Is it Nerd or Geek?

"Name and age."

"Why do either of those matter?"

"Your age determines what squad you're placed in and unless you want a very creative nickname I'd suggest telling me your name."

You're all probably wondering how I got to this point, so I'll start from the initial outbreak. No one knows for sure how, but while scientists were working on a biochemically weaponized gas, it got out of the lab. Not a big deal, it will just dissipate in the air, right? Wrong! Whatever it was made of was tough as hell and spread through the air like wildfire.

Billions of people got hit all at once and those who weren't were assumed to be immune to the airborne virus. Those billions of people who got hit got sick. Nothing too serious, though. It was far from deadly and was more like a flu than anything. People assumed there was nothing to panic about since no one died from it. That was humanity's first mistake.

The virus made you have a fever and a cough, but it was gone in a few days. Then a week later, all hell breaks loose. The sickness would pass but in a week's time your body would die. It's so sudden and quick that people didn't even know what was happening. People were dropping like flies and it was estimated that nearly ninety percent of the population was dead.

Except the damned people couldn't stay dead. Within a certain amount of time after death(times vary per person), the person would come back. The virus kick-started their brain, but the soul was already gone, making them virtually, get this, a zombie! Who would have thought that video games could actually be helpful!

All those parents who were telling their kids how video games aren't helpful at all are eating their words, if they're even alive. Personally, I never was interested in those types of games. I was more of an mmorpg sweat. Gaming was my life, when I wasn't working, though I worked from home so that made life easier.

I think the term you're looking for is nerd... Or is it geek? I never could tell the difference. Let's just assume I'm both. I'm just your average nineteen year old with a major in graphic design and an obsession with books and energy drinks. Drawing is my escape and, coincidentally, my job as well. When I'm not drawing or reading, I'm gaming, simple right?

Take out and Red Bull was my diet and I was fine with it. Not so much now though. It's hard to find that stuff and the only takeout coming my way is your zombified neighbor getting taken out with the trash. That might sound cruel to some but the world is a cruel place, kill or be killed, predator or prey.

The zombies outnumber us, without a doubt, but they're dumb and slow. Don't get me wrong, a group of them surrounds you, you're ass is grass, but they're not like World War Z zombies. If they could run, or strategize we'd be, pardon my French, fucked. Let's just be glad they're slow, stupid pests.

I honestly didn't even know what was happening in the outside world until it fell in my lap, literally. It was just another day, headset muffling the noise of traffic outside, hands racing quickly across my keyboard, when I heard a strange ruckus. Me, being the person who would die first in a horror movie, decided to check it out.

Outside my door, I could hear stumbling footsteps, like a drunk person, and weird moaning noises. Now if the neighbors want to get kinky, fine by me, but leave me out, geez! I was about to go sit back down, when something smacked into my door. Again, being the horror story victim, I open my door to see what is going on.

A bald man in a suit, with a knife sticking out of his chest, stumbled into my room and faceplanted at my feet. I may be a horror story victim, but I graduated when I was fifteen, so I knew right away what was going on. I walked around the zombie and quickly shut my door. I'm telling you, these guys are slow.

When he had finally managed to stand, I had ripped the knife from his chest and stabbed him in the head. No hesitation, no guilt. Both can get you killed and I value my life, thank you very much. I'm not some suicidal maniac(sorry I had to). Well, maybe I am suicidal because the only way out would be the window.

I don't know if you know this but, I live in a ten story apartment building, on the seventh floor. One mistake and I'm zombie fodder, see what I did there? Anyway, if I'm going to die you should at least know my name, so you can put me in the Hall of Fame for being the biggest idiot in the apocalypse. My name's Eren Jaeger, nice to make your acquaintance.

Let's hope I can make it safely to the ground without going splat on the sidewalk below. Here's to hoping. Throwing my legs over the edge, I grab onto my window and stand up on the slab of stone connected to my window on the outside. I probably should have grabbed a weapon... Clambering back into the window, I get my safe out from under my bed.

Shh... All will be explained later. Everyone has their secrets. I type in my pin and pull out my bowie knives and a 10 mm pistol. After shoving the gun in my pocket and the knives in the other, I'm out the window again. I don't know how I'll get down. I walk along the thin stone slab surrounding the building and head to the left side of the building.

Yay, I was right! Most of the delivery trucks pull into this side and unload here since its convenient. Which means I might also be able to grab some canned goods on my way out. The jump to the delivery truck could end badly if I overshoot. Fuck it, do or die! Putting my back against the building, I jump to the delivery truck three stories below. The impact jarred my legs but I'll live.

I head inside, walking quietly, and notice how empty the area looks. Red flag, I'm out! I don't have a set destination, but a Wal-Mart might be a start. The walk to the store was quiet and the streets were more dead than the few zombies walking along them. I got to Wal-Mart with no incident and didn't even run into zombies while inside.

The place seems, mildly, picked over but I was still able to find a duffle bag and fill it with non perishables and bags of trail mix. I even found some jerky and... Score!! I grabbed the three cans of Red Bull and stuff them into my bag. Now to grab ammo and maybe a better gun. When I get to the back though, there isn't a shell of ammo left. It's been completely looted. Boo!

No guns or knives, got it. I grab the other essentials like a flashlight, batteries, bandages, alcohol(for injuries, chill!), and finally, a black, aluminum baseball bat with blue-green flames, near the color of my eyes. My eyes are more of a cyan color, but tomato tomahto. I made sure to pack relatively light, because my small build won't be able to carry around a heavy bag for long, totally not because I'm lazy.

Hoisting the duffle over my shoulder, I go out the back exit and start walking. I don't know where I'm going to go, honestly. I lived in a small town outside the city where I grew up, Shiganshina. The city probably isn't the smartest move nor do I have any reason to go back.

My mom died before this thing even started. Had leukemia, which is chronic and not curable. Everyone used to say she looked more like my older sister than my mom and I'd agree. She had beautiful dark brown hair and cyan orbs, like me. Whereas she had fair skin, mine was more on the sun-kissed side.

The one thing I got from my dad, aside from trust issues, was my strong jaw and lean frame. I never work out anymore and yet I have the body of a swimmer. Hearing a rustling to my right, I swing my bat without a second thought. A dull thud is all I get in return from the older zombie, but better safe than sorry. I slam the bat into their head a few more times and then move on.

You might be wondering how it's so easy for me to kill someone and my answer would be, my father. He's also the reason for the knives and 10mm resting in my pockets. Grisha Jaeger was an evil man, but my mother still loved him. I've been going on "camping trips" with him since I was in preschool.

But these weren't normal camping trips. We didn't roast marshmallows or tell ghost stories around a fire, no. It was more like the hunger games. Father and a whole bunch of other fellows would meet up in a huge forested area, secluded from civilization, every few months and they'd place bets on which one of their kids would survive. Those sick bastards!

The only rule was that there could only be one survivor and they were the winner. I learned very quickly the extent someone would go to survive and if I wanted to survive, I'd have to do the same. Seeing as I'm standing here, it's safe to assume I was always the victor. If I wasn't then I was dead so I had no choice.

The time in-between those "events", Grisha trained me to be the perfect killing machine. Instead of him teaching me algebra, he was teaching me how to kill kids. Sometimes they weren't even kids. If someone didn't have a kid to throw in the forest, they'd have to go in their place. I was getting hunted by adults.

Grisha's training mostly consisted of stamina and pain tolerance. He's pushed me past my breaking point at least a few dozen times. Ripping out my nails, breaking my fingers, clamping my skin down with pins. This was just a few of Grisha's less creative torture methods.

And then there was my stamina. He'd borrow his friend's dogs to chase me for hours. If I stopped I'd have lost a limb. I was also sent to boot camp so much that everyone knew my name and I had my own designated bunk. I hate the man, but at least I have the experience under my belt.

Where should I go? That probably should have been what I was thinking about instead of that cretin. Maybe he became zombie fodder. A fitting end for such a waste of space being. Sorry that was harsh. I could see the sun go behind some buildings as the lights started to dim. Night is fast approaching, so I'm going to have to find a place to camp for the night.

Bat in hand, I walk into the store next to me. It looks like a mom and pops store, and it probably is since this is a small town. Nothing jumped out at me when the bell over the door jingled. That really puts the saying "ringing the dinner bell" into perspective, yikes! I shut and lock the door before looking around. It just has some odd knick knacks and antiques, nothing of use. I crawl under the desk and use my lumpy bag as a pillow, before sleep takes me quickly. I'm a light sleeper so I'm ready.

My sleep comes to an end too soon when a hand pounds on the door. I'm up and standing in a heartbeat, with my bag over my shoulder and bat in hand. Soft light filters through the dusty window and I look outside to see that there is only one zombie next to the door. There are many blind spots from that window, so I hurry and dispatch the zombie.

You think this is boring, try doing it for three months. Wandering aimlessly, without a purpose or a plan, so like an unexpected pregnancy. I'd have to guess that I wandered all the way past Shiganshina to a whole other city. Hundreds of miles, by foot. I didn't step foot in my homecity, I wasn't stupid, but I did see it in the distance as I walked past it.

I passed through a few more towns, avoiding cities and zombies when I could. Then, I finally settled in one of the homes on the outer edge of a foreign town. Look at me, growing in strides. I used to barely even leave my office chair and now I'm walking from town to town, discovering new places. I might as well be traveling the world, at least in my book.

I had went through the Red Bull quickly and I could tell I was in withdraw. The first few days without caffeine, I had went in search of a zombie and bashed their brains into the concrete until it was a stain. I'm better now, but that was rough. Never say a caffeine addiction is minor compared to an alcohol addiction.

The house that I was holed up in was small, but it had three exits, which was a plus. I had boarded up the front door with some planks I found in the attic and I had nailed blankets to the wall, over the window. Whoever lived here was probably older, because they loved to knit. I'm not judging. I made a blanket fort in one of the bedrooms. Thank you old person!

I was just having fun, living the best life I could, but food was running low, severely low. I had a bottle of water and a can of corn. And let me tell you, I fucking hate corn. It's nasty and mushy, not to mention God-awful coming back up. You don't wanna know how I figured that out...

Getting up, I pull my bowie knives from my pocket and shoulder my bag. Time to go gather some tummy fuel. This is the first time I've used these knives since I was still living with father.

They are a silver, almost blue color with brass knuckle grips near the hilt for better mobility. They were beautiful knives, but they were strained with the blood of all those years, figuratively, of course. I take care of my weapons, thank you very much! I don't know this town well, but I'm sure I'll find a store if I walk around long enough.

I've been walking around for an hour and nothing! Where the hell are the Wal-Mart's at?! As I'm about to give up, I see a big building in the distance. This looks promising, but it could also be full of zombies. A place that big, yeah. I walk around the side of the building and see nothing amiss. Standing on the dumpster outside, I peak through the dusty window and do a double take.

Those are people! Real, living, breathing, people like me. I almost fall off the trash can when a throat clears. I look over at the person sheepishly and climb down from the trash can. I feel like a child that got caught with their hand in the cookie jar. If the cookie is a settlement full of people.

The man had blonde hair, parted a little off center with an undercut. He had pale blue eyes that stared at me cautiously. He was taller than me and more built, but I could take him if the need arose. What, it's good to always be prepared?!

"Mind telling me what you were doing up there? Are you spying on us? " he asked in a commanding voice

"No.... No sir. I was just looking for a store where I could stock up and I found this. Now that I know it has no supplies I can leave. "

Curse my stupid stuttering. Get it together Jaeger! When I try to walk past, he grabs my shoulder. Instinct takes over and in the next second he's laying on the ground, dazed. A blush spreads across my cheeks in embarrassment as I say apology after apology, saying it was a reflex.

"That's some arm you got there, heh. Would you maybe want to stay? We could use a soldier like you."

"Umm... Sure, but you have it all wrong! I'm not a soldier, I just took self defense classes in high school." I say while waving my arms around, like Iida from my favorite anime, BNHA.

After he explains that he meant soldier as in a fighter, I felt like a right idiot. I follow silently behind him and take in the sight of all the people. It makes my skin crawl to see so many in one place. I mean, I'm glad they didn't get eaten or turn into flesh-eating monsters, but I've hated people since I was little, for obvious reasons. Cough cough..Dad.. Cough cough..

And now you're all caught up to the present. This man, like the one I met outside, had blonde hair but it was buzzed. His cheeks were rosy and his eyes were slightly glassy. It was obvious that he had been drinking, but it's not my business anyway.

"Name and age."

"Why do either of those matter?"

"Your age determines what squad you're placed in and unless you want a very creative nickname I'd suggest telling me your name."

"Eren Jaeger, age nineteen. "

"Okay Jaeger, you're in Squad A. Your Captain is the brunette with the goggles. Off you go, cadet!" he says and then I'm led over to my squad by the blonde.

"Oo, a new recruit! Thank you for escorting him over Commander Erwin." she practically shrieks.

How did this chick survive so long if her voice is so loud? Do all women sound like banshees or is she a special breed? No offense to women, I'm just genuinely curious. I don't need zombies and angry women on my ass, so ignore my curiosity for now.

"I'm Hange and you are...?"

"Eren, Eren Jaeger. " I mutter.

She just nods and leads me to my comrades. This must be a warehouse. With the amount of space in this place, there is no way it's a store. When I get over there, I see two people I never thought I'd see again. I'm instantly engulfed in a hug from them. My childhood friends, Armin and Mikasa, though Mikasa is my adopted sister. She was smart and ran while she could, leaving my father in the dust.

"Okay... Seems you guys know each other. That's two less introductions I have to make. That girl pigging out on a potato is Sasha. The boy next to her, the one with the shaved head, that's Connie. Marco is the dude with the black hair and freckles and the one next to him is Jean. The short blonde is Krista and the freckled brunette next to her is Ymir. Everyone this is Eren. He's our newest squad member!" After she introduces everyone she claps her hands and walks off.

"Welcome to the squad!"