(I don't know if this is still open, buuuuut....fuck it)
Name: Frank Holstenski
Nickname (If any): Franky
Weight: 183 lbs
Eye Color: Green
Hair Color: Black
Pre-infestation profession: Construction Worker
Personal skills: Has used his professional background to effectively hole up places thought "un-holdable". He can also swing a crowbar real nice like.
Physical appearance: Franky Holstenski is a short barrel of a man whose thinning black hair, wild black beard and beady green eyes give off the appearance of a dwarf. His thick neck, arms and legs compliment his wide torso and go to show that 15 years of being a construction worker who isn't afraid to get his hands dirty can be a pleasant reward to your body.
Franky isn't one for fashion and he is often seen on and off the job in a tshirt, some jeans and a pair of steel toed boots. His head, when not being covered with a hard hat, is a quickly dissolving patch of thin black hair. His face, in stark contrast to his head, is a jungle. His beard is a point of pride and he is constantly grooming it to viking standards. Besides his beard, Frankys sense of hygiene is absent.
-Small: Maglite, hard hat, box of nails, hammer, screwdriver
-Medium: canteen, tool belt to keep tools in
Personality: Franky is "a damn proud pollack and you better believe that or I'ma smack ya in the face". His loud and boisterous persona helped him move quickly through the ranks of the contruction worker and before he hit his 10 year mark, he was already the foreman at almost all the sites he went to. Surprisingly, most people take his rambunctious-ness as kind-hearted and playful. For the most part, that's the case. The zombies didn't change much, If anything, his demeanor has been reinforced. Franky believes it is important to present a strong outside to the hopeless situation around him. His friends and family are all gone and he has chosen to keep going and not let the past bog him down. Despite this, he has been known to take "downers" to help ease the dreams he has when he sleeps.
History: Frank Holstenski was born to a tall, skinny Polish man, one Jefferey Holstenski and a short, square Irish woman named Mary O'Connor. When he was 6, his mother died of a ruptured appendix. He doesn't much remember his mother and his father would say that's not an entirely bad thing. What Frank does remember of his child hood is the beer cans on the floor at his dads 1 bedroom flat and two hands angrily slapping a belt together. When Frank was 8, he was beaten by his dad until the neighbors came up and interfered. He was taken to the hospital and when they asked what had happened, he insisted that he fell off a ladder trying to screw in a lightbulb. The doctors obvious reluctance to release the boy only deepened when Franks father came to pick him. His overly-nice and thankful demeanor was unsettling and, Frank suspected, a pre-cursor to another beating. He was right. At age 16, Franks dad went to him again (they were arguing over Frank getting a job to support the home) and Frank punched his old man right in the nose. Turns out his old man had a glass jaw. When his father woke up a couple of hours later with blood running down from his nostrils, he demanded Frank to "pack up your shit, you're out of here. Ain't no son of mine".
For 2 years Frank struggled to finish high school and live on the streets. Needless to say, life on the tough streets of Northview Heights woke Frank up to a lot of things and Frank found himself in fights nearly everyday. Despite that, he didn't let it affect his high school life and started to develop that loud personality. No matter how shitty life gets, he decided, I will never let it show. He found his personal solace in shop class. Everyday would be like a new adventure for him. He quickly became acquainted with the teacher on a professional level and when it came time to graduate, the teacher had already hooked Frank up with a job at Rycon construction down in central Pitts near the university. "Hey kid, ya got potential. Go get yourself a job and get yourself a degree. The goddamned place is right around the corner from the university."
Frank became known as a gregarious and well-liked man and his strength on the job, despite his stature, was impressive. His ability to endure an entire days work and not take any breaks was so well known that by the time his second year ended with Rycon, he was working shifts as a supervisor. His expertise and handling of equipment was well above everyone elses par and he often joked around with his buddies that he was born on a scaffolding brace instead of a hospital bed. Even though Frank was well liked ("Hey Franky, let's go out and get us some beers and some loosey womens huh?"), Frank liked to keep to himself off the job. Instead of going out and getting shitfaced with his co-workers, he opted to go home and read or go the South Side Iron Works gym (where he had volunteered to do an add-on in the back for free and was now welcome there for free) and hit the weights. He always manage to come up with an excuse as to why he couldn't participate in the partying ("Sorry boys, I had to do a walk around at that site down at Carey and 20th with the safety guy. After hours unpaid bullshit you lazy schmucks wouldn't wanna do").
Two years before the outbreak occured, Frank had been finally decided to take his old shop teachers advise and go to college. While he was going he met a girl there named Summer Wieczorek. They started what might be seen as a tentative relationship or what might been seen as an awkwardly close friendship. Franks gruff manner and loud voice was completely contradicted by Summer's quiet voice and shy demeanor. Even still, Frank lost himself in her beautiful blue eyes more times than he could count.
Of course that relationship was ruined when the zombies came. Frank was walking home from work (the streets were oddly empty for Polish Hill...maybe that's what had put him on edge) to meet Summer at his apartment. Frank isn't the smartest guy around so when the first one staggered up to him and tried to pull his arm up to that bloody mouth, Frank decked it in the face and put it on the floor. He muttered a couple of things about how nasty the drunk smelled and continued to walk. Then he started to notice the groaning. He got to his apartment building in a hurried jog and ran up the stairs to his thrid floor residence. The door leading to his room was half splattered with blood. Frank's heartbeat drastically jumped as his fist clenched around the door knob. He slowly pushed it in and stepped inside. After a cautioned glance around, Frank shut the door behind him and locked it. The apartment looked as it was before he had gone to work that day and there wasn't a sign of Summer.
The rest is history. Frank has been looking for Summer since that day and adapted quickly to the zombies. Fortunately he had seen enough movies to know that people eating people and people not dying when being sliced open with a knife so that their innards spilled out was was a sure sign of zombies. Deep down he knows that Summer is probably lost but his heart still has that seed of hope to find the person he ever really connected with.