch of foul playing lawyers who would accept bribes to get their clients out of jail, prosecutors who took favors to not approve arrest warrants, judges who would pretend to be neutral but never were. Money was all that counted and Demetri felt like spitting into their faces every time he had to deal with those for his cases.
“I just hope it won't be me you have to do the procedure on.” he chuckled, the alcohol slowly affecting his mood in a more positive way. Demetri hadn’t wholeheartedly laughed in what felt like forever. Not that he was the smiley and laughing type, to begin with, but he was at least capable of doing so - of feeling those emotions of joy. However, ever since Lara had disappeared his joy disappeared with her. Every single day was like torture. Worry, concern, hate would haunt him all day long until he somehow fell asleep. And for those brief moments of sleep where he didn't dream, he could actually enjoy the nothingness embracing him. No thoughts, no dreams, no images of anyone, no voices. Nothing.
He did, however, understood the issue about being short-staffed. The police department was going through the same issue but still, they suspended him. For serious reasons of course, but with all the help they needed, they could have perhaps just downgraded his rank to patrol officer for the time being. But as always, internal affairs was being a pain in the butt.
On the mention of reversing his mistake, he frowned, once again, eyebrows drawn together to hide the pain in his expression. Staring at the bourbon in his glass he gave it a swirl and downed it, one-shotting the full glass, not able to make the words come out of his mouth otherwise. Before he gave her a chance to refill it or finish the new drink she was mixing he grabbed the bottle of bourbon and proceeded to pour himself another glass. This one too disappeared with one gulp, and he poured himself another one. Pushing the bottle away from him and back to her, one side of his lips pulling upwards into a painfully sarcastic smirk. “I don't think reversing my mistake works unless someone knows how to bring back the dead.” he finally managed to say, swallowing hard and washing out words with yet another sip.
He, not so gracefully, put down the glass on the counter. Burying his face in his hands he breathed in deeply - the smell of alcohol, smoke, sweat, and perfume making him want to gag. He didn't. Maybe he already had too many drinks, not having counted the number of glasses he downed already. Pressing his hands hard against his face, then sliding them down, head dropped as he stared at the wooden counter, hazel eyes tracing the cuts and marks made within the time of being used to hold drinks. “The thing is… someone went missing. If they hadn’t done what they did… then it would have been me. It was supposed to be me. I shouldn't be sitting here drinking the sorrow away. I should be the one gone.”
“Ahhh! So I was close,” She quipped to him. Her hand going to the invisible hat on her head to remove it in a mock bow. Looping her hand as she bent at the waist and then standing back tall with a bright smile. She snickered lightly as he offered to buy her a drink for her correct guess. “If there is anything left after you keep downing those bourbon glasses.” She teased, nodding toward the glass that he was nursing like a new born baby. She was curious as to how many he had had before she had shown up. He didn’t seem sloshed. But she also didn’t know his tolerance. Nor if he could stand up.
When he let out a dry laugh about lawyers and such, she found herself with a small look of accomplishment for a moment. He was warming up to her. Whether he actually realized it or it was the drinks helping, he was allowing her to slip in a bit. Enough that she earned a small smirk earlier and the briefest of laughs from him now. She downed another part of her drink to attempt to hide that look. Not wanting him to shut down because she was highly amused by this.
Her eyes however narrowed playfully at him as she crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ll have you know, I do have a doctorate degree. There could be a lot worse people working on you. And who knows, by the end of this pandemic, I might be able to preform surgeries on my own.” Her hands finding home on her hips. A teasing look tugging at her features, making one brow rise up and a corner of her mouth also tug up in a crooked smile. She truly hoped that it would not come to that. She was already stumbling back through the rounds, trying to get used to actual doctor duties outside of fixing machines and such. She was a good resource, and she knew she’d be demanded a damn pay raise here soon because of it.
A frown reclaimed his face and she felt her look fall slightly. Whatever he was going through wasn’t light. It wasn’t as simple as her dilemma and she almost felt bad for asking. Almost. As he leaned over and took the whole bottle, she almost playfully tackled him over the bar top. “Hey! That was not part of the deal.” She almost laughed, the bottle pushed back in her direction as he dropped the bomb on her that he did. She almost took the bottle away, but instead she left it where it was. She’d cut him off, or wait until a real bartender did. She had no words for that statement. And she watched as he folded in front of her.
She had seen this before. Family members, close friends, the sorrow of the death of a loved one or a diagnosis that might as well had signed a death certificate. She had never been able to get over the pit that grew in her chest as they had to digest the news. And he looked drained. She pulled out another glass, filling it with water. Not that it would take away the feeling of the bourbon that he had already downed, but he would appreciate it a little bit in the morning. She placed the glass in front of him. “Drink up, Agent.” They hadn’t exchanged names, nor did she feel like she needed to at this point. She was okay with keeping up the rouse that he was a secret agent.
“If it had been you, then they would be sitting here in the same seat as you. Asking the red head pretending to be a bartender the same thing. We can’t control everything. Unfortunate at times. But we do not hold all the cards in our hands. What we can do, is play the best hand we can when we have the cards we are dealt.” She said, leaning to get on his level. Her brown eyes searching him for a moment as she pushed the water closer to him still. “What matters is what you can do to help. Suspension sucks, but doesn’t mean you can’t do other things. You’ve already checked hospitals for Jane or John Doe’s? Missing flyers? Called family or friends?” She was probably asking stupid questions, but hoped that maybe it sparked something for him.
