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Chip grew up in the typical suburban nuclear family; mom, dad, little sister, and a dog on a typical suburban cul da sac. He grew up riding his bike around the neighborhood with the other kids. Got good grades in school. Participated in extra-curricular activities. It was during a weekend school trip that he saw his first RC truck race. The sounds of the speedy engines whizzing around the track along with the smell of the burning fuel were intoxicating. He went home and begged his parents for a remote controlled car. They took him to a local hobby shop where he purchased a Traxxas Rustler. The moment they got home, Chip shot outside to race his car.
By the time he was in high school, he had a vast collection of RC vehicles and drones and was entering races as often as he could alongside his little sister Micro. They loved the challenges and the varying techniques needed to control different types of vehicles. By his senior year, he had won state and national competitions. This brought him to the attention of the local Army recruiter. The recruiter told him of the opportunities he could have in the military if he'd sign on as MOS 15W-Unmanned-Aircraft- Systems (UAS)-Operator. He couldn't sign on the line fast enough.
After his 10 weeks in Basic Training, he was sent to Fort Huachuca, AZ, for a stressful 32 weeks of Advanced Individual Training. When he got back, he enrolled in the local community college to study electronics hoping to eventually qualify for the Warrant Officer Track to become a 150U Tactical Unmanned Aerial System Officer.
He was called in early during the outbreaks. His unit being mobilized to gather intel on the growing masses of undead, whose existence was still being denied by the government and the media. He sat at the controls of his UAS, watching as his screens showed the chaos that was unfolding. He spent weeks sitting at the controls while the world spiraled further into anarchy. He heard the staccato of assault rifle fire when the zombie masses were at the gates of his base. He heard the panic in the voices of his superiors as they broke through. He never took his eyes off the screen until he was ordered to abandon his post. Outside was bedlam. He ran for his car parked in the back lot and made his way back to his family's suburban home.
What he found were corpses, truly dead, littering the street. The front door to his house was nailed shut. The rear sliding-glass shattered and barricaded by furniture. He tried to force his way in when he heard Micro's voice from the roof.
They haven't been apart since. What they have done is to create a massive Army of RC vehicles and drones. They have both civilian and military-grade at their disposal. They utilize their collection of hardware to secure an area they call "The Racetrack." An area of 10-square blocks that they keep free of undead.
"O, woe be the day the enemy descends, mourn we will, for the sake of all that's holy in this universe....
... 'cause the Alley Viper Corps is gonna fuck it ALL up!" - NFC
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