Post by Sidney G. Benoit on Nov 13, 2014 2:42:56 GMT
Sidney G. Benoit
27 - Survivor
Rikkie. Eastern Standard. Twenty.
27 - Survivor
Personality: direct, self-reliant, neurotic, observant, survivalist
History: In a few ways, this was the best thing that could have happened for Sid. Born in the Bayou Lafourche on a small, family-owned alligator farm, she seemed to have a rather average life. A young, blonde-haired, blue-eyed heartbreaker, Sid could’ve done anything. But, the bayou grabbed hold of her, and as soon as she was able to hold a .22, her daddy was showing her how to hunt, trap, and track. And boy, could that girl shoot- soon locals had taken to calling her Annie Oakley, and in no time she was shooting pistols and shotguns just as naturally as she had her first rifle. At age 11 Sid began competing in 3 Gun competitions in Louisiana, and by age 15, she was a national champion.
At 16, Sid dropped out of school to continue practicing and competing, as well as working on the farm with her parents. For almost a decade, her life was very simple and steady- work, train, compete; wash, rinse, repeat. She had her rough patches, brought on by boredom and restlessness and fueled by alcohol and narcotics that only blossomed as the years went on. By 25, she was barely placing top five at competitions and binged on whiskey and painkillers, and at 26, Sid first became acquainted with methamphetamine.
Any number of things could’ve gone wrong, or realistically gotten worse, if Sid had continued on her path of assured destruction. It wasn’t more than a few months into her affair with meth when she was in Augusta for what could have been her last national 3 Gun competition that everything began to break down. It was alarmingly sudden- a few reported cases of some unknown disease in several south-eastern hospitals the previous week, and now airports around the country had been shut down, and the CDC alongside an array of armed-forces agencies were amassing in the large cities. Just like that, Sid was trapped. She wanted to go home.
Before they closed off the city limits, in the hysteria Sid managed to commandeer a pickup and hit the highway going eastbound for Louisiana. Every radio station had instructions to report to the nearest city where the CDC had set up, namely Atlanta and Savannah, and as she neared the state capital the highway became quickly congested and she could drive no further. Amidst the sound of aircraft dropping napalm upon the once proud city and the flicker of flame lighting the darkening sky, she abandoned the pickup and set off into the woods. She knew she had to get far away, and opted wisely to continue on foot with only the clothes on her back and the three guns that’d brought her to Georgia. And maybe someday, those same guns would bring her home, too.
At 16, Sid dropped out of school to continue practicing and competing, as well as working on the farm with her parents. For almost a decade, her life was very simple and steady- work, train, compete; wash, rinse, repeat. She had her rough patches, brought on by boredom and restlessness and fueled by alcohol and narcotics that only blossomed as the years went on. By 25, she was barely placing top five at competitions and binged on whiskey and painkillers, and at 26, Sid first became acquainted with methamphetamine.
Any number of things could’ve gone wrong, or realistically gotten worse, if Sid had continued on her path of assured destruction. It wasn’t more than a few months into her affair with meth when she was in Augusta for what could have been her last national 3 Gun competition that everything began to break down. It was alarmingly sudden- a few reported cases of some unknown disease in several south-eastern hospitals the previous week, and now airports around the country had been shut down, and the CDC alongside an array of armed-forces agencies were amassing in the large cities. Just like that, Sid was trapped. She wanted to go home.
Before they closed off the city limits, in the hysteria Sid managed to commandeer a pickup and hit the highway going eastbound for Louisiana. Every radio station had instructions to report to the nearest city where the CDC had set up, namely Atlanta and Savannah, and as she neared the state capital the highway became quickly congested and she could drive no further. Amidst the sound of aircraft dropping napalm upon the once proud city and the flicker of flame lighting the darkening sky, she abandoned the pickup and set off into the woods. She knew she had to get far away, and opted wisely to continue on foot with only the clothes on her back and the three guns that’d brought her to Georgia. And maybe someday, those same guns would bring her home, too.
Canon: no
Rikkie. Eastern Standard. Twenty.