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Server time (UTC): 2019-09-22, 06:53
Steve Manning
Character information
  1. Date of birth
    1984-03-12 (35 years old)
  2. Place of birth
  3. Nationality
    Irish American
  4. Ethnicity
  5. Languages



"So, this is it, my whole life, our, whole life was ahead of us. I can't believe she's gone". All for this pointless hunting trip. It's my fault. It was my dream vacation. Should've never come to this place. Could've gone to one of those fancy resorts she always talked about. I can't believe how helpless I was when it happened. I'm slowly going mad, the image of her being ripped apart is all i see now. I barely notice the rain and cold that is surely killing me. This is Steve Manning, a man who has lost all he had to fight for. In a world that seems to want him dead his first goal will be finding reason to continue.

"What?! The coast again, what happened? How did... Wait! Those guys. Those fucking guys. The ones with the lame berets. Hahahhaaa!!!!." Laughing hysterically, Steve slams his fists into the cold sand of the beach. "Damn it, why cant I remember their names or their faces for that matter. Just those fruity berets." It was right then that Steve felt the blood dripping down the left side of his head, and the sharp pain in his left shoulder. He was shot. How long was I out, he wondered, only for a second. Steve then sprang too his feet vowing to not let this new world defeat him. "Not That Easily." Steve shouted. Then ran at full speed into the woods. Luckily Steve was not far from a large coastal city with an abandoned police station where he was able to clean and dress his wounds, and find a few supplies. Then gunshots rang out.

From up the hill to the west. A quick three shots. Then one more. Steve crouched low and peeked out the window of the police station. "Great!?"... Steve thought. "What now". Wanting nothing to do with whatever was going on Steve quickly made his way out of town and back to the safety of the woods. Still more shots could be heard, and our survivor began to wonder what was going on. He cautiously circled his way up to the small village where the most shots sounded from. As he approached gun in hand, he could hear voices. Cheerful, almost happy voices. Like family visiting and catching up. Steve stopped for a moment pondering what to do next. Realizing hes out gunned and alone Steve holstered his weapon and just said "Hello?!". It was a man and a woman sitting by a water pump telling stories of some irrelevant topic. Steve quickly asked about all the gun shots and the two became very quite. Saying something like, "Were just practicing is all", which Steve knew was bogus but he played along. After a brief artificially friendly conversation, and the appearance of multiple people, some heavily armed and dressed in all black, Steve could sense it was time to leave before this group showed their true colors. He casually walked up to the water pump, filled his bottle and said some fast farewells and got the hell out of there. With nowhere to go Steve found a rocky spot with some hard cover on all sides and laid low for a good while. When he felt it was safe and not being followed, he engages the safety on his rifle, checks the chamber of his pistol, and draws a sawed off shotgun from his bag, leans against the rock at his back and pulling his hat down low finally falls asleep.


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