They Breathe... (Zombie RP)

Name - Mason Aracos
Age - 27
Gender - M
Sexuality - Bi
Height - 5’11” / 180cm
Weight - 215lb (Builtfat/Bear)
Personality - A quiet man who holds strong opinions about things that don’t really matter anymore. He is the sort to say “Hope for the best and prepare for the worst”, and in this case, his halfhearted pessimism served him well. He works, eats, and dreams, and some people would call him dull. Those people don’t know him.

Backstory (Optional) - Always one of those rounder people, he was teased incessantly with names like Tubbo and the sort. He kept his head down and just worked harder to get in shape, but, an endomorph like him was always extra padded. He learned to live with it, and now doesn’t mind it, jokingly referring to himself as a perfect bear, and saying he’s always got an extra meal on him just in case. He got a major in botany with a minor in forestry, and worked with a number of logging companies in Maine and Canada surveying and cataloguing species and confirming the safety of practices. He has a robotic arm from an equipment malfunction, where a cat that had wandered under a hydraulic excavator being used to salvage logs from a lake needed rescuing. The cat was scooted safely out, but as he pulled his arm back, a power failure dropped the bucket on his arm and crushed it. The arm he requested was the simplest version, able to withstand the elements, same kind used for other construction and industry workers as compensation, and then he learned how to fix it and tune it up himself (at least the mechanics) with help from the logging-camp mechanic.
At the time of the attack, he was visiting his sister in Texas for her birthday, and in the panic of people escaping the smaller city, he was separated. He found them as Immortals, tried to put them out of their misery, and discovered that way they didn’t die. Then he ran like hell.

Additional Info - Due to his job, he’s good at handling horses and donkeys, can identify (basically) every species of plant endemic to the northeastern United States and Canada, and can backpack long distances without complaint. He always felt bad for the horses that had to carry him. He loves supernatural stuff, and has all kinds of stories from being out in the woods basically alone, and very firmly believes in a variety of spiritual things, which he refers to as a “religious mishmash”. Superstition has him always carry iron, silver, salt, and sage with him; good sense keeps an easy-to-care-for handgun, sling, and axe at his sides. He was taught how to use slings by his great-grandpa and now loves that bit of foresight, and can shatter a beer bottle from four hundred yards, given the right conditions. With a staff-sling, that distance is easily tripled. His lineage hails from Scotland and the Balearic Islands outside Spain, but his family is second-generation American, and he would only ever call himself that.
His plan for avoiding the zombie apocalypse is to build a tree house way up in Canada and die alone, unless he can find some small group he can be useful to, at which point he’ll drag them up to Canada with him and try to make a tree house civilization, and then they can all die together.
He has a cat named Snickerdoodle who watches his truck.



Appearance (image preferred) ^ ... And his cat!

Black-brown hair, black beard&eyebrows, with soft blue-grey eyes. A fellow definitely on the tan side of things. The arm is simple painted metal, a dark blue car-paint that keeps it from weathering. Jacket's a dusky brown, shirt a worn grey-white, pants worn blue jeans. Shoes are brown hiking boots.

Jerry rolled his eyes at the voices around him, most more than a little perturbed to see him in one piece. He didn't think for a second he deserved their hostility. He could get on people's nerves, sure, but there's always gotta be 'that guy's ya know?? He'd made the team complete in his head.

"I'm not staying here for long," he waved his gun a bit absentmindedly now that it appeared the threat of the girl had been settled. "Just looking for some protein. Got anything to trade? I've got fresh apples for days right now."

At the sound of another newcomer, Jerry swiveled and laid his eyes on the man. He raised a single eyebrow and whistles, eyeing him up and down. "You single?" Was the first thing that came from his mouth, gun not faltering at all.

shkey

That had definitely caught him off-guard, and he paused, "Ummmm"-ing as he tried to figure out what to say to a question like that. "I guess?" It was an honest answer, but not a particularly enthusiastic one, as he'd never exactly made a habit of one-night-stands and based on the reactions of the other people, he wasn't exactly wanted here. 




"If yer looking for a car that'll handle the roads better there's a hardware store down the block, with some decent full-cabs. It's pretty free of Immortals on the way, too..." He watched as the guy marched off, and gently called out the directions to it, just in case he wanted to go there. Then there was the matter of the other people here, and he slowly made his way in to the gas station. "I uh, I just would like some'a the cat food here if ya don't mind," he stated firmly, looking around for it and only picking up the tins of cat food as promised. He brought them back to his car and opened one for Snickerdoodle, who meowed a happy meow and began to eat, before he went back. Perhaps he could stick with the group for a few days, and while more noise sure meant more attention, it wasn't a bad thing to have company. He'd lock the cover on his truck bed before he went to sleep and sprinkle sand on it, just to make sure it hadn't been moved around, of course. He'd go a little mad only talking to his cat.

So, right on back to the gas station it was, and he looked around for the other people, in case they wanted introductions proper. "Do you guys still need any gas? I could probably open the hatch for the big reservoir tank and see if there's anything still left." He offered a smile, and wound the rope of the sling around his human wrist like a bracelet with a lead weight in it.

Elena's eyes ran over the newcomer, and since he hadn't pulled a weapon out at her yet, she already liked him more than the two men that seized her up earlier. The fact that he owned a cat with a name as precious as Snickerdoodle sealed the deal. At this point, she could have ignored Io and Jerry and ran off with the big bear. He seemed to know what he was doing. In a brief moment, she did feel a bit of sympathy for Dan for having being saddled with those demented fools, but at the end of the day, she just hoped that she could at least rely on one of these new faces for safety and comfort. It had been so long.

"I'm fine for gas. I don't even own a car," Elena piped up, taking a few affirmative steps towards him. "I know, it sounds stupid, not having a viable mode of transport out here, but I've had my fair share of judgement for today so I'm not particularly interested in hearing anyone else tell me what they think." There was this cold feeling in her gut that she said the wrong thing. Wow, Elena. You meet the one decent guy and you piss him off by your attitude. He really doesn't need this shit right now.

As Io was about to give up hope on the current parking lot and move to the next, a gleam of silver caught his eye. Parked at the very end of the lot lay a practically pristine vehicle, and one Io immediately took a fancy too. He quickly ran up to the side of the car, peering inside and nearly opening the driver's seat when he spotted it. A body, sitting right in the front seat. And not just any body, but one still breathing. Io's smile quickly morphed into a look of caution as he scanned the man's features.

It was clear that he was turned, likely waiting just recently based on the bumpiness of the bite wound as well as his appearance. From the looks of it, he must have just gotten bitten before he got into his car in an attempt to drive off. Io peered over to the window and noticed the door was locked, likely a last ditch effort to hide attempt to save himself from being attacked any further. Not that it'd be a problem. If anything, all Io had to do was knock the window open, shoot the bastard a few times in the head and drive off before the fucker had an attempt to get back up. Hell, the keys were even still in the car and the engine was purring rather nicely! This would be easier than Io had thought. That is, until he realized...

The engine was still running.

Io once again looked through the car window, the zombie inside pressing its face against the glass to attempt to bite him, obviously to no avail. Full... Io backed away from the car, quickly drawing his gun from his holster as he backed away. The guy was JUST bitten... That means one of those Immortals are still out here... Before Io had a chance to further survey the surroundings, a snarl caused him to whip his head to the side, right as one of the zombies lunged towards him. Instinctively, Io dodged out of the way, the zombie hitting the asphalt hard and letting out a groan. It turned to face Io, eyes bloodshot, the scratches it had just received quickly healing over.

As the undead dragged its way towards him, Io extended his arm outwards towards it, and once the creature was within 5 feet of him. *BANG BANG BANG BANG* Gunfire echoed through the abandoned town, the Immortal dropping to the floor as its brains oozed out of the bullet wounds Io had inflicted. The zombie inside the car had grown increasingly agitated, banging its own skull against the window in an attempt to shatter the glass. The pink haired man decided to help, bashing the glass inwards with the butt of his pistol, cracking the skull of the zombie in the process and causing it to wail in pain. Instead of giving it a chance to recover, Io blasted another 4 rounds into its skull, causing the Immortal to go limp.

He quickly dragged the body out of the car and brushed as much glass as he could off the seat, taking note of the distant thumping of the zombies' fists against glass from inside the restaurant. He plopped down in his seat, revving the engine and getting an enormous smirk on his face, like that of a kid opening his presents on Christmas day. He pulled out of the parking space and immediately began barreling down the street, weaving between any car or debris covering the road. He pulled back up to the gas station everyone had been congregating at, a huge smile on his face as he addressed the group.

"DAN! MOLLY!! LOOK WHAT I GOT!!!" He exclaimed.

"That's nice ta hear, but if you don't need it someone else might." It was gently reproachful, a reminder she wasn't the only one he'd asked, and wasn't the only one to think about. "And, girlie, I walked for two years. Only mode of transport that doesn't work is an Immortal-drawn sleigh." He smiled, and his whole bushy braided beard moved with it. The question remained for the other members, and he looked them over with curiosity.



"My name is Mason, Mason Aracos," he stated, and stated plainly, without trace of hesitation or lie. "And I'm just being what a human should be. You're right there, though, it's just me and Snickerdoodle over there." His robotic arm made a thumbs-back motion to the car, where the fluffball of a cat was looking out the back window lazily through the crack, enjoying fresh air and relative quiet. "Then again, I don't have all that much room fer other people, too. But he's a good cat, knows his name and some things, too. Clever lil kitter, aren't ya, Snickers?" He smiled at the mrrow that came from behind him, and nodded. That's his cat. "Offer stands, though. I got a few cans'a gas I need filled, and if ya buddy is bringing back a better car you prolly will too. You just gotta promise you won't light a smoke while I'm doing it."


Gunshots startled him, and immediately, he turned towards them, sling loosening from the human left-arm and transferring to the right mechanical one in a single, fluid motion as his demeanor went from friendly and open to hostile, but not at the people he was with. He looked a little silly, this big bulky guy not reaching for a gun or the hatchet at his sides, but this weird rope around his wrist, but as he peered around nervously, it seemed his suspicions were correct. They were near a small town, and towns had people, and people would run for the hills in trouble. Noise of shouting that was drowned out easily by forests and distance had no match to the piercing sounds of repeated gunshots. He relaxed at the sight of only one Immortal, and grabbed a fist-sized, smoothish rock from the ground and watched it lurch forwards until it had cleared the shrubbery around the gas station. Probably had already been walking at their talking or shouting, but still. He replaced the lead oval with this stone, stepped away from the people, and one- two- three swings and release.

The stone sailed fast and true, carried by metals stronger than human arms could be, and, far quieter than a gunshot, its skull fractured on one side and exploded on the other as the stone sailed clear through, leaving an equally fist-sized hole in its head. He smiled, and, checking for other noise, or staggering pale motions, saw none, and stayed on alert, picking up another rock, just in case. When the other person arrived in his sports car, however, he was clearly displeased with the choice made, even after his directions. Come on, you dumbass kid. All he said, however, was, "That is an awfully impractical car, kid. You sure you can get all ya friends in it?" Looks like the girl with the mechanical foot had some sense to her, at her complaints, as well.

Io's smile didn't falter as he listened to Molly's pessimism, the man simply brushing it off as he leaned back in the seat of the car. "Yeah, the gunshots were mine. Ran into a couple of zombies back there, nothing I couldn't handle though. I was more than willing to lose a couple bullets to nab this beaut!" He chimed, cheerily. "Who cares how much mileage it gets? We can stock up on as much gas as we need here and at any other stations we come across! No worries!" His smile faded for a moment as the larger stranger decided to butt in.

"Uuuuuuh, its just me, Molly and Dan. So yeah, we'll fit. This car has not two, but THREE seats! See?" He pulled up the center console, forming an extra seat. "Skinny ol' Dan will fit there!" He chuckled. "Not that its any of your business."

Io's jovial smile turned to one of caution as Dan burst into laughter, the man having enough experience with the blue haired fellow to know that this sort of behavior could not mean anything good. He swallowed hard, knowing he shouldn't ask, but his mouth didn't seem to get the memo. "No? What do you mean no? This will get us everywhere we need to go! Its the three of us anyways, its not like we're dragging these bums with us!" He responded.