<strong>Name:</strong>Nicholas Frantzen<br/><strong>Age:</strong>26<br/><strong>Gender:</strong>Male<br/><strong>Personality:</strong>Nick is what might commonly be termed paranoid. These days he's just one of the people that saw it coming. He's nervous and it hasn't gotten any better since the incident. These days he's a mistrusting cynical man with a shoot first, second, third, and then question the survivors attitude. This isn't to say he's violent, he just believes that anyone who can't respond verbally to inquiries in this crisis situation is an enemy and he can't afford them. Nick desires companionship, but fears it at the same time. What assurances are there that others aren't infected?<br/><br/><strong>Likes:</strong>Finding decent food, Sleeping through the night, Secure facilities<br/><strong>Dislikes:</strong>Trouble, Perceived Authority, Running out of ammo<br/><br/><strong>What would you want to see happen to your char?:</strong>Form a ragtag group of survivors, go from there. Not die horribly.<br/><br/><strong>Character Sheet:</strong>Character Sheet (http://sheetgen.dalines.net/sheet/20900)<br/><br/><strong>Bio:</strong>Nick was a guy who had an idea, one of those ideas that you see come along every so often and afterwards wonder "Why didn't I think of that?" The next Snuggie or Pillow Pet, something the masses were just assured they needed and everyone flocked out to get. At least everyone 65 and over with either disposable income or grand kids with birthdays, that is. Then, he came up with another. Before he knew it, he was a millionaire, the talk of the marketing world and there were imitators of every shape and size. He saw his ideas perverted by others, and then used as tools for profit when he just wanted them as utility devices for making the world easier for someone. So when the companies started hounding him for the next "big idea", he told them to think it up themselves. He built a home in Brookline, which looked to all intents and purposes to be a standard home but which had lockdown protocols greater than any but the strictest facilities. That would only help, however, if he was at home when the situation occurred. He wasn't. He had just gotten back into town on a flight from Europe when he found out about the situation, and has yet to get back home to retrieve his stash. If he can get there, though, he has enough food and water stockpiled to live for months if not longer. He could even bring in additional people and keep them safe until he presumes the virus or whatever ceased killing people, or more appropriately ceased bringing them back. It's not even all that far to get home, but even a matter of a few miles in the end of the world is a matter of some difficulty.<br/><br/>In matters of physical appearance, Nick is of Mediterranean descent, having the features generally denoted to those of such ancestry. He is a physical specimen for one in his position, an entire subterranean floor of his home being dedicated to the upkeep of health. This isn't to say he is attractive though, he's a far cry from a model, and on a street is just as easily overlooked as not. He is however a competitor in races, both short term and long-run, and of his few excursions outside are included a number of city marathons, that having been one of the reasons he settled near Boston. He keeps his hair trimmed with a razor set he has at his home, not trusting others with sharp instruments near his face and neck. His manner of clothing is largely utilitarian, with a full arsenal at his home just waiting for him to pick it up.<br/>