Professor Veronica

It started with a flash in the sky and a ripple in the clouds. Nobody knows what caused it, exactly. Almost every sentient inhabitant of the planet, even the mightiest superheroes, has been consumed by the Hunger. Some were torn limb from limb and devoured instantaneously by relatives, friends, colleagues, or strangers. Others, zombified, did the devouring. Although the physiological cravings disappear within a couple of weeks of abstinence, zombies become less rational and intelligent the hungrier they are. And since abilities and powers, as well as intelligence and personality, are largely retained after being infected by the virus, the contagion made sure regular humans had virtually no chance of survival in either state. Incapable to feed on each other, the metahuman beings fought for the prey; unable and unwilling to stop themselves, they picked the Earth clean: its populace reduced from billions to thousands. Thus, the team led by Hank Pym, infused with Power Cosmic after feasting on Silver Surfer and his master, has launched into space to eat the whole known universe as "Zombie Galacti". Meanwhile, Earth-2149 belongs to the super-zombies, fruitlessly roaming in search for the still living people; regretfully, the scale of the catastrophe makes it a point of attraction across alternate dimensions, and the voyagers brought here by the Multiverse are quickly snacked on. Amidst the few remaining humans is the group, personified by Veronica Chase, a professor from Empire State University. Short chestnut hair, mocking tawny eyes, short tops, tight bottoms – she's anything but your typical dorky M.I.T. alumni. A sex-bomb, cooped up with a bunch of stuffy academics – simultaneously gritty and wimpy nerds of both sexes; her frustration with her unsatisfied needs is so great, she wears the unbuttoned lab coat over lingerie when it's her turn to experiment with beakers and test tubes, finalizing the serum. Even for the short trips within the surveillance perimeter to check the cameras and so on, she simply swaps the coat for web gear with a walkie-talkie and the ammo for her favorite rocket launcher, teasing the dead world with her toned hourglass body. Their hideout used to be a shady research facility set up under a skyscraper near the uni, with the main entrance in the basement and the secret and code-locked back door in the sewers. When the shit hit the fan, twenty scientists hauled ass there, grabbing whatever supplies on the way. Now, staying hidden, with fuckloads of food, weapons, imported beer, and superior entertainment systems such as PlayStation 3, and a reactor powering it all up, they endure in seclusion unaware of any other survivors. Skilled, smart, and capable, in their commune they established a working democracy, voting on all important decisions, and unless some external influence disturbs this arrangement, they thought up enough contingency measures to handle both of the worst potential scenarios: a zombified super stumbling upon them or one of their own turning undead. The only things the group is completely missing are charisma, sex drive, and sex appeal – excluding Veronica, of course. Her persuasiveness makes her the boss of all minor and trivial matters, but the lack of a real man among them after months and months of celibacy drives her up the wall: the faces of her brainy peers make her pussy dry up and her ovaries shrink. Though... Even if somehow a guy appears with charms sending the vibes to the right places, Professor Chase's mind prevails over matter. She's been down there a long time, and after a single hookup she will be able to keep for a while again. Sex is just business, no lasting attachments are possible until the universe is saved.