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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CODING
GRAPHICS
ADVERTISING
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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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APPLICATIONS
THREAD MODERATION
MEDIATOR
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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!
GENERAL INQUIRIES
CLAIMS
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STAFF NAME
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","CONTENT"] Roman was no astrology professional but he could swear he was actually able to make out a constellation on the left side of him. He squinted at it, his eyes following one bright point in the night sky after another. His mind tried to recall the name of it. He was sure it started with an O. O something. Orin? Orean? Onion? Orion! The hunter. His ability to actually remember its name made lifted the corners of his lips into a shy smirk.
As he lifted the mug to his lips and gulped down a big sip he almost choked, coughing and on the verge of spitting it all out again when a voice appeared out of the shadows. He hadn't realized there was someone else. Roman turned halfway around, one hand curled around the warm mug, the only source of warmth for the moment. He soaked it all in, feeling it slip away too fast for his liking though. Full winter hasn't hit them yet, but the cold crept further and further into the city.
As he turned around to find the voice his eyes paused on the ambulance, Elea sitting on the back of it. "I don't want to disappoint you but really, there's nothing going on up there at the moment." he said, laughing softly and offering her a smile as warm as the mug he was holding. Despite his outer appearance being seemingly cold and distant, he was pretty much the complete opposite of it. Maybe one thing he shared in common with the paramedic in front of him who was notorious for being nicknamed Ice Queen at their station. For what he knew about her at least.
Turning his head to both sides he shrugged a little, taking another sip of his coffee before speaking up again. "I couldn't sleep. Thought fresh air might be the way to go." Roman told her, pursing his lips into a tight-lipped smile. He was able to hold back the shudder that threatened to make his body tremble at the thought of the nightmares. "I could ask you the same. But I guess you just returned from a call?" he wondered, looking past her inside the ambulance before moving his gaze back to her.
The sudden sound of tires screeching, an engine belonging to a vehicle bigger than the average echoed through the night. Sirens not belonging to any fire trucks or ambulances parked inside their station blaring loudly nearby. Roman's first reaction was to cover his ears with one hand. Even though it was something he should be used to it still called for a surprise at its unexpected arrival.
Within a second he turned around, mug dropping to the floor and shattering, the logo of the fire department scattered around in bits and pieces here and there. Roman stared- stared at the fire truck racing their way, driving straight up towards the garage. He just blinked once and as if someone threw a banana peel á la Mario Kart it slipped, the driver desperately trying to maneuver it to the side. Roman expected it to work but instead, the truck did a flip, falling to the side and skidding inside the garage with whatever force it had left.
The firefighter called out a duck! in an attempt to save what was left to save and jumped to the side, landing on his arms as he glid on the rough surface bruising his arms in the action. Within an instant, he rolled onto his back, the burning on his forearms subduing as the adrenalin pushed the pain aside. His eyes were wide as he looked at the firetruck sideways on the floor. By the time he snapped out of his thoughts, it had already come to a stop but he immediately started searching for one person: Elea. The ambulance was blocked from his view. "Elea?" he called out, hoping to hear her voice from somewhere.
[attr="class","CONTENT"] The sound of an explosion rang through his ears even after he woke up, startled. Roman bolted up so fast he rolled out of the bed, crash landing on the hard floor beneath it. Groaning, he rubbed the back of his head and moved up into a sitting position, back pressed against the harsh wood frame of the bed. For a minute he just sat there, listening intently for a siren, screams, anything that could indicate it happened… but it didn’t. He was surrounded by silence - only interrupted by distant snoring.
What time was it? He soon realized he only napped for twenty minutes. A good amount of time to power nap but yet he felt worse than before. Shuddering, Roman rubbed his bare arms as he pushed himself up, quickly throwing on a sweater jacket matching his LCFD t-shirt. A yawn escaped his lips, one hand reaching up as he patted his mouth, slow steps carrying him out of his quarter.
He stalked into the kitchen area of the station, hair as messy as it could be from someone who just woke up and fell out of his bed. One lazy hand ruffled through it, making it just worse instead of better. This man was definitely in need of a haircut. Grabbing one of the clean mugs standing around next to the sink he plopped it right under the coffee machine and pressed the start button, the machine coming to life with a buzzing sound before the dark liquid started drizzling down.
Silent prayers were sent so that he could enjoy the coffee while it was hot. Being impatient and not waiting for it to cool down was a habit he developed ever since working at the Fire Department. There was just never time to wait because oops! You wait, you lose - to a call. Almost every time the coffee finished dripping down into the mug the sirens blared through the station, a voice demanding trucks and ambulance to a scene.
His lips touched the rim of the mug, and he paused, waiting for that one call to be made. His eyes looked around, slightly anxious, hands holding on to the hot porcelain. Seemed to be safe enough to attempt a sip. He blew softly on the surface of his drink, tilting the mug towards his mouth as he took a good, ol’ sip of the nectar of the gods. Although, it was a tiny bit too watery to call it that. But the LCFD could only afford so much.
Taking the mug with him he walked out of the kitchen and towards the main exit/entry where the trucks were parked. He opened up one of the gates, leaning against a pillar as he stared into the night sky. The darkness of the city actually making it possible to see the stars unlike usually when the bright lights of all the buildings would cover them all.
[attr="class","dilyrics3"]two paper moons hanging on the night ceiling sometimes to be seen, or unseen
[attr="class","dilyric3"]as it please
[attr="class","dibody3"] Roman was completely unaware of her reaction. He couldn’t see much. He heard the shuffle of her feet against the floor and her voice speak out to him but that was pretty much about it. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” Taking a step back himself he tried walking around her, one hand carefully in search of the wall, making a quick mental note to bring his full tactical gear west with him next time he had to come to the basement.
“Yeah, the elevators are our best bet.” he replied, tilting his head back softly to look at the ceiling. For a moment he thought he saw the light flicker but as he stared at it nothing else seemed to happen. He let the wall guide him back through the dark corridor, fingertips brushing past the cold matter. Roman glanced back over his shoulder ever so often, just to make sure she was still following. Although, he doubted they would lose each other down here.
There it was. Another flicker of light. Roman raised his head in hope to see it return to life only to let out a scoff when it didn’t. But at least their chances of getting out of the basement were slowly starting to get higher now. Maybe someone noticed and was already trying to fix the issue. Maybe it was just coming back on its own.
As soon as they reached the elevator again he walked straight to it, pushing the button repeatedly. Still nothing. Giving up once again he turned around, leaning against the wall next to it, arms crossed over his chest. “So, about that dinner offer. Do you have a favorite place in the city? Dining-in isn’t an option anymore but takeaway works just as well. I hope.” he said, offering her a warm smile even though she couldn’t see it. “You can choose and I’ll get it for you.”
[attr="class","dilyrics3"]two paper moons hanging on the night ceiling sometimes to be seen, or unseen
[attr="class","dilyric3"]as it please
[attr="class","dibody3"] It had been five months since the incident. Five months of visiting the hospital for check-ups - both for the heart attack and the gunshot wound, though, the latter had proven to be easier to deal with. Who would have thought the aftercare after suffering a heart attack would be so tedious. Roman had all sorts of health care workers come to him to explain, talk, help. He was told his physical fitness had taken a toll and he wasn't allowed to presume his work immediately. He had to start slow - very slow - and work his way up until he would be given the green light. It took five months.
Just when he thought everything would be somewhat back to normal the scar tissue around the entry wound started causing problems. Without hesitation, he was sent to the hospital - forced to take a day off. He would have normally gone to the General Hospital downtown but since the riots left it partly destroyed and the numbers of infected were steadily rising it was just overwhelmed with work. He borrowed his friend's car and drove to the suburbs to visit the smaller clinic. Roman remembered it from his childhood, a light shudder creeping up because he never liked it. He had a natural aversion to hospitals but as an adult, he could deal with it if he had to.
Roman parked the car outside and walked through the main entrance, the double doors automatically sliding open as he approached the sensor. The hospital smell hit him immediately, wrapping itself around his nose. He disinfected his hands, pumping some sanitizer into his palms, before walking over to the front desk. Even though he had called earlier he was told to wait - for how long they didn't know. They also handed him a paper to register himself and a pain evaluation chart.
The commanding officer took the documents and a pen from the nurse, making his way to one of the empty counters on the side. He tapped the pen against the surface - tap, tap, tap - eyebrows drawn together as he stared at the rate your pain from 1 to 10 section on the form. Filling out everything else including his personal information was a breeze. But that one question felt like an unexpected pop quiz back in school. His hand moved to his abdomen, patting the area around the scar lightly. He let out a sharp wince, tilting his head. He wasn't sure... was it a 6? Or an 8? Maybe it was just a 4 and he was overreacting?
The buzz of his phone interrupted his attempt at evaluating the pain - and he didn't mind. He fished it out of his pocket, one hand still busy tapping the pen against the counter, the other moving around the screen to check his messages when the sudden sound of a nearby explosion rang in his ears, head jerking up from the small screen.
[attr="class","dilyrics3"]two paper moons hanging on the night ceiling sometimes to be seen, or unseen
[attr="class","dilyric3"]as it please
[attr="class","dibody3"] Hearing her footsteps following him he slowed down his pace so she could keep up with him and stay nearby. He wasn’t going to leave her alone by herself in the darkness. He listened to her words, nodding along as he tried to think of possible exits and solutions. Unfortunately, most of his ideas needed light. That was his main concern. The power was out so the only thing he could think of was trying to find some spare flashlights. Maybe in the storage room, they went to earlier. But how would he expect to find them in the dark?
He arrived at the door leading to the staircase, a green non-lit EXIT sign glued to the wall above the frame. His hand reached for the door handle in the dark, missing a couple of times until he found it. Roman pushed it down and pulled the door open… only to be greeted with more darkness.
Blue eyes narrowed at the small space in front of him before he walked inside but he soon saw that at least half of the stairs leading up to the second floor were broken, burned down, or probably destroyed during an explosion. By the way, it looked someone must have thrown small explosive devices into the staircase, ripping apart the metal.
It wasn’t necessarily unusable. They could try to climb up but it definitely wasn’t safe. Maybe it could hold one person but from what he could see there was a chance of the steps breaking or falling apart after stepping on them, adding weight and pressure. It was basically like walking on a thin layer of ice on top of a lake or river.
He shook his head in defeat, stepping back and closing the door again. "Stairs are not an option." he told her, rubbing his hands together, bringing them to his face and resting it against them. "If only I had a source of light." he mumbled, hands partly covering his mouth, the knuckle of his thumb slightly pushing his lower lip upwards. "Looks like all we can do is… wait." he sighed. The corridor leading to the emergency staircase had a few more rooms to offer but he couldn’t remember any useful room down there. Nevertheless, he walked to the nearest one. Maybe they could find something to help.
Roman tried turning the doorknob to the room but unsuccessfully. He pulled and pushed a couple of times, the door only responding with a rattle. He chuckled at her attempt to lift the mood, glancing over his shoulder at her. "Let me buy you dinner once we’re out of here." he offered, or actually determined already. He owed her something other than finding a way upstairs.
That is… if they managed to get out without having to spend the night there which hopefully wasn’t going to happen. "It’s my fault you’re stuck down here with me anyway so that’s the least I can do for you. Save your five-star microwave meal for another day which doesn’t involve being trapped in the basement of the police department." He turned back around, hand reaching for the wall but accidentally brushed her hair. "Oh, sorry."
[attr="class","dilyrics3"]two paper moons hanging on the night ceiling sometimes to be seen, or unseen
[attr="class","dilyric3"]as it please
[attr="class","dibody3"] As Roman continued looking at the signs at the doors she spoke up, telling him the storage room was at the end of the corridor. “Okay.” he simply replied, saving himself the trouble of looking at the other doors and just continued straight ahead until they reached the last door on the left just like she said. Flashing his light at the sign saying Storage Room he was just about to grab the door handle when Marlowe rushed passed him. Roman let out a low chuckle, lips pressed together while making sure to aim the light inside the room so she could see.
He stopped in the doorway as he watched her look for the second lamp. He wanted to help but before he could even say something she was in and out of the storage room with the black light lamp in her hands. Nodding as she showed it to him he turned the light back towards the corridor. “Let’s go.” he repeated after her, once again stepping ahead to return to the elevator.
Looking half-way over his shoulder before blue eyes continued to look straight ahead Roman cleared his throat. “So… claustrophobia huh? Working inside your office most of the day probably doesn’t help. Remind me to never ask you to try on the bomb suit.” he started, trying to make a little conversation to ease the tension as they walked through the basement. “I guess this field trip to the basement makes it even worse. Sorry about that.” The way back seemed to be quicker than the way to the storage and it didn’t take long to reach the elevator.
He didn’t need the light to find the call button for the elevator and his fingers immediately reached for it, pushing it lightly. Now, usually, it would light up to notify the one pressing the button that the elevator is on its way… but it didn’t. Not thinking too much about it Roman pushed the button again, lifting his gaze to look at the display over the doors. Nothing. “That’s strange.” he muttered, pushing the call button several times again. Nothing. The digital display was black and the button didn’t react once.
After letting out a sigh he switched hands to hold his phone, swiping at the screen to unlock it. “Maybe I can call some-” he started saying, wanting to suggest calling for maintenance for help, perhaps the tech department or the front desk sergeant… or just any officer upstairs. The moment the phone unlocked the screen turned to black but not before the small battery symbol flashed in a bright red. The little bit of light they had disappeared as the phone shut down and Roman stared at it for half a minute, hopelessly pressing the side of his phone to get it to turn on again. Letting out yet another sigh he dropped the hand with his phone, turning around towards Marlowe.
Rubbing his neck in the dark, an apologetic smile on his face even though it wasn’t his fault the power was out - or maybe it was because the two of them were in the basement because he asked for the fingerprints. It’s not like it couldn’t have waited until tomorrow. “I guess we have to find another way or wait until the power returns.” he said, squinting in the dark as he tried to look around. There weren’t many other ways leading out of the basement. Roman slowly started walking down the way they came from, meaning to go to the corner where the second corridor on the right was. “There used to be an emergency exit but as far as I know the staircase was set on fire during the riots. It’s most likely going to be useless but I still want to check it out. You can stay here and wait or come with me if you prefer.” he shrugged, which she probably couldn't really see anyway. Placing a hand on the wall as he moved further down until he reached the corner and looked. More darkness.
[attr="class","dilyrics3"]two paper moons hanging on the night ceiling sometimes to be seen, or unseen
[attr="class","dilyric3"]as it please
[attr="class","dibody3"]
"It‘s the police. Just threaten them with the law… or worse, Internal Affairs. I know someone if you ever need help." he suggested and offered, feeling imaginary goosebumps appear on his skin at the mention of IA - probably the worst department at every police station to work at or to get summoned by. Once investigated by them it most likely was over for any officer.
"Makes me happy I chose the job where I don’t put myself into danger every day. I couldn’t do what you do."
"Maybe it is. But it‘s in the past. Nothing can be changed. I wouldn‘t want others to do the job I do, so I‘m glad it‘s me doing it." he shrugged, eyes searching the room for a possible location of the missing lamp. He didn‘t expect the fingerprints to take so long to recover but the situation couldn‘t be changed either. Roman didn‘t mind waiting, even if it was longer than he hoped for, but after all, it wasn‘t her fault someone misplaced her equipment.
Roman pushed the button on top of his phone to lock the screen, putting it back inside the pocket where he usually kept it. "Alright, got it. You don’t seem too keen on going to the basement." he assessed, judging by her sigh. He could be wrong but it was probably nothing to be worried about. Most people had a natural dislike of anything basement related no matter how nice of a basement it was. "Do you mind locking the door? I can’t risk having my suit stolen or misplaced." he asked, giving her a small smile and a light shrug. The possibilities of someone inside the station daring to steal a bomb disposal suit were low, not to mention there was no way of sneaking it out without someone seeing it, but there always was a risk of some idiot thinking they could wear it and run around the department to show off. Happened once, wasn‘t supposed to happen again.
"Lead the way."
The blonde chuckled before he started to move out of the doorway and into the hallway of the police department, walking in the direction of the elevators without much thinking. His feet knew where to go. Once he was there he pushed the down button, watching it as it lit up in a green hue, the small screen beside it displaying the numbers of the floors as it slowly, very slowly, made its way down to the two of them. Hiding his hands in the pockets of his trousers he kept his eyes fixed on the steel doors, the logo of the Lethford City Police Department printed in the middle.
As it arrived on their floor, doors sliding open with a short ding, he gestured her to go inside first. "Ladies first." he said, waiting for her to step inside before he followed, pressing the B button for the basement. It dropped down, just as slow as it took to arrive at their floor, and another ding signaled the arrival in the basement. The doors slid open once again, this time Roman stepped out first, looking down a dark corridor. He turned slightly before flipping one of the light switches. Nothing. He tried again a couple of times, flipping it up and down. Nothing. Letting out a sigh he fished out his phone and turned on the flashlight option. "I guess some things are still not fixed after the riots." he said, starting to walk, illuminating the signs on the room doors while looking for one saying storage.
The basement wasn‘t too bad. It definitely didn‘t look like a regular basement but it did smell a little old. Roman usually rarely ventured down to it, having no need for anything what could be found here, and if he did he most of the time just went to the first room, the evidence room, where everything regarding evidence was kept and archived. He wasn‘t sure where the storage room was though, perhaps in the middle? Maybe at the end? One would think every employee should know the whole building plan… but no, they didn‘t, or at least Roman didn‘t.
[attr="class","dilyrics3"]two paper moons hanging on the night ceiling sometimes to be seen, or unseen
[attr="class","dilyric3"]as it please
[attr="class","dibody3"] Roman listened to her, taking another sip of the water, quenching his thirst some more. The water helped to cool him down from the inside to help his body temperature drop to normal again. “Have you thought about installing CCTV and confront them? I mean it‘s a police department after all. There should be some kind of order at least.“ he said, lifting his shoulders for a light shrug. “If anyone outside of my team would just dare to lay a finger on the truck‘s door I would have-” he stopped himself, shaking his head. “I am a generally nice person, well, I was told, but when it comes to anything regarding work? Bad things will happen if someone gets caught.“ Too nice he was told as well, by no other than his ex.
Roman looked at the bottle of water, assessing it as if it was an explosive device. He tapped the plastic lid, watching the liquid bounce inside the container. “Oh no. Nothing serious. I was called to a bank robbery to disarm explosives, suffered a heart attack while entering, robbers thought I was playing a foul game, got shot right in the guts. I was knocked out for a couple of days. Took me five months to return to work.“ he explained, letting out a lighthearted chuckle to ease the story. It was kind of a big deal… but it kind of wasn‘t. Officers get hurt during duty on a daily basis. They get beaten, stabbed, shot, tased, pepper-sprayed. The list was endless.
“To be honest… it was probably the most stupid choice we could have made but there weren‘t any other options. What‘s even more stupid is the fact that recovering from a gunshot wound doesn‘t take nearly as much time as recovery from a heart attack. But I guess I learned my lesson. Not that I remember much of it.“ He tried tugging at the string of memories of that day, biting his inner cheek as he thought, but not a lot came to mind - at least not now as he was conscious and awake. His subconscious preferred to torture him at night with nightmares and terrors of the day it happened. They told him to get therapy and he did, but it didn’t help nor did he let them help.
The adrenaline and shock prevented him from feeling the pain, which he was thankful for because otherwise, it would have been bad and probably even more traumatic than it already was. Roman remembered the blood gushing out of his abdomen, the warmth covering his hand as he tried to apply pressure on it. He remembered falling on his knees and then he hit the cold tiles. Gunshots, screams, broken glass. His line of sight consisted of shoes running around him in panic, the dirt on the floor more visible than it ever was. Money was dropped all around him as the robbers tried to flee. The bombs never exploded. He remembered not being able to do much, not being able to help, just making the situation worse.
He hadn‘t realized he was squeezing the bottle until the crackling sound of the plastic managed to catch his attention which he then shifted to the task of finding the black light lamp. He let go of the bottle, leaving it on her desk and pushed himself away from it. His gaze wandered around the room for a quick search, looking up to the higher places she might not have checked yet. “We‘re looking for a lamp, right? Is it one of those stick types, flashlight types, or beamer types?” he started saying, focusing on his memories upon entering the room.
“Down in storage? Well, maybe it would be faster if we go down and look for the spare one.“ he suggested, already walking to the door. “Or I can go check alone.“ Roman offered, pausing in the doorway as he gestured outside with one hand and taking his phone out with the other. He opened the web browser and started searching for images of the different lamp models, flipping the phone over and handing it out to her. “If you just get me a picture of the one you need…“
[attr="class","dilyrics3"]two paper moons hanging on the night ceiling sometimes to be seen, or unseen
[attr="class","dilyric3"]as it please
[attr="class","dibody3"]
He hoped it would be fine having the suit where it was, but when she told him to put it elsewhere he didn‘t protest. “Alright. No problem.“ Roman twisted into the direction she pointed at, grabbing his disposal suit and carrying it over to the corner. He placed the neatly folded clothing on the floor, the helmet on the very top of the pile, making sure not to even let a scratch damage the $30,000 suit. Replacement hadn‘t been needed too often yet and he was glad - as well as the department - as they usually sent out the robots to disarm explosives. However, with the recent events three to four suits had to be sacrificed and while it was nothing he or his team had under their control, Roman was given a warning not to let it happen again too soon.
“That‘s why I‘m here. One of my rookies was supposed to do it but sometimes you gotta do it yourself.“ he sighed, pulling over his t-shirt to pat away some sweat on his head. Working in the bomb suit was tough and difficult to begin with, but working in it during summer? Death. Torture. All members of the bomb squad must have some masochistic tendencies considering they all do it voluntarily. „Even then, doesn‘t mean I have to be one of those reasons to work late.“ he said, shrugging, his eyes wandering around the room. This must have been the first time he was in the forensics office, never really having a reason to go there. Everything looked unfamiliar, but then again, everything looked unfamiliar since his recent return to the department. After five long months out of duty it almost felt like he was a rookie again. A rookie with a higher rank.
Roman scratched the back of his neck, observing her working on the fragment. It was all they had to work with. All the others shrapnels were ripped into such tiny pieces not even a mouse could hold it. “I doubt there will be much left to test. The heat after detonation most likely burned off all traces of DNA. But who knows. Maybe we‘re going to be lucky. I‘m satisfied if we get fingerprints off of it. Should be enough to catch that bastard and stop him from building more explosives.“ he said, his gaze moving to the desk she mentioned. “Great. Thank you.“ he answered as he strode to the other side of the room, to the desk. His put a hand on the top and bend down sideways to look for the fridge. He opened the small door, scanning the contents of it. There were other drinks to choose from but he opted for a bottle of plain water. Taking it out of the fridge, he flipped the door close, stood up, opened the lid and took a long sip emptying half of the bottle at once. Finally, he felt like he could live again.
He chuckled softly, a little sarcastic perhaps, at her telling him he might need to wait a little longer. “Don‘t worry. I spent five months stuck at home and the hospital. I don‘t mind waiting here.“ he said, the corners of his lips arched into a friendly and understanding smile. He made himself comfortable at her desk, leaning against it. „I‘m good standing, thanks. Again, too much time spent not moving around a lot. Kind of gets you after a while.“ Roman was more than happy to be back at work. It hasn‘t been long but work was work and every minute he got to spend outside of his home he appreciated. He tried taking the re-evaluation to return to work a couple of times but each time it was denied, with reasons he did not understand. He had been fine three weeks after the incident and he would have been ready to jump right back into the action but they didn‘t let him.
He silently watched her move around the room to search for the black light lamp. Raising one curious eyebrow he crossed his arms over his chest. “Anything I can help you with?“ he offered a helping hand, feeling slightly useless just standing there doing… nothing but waiting.
[attr="class","dilyrics3"]two paper moons hanging on the night ceiling sometimes to be seen, or unseen
[attr="class","dilyric3"]as it please
[attr="class","dibody3"] Roman breathed slowly, steadily. The visor in front of his eyes continued fogging up but he wasn’t planning on turning on the cooling system to clear his vision. He felt the woman take the evidence bag from his hands and with that, his own hands moved around his head to take off the helmet. “Great, thank you.” The first thing Roman did was to take a very, very, very deep breath of fresh air. Jogging through the department in an 80 pounds heavy suit wasn’t the best idea he ever had. But now that his task of bringing the evidence to the forensics was done he was able to take it off.
He placed the helmet on top of a grey cabinet holding a bunch of files inside the drawers. Then he unstrapped the sides of the jacket, pulled it to the side, and dropped it to the floor, followed by the groin protector - or diaper as they liked to jokingly call it - which might be the heaviest part of the whole suit. “So much better.” he mumbled, before gathering the clothing off the floor to keep the room from turning into a mess. He wiped away some sweat on his face, his blue LCPD shirt half soaked, turning the light shade into a darker one. He felt a tiny bit sorry for this awful sight of him, but it was rather difficult to look handsome after wearing an advanced bomb disposal suit. It was a nice excuse and thus he shrugged it off.
His head was red from the heat that built up inside the suit and his throat seemed to be burning from dryness. A quick glance around the lab he usually never visited himself and his eyes found a small fridge. “Do you mind?” he asked before marching over to the white refrigerator. Roman bent down to open it and was quite surprised to find everything but drinks inside of it. “Oh.” he muttered as he slowly closed the door again. “Sorry. I thought there might be some water inside.” he continued, awkwardly scratching the bag of his head, ruffling through his lightly damp hair.
The officer cleared his throat, standing back up and looked over to her working on the shrapnel of the explosive. “Yeah, it’s a piece of a homemade pressure cooker bomb. There were quite a lot of homemade IEDs but this one seemed to be the most popular one considering the easy access and preps to build it.” Roman explained with a little shrug. It didn’t harm anyone during the riots because it wasn’t built right and malfunctioned, causing the bomb to not explode. His team was able to retrieve it and safely detonate it later. “We were hoping you could find some fingerprints on it.”
“One of my officers was supposed to bring it in yesterday… I’m apologizing on his behalf for making you work so late.” he said, beaming a brilliant white smile at her. Once again he cleared his throat, the dryness spreading, his hands clasped together behind his back. “How long will it take?” Roman asked, his eyes aimlessly wandering around the room, wondering if he could make a quick trip to the break room on the same floor to fetch something to drink.
[attr="class","dilyrics3"]two paper moons hanging on the night ceiling sometimes to be seen, or unseen
[attr="class","dilyric3"]as it please
[attr="class","dibody3"] Roman carefully watched his new officer open the outer casing of the bomb, removing all little screws. He nodded his approval before motioning for him to continue. The two of them were both wearing the explosive ordnance disposal suits, looking like characters straight out of a science fiction movie. The sun was blasting its heat on the two of them but the newbie needed to endure it. It was part of their training. While the bomb in front of them might not be real, the situation they had to reenact had to be. So here they were, wearing the heavy armor suits, working on the bomb disposal. After he managed to cut the right wires and stop the timer from continuing further, the new team member placed the single pieces into an evidence bag and handed it over to Roman, who then proceeded to walk over to one of the trucks where the training supplies were stored in.
His bright blue eyes landed on a plastic bag with a piece of a bomb inside. He tilted his head slightly to the side, trying to figure out what this was exactly before deciding to pick it up. Turning it around so he could see the white label with the date on it telling him it was due for forensics yesterday. Yesterday. But here it was… today… in his hands. Roman turned around and showed it to his officers working on cleaning up the training space. “Why… is this still here?” he asked, his voice raised so his voice was audible. A couple of confused looks later someone stepped up, scratching the back of his head as he told Roman that he forgot to bring it over to the lab.
“What do you mean you forgot to bring it to the forensics?” Roman uttered from underneath his suit. “It’s okay. Nevermind. I will bring it over now and try to persuade them to make it top priority.” he then added, mentally rubbing the bridge of his nose but unfortunately, he wouldn’t be able to touch it while still inside the suit. He took a deep breath, trying not to let his blood pressure rise. He couldn't risk another heart attack. There was already so much time lost he didn’t bother to change despite sweating inside the thick fabric. He half-jogged, half-waddled inside the Police Department building, skillfully ignoring all the weird glances he received for walking around with the bomb disposal suit. It wasn’t the first time he had done that.
He caught the elevator just in time, squeezing himself inside between a couple of officers. “Sorry. My bad.” he apologized as he filled about half the space just by himself. He kept his head straight, coughing slightly and clearing his throat. The elevator moved too slow for his taste but after a handful of beeps, it finally stopped where he wanted to get off. He nodded his apologies, once again, as he moved through the crowd to get out of the cramped space.
Knocking gently on the door before opening it Roman stepped inside, wiping at the plastic shield in front of his face to remove the fog from his heavy breathing but forgetting it was inside and not outside of the suit. Holding up the plastic ziplock bag with evidence inside he cleared his throat before speaking up, “I’m sorry to interrupt whatever you’re doing, but we need to have this analyzed as soon as possible.”
Roman’s friends would describe him as a good-hearted, good-natured, and kind person. He’s polite, friendly, and likes to help. Be it a carrying the grocery bags for a grandma or helping an elderly lady across the street. Could also be getting a cat out of a tree or checking an apartment after a suspected break-in. He’s your handsome and friendly neighbor who could be straight out of a Hallmark movie. Roman is very simple-minded in private as his job requires him to deal with complicated constructions. He is easy-going with most people but tends to be introverted since his divorce. He prefers solitude to after-work meetings.
Roman’s ex-wife would describe him as boring. An old man stuck in a young man’s body. His humor is dry, he has no imagination. But that’s years ago. His only hobby was work back then. He now picked up binding flowers like his mother did just so it remembers him of the good old times. She also hated that he was too generous of a person toward everyone when all she wanted was his attention solely focused on her.
When it comes to his work attitude though, he changes into a completely different person. He’s confident in his skills and he knows it. He’s quite selfless and doesn’t hesitate when diffusing a bomb. He has the ability to cope with huge amounts of stress a dangerous situation usually tends to give people. He’s capable of purposefully numbing his emotions and remain emotionally removed from certain situations and people. Voluntary emotional detachment. But thanks to the job he also treats most people like they are bombs. He tends to be gentle, scared to break someone as he sees them as fragile as ticking time bombs.
However, since he had to quit the Bomb Fire Squad he sometimes feels like part of him his missing. He has yet to try and get a grasp on it... that he's not part of it anymore and even though he was able to continue work as a fire fighter sometimes, just sometimes, it's not enough for him.
[attr="class","ozapptitle"]BIOGRAPHY
Roman was born in Lethford City to Harry Donovan, an office worker, and Henrietta Donovan neé Collins, a florist who owned her own shop. The two of them had Roman when they were in their late twenties. After Roman followed one more boy, Rowan, his younger brother. The four of them lived in the suburbs of Lethford Heath, enjoying a comfortable and stable life. Roman and Rowan both were little troublemakers when they were younger. Roman had arsonist tendencies and would steal his father’s lighter to burn small things wherever he went. He was once banned from the shopping square because he started a fire in a trash can. Rowan had kleptomaniac tendencies. His fingers would be in your pocket without you knowing. The pair were known for their mischief around their neighborhood.
At the age of 12, the family had to move across the country as his father was sent to work at the new branch the company opened. Their mother was left with the choice of closing her store or staying. She decided to stay. Roman went with his father, Rowan stayed with the mother. And just like that, the family was separated.
Someday during school Roman found out he liked crafting things. And so it started that he crafted small, non-harmful explosives at the age of 15. He was suspended from school once for threatening a group of bullies to shove a bomb up their arse. He ended up getting into a couple of fights with the same group of bullies until they were expelled for starting the fights.
At the age of 19, he joined the army and worked his way up to work in the bomb disposal squad. Most of the time in the army he spent in Iran or Afghanistan. In between traveling back and forth, and being stationed at home sometimes, he met his future wife. Innocent, pure, religious. So he thought. The young couple lasted a couple of years. She would turn down the first two proposal attempts. The third one, she accepted and said yes. Roman was happy. She was not. They got married at the age of 26 and the marriage would last four years.
At the age of 30, Roman found out she was cheating on him all the time he was abroad. She had a secret child with the other man. The fact that she cheated wasn’t too big of a deal for Roman. What devastated him and almost destroyed him was that she had a child with another man while being married to him. When he asked her why she told him he was too nice, too kind, too good-hearted… too… boring. They got divorced, Roman quit his job at the army and moved back to Lethford. His father had died of a heart attack years ago.
Back in his home city, Roman wanted to visit his mother and brother, who he had lost all contact with after moving with his father, only to be told that his brother was in jail for attempted robbery and assault and his mother had moved back to home town in the West. Roman started working for the fire department - the bomb fire squad. He continued his former line of work there. It was pretty much the same just less work. Most of the time he would be training cases that might never arise in a city as quiet as Lethford.
However, he started developing the habit of grabbing a bottle of whiskey or wine to relieve anger, frustration, and stress. It would become his problem solver. But thanks to a poor diet and excessive alcohol consumption he suffered a heart attack at the age of 31. The heart attack occurred in the middle of duty. For once there something was actually happening in the city pre-virus. An attempted bank robbery. The suspects threatened to blow up the building with hostages inside. Roman and his team were sent. The suspects, stupid dumbasses, had no clue what they were doing and ended up triggering the timer without knowing how to stop it. There was no chance to escape for them. So they agreed to have someone sent inside to check. As the commanding officer Roman went. But just as he entered the building he suffered from the heart attack, the suspects mistook it as an attempt to attack them and shot him. Fortunately, Roman survived both the heart attack and the gunshot. The suspects escaped, the hostages were freed but the bombs exploded shortly after. The bank was left in ruins.
After healing from both wounds he was finally cleared and returned to work at the Fire Department. However, due to the injuries he was unable to continue his work in the bomb squad, and instead returned as a regular firefighter.