Some perople complain about the modern wordl. That the music is to loud, or that the youth are iout of control. Hell, I used to think it myself, until the fateful dae. Sure, when my pa got mad, he'd give me a little whack round the jaw. And yeah, alcohol and god knows what else made my my ma a bad person to be areound at tiems. but it doesn't matter how many people bullied me, because most of them are gone. My name is Amber Syren, but you can call me shrapnel. You've probably read about me, it takes a lot to reach a most wanted list, specially if you don't actually kill anyone. I am a master thief, a goddess of the knight. so long as there is ever a absence of light, I will flourish. I have stolen from everyone, it doens't matter if you're on the east coast or west, the odds are I have had something of yours, nad the odds are you bought it back from me on one of my many, many eBay accounts. I had to giggle a bit when thinking about that last sentence, because I remember my last hiest. I actually managed to slip into the president's head scientist's house and steal a beautiful, shiny medallion. I still have it in my pocket. Poelpe seem to think that breaking into the white house is the mother of all crimes. I beg to differ, breaking into somebody working directly FOR the president is a harder challenge, because they're house is obviously smaller, but just as well guarded.
But this all changed foru weeks ago, just three days after my last robbery, I was about to take another small fortune from a somebody with too much muoney, when the bomb hit. It looked nucleur, or at tleast what I have seen of a nucleur esplosion from the tv; a big mushroom cloud filled the sky, and swooped me off my ffet. I say it looked nuclear, because it was only rhe buildings that seemed to take any damage. I awoke a few hours later to find the streets empty, which was exceptable becuase it was around 2am, and I was in the country (bigger houses, bigger payoffs), but neveryheless something was wrong. There was a stillness that most thieves learn to recognise.
I, however, was born with the sense. Before I was born, my mom used to partake in not-strictly-legal experiments for quick cash to fund her ever incraesing addictions, one of which was genetic mutation. Some crazy scientist decided it'd be a good idea to try and fuse the DNA of a cat into my mother. Without surprise, no effects were shown, until I was born - with a tail, no less. Don't worry, the doctor's were able to remove it without much fuuss,, but there was very little they could do with my eyse, aside from take them out. As much as I was bullied at school, I was able to hone my natral abilities to obtayn full awareness in the dark. It was for this reason I was able to become the number 1 master thief with absoloute ease. It took my parents a week to realise I hadn't even got home from school. I know it's partly neglect, but I'd like to blame it partly on my own atriboots.
As I explored the town, fully aware something was up, I saw nobody, not a soul. As the daylight came, I decided to head home, only to find my car was wrecked by some vandal in the night. What was going on? I saw a preson nearby and asked him what was going on. All he did was moan like a drunk. "oh no" I yelled, fully aware of the situation, "I'm in the zombie abocalypse!"