Work Text:
NAME: Victor Grantz
WEAPONS: a small hand ax, which is arguably more useful for chopping wood and a pocketknife
INVENTORY : A satchel for delivery and to hold his letters. Inside of it is lots of paper, paper, and more paper for his letters which include the envelopes. He keeps a journal so when he dies, someone will know who he was. Victor also had a simple med kit for minor injuries despite him not being the best doctor. In his binder/sports bra he hides a Swiss Army knife. Oh yeah and there’s Wick
GROUP: B
GROUP POSITION: Messenger
HOW DOES THIS CHARACTER SUIT THAT POSITION?
Victor has spent his entire life at the bottom of the barrel in a beat up German orphanage, but when Big Daddy gave him a home he felt great gratitude and swore on his life to serve him and his gang. Victor believes in the secrecy and love put into writing and will preserve its integrity with his life.
WHAT ADAPTATIONS ARE YOU MAKING TO YOU CHARACTER’S BACKSTORY TO SUIT THE APOCALYPTIC SETTING?
Victor was born in a most unfortunate situation, orphaned when his mother Mrs. Grantz fell ill. He soon lived in the small daycare run by the local church full of all kinds of children. Most of them were horrible though, these kids were sent there because of their actions. Victor was just unlucky.
The blonde didn’t interact with the other kids, in fear of what they would do or say. He also feared his caretakers, thinking they would betray him at some point in time. Until.. a young woman volunteering at the orphanage noticed his behaviors. She wrote letters to him, slipped notes beside his food, and gave him books to read. Victor loved this.
Being cooped up in his room with nothing to do, he appreciated the kind woman’s mindfulness of his anxiety. Soon, Victor wrote back, gleeful that their secrets would just be between them. This went on until Victor made the mistake of telling her how he really felt about himself. In the dim moonlight of a late fall, Victor wrote his heart out, making one request.
“Please call me Victor from now on.”
Of course, he made this request because his legal name wasn’t Victor at the time, but despite the simplicity of the phrase, he was dunked into a new world of trouble. Day after day, groups of other children of the orphanage came and beat the door to scare him. Threats, curses, and name calling persisted but worst of all, the woman was gone. Who could Victor trust?
For three long months the boy spent his time alone in his room having no contact with the outside world. Just a week ago he stopped eating, losing the motivation to do so. He was filled with dread and suffered from pain all the time, until Big Daddy.
Big Daddy was a big-shot “Salesman” from the United States. Having no family, Big Daddy travels to Germany to pick the perfect heir to his fortune. Within days of Victor’s self-starvation the man arrives.
It was every child’s dream in this orphanage to be adopted, so the caretakers would take them out for display and introduce them to their possible future guardians. This didn’t sit well with Big Daddy. He didn’t want any of these noisy and boisterous children near him. The caretakers noticed his displeasure and desperate to make money, they told him about Victor.
“She thinks she’s a boy, sir,” The headmistress of the orphanage warned.
Big Daddy couldn’t care less. “Is she quiet?”
“Not a word from her mouth sir.”
Victor found himself packing his things without question. He was glad to ditch this hellhole. While packing, he found something unusual. A letter from the woman he came out to. The blonde glanced at it a second time. He then crumbled it and threw it away.
When Victor and Big Daddy arrived in New York, Big Daddy asked Victor more about himself.
“You said you wanted to be a boy, right?” The bigger man questioned, gazing down at his adopted child.
Victor nods.
“Then you are a boy.”
Soon, Victor adjusted to America, learning more and more English and slowly gaining Big Daddy’s trust. The boy grew and when he turned 24, he met someone he might have loved.
Recently, Big Daddy had been asking Victor to sense letters to the same address. A sad yellow house with a dog.
It always seemed the owner was never home, so Victor would enter and greet the dog then give it the message to keep. He always came with treats, so the dog knew it was him. He slowly fell in love with this puppy, wondering who its owner could be.
One day, Victor stayed over too long and fell asleep with the dog only to awake in the owner’s arms. Victor jolted in alarm, but the owner introduced himself as Zeke, a cop. Victor thought Zeke was handsome, brown eyes, big Afro and smiling teeth. The two felt chemistry immediately.
Victor soon spent more and more time in Zeke’s home, making Big Daddy suspicious.
“Child.” Big Daddy called out for Victor. Victor came. “Have you been seeing someone?”
Victor lied.
This continued.
Big Daddy wasn’t very fond of his son keeping secrets from him and eventually sent his gang members to follow him once he visited Zeke.
Victor was playing with Wick and then Zeke approached him, with a confession.
“V-Victor I…”
Victor’s eyes lit up.
“I love you.”
The two leaned in, breathing still. Zeke tilted his head and the two’s lips touched.
Victor came home to Big Daddy sitting by a table, sipping some tea.
“Victor?”
The blonde gazed at him, curious.
“I love you, you’re the only kid I’d ever want.”
Victor smiles and goes to bed, with a dilemma between his lover and his father stuck in his mind.
“I’m sorry, dad.”
Victor would pack his things and leave at midnight, deciding Zeke’s love was more important than his father’s. The blonde didn’t leave a trace of his existence behind in his room and jumped out the window to avoid Big Daddy’s guards.
Victor ran down that familiar path, racing through the darkened streets, and guided by the silver moonlight. He knew his love couldn’t wait.
When the blonde finally came across that boxy orange house with its glistening front yard he stopped. Victor’s eyes were wide like saucers.
The home burned elegantly with not a spark out of line, engulfing what was Zeke’s garage and slowly swallowing up that evergreen grass surrounding his porch.
The blonde without thinking dashed into the entrance. The smell of burning skin reached his nose as he plunged himself into the kitchen.
Victor heard whining, the slightest noise hidden behind layers of fallen wood.
Wick.
Victor dug the puppy out and rushed to the nearest window, beating it again and again.
“Please, Please…” Victor whined as his lungs started to tighten up. His voice became raspy and weak, permanently damaged.
The blonde screamed and kicked the window, glass shattering. He jumped out the window crying. No firefighters came, no one to help. The scent of burning flesh faded.
Victor bolted away from the house, trying to call for help until he heard a groaning. The blonde goes quiet. He couldn’t believe his eyes as he witnessed not who, but what limped by him.
A zombie. In the flesh. A real life zombie.
Victor’s breath hitched, eyes wide and held Wick tight to him. When the creature passed, Victor collapsed onto the pavement and resumed crying. He was in hell.
roleplay sample, from this characters pov(any scenario):
It’s cold. Wick’s nose I mean. I adjusted my body so the dog’s cold snout wouldn’t wet up my cheek as I lied down.
“Morning Wick.”
The puppy whines and yawns, rolling over on her stomach. I stroke it gently and curl up beside her.
Wick and I are on the run, we’re to blame for the downfall of our own dynasty. It was my fault for bringing zombies back on a supply run. If I were just a bit faster, no one would’ve been bitten. When someone dies… you can forget them. But when they turn they lose their humanity. You remember it.
I miss Big Daddy.
Even though I’m the one who left him after all.
Wick’s tail swished from side-to-side, knocking my unfinished journal from my bedside.
“Wick! My journal!” I gasp, grabbing it before it hits the dirt. Wick whimpers apologetically and licks my face. I stroke her and smile, then get up.
Wick and I have been hiding in an abandoned rabbit Warren for quite a while now. Apparently some of the rabbits were smart enough to hide under the surface in groups to avoid being zombified at the start of the apocalypse. What clever creatures!
I lick my chapped lips and pat Wick’s back. “Time to get up, girl.” My belly growled eagerly, telling me to start scavenging for food. You can’t run on an empty stomach!
I grabbed my handaxe and supplies, then called Wick over with the click of my tongue. She dashes to my side and we slowly crawl through the interconnected burrows.
The rabbit’s lair twisted and coiled into a dark labyrinth, which then pooled into one large, roomy part of the warren. I was finally able to stretch my legs and I stood up to my full height, taking in the uninterrupted darkness.
“Wick, guide me out please.”
The golden dog yips, then pulls my messenger bag as she leads me to a tunnel with light at the end.
“Thanks,” I rasp, patting her back and crouching down so I can crawl out. Dirt is stuck to my clothes and hair, making me sneeze as the tunnel’s dust brushes my nose.
As we reach the exit I freeze, hearing whimpering. An animal. Wick growls and looks back up at me warily.
I slowly crawl the rest of the way out of the warren and come across a crying bunny, caught in a rabbit snare.
The cold, metal wire squeezes its neck, cutting deeper and deeper as the bunny gets more and more desperate. The creature cries out in vain, begging for help but all I can do is stare. My stomach rumbles.
The bunny’s gaze meets mine, black eyes pooling with agony. I reach out toward it, one step, two steps.
I grab the rabbit’s neck and drive it into the ground, snapping it on impact. The animal’s eyes go glassy and dark. It’s dead.
Wick and I have dinner once again.