Real Name: Nick
Nicknames: "Chaos" "Seraph" "7" "Wolf"
Division: UN Special Forces "Black Ops"
Description: He is about 5'9 with a slightly muscular build. His white skin is hidden under black camo armor. What was once short has become long, jet black hair and hides his deep red eyes. One would think red eyes would be a bit disturbing but his eyes are filled with compassion towards fellow man but a deep seated hatred towards zombies. He has an M4 carbine slung across his back, albeit without ammo. He holds a shotgun while keeping his left hand on his pistol just in case. On his right leg there is a decorated but deadly knife. The hilt is in the shape of a wolf and the sheath as a painting of a pack of arctic wolves. In the various pockets on his uniforms are first-aid kits, syringes, flares, binoculars and extra ammo. Finally, he has a laptop in a bullet proof case.
History: I am not supposed to be here. But, as this... town's condition shows, shit happens. It's usually bad too. I was part of a UN based international strike team. To the few that know of us, we were called Black Ops. Of course that was just a nickname but it stuck. Me and my squad were dropped in just outside of the city by helo. We left to find a safe building and when returned to get our stuff the helo was gone. We were lied to. Our only choice was to head deep into the Quarantine Zone. After awhile we started hearing growls, and feet shuffling. People were coming towards us... at least that's what we thought. Soon, I was the only one left. Night hit and I found a barricaded building that was lit. There was a hole that was small enough to fit through. Five people were there and they all welcomed me in. They had some computers so I got on it to start this journal. Not long after I fell asleep. The next morning I woke up in the street along with the five people in the building. They were all dead and my leg was bitten. I crawled a few blocks but then I heard buzzing and everything went black. That was all I could remember...
About a month later I awoke and the buzzing went away. I was surrounded by what I now know as zombies. But they didn't attack they were just standing there, occasionally saying "Mrh?" I found a building a grabbed a first-aid kit. I asked the large group of survivors where I was. They pointed to a sign outside that said "Welcome to North Blythville in Malton!" That is how I got here. I basically have constant access to the Internet with a laptop I found. Most of my family and friends think I am dead, and I have learned that the military basically doesn't care about the situation here anymore. Like I said, I shouldn't even be here. I was betrayed. I am gonna find a way out of this hell, and when I do. People are gonna pay. But revenge is not the most important thing right now.
|[Chaos Seraph] is a Member of the Olney Militia|
April, was a... "busy month." I joined Olney Militia and a traveling horde attacked North Blythville. I learned how to revive zombies.
May & June
May was lacking any major events. I now know how to barricade buildings.
For about a week know there has been a... well, I will just call it a war. Zombies are pretty much keeping the "core" from getting up on its feet. I have made the short journey to South Blythville to resupply and rest. I might have a strategy coming up to fix the Core.