#capitol.

India's flag appears in Trump riot at the US Capitol.

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N A M E: Willard Robert “Bobby” Bellevue III A G E: 35 P L A C E   O F   O R I G I N: Baton Rouge, Louisiana G R O U P: Cheyenne State Capitol O C C U P A T I O N: Patrol F C: Jacob Pitts

❝ Aim with the eye, shoot with the mind, kill with the heart. ❞

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P O S I T I V E   T R A I T S: vigliant ; facetious N E G A T I V E   T R A I T S: reserved ; haunted

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L I F E   B E F O R E   T H E   O U T B R E A K:

FOUR, 1986. Willard Robert III realizes his father expected something of him, that in the community of Baton Rouge the name of ‘Bellevue’ is respected and he is expected to act respectably. Don’t shame your father, boy, don’t play in the pews of the courthouse and don’t embarrass your daddy. Don’t act like a child, be a man like your dad. Imagine that, telling a four year old boy to be a MAN.

FOURTEEN, 1996. Don’t embarrass your daddy, Willard Robert—no, Bobby—just Bobby, thanks, makes it his life’s mission to embarrass his father. Kind of a stereotype, the bad boy son of a Judge, but Bobby doesn’t, won’t ever mind being a stereotype. Smoking pot, sneaking out at night, disrespecting authority: it’s all in the ‘pissing off daddy’ handbook and Bobby prescribes to every word. A rebel heart, Honorable Willard Robert Bellevue II says, and Bobby almost believes he’ll never let it go.

NINETEEN, 2002. Towers fall and it is so damn easy to get caught up in the jingoistic war machine. Just after the New Year, a rebel heart enlists in the Marines. Maybe he just grew out of his rebellious teenager ways, maybe he just got caught up in dangerous patriotism, maybe (read: actually) he just wanted to make daddy proud — because even when a boy tries to piss off his dad, all he wants is his attention.

TWENTY ONE, 2003. Rigorous months of back-breaking training, nail-biting waiting around for deployment, and finally good ol’ southern boy PFC Bobby Bellevue is being shipped off to war. His deployment papers say IRAQ and he doesn’t know whether to smile or cry. Soon, he’s in the back of humvee invading a desert and doesn’t realize until the first shot rings out in the cold night that they aren’t some American badasses and people are fucking dying out here. (Still, he has a job to do, and Marines make do.)

TWENTY EIGHT, 2010. It’s been a long eight years. Two tours in Iraq, a few years in Afghanistan, and finally Gunnery Sergeant Willard Robert Bellevue gets to come home. He’s been called many names over the years: Gunny, Belle, Gator, Bobby, dumbshit backwater Louisiana trash (he didn’t make his childhood in an Antebellum mansion known), but he hasn’t been called a CIVILIAN in nearly a decade.

THIRTY, 2012. Willard Robert Bellevue’s got a new title now: SPECIAL AGENT. Civilian life is hard and he misses structure, really, he needs direction. It’s hard for veterans to get jobs and while his views on the military (or rather the xenophobic jingoism disguised as freedom) soured, Bobby doesn’t know how to be anything else but a Marine. Some went government, some went construction, some fell into drugs. Bobby picks the first. The government cares more about them, veterans, than the public pretends to, anyways. (If he hears ‘thank you for your service’ one more time from some fifty year old woman in the Walmart checkout line who hasn’t ever seen combat outside of a shitty Mark Wahlberg movie, he thinks he might puke.)

L I F E   D U R I N G   T H E   O U T B R E A K:

THIRTY TWO, 2014. No one ever tells him how hard it is to truly start over. To going from fighting for his life every single day to spending two hours waiting in line at the bank or sleeping in an actual bed with only the sounds of the highway to lull him under. No one ever tells him how much he’ll hate the war and how much he’ll miss it. No one tells him how bittersweet it will be when the war finds him again, truly finds him in the way of people eating each other and not just in being shot out at by white supremacists in remote Wyoming compounds.

L I F E   A F T E R   T H E   O U T B R E A K:

Spotted at the Capitol. Has this flag been used elsewhere?

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N A M E: Zoe Elizabeth Fairchild A G E: 29 P L A C E   O F   O R I G I N: Lennox Hill, New York G R O U P: Cheyenne State Capitol O C C U P A T I O N: Carer F C: Christina Ricci

❝ he problem with such an impeccable liar is, you have to assume she’s always lying. ❞

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P O S I T I V E   T R A I T S: highly intelligent ; perceptive N E G A T I V E   T R A I T S: manipulative ; physically delicate

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L I F E   B E F O R E   T H E   O U T B R E A K:

 The Fairchild’s had always been a prestigious family. The elite in any social circle in New York, filthy rich in old money, and exceeding in everything they set out to accomplish. So it was only natural that when Zoe Fairchild was born, she was held up to those incredibly high standards. Though Eliza and Carter Fairchild were never the affectionate type, Zoe was left in the hands of nanny after maid after tutor. Despite her parent’s absence, Zoe never failed to meet and exceed the standards she was held to, proving to be incredibly intelligent from a very young age. So young, in fact, that the disconnect between herself and others her own age was noticeable. She expressed little to no interest in interacting with others in her age group, even expressing a contempt for her peers and their excitability. Though teachers expressed concern, Zoe’s parents were rarely around to speak to about it and even when they were their pride and arrogance clouded their opinion of it. The multiple.. interchangeable guardians that Zoe was left in the care of through her adolescence were never around long enough to make much of a difference. They had their orders, keep her fed, make absolutely certain her education and training for being the ideal socialite came first and foremost. And they did their job. Oh certainly, there were no overtly cruel ones, many of her guardians cared for her and tried to get Zoe involved, but there was a distinct disconnect there.  Even when her younger brother, Dylan, was born, it took Zoe a very long time to have any type of connection with him. This apathy, this disinterest, it wasn’t something that didn’t change as Zoe got older.

But her perspective certainly did.

As Zoe grew, her nature never changed.. but she learned quickly and efficiently how to conceal it behind a mask of pleasing friendliness. A faux smile, fake interest in the lives and emotions of others around her. An entirely believable yearning for the approval and affection of her peers and elders, instead of the genuine disinterest beneath the facade. The only things she truly cared about, was excelling in her schoolwork.. and her brother. Though it had taken her a very long time as a child to get past the immense dislike for the new baby disrupting her life, and even longer to feel anything other than detachment, Zoe slowly developed a sort of affection for the boy. A protective urge that felt almost alien to the young woman. He was a quiet boy, intelligent.. but introverted. And though unlike Zoe he wished to be a part of society.. of the public, his low self esteem crippled every attempt he made. Zoe found herself going out of her way to help the boy, and incredible protective over him when it came to their parents cool criticism over his perceived failures. However, that affection and attachment ended with Dylan. With all others, and particularly with her parents, Zoe felt a cold indifference, and at the very best, a clinical brand of interest that was more a need to understand than connect with. Though she learned from a young age that others didn’t appreciate being seen as an inconvenience, an object, as inconsequential. And so she feigned interest, feigned normalcy.. and did it perfectly.

Over the years, Zoe managed to hone her skills and intelligence into a lucrative and incredibly  successful career in psychology. In the true nature of her family’s legacy, Zoe did not settle for simply any position. The moment she graduated, Zoe was accepted into and went to Stanford in CA with a distinct plan for what she wanted to become. She studied, used her family’s connections, and  relentlessly worked until she was top in her class. Zoe’s ambition didn’t pause or slow, given her very specific career path. She chose to utilize her skills in reading others, in manipulating and pinpointing the most deep-set vulnerabilities in others, to pursue a career in Criminal Psychology, and within a matter of years became one of the most prolific in her field. It didn’t take long for people to notice her talent, how someone so delicate, small and proper could so easily wrap the most violent offender around her finger with a few choice words, or could easily state what pinpointed vulnerabilities in an offender after only watching them for a short time, and she became in high demand. Easily, Zoe made a good life for herself. And a name for herself that her parents could indulge vainly upon any time they wished to. Zoe never went back to New York after school, instead buying an extravagant home in Los Angeles. Her wealth soon became her own, not dependent on the money from her family. Though she still occasionally visited, if for no other reason than for the sake of her brother, Dylan. Though she rarely had time, her career engulfing most of her life. Not that Zoe minded, she only socialized when she deemed necessary,  Her particular talent shone in criminal profiling, and she was often called into courts across the country to testify competence to stand trial and bring her opinion and findings of the criminal in question. This was what she had been doing when first news of the outbreak hit. She’d been in Florida, entirely across the country from her home in L.A, and 16 hours away from her brother. Despite her disconnect, and sociopathic tendencies, the choice wasn’t even difficult. Zoe set out to get her brother.

L I F E   D U R I N G   T H E   O U T B R E A K:

Despite the arduous drive and the way traffic was nearly gridlocked on every street, Zoe had managed to make it to Lennox Hill in less than 20 hours. By the time she got to her parents and Dylan’s home, much of the activity was still several blocks south. Without any difficulty, Zoe managed to find her brother who had been.. Unsurprisingly.. Left alone in their home. Wherever their parents had been, it wasn’t there. And Zoe didn’t particularly care enough to find them. Their presence flickered in her mind for little more than a moment as she lead her brother out and to her car, before they disappeared forever, no longer consequential in the face of the hell that was spreading before them. Getting Dylan and herself back into the car without incident, and luckily enough without any interaction with the panicking survivors around them or the undead creeping into the neighborhood from the chaos in the more crowded blocks, Zoe burned rubber out of the underground parking building and headed toward her home in California. Despite the over 50 hour drive, Zoe had been convinced that if she could get them to her home, they would be safe.

The first 30 hours passed with little incident. Dylan sleeping through most of it, or the two listening in growing silence to the news updates between channels until they stopped airing and everything faded into silence. Zoe went out of her way to pick the backroads. To not only keep them from more prevalent danger, but to avoid having to see what she’d only gotten glimpses of. The disgusting, marred and torn flesh. Gaping jaws and lips pulled back to bare snarling teeth, something about those abhorrent creatures was so incredibly repellent that Zoe couldn’t even stand to look at them, couldn’t stand to acknowledge them. She didn’t know what was going on, and Zoe was explicitly refusing to acknowledge any possibility until she had gotten herself and her brother to a safe place where she could think. So she didn’t stop, not to refuel, not to rest. A choice Zoe would later regret more than anything she’d ever done. By the time Zoe had gotten them into Wyoming, it was the crack of dawn. The car had just entered the town of Rawlins not ten minutes before, when Zoe had begun nodding off at the wheel. Exhaustion from nearly three days of driving non-stop had taken over, and before she could realize what was happening, she lost control of the car.

It all happened so quickly. The car coasting at first, before sideswiping an abandoned vehicle on the road and spinning out. Screeching and rolling over and over with a myriad of loud, ugly crunching sounds. One moment, the impact was jarring Zoe awake, then she was being thrown from the car. Then complete and total blackness. Zoe came to an indeterminable time later. But it hadn’t been the pain of her wounds or the nausea or dizziness. It had been her brother’s screams. Struggling through the unconsciousness that threatened to blanket her, Zoe turned in his direction, only to be met with the most gruesome sight she’d ever seen. A sight that evoked the most visceral, horrified and overwhelming reactions and emotions from her.

Her brother was screaming bloody murder. Howling unintelligibly, and when Zoe’s eyes lander on him.. She knew why. He was stuck, trapped in the windshield, having not been thrown entirely. But that wasn’t why he’d been screaming. There were three.. four.. Then five of those dead things. Climbing onto the flipped car, ripping him to pieces, clawing and ripping at him and he just kept screaming and screaming and she couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but watch him. But when his body slumped, when his mouth fell slack and his head drooped, the screaming kept coming and coming. It wasn’t until those monsters turned in her direction that Zoe realized she was the one screaming now. The only one screaming, and all of them were coming toward her. It took her what felt like ages to even manage to force herself to move, it was like her body was filled with ice, with lead, but finally the survival instinct kicked in. She scrambled to her hands and feet, picking herself off the bloody glass strewn street and ran. Zoe ran and ran until she reached the first bit of shelter she could find, a massive Walmart, partially looted and abandoned. In time since the outbreak until now, that’s where she’d stayed. Hoarding and living off of what supplies were left. Hiding from any zombies and raiders by climbing onto the vending machine in the break-room and hiding her small body above the ceiling tiles. She stayed there until Cameron found her. Emaciated and entirely on edge, and brought her to Cheyenne.

L I F E   A F T E R   T H E   O U T B R E A K:

In the two years since that night, since the very beginning of the outbreak, Zoe hadn’t left the small modicum of safety that the large store provided. Holing herself up, using it’s size and her own small stature to stay hidden from any brand of predator that intruded. She did what she could to keep her sanity, reading every book available in the small book section, then DVD and CD covers. She used earplugs when she needed to sleep to block out the groaning, kept herself busy when she found her mind wandering to that night. To her lost brother. But no matter what she did, as time passed, she eventually became more and more on edge. She had no idea of much of what was going on outside of the store, save for the snippets of conversation she’d heard from the raiders that occasionally ransacked the store. She would pay close attention, listening to the details they spoke loudly of while she stayed out of sight and waited for them to leave. Eventually, Zoe became very good at telling just by the shuffle and step whether or not the intruder was living or dead, and be it either.. She was usually out of sight before they came within ten feet of her. One day, she wasn’t quite able to keep up with it however.

When Cameron found her, her reflexes had been slow. Dwindling supplies and a long night of raiders ransacking the store had left her exhausted, and at first with her extreme reaction it seemed as if one of the two might not make it out alive. However, against those odds, they managed to communicate, and Cameron managed to talk Zoe into coming with her to Cheyenne. Being the first one Zoe had seen, had spoken to in so long, Cameron ended up seeing more emotion and raw, real reactions from Zoe than anyone save her brother ever had. By the time they got to Cheyenne, however, despite her frayed nerves, Zoe was already building up that facade once more. A friendly, warm smile, a calm and reassuring tone that sounded nothing like the screech and frantic cries Cameron had heard. Zoe was slowly getting back to her old self. As she took on the position of Carer in The Capitol, and instantly developed what seemed to be a close bond with the leader there.. It seemed she hadn’t even missed a beat. As if nothing had changed. Only, something had. Her only true tie that anchored her to reality, her brother was gone. Without his presence, Zoe is entirely out for herself with no qualms or guilt on how she manages to keep herself in the most protected position. Already, she’d begun manipulating those around her, moving them effortlessly like pawns. Seeming like the good doctor, the friendly psychologist people go to for morale, they have no idea that every time they come to her, they’re giving her their weaknesses. Bits of them. Ammunition. And with a weakness that could get her killed, one she can’t afford to let others see, Zoe has every reason to manipulate and twist as many people as she can to keep herself safe.