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.
Taking a deep breath, the blonde stepped back and surveyed her things, set out neatly around the room, arranged on surfaces or packed into drawers, hung in closets or folded on shelves- yes, she had arrived, there was no doubt about that, and she didn't intend for any to arise. Now that she was here- which, in all fairness, had turned out to be rather easier than she had expected-, she was going to stay, and everyone was going to be very aware of her presence.
Being sidelined or blending into the background never had suited Emily very well, but then perhaps that was because she'd simply never had much experience of it.
The house was a grand one; in fact, it was probably a mansion, come to think of it. As a matter of fact, it was very similar to the house in which she and her parents had lived before what her mother always referred to as The Incident, as part of her ongoing quest to make her life sound more interesting than it had in fact been. But Emily had given up on feeling bitter; she'd spent some months trying it, and it hadn't got her very far, so she had decided that it was clearly time to try out some alternative methods. The one that she'd decided on was activity, and, since that was a pretty broad spectrum of possibilities, she would have to further subdivide, which left her with what she would, in the very vaguest of terms, probably have to class as being subterfuge.
Since there seemed to be nothing more that needed to be done to her room for the present, the blonde decided that it was probably about time to start investigating her wider surroundings. Finding her way around the house and introducing herself to the staff would seem to be a productive use of her time, and who knew? It might well be an important detail later on to know exactly where the mayor's home office was, always assuming that he had one and didn't in fact delegate anything that took him outside the nine to five working slot to someone else... which was always possible, she supposed. But one thing at a time, one thing at a time.
Venturing out into the corridor, she eyed up the two options and decided, on no particular basis, to head towards the stairs. The ground floor seemed to be a good place to start- it would all have to be uphill from there, after all.
[attr="class","CONTENT"] With every new regulation announced the security risk for the Mayor became higher and higher. And even though all interviews were done online via video chat or video announcement it didn't stop reporters and angry mobs from stalking the area around the City Hall. Internet bloggers fueling the fire with all sorts of conspiracy theories were becoming a thorn in the side for Casey, his staff, and the government itself. People just didn't understand the dire need for these regulations to be placed.
But higher risks and a growing amount of threats meant more security personnel was needed. Casey sat at his desk, flipping through one application after another, sorting out those who were an instant no without hesitation. He always preferred those who had experience in law enforcement or were ex-military but those were also the ones bearing risk to not be suitable at all. In the end, it was always a matter of finding out by letting them run a couple of tests. The pile consisting of candidates he found suitable and matched his requirements was significantly smaller than the ones denied.
His phone's alarm went off, a quick glance at the time on the display telling him it was time for a quick briefing before heading to the Mayor's home who had let him know in the morning that he was planning to stay at the City Hall overnight to finish his work. Casey sometime's doubted that was the truth but it wasn't any of his business, especially after being assigned to take care of his daughter the majority of the time. She was down one bodyguard anyway since he had to kindly fire Alex who had let her sneak out and attend some kind of underground party.
The dark-haired male rose from his chair, walking to the clothes rack and retrieving his suit jacket which was neatly hung on it. He slipped into it, tugging at the bottoms for a neat fit, making sure it would cover the holster secured to his hip. The weapon had always been more show than anything else. It was a known fact in the security community that if one had to draw their gun or make use of it they were already too late. Their job wasn't to fight, it was to escape and get a client out of danger's way.
Once the briefing with the guards on location was done he checked one more time with the mayor himself before leaving the premise, getting into his car and having someone drive him to the home of the Locke's. The gates of the Locke manor opened just in time for the black sedan to slide through before they closed again. The car came to a slow halt in front of the entrance and Casey emerged from the passenger seat.
He walked up the few steps towards to main entrance, pushing open a heavy wooden door with his hand. He was greeted by the familiar clean smell of the building, there was most likely no spot of dust to be found as it was always cleaned by housekeepers all around the clock. Oh, the times he was scolded for bringing in dirt from outside stuck on the sole of his shoes. As soon as he entered he automatically gave his surroundings a quick scan, finding something unexpected in front of him.
Steel-blue eyes with a small ring of ember circling the black pupil looked up at the unfamiliar blonde standing atop the staircase. Fitting the color his stare was hard and cold as he tilted his neck slightly back. He didn't recall scheduled visitors, nor was he informed of any new house personnel to be employed today. A teacher perhaps? No, he would be aware of this too. His arms were hanging casually by his side but he would not hesitate to react if this turned out to be a perilous situation.
Despite the fact that her surroundings were still reasonably new to her, the blonde moved through its corridors and in particular down its staircases with confidence and with fluidity; she had the gift of making herself immediately at home in any location, and it had been a godsend to her throughout her career. She was young, she was educated, many might have taken that as evidence of worldly inexperience and incompetence, but the way in which Emily carried herself and the way in which she integrated herself into any set of circumstances in which she might find herself, had been incredibly useful to her while she was taking her first steps. These days, of course, she had a reputation which spoke for itself, and references which would have spoken for it had it been suddenly struck mute.
But confidence was key, always, and it had not taken her half so long to put that into practice as it had done to learn it in the first place. Many people, for example, would have faltered or stumbled when suddenly confronted with what she would, if pressed, admit was a fairly intimidating presence in the doorway of a home in which they had only just arrived. Emily, however, did no such thing. Continuing on her way down the stairs to demonstrate that she did not feel threatened- but doing so slowly in order to maintain her height advantage-, she raised one carefully shaped eyebrow at the suited figure in the hallway. It was a gesture which had taken her some time to perfect, but it had been well worth the effort for the subtly nuanced range of expressions which it had allowed her. For the moment, she was opting for one which occupied a space somewhere between condescension and amusement.
"Who's asking?" she enquired, returning a question of her own just to demonstrate that she wasn't about to roll over and beg whenever he whistled. "If you've come to help carry my bags, it's very sweet of you, but you're just too late. You could come and do some unpacking if you're feeling particularly altruistic, I suppose."
Emily had been under the impression that she was moving into a private home; it had not occurred to her that she would need to deal with aspirational Secret Service agents having the run of the property. It would be an irritation, she supposed, but not one which it would be impossible to live with, and in any case, she had no real choice. God only knew what was going on out there in the rest of the city- or perhaps he didn't, perhaps that particular piece of expertise rested in what a more sensitive person than Emily might have referred to as the Other Place- and though she was far from being a shrinking violet, the blonde was pragmatic above all else. There was no sense in putting herself in the way of trouble where it could so easily be avoided, although it occurred to her now to think that perhaps it was rather hypocritical of her to be carrying on in the way that she was at this precise moment with that philosophy in mind.
Anyway, this was where she needed to be. At the heart of things, as it were. Living with the Mayor, working in the Town Hall, she was in exactly the right place to carry on with her various plans, and the situation was one which she recognised that she had been fortunate to obtain; apart from anything else, she couldn't remember ever having lived in such luxury.
[attr="class","CONTENT"] The unexpected answer made him falter just for the briefest of moments like the silhouette of a shadow dancing over his features. What he expected was a name followed by a reason. But to his dismay, he received neither. He remained in place, hands moving to the front where he folded them together, one palm resting on another. His hands were cold, coming from the outside, skin tinted a soft pink. As much as he would like to get warm, the unregistered stranger, standing on top of the stairs, needed to be dealt with first.
'Who’s asking?'
Casey let out a soft sigh, lifting his wrist before giving it a light shake. Pushing up the sleeves of both his jacket and shirt to reveal the watch underneath he looked at it. He had a timer running from the moment the car drove through the gates, even before it parked it started. A set amount of time, meticulously calculated to make his round - now being wasted. Did it disrupt his whole schedule? Maybe, but it wasn’t like he couldn’t fix it. He just had to recalculate the day once more.
He starting walking forward, taking one step after another to close the distance between himself and the blonde stranger. His shoes softly thudding against the clean marble floor barely making any noise. The tip of his shoe met the beginning of the staircase, touching the very first step. Looking up at her, his stare demanding, he reached for his ID and pulled it out. "Head of security. The one and only person who should know who goes in and out of this building and who is authorized to remove you from this property. If needed by force." he said, before putting his ID back to where it appeared from.
His gaze rested upon her face, mentally running her image through his memories to see if he could recall her from anywhere but without success. There surely must be a reason why she was here without anyone having told him in advance. It bothered him very much but he couldn't show it. Casey raised his chin, expecting defeat, because most would have given up by now.
Apparently, this was very funny to the woman in front of him. Unfortunately, it wasn’t funny at all to him. Having a stranger without credentials inside the manor, unknown to him and possibly others, could very much cost him his job. Especially if this woman was a threat as he immediately assumed from the beginning. A name was all he needed, all he wanted for now. A quick call, a simple background check, and all this trouble could be easily avoided. "If you carry any identification with you that allows you to be here you could help yourself and avoid being violently dragged out of this building within the next five minutes."
Emily sighed. Violence. Why did it always come down to violence? That was the nature of people, she supposed; when they came across something which they didn't understand, their first instinct was to hit it until it stood still for long enough for them to work out what was going on. Which was unfortunate for whoever the hell this bloke thought that he was, because Emily had absolutely no intention whatsoever of standing still. She had made a career out of being impossible to pin down; it was a skill which many government representatives appreciated in their public relations officers, and it was a skill which had won her a remarkable degree of respect from those who had been responsible for the teaching of her law course. That had always been an option, but she'd decided that she would enjoy herself more in the office than she would in the courtroom, and thus far, she had been proven correct in that opinion. She'd had fun. Of course, she had always been working towards an end goal, she had always had a view to the future, but at the same time, she had lived in the moment, which was easy to achieve in front of a room full of reporters when you never knew what the next question was going to be.
Dipping a hand into her inside pocket, the blonde extracted a lanyard with her own shiny new ID badge on it. She had, in point of fact, just stopped at the town hall to pick it up ready to start work the following Monday- which, she reflected, was probably going to turn out to be a stroke of luck. "Locke. Emily Locke," she quipped, waving it in his direction before tucking it away again. "They didn't tell you I was coming? That is a dreadful shock." Really, she would have expected better; the fact that someone was going to be moving into the house sounded like the sort of thing that the head of security might reasonably be expected to have known, but then again, the amount of time that she'd spent working with the higher echelons of just about any political system had led her to realise the total lack of administrative and logistical ability which was possessed by the people at the top. That was why they had so many millions of staff to do things for them.
"So, have I averted that dreadful fate?" The blonde raised an eyebrow. "Only, if you're going to be violently unpleasant, might I take those five minutes to go and change? This is one of my favourite suits." Good clothes, she had learned early in her career, paid well for themselves; they made you look professional, competent, the sort of person who could afford expensive suits, and once you had them on, people were suddenly falling over themselves to offer you the sort of salary that meant that you could. A good suit was a self-fulfilling prophecy.
