Lowell Tracey.
[We're sorry, the person you're
trying to reach does not exist.]
Born in London, England.
27 years old.
Former resident of Seattle, Washington.
Son of a wealthy father, owner of a coal mine.
Aspirant musician, had a label
under the Max Rager corporation.
Loved a girl once, it didn't work out.
^One little scratch. Just one.
Just one... crazy guy, at one crazy party. ^That morning, he'd still been alive.
And now he was...
Dead.
No heart.
Cold to the touch.
Needs brains to... not starve, and end up turning to the worst. Eating brains gives emotions, personalities, and traits of people who had them.
Still craves human foods, but to be able to eat them; they have to be hot (spicy).
When reaching an adrenaline rush, something... kicks up. Something terrible, psychotic and violent.
+ [Further info on zombies of this verse here.]
Zombies are actually much like they were as living humans, mentally and physically. You wouldn't be able to pick one out amongst a crowd. They keep all their previous habits, their personalities, characteristics and for the most part can continue the activities they once did or working the same jobs they once did.
The virus spreads easily, and the effects are instantaneous and (currently) irreversible. Any direct contact with zombie blood, or even a scratch will create a new zombie like that. It shows in the hair and skin, which start to become completely pale. The eyes will become redder. This begins only a few hours after the victim was infected.
Resting heart rate is 10 beats per minute, and if a zombie is injured they neither have significant pain or significant blood loss.
Not only is there an intense, inexplicable desire to feed on brains but a genuine need. In order to stay alive, sane, functioning, and normal; zombies must consume brains at least once in a month. If they don't feed, a decline starts. The sort of zombies you'll see in Night of the Living Dead, this is where they emerge. The decline process can vary from a course of several weeks to months without feeding, and the zombie can't be changed back once they reach a certain point.
Adrenaline is a real struggle for the undead. From strong feelings to risks to themselves to just random adrenaline highs, a zombie will shift over in that moment. A trance like state will occur, and if their zombie nature isn't already visible; it becomes so. During the trance, they can't speak or act on their thoughts. So whoever they mean to attack, they must have thought to before; or have the thought in the live portion of their brain. It gives them tremendous power, but it's a power they can't control. Those they don't intend to attack, they can and will. And of course, they're open to exposure of what they really are. If a zombie goes without feeding long enough, as a means of protecting themselves and ensuring their survival, they'll automatically convert completely.
The only way to kill a zombie is at the head. As long as the undead brain is damaged, they're permanently dead.
The virus is so small and so strong that it can be passed through sex, condoms will not prevent its spread. So unless the zombie has a zombie partner, the one they're with in bed will be turned. (Other supernatural or otherwise nonhuman entities not likely included.)+
.....
"Blaine? It's, me. It's Lowell. Look, man- Sorry. I know, I'm really not supposed to just call you up like this. I know you're busy, I know... the only shit- sorry- you deal with is the supply and demand, and the rest isn't part of your job or your problem.I know that we- We're not... This isn't about that.Just. That I need the favor. Please, Blaine. This one's... it's seriously screwing me the fu- Sorry- over. I don't even expect a new one right away, you know? Even if you can just... help me sort through this as someone who- Not to offend you, but you're the one person who genuinely knows what this is like. And I haven't got anyone else, and I wouldn't trust anyone else. You- know I can't afford to anyway. So I... I really, need you.And, whatever it is you want back, I'll give you. Alright, dude? ... Damn it, sorry. Erm. Thanks, Blaine."Surprisingly, the other zombie actually agreed to meet up with him just like that. Well- perhaps not that surprisingly? Their... relationship was just so, complicated. "Hey, Lo. I'm sorry, I- should've come to see you earlier, by myself. I meant to. You're... doing pretty lousy, huh?" Blaine seems,,, terribly concerned, his icy blue eyes looking over the musician. "Yeah, man. And not just on this round. But, that is going just... Ridiculously bollocks. I mean I kind of almost thought the being seriously spaced out might be alright but... then I nearly spat about- About, my dad." Blaine'll remember that. Remember that it's not something he ever brings up in everyday conversation, and not to just anyone."Shit, Lowell... That's..." The blonde across from him can scarcely form the words, but reaches to squeeze his hand. And Lowell can hardly breathe, weakly squeezing back. "I- can get you another, really. And totally free of charge, no problem at all. Call it a reimbursement." "Really?" The extremely dark haired zombie asks softly. "Hey. What are we we if not friends?" The musician chuckles in some pain, not really even a chuckle at that rate. 'Friends.' Sure, he must've been the first Blaine ever really had... But, was it really that long ago that they were something else as well?Lowell still had... lingering thoughts, and feelings; he couldn't really help it. And, it was hardly like it hadn't been an amiable; mutual separation- quite the opposite. He's quickly swigging down his poison of choice with his spare hand, relaxing from the grip on his 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥. "I'm sorry, Lowell. Even if I still felt that way about you, I'd know what I know now. Which is... it did work, it was amazing, and the difference- the thing that might've made it totally crazy, and impossible didn't. I don't... make out why, it was one hell of a stroke of luck. But it can't work anymore. Different is... too different, now." "Why? Cause I pushed you to be someone you're not, I- fuck, Blaine, I know I shouldn't 've done that. I mean, who you really are; what you've done- honestly it doesn't matter in the long run. And if I'd thought about it properly back then, I-" The musician begins, choking up faster than he really intended to but he just... he doesn't understand. What is that even supposed to mean?"No, no, no. Lowell, first of all, you didn't. I decided I liked the idea of who else I could be. I liked the idea of having a choice. No one before you ever told me it could be up to me if I wanted. No one was willing to stay, and show me there was more than one side to everything." Then he takes a long breath. "It's because. We... we both need someone, who's- more meant for us. You, are good, Lowell Tracey. The best. And- I'm, always going to be the worst. You're kind and sweet, and normal. I'm chaotic, vicious, and hateful. Some part of me even wishes it wasn't inevitable, but the rest... Is glad as hell that it's not." The blonde thumbs at his still full whiskey glass. "You should know that I've... found someone else. He is... completely insane. Maybe a little more than I am. He's, awful, frankly. And I don't think there's anything he wouldn't do, and he'd also have no remorse for it. Follows along after me like an... evil golden retriever or something, you know. And uh... What can I say? Kinda hate myself for it, but I'm pretty head over heels." Shit. Doesn't that just... bloody bugger it all?Lowell gulps down hard, his features scrunching as he gets up from his seat. "Hey, hey. Come on, Lo. Don't start beating yourself up. You... the past is gone, Lowell. As Steven Tyler put it best. Now, you will find someone else too." Blaine starts after him, his voice so gentle; as well as his touch, to the musician's arm. "Fucking- who, Blaine?! The only two people it's remotely possible to have any sort of relationship with, and I can't with either of you. I- adore Liv to bits, but I won't stand here and be her damn substitute. I won't be anyone's. And- were there someone that maybe I'm interested in now, as you yourself have just kindly explained: it can't fucking work. He and I- Oh hoh, we are... about as different as you can get. He's alive, for a start and then directly the end to it. It can't... happen. Not unless I want his murder on my hands. Maybe 𝘺𝘰𝘶 can live with it, Blaine, but I won't ever be able to." He's absolutely steaming in fury, and anguish; so much he's actually screaming and spitting the words out."You know... this is just about the third time you've killed me. How the hell's that going for you, huh, 𝗯𝗮𝗯𝘆?" The blonde physically flinches, the inner pain overwhelming him. Yeah, okay, the first time he did totally mean to do that. He didn't regret it for a moment. Until the addict really got to know Lowell, got enough nerve to face his feelings in an acceptable way. But- never, never again; he promised himself. And to hear it.... to hear he was hurting someone he did care for enough, that it felt like dying over again- "Blaine- shit. God, buggering fuck... I didn't-" The tears in those ice blue eyes. The sheer agony in his hitched breath, in the other zombie stepping back from him. "I'm so sorry, I really didn't mean that. It's no... damn excuse, but I still miss you sometimes; and I like him; and I almost mentioned my fucking dad because of someone's else brain and not of my own free will; and I'm so- hurt, and angry, and miserable. I hate being alone all the fucking time, I'd rather...""Lowell-" Blaine interjected instantly. If only he hadn't been so... foolish, and selfish, and greedy. If only he wasn't so blind, how could he not see how Lowell truly felt about all this; how could he not take responsibility and... do better by him? And god, if... if it happened, the rest of the way... "Just... just stay back, Blaine. I'm- dangerous now, even to you." The lyricist doesn't let him finish, doesn't even look back at his friend- just holds his hand out to keep him off. "And just know... It wouldn't be your fault, okay? And this, this isn't your fault. I'm- pleased for you. You just... let him know how you feel, eh? Goodbye, Blaine. And good luck." His voice quakes the whole time, it's low and tear filled, with Lowell running out the door as fast as he can.