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Stan Richards is 26 years old. He came to Chernaurus from Canada after graduating college, as a way of living life before settling into his career as a future mechanic. He had apprenticed in a shop for 2 years while he was in school, so he knows quite a bit about fixing up vehicles. His family didn't want him to leave, especially not his younger brother Frederick, who had always been close friends with Stan. Fred had begged Stan to bring him with when he left, but Stan said no because his brother was still in High School, and graduating was important. When he arrived in Chernaurus, and the chaos began only a few hours after his plane landed, Stan took refuge in a nearby house from the riots and flesh craving monsters outside. He watched a plane plummet out of the sky above the city of Cherno, and a massive explosion followed. He immediately wished his family was okay, and that whatever this pandemic was, it would not reach North America. The following weeks were the loneliest he had ever felt. Running from building to building in search of food and water, constantly checking over his shoulder every stride he took. Eventually he stopped hearing the distant gunfire and screams, and he feared he was all alone. He spent the next few months hunkered down in a small supermarket that was stocked with enough food to live off of. The overwhelming loneliness was starting to take a toll on his mind, as he found himself caring less about surviving this disaster. It was one rainy night that changed his outlook completely. The sound of rapid footsteps outside echoed through the streets, and the screams for help immediately registered in Stan's ears as another survivor. He threw the doors open and yelled for them to get inside quickly. It was an older woman, who was probably in her 30s. She dove through the doors as Stan shut them on the group of infected that were right on her heels. He asked her if she was okay and checked her over for any serious wounds. She had a bite on her right shoulder, which he put pressure on with a ripped up shirt. They spent the night talking about the last few months, and Stan was extremely ecstatic to finally have someone to converse with. The next morning, Stan awoke to his new friend gargling on her own blood. As he tried to check on her, she attempted to bite a chunk out of him, but he threw her off and made a run for the doors. She tackled him and clawed at him, forcing him to reach out and bash her head in with a can of peaches. Stan walked out of the grocery store, hands covered in the blood of his first kill, clenching the can of peaches as hard as he could. He looked around the streets to see wrecked cars, garbage scattered everywhere, and infected spread out amongst the fields and roads. He noticed most of them had bite marks on their arms or necks, and remembered his friends bite wound. Stan felt a sudden urge to kill anything non human that gets within a close range of him, and he headed off in search of other survivors.