Name: Wynne Walker
Mother: Deborah Walker (American, deceased via cancer prior to outbreak)
Father: Misha Helzer (Canadian, last known location in Chernarus, status unknown)
Occupation: Process Server
Skills: Rusty hunting and fishing skills learned in childhood; camping and survival skills learned living in Canada. Negotiation skills learned on the job as a process server.
Marital status: Engaged; Fiance's current status unknown
Motivation: Looking for her father, but mostly just surviving with the hope that this will blow over.
Wynne is a 30 year old who grew up with her mother in a small Canadian city called Brooks, located in the mountainous region of Alberta. Before the outbreak, she was a hard working process server. She had a knack for tracking people down and gathering information. When the outbreak occurred, she was on her way to visit her estranged father in Chernarus. As a child, she remembered very little of him. He was of indigenous and German decent, He was a fisherman by trade, and would be gone for long periods of time on commercial fishing trips. The only quality time they spent together before he left her and her mother behind was out at their family cabin in the wilderness of Canada, where he would teach her how to hunt and fish. Wynne never liked killing animals, but she enjoyed spending time in nature.
It had been nearly 20 years since she had last seen her father, and after losing her mother to cancer, Wynne was determined to try to bridge the gap that had formed between herself and her remaining family. Using her skills of information gathering, she was able to locate her father's last known whereabouts in the countryside of Chernarus. She didn't tell him she was coming, fearful that he would not receive her. Despite her fiance's concerns with rising tensions in Chernarus and the general instability of the region, Wynne left with a smile on her face and a promise to return. But, she wouldn't be returning, at least not any time soon.
After landing in Miroslavl, Wynne had only a short layover before she was to board a smaller plane to Chernarus. While in line at her new gate, she was able to catch a glimpse of a Russian news broadcast. She recognized that they were covering a military-related event in Chernarus, but her grasp on the language was too limited to gather what was being said. Footage of helicopters and Russian military planes played on a loop as the broadcasters narrated. Before Wynne could watch any more, she was guided out of her gate to the landing strip, where a smaller commercial plane waited. The plane only had about 40-50 seats on it, but it was extremely crammed compared to the 747 she had previously gotten comfortable on. At least the flight would be short, she thought.
As her plane began to descend into Cherarus' airpsace, a warning rang out over the intercom, vaguely alerting the passengers to a "military related incident" in the area. The pilots made the situation sound as if it were controlled, assuring the passengers that precautions were simply protocol, and so, Wynne and the other passengers waited with nervous anticipation as their flight circled the Airport below for several hours, until finally being given permission to land and refuel. Passengers were let off the plane at around 11pm that night, about 6 hours after the flight's scheduled landing.
The inbound flight gates were surprisingly empty, but Wynne did notice an unusually high military presence. All of the staff and military personnel seemed unnerved and hurried. Televisions were turned off, which seemed unusual to Wynne, in an airport. An automated message looped over the intercoms. With no knowledge in how to speak the language, and very little ability to read it, navigating through the airport and communicating with staff left Wynne with little clue as to what exactly was occurring. She and the other arrivals were gathered in the baggage claim area, but it seemed they were not permitted to search for their baggage. It was around this time that explosions could be heard, though it was so faint that Wynne wasn't sure that was what she was hearing over all of the other arriving passengers murmuring at the baggage claim. Lit signs at the flight gates turned red, as if to signal that flights had been grounded. Wynne could hear the shouts of angry travelers. Staff stayed strangely silent and wouldn't look travelers in their eyes. Carry on luggage was gathered, along with electronics such as cell phones, laptops, and even hand held game devices. The man who took Wynne's cell phone did not seem to speak any english. Afterwards, the passengers were escorted to a large warehouse-like room with only skylights in the roof, and they were locked in. It was at this point Wynne knew that there was something seriously wrong.
Hours passed, and the passengers stayed hushed and huddled in near darkness as echoes of what sounded like explosions rang off somewhere in the distance. Wynne could see daybreak through the skylights, the shadows of jets would sometimes pass quickly overhead, followed by more sounds in the distance. One of the other passengers, a French-Canadian, as Wynne observed, began to quietly call everyone over to the corner of the improvised cell. When the passengers curiously huddled around him, he spoke in english as well as Russian, acting as a conversational bridge between the languages. Wynne joined them when he asked if anyone didn't speak Russian. With everyone huddled in a tight circle, the man nervously opened his coat to reveal an inside pocket. Within there was a cell phone, and he was wearing a wireless earphone that he had concealed with his hat. He showed everyone his screen and turned up the volume just enough for Wynne to hear the end of a news interview with someone on the outside. The French-Canadian translated for her. Wynne was able to learn that the Russians were in a heated violent conflict with northern Chernarus, and that nearby towns and cities were being bombed and burned. The passengers gasped in horror, Wynne's heart fell into her gut. The French-Canadian translated something about the attacks being a distraction, and just as soon as those words were uttered, the door to the store room burst open, and military personnel poured into the room and began taking the passengers by the arm, one by one, dragging them out. Wynne called out as she was pulled away from the French-Canadian, asking what the escorts were saying. The French-Canadian was only able to utter the word; "Quarantine" before one of the men seized the smuggled phone and put a bullet into the French-Canadian's head.
The first week in Chernarus, Wynne and some of the other passengers practically lived in the back of military trucks, only let out when transferred to a new vehicle, moving from place to place. Wynne couldn't read many of the signs, and lost her bearings quickly. She had no idea how far they had gotten from the airport. Or where they were taking her. Or how long it had actually been. The back of the trucks had their windows blacked out by paint, but between vehicles, Wynne witnessed the Chernarus countryside turn from beautiful farmlands into desolate deadlands. Car wrecks left behind, corpses covered in plastic, evidence of large funeral pyres and mass burials. Wynne believed all these things to simply be signs of war raging. She noticed some passengers disappearing each time they stopped and changed trucks. She didn't know where they went. She didn't want to know.
One night, as Wynne and just 5 other passengers slept in their truck, they awoke to the sounds of men screaming. Wynne looked frantically at one of the other passengers, none of whom spoke english, and just said, quietly, "Russians?" The passenger, paled in the face, just shook their head no. Gunfire rang out and the passengers all dove to the bottom of the car, huddled together, hands tied, trapped. Wynne could hear hissing and spitting, as if animals were attacking. Suddenly, several rounds from an automatic rifle burst through the walls and windows of the truck, killing two of the passengers and severely injuring one. Wynne was left unscathed, but remained under the bodies of her dead counterparts in case more bullets came tearing through. The hissing continued, and there was banging and scratching on the outside of the truck. Wynne used her foot to pull a piece of the broken glass from the truck's busted out back windows closer to her, and with it she was able to cut her companions' hands free. In turn, they released her from her ropes as well. When it began to grow quieter outside, Wynne gestured toward the door, suggesting to the other survivors that they should make a break for it. The pale faced passenger shook her head no again. Just when Wynne opened her mouth to argue, the doors to the truck were violently pulled open. One of the military men attempted to clamor into the truck, over the bodies, but he was pulled to the ground swiftly by his ankles, hitting his face hard on the tailgate. Wynne and the other survivors screamed in horror as they saw what had dragged him down; a mutilated man, also in uniform, missing a significant part of his face, clawing and biting at the other military man like a rabid dog.
Wynne took this chance, as she was sure she would not get another, and bolted out of the back of the truck, stepping on the man, and also what looked like a man, on her way out. She turned to see green army tents on fire, corpses littering the ground, and men running from men who looked like corpses. She looked back toward the truck, and saw that the creature from before had gotten inside, and she could hear the screaming of the pale faced woman and the other survivors. So, with no way to help the others in her weakened state, Wynne took off into the darkness.
She ran for what seemed like hours, until her legs began to give out beneath her, through thick brush across harsh terrain, through marshlands. She ran until she came upon a beach, and finally, with nowhere else to run, defeated, she collapsed into the sand.