Current
I now identify as a Master Procrastinator. Thank you all, and good night.
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2 yrs ago
New medical term: Dizzy mummy (condition of patient when world is spinning and only treatment is confinement to bed). I hate being sick...
2 yrs ago
@Vampiretwilight: Funny indeed. Now to make it into a roleplay here...let the madness and sassy Narrator commence.
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2 yrs ago
@Vampiretwilight DID YOU FIND THE BROOM CLOSET-ENDING? I LOVED THE BROOM CLOSET-ENDING!
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2 yrs ago
Anyone up for some esoteric fun with cosmic horror? Wait! The stars are soon right! Tekeli-Li!
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Bio
-The bio will be added once the profile user can be bothered to finish it. Right now he's probably busy doing nothing and stressed about more. Please come back later. Have a nice day.
Research assistant? What did she think he was, some kind of good little errand boy who came running with your cup of coffee at a moments notice? Well perhaps he was, since he Adelaide's little servant on this case. Only difference was that he knew squat about her own expertise, and he was the one getting the cofee. But still, it might be better pay, and at least Adeliade wasn't a total bitch compared to some of those he'd worked with.
Nah, he was stuck with insurance for good.
Robert listened intently as the woman explained herself, dramatically coming to the point of no return. Adeliade dropped her cup of coffee, about to fall over from what could only be an immense tsunami of grief and horror washing over her. "Oh fuck..." Robert wasted no time in putting down his own coffee cup and taking a hold of Adelaide, holding her up and helping the collapsing lady into a chair she could sit in. "...and this had been such a great fucking day already..." Robert muttered to himself, looking from the grief-stricken Adelaide over to the shattered cup and spilled coffee, then back at the woman. The bearer of ill news, to which his employer and landlord was Taking It All Too Hard.
"You mind telling me just what the hell is going on? Who's Marc? Why are you here, and what do you mean by a barn fire? Just went up in smoke?"
They were a colourful ragtag group of men, them in the showers, that was for sure. Seemed their guiding priest had been in the military like Alexander, Ash who had been the leader of Newnan and Hunter the youngest of them. Four soldiers of The United States Armed Forces, serving Uncle Sam wherever he'd sent them; four soldiers, yet so many different generations of war. Alexander looked at Hunter, who had been silent for the most part so far, wondering if he himself had looked so young when he first joined? He wasn't even the youngest of them all, as the old veteran noticed one of the Newnan men with a child. Was it his?
Nigel "Hadrian" was one of those without a military background, and so far he had managed to stay alive without having to have killed people in the old world. His old self hadn't wanted that, but his new self? Things had changed, and Nigel had taken the steps he needed in order to survive. He wasn't a soldier, but a Roman. A Roman who at this point was surprised that neither Hank nor Wayne had pulled a Toga-joke on him as he wore the gown and robe. What would he have said back if they did? That at least he looked like a Roman and not a retiree?
Alexander gave a silent nod to Atticus quoting the Bible, having heard that phrase used many a time over the years. But hadn't they managed to carve out a little kingdom out of the end times? All cleaned up and shaven, they were escorted out of the showers and further into the motel. Alexander looked at Manny, making his stride beside his only male friend as he walked with one slipper and one piece of wood. It was uncomfortable, but it worked. Eventually they got behind the women of the groups walking ahead of them, and then the Conference Room.
While Atticus spoke about God destroying the kingdoms and the rest of the Bible verses, Nigel "Hadrian" wasn't so sure. He wasn't religious by any means, and as far as he was concerned it wasn't real or didn't matter. If there had been a God at some point, he had either decided to cleanse the world with the Undead for some unknown reason, or he had simply up and left them to their own. A God that Atticus preached for wasn't one that made sense to him, he could buy Hades taking over Olympus and raining death upon the world or something like that. But "Hadrian" was a Roman, not in belief but in practice. Was easier this way, not having to gut a goat everytime he tried to pray. This he thought about as he walked alongside the other men out of the showers, behind the women where Erica surely was somewhere, and into the Conference Room.
Was this a rec room for a hospital or the Army, 'cause Alexander couldn't make out the difference. Nigel thought it looked like a retirement home. Considering the age of some of these people, it might fit. "You think they by any chance got The Stones live in Chicago, 1981?" Alexander asked Manny quietly, while Nigel "Hadrian" hoped they had any good books to read.
Alexander recongized some of the electronic applicances in the room, they could have been pulled straight out of his own store back home. Then the two doctors started briefing them of the situation, another a former soldier and another a civi with the attiude of a Marine surgeon. A test? An actuall written test? This just felt more and more like Mugsy's army days, though with the added bonus of a man looking up his ass. But first the test; Alexander accepted the pen and piece of paper, giving it a quick look over as he realied what some of the questions was about...He took a deep breath, then found a chair a little ways away from the others, starting to fill it out. Slowly.
Nigel understood the stern greeting from S.B. or Miss Mary as she preffered; they were newcomers, practically strangers from someone as far as Assyria visiting the tribes of pre-roman Ibera. They had to be taken care of, out of humanity, but also observed, controlled and contained before their fates could be decided. A medical test he could understand and appriciate, a normal meal he looked forward to, but a written test? Nigel "Hadrian" had to blink the first time he heard it, but followed with a little smile as he looked at Erica as they were all four in the room, he and their group. "Usually I'm the one who hands out the tests, but fair enough. Nihil sub sole novum." He said, taking the pen and test on paper as he noticed the old one-legged man taking a seat for himself alone. Nigel found a seat and started filling out the test.
Questionnaire: Name: Alexander Polawski. Age: 59. Birth Date: March 8th, 1952. Race: Caucasian. Where were you born: Chicago, Illinois. Where were you when the outbreak occurred: At sea, somewhere in between Florida and the Bahamas. Who were you before the outbreak: Owned an electronics store. Who are you now: An old survivor with one leg. Have you ever been part of a large group since the outbreak: Yes. If so, why did you leave: It collapsed, nothing to stay for. Did you serve in the military: Yes If so, what branch/rank/specialty: United States Army, Specialist, Radio Operator. Any known medical issues: Beside losing one leg, none. Any special needs: No. Any special skills: Can fix most pieces of electronics and appliances. What would you enjoy doing if you had time to: Not sure. Fishing perhaps. Your most traumatic moment: Losing my wife. Why are you still alive: My group. What are you seeking: A purpose
Questionnaire: Name: Nigel Cooper, preffered name "Hadrian". Age: 33 Birth Date: 11th of March Race: Caucasian Where were you born: Washington State Where were you when the outbreak occurred: Spartanburg, South Carolina Who were you before the outbreak: Teacher, Roman Reenactor Who are you now: The last survivor the Legion XIII Augusta Have you ever been part of a large group since the outbreak: Yes. Fortified settlement in South Carolina. If so, why did you leave: Forced to escape when home besieged by hostile attackers and settlement burned to the ground. Did you serve in the military: No If so, what branch/rank/specialty: N/A Any known medical issues: N/A Any special needs: N/A Any special skills: Swordmanship. Manufacturing; smithing and leather works. Teaching. What would you enjoy doing if you had time to: Normality. Your most traumatic moment: First day of the Apocalypse. Why are you still alive: Determination and my skill. What are you seeking: The rebuild a better world.
"Oh I beg to differ, young lady." Robert shot back at Adelaide's wish to be working in the insurance business, giving her a chuckle at her ignorance as she went to give him a refill of coffee. "Thanks." The insurance investgator smelled the sweet, sweet smell of coffee flowing through his nose, letting it stir in his cup to cool it while he continued. "If you want to stop wasting your time, the insurance business ain't the right place. You don't know how many hours I just sit at my desk and want to bang my head on the pieces of paper. At least your papers sound..." He stopped, about to say that her papers sounded exciting. Which they didn't, Robert wasn't one for old legends or myths. So he took a sip of his coffee, biting the burning pain to find another word.
"...interesting."
And like in a theatrical production of "The Spanish Fly", with one character leaving the scene at their ending line, another one stepped in to take their place in the spotlight. More specifically it was a truck that pulled up outside the shop, causing Adelaide to utter words Robert would have said himself. "What, more people? Great...were you expecting anyone?" Robert asked Adelaide just as another lady stepped inside the shop. The insurance investigator gave the newcomer an expecting look while drinking more from his coffee cup, as if waiting for her to explain herself. He didn't recognize her name, but clearly she knew of Adelaide. What the actuall fuck was going in that city?
Location: Camp Mexico Beach, Florida, the Bus -> Quarantine (Showers) Skills: N/A
A chapel overlooking the gulf? Yeah, that sounded very approriate for the catholic Mugsy. Holding the bag in one hand he fiddled with his own rosary with the other, the corner of his mouth pulling into a small smile at the thought of finding some peace there. For a man who had only found religion once he actually became an adult in mind and not only age, it didn't sound too bad. Neither did the sight as they finally exited the bus make him worry too much, except the previous men holding guns around them. They were making sure the newcomers didn't go fuck themselves. Fair enough.
Alexander limped his way into the motel after the others to first enter, his earlier practice with his redneck-pegleg having paid off now that he was without a crutch to assist him. Manny was more than enough, but in an effort to not look the part of an useless old man - like he so many times viewed himself as in his own mind - he walked by himself. Alexander followed Atticus and the other men, giving one last look at Thalia and Beatrice as they parted for the first time in eternity. Atticus told them that they were to undress, shower and shave, and change into less moth-ridden clothes. Alexander only needed to look down to realize he had one question, which he asked Atticus. "Can I keep my leg on, Father? Easier for me to keep it on rather than...you know, taking it off and on again." Atticus gave a confirming nod back to the old veteran, who proceeded to as was told. Undress and start washing.
"Oh...Holy mother of Jesus..." Alexander couldn't keep back, washing for the first time since the Beginning of Time his face, hair and dirty hands. Had been far too long since he had gotten a good shave, something he hadn't prioritized with life and death being ever-present and all that jazz. But this? It was Heaven! Alexander finishing his cleansing, thankful that his group's redneck engineering had made his pegleg water-proof enough. Dressed in the dressing gown, robe and one slipper, he too dropped his bag with his clothes in the corner like the three others had. One was Ash, the guy Thalia had talked and knew was the earlier leader of the previous group, another man who looked more like Ben Hur than anything else and the two other older men. The last two looked more like best friends than not, but it was Ash that asked the first question, one which he should have known would be asked. Military? If Alexander trusted Thalia and Beatrice, could he trust Ash too?...maybe.
"Not in a very, very long time. Not that it matters, really."
Nigel "Hadrian" Cooper
Location: Camp Mexico Beach, Florida, the Bus -> Quarantine (Showers) Skills: N/A
So that was how it was going to be? Not only had the Athenian priest learned of the lovely nickname for Nigel "Hadrian" from the only one or two he knew bothered to keep up the charade, but did so in Latin! He wasn't sure whether he should be even more annoyed at the growing fan-club of his name, or impressed to be around someone who actually new Latin. Nigel "Hadrian" leaned heavier on the first, though he couldn't completely reject the latter. Had been far too long since he had practiced his Latin, even if he had hoped to teach Erica some, if she'd want.
"Hadrian" followed Atticus and the other men out of the bus and towards the motel, standing tall and proud in face of a sort of 'walk-of-shame'. The dirty plebs, off to get washed as to be presentable to the Patricians. Not that he minded getting a good wash, he minded their armed escorts. All in the name of safety he guessed. Wayne and Hank were enjoying themselves more than enough, while Nigel "Hadrian" tried to remain as neutral as he could.
But even the Neo-Roman had to admit defeat against the forces of hot water, soap and proper shaving, resting his shoulder with ease as he became cleaner than he had been before Spartanburg. Perhaps not enjoying it as much as Wayne, but it was damn close. Nigel just kept his mouth shut a bit more. Especially when after getting re-dressed and disposing of his clothing, Hank had to mention the History Channel to Atticus and Maddog, but Nigel only shook his head in disbelief, while commenting their deja-vu banter. "...for future reference, I really don't want to know.". The younger of the two other unknown men asked them if any were military, to which the one-legged guy gave a cryptic answer. "No Sir, just skilled with swords, shields and books. I take it you were?"
So it had been true what Mahendra had deduced with his social skills. At least his wits had not been fully dulled in the process of falling into the Nile! George and the other man, J.C. did know each other. How remarkable of a concicedence, Mahendra thought as he watched George hand Vera a piece of cloth first, and then one for himself. "Tha...thank you, Mr. Benaszewski..." Mahendra began to thank George, only now realizing that he felt a tad bit cold. He had excerted a fair amount of strenght in his struggle for life and death, and it was in his moment of safety that he felt the cold water seep in everywhere. Good thing he was given the cloth.
"Pleased to meet you too, J.C. Mahendra Zalil, at your service." Mahendra was quick to reply to J.C. after his introduction with a handshake as well, though he clearly flustered at his question. It should have been obvious that it would be posed sooner or later, but when it finally was, Mahendra didn't know what to answer. Simply saying "I was running after a lady, asking for her name and I fell into the river." would put himself into a most ungentlemanly light! It could be scandalous! His tried to form words without sounds, when Lauren joined them. "Oh, ehm I...my own clumsiness, I must assume, dear Lauren. Yes, not used to the traversal on water. But yes I am all right, thanks to the efforts of Mr. Benaszewski and J.C." He answered Lauren, giving her a friendly smile as he nodded to their two saviours. He would tell her, and the Fellowship later about it all: The lady, the red glowing eyes, her curious posture and her strange questions. But for now, he was clumsy.
Richard Barker
Location: Main Deck (Stern -> Open Air Lounge) Skills:N/A
"Ha...ha...ha, very funny Faye. Taking a midnight swim in the Nile is exactly what an old dog like me wants." Richard gave an obviously sarcastic laugh to his partner, a quick look of "oh you're so funny" while breathing in the nicotine. Perhaps that was the only thing that still kept him alive, the smoke of a cigarette that he could barely afford on a bad time. And to think his ex-wife wanted him to quite? She was crazy. Richard looked around him again, then back at Faye with a sigh. "Come on, Doll, let's get a drink."
Richard began making his way back to where he and Franklin had had a most 'pleasent' conversation about things he wouldn't share, Faye following him in close pursuit. Richard walked up to the counter and asked for a stiff drink, bourbon or whiskey if they had, before turning to Faye. "I'm sure you can take care of yourself. Hell you've fared better than me the last twenty-four hours. But you're a good kid, Faye, not a singer or a movie starlett, like you said. Shit happens worse to people who don't play dirty, when we're surrounded by shit. I'm just looking after you, in case shit hits the fan." Richard tried to assure her, knowing she would prefer for him not to fly over her like a protective hawk. Perhaps he was so protective because he couldn't save his own daughter...maybe?
With a stiff drink ordered, Richard was at his third or fourth drink that night; just what he needed to fall asleep eventually. "I hope so, today has been dissapointing to say the least. But I ain't got much left over for hoping, stopped that long ago. We've just got to work harder and smarter." He took a deep, tired breath, and out again before posing the final question. "First thing's first; when and where do we meet up tomorrow? My head feels like a bell tower on matchstick legs."
Location: Camp Mexico Beach, Florida, the Bus Skills: N/A
The unforseen aspects of Camp Mexico Beach kept appearing before the old veteran's eyes as they entered the camp, now with a black-clothed man who looked more like a Steve Mcqueen-character than a priest. Their field-chaplain, Father Calamaro, had looked nothing the part. His hair had been cleanly shaven like his face, no sunglasses or cigarette, a man who didn't drink or swear, not even under heavy fire. This man, Atticus was completely different. But to Alexander, a catholic himself, a sense of comfort fell upon his soul at the knowledge that they had a priest. Perhaps he would understand...
Quarantine. Yeah, that sounded reasonable. Alexander already knew all the kinds of shit diseases one could get out in the jungle without a good diet or cleaning, so he wasn't that surprised at it. No, his surprise was yet again aimed towards the camp itself. It looked so...normal. He had been through so much shit, before and after Eden, and now all of a sudden to witness the normality around the bus..."Forgive me Father, but holy shit..." Was it meant to Father Atticus? Alexander gave a surprised and optimistic look at his three people at Atticus telling them the possiblity of some proper prostethics. If he could walk again, he wouldn't feel so..useless. Yeah, this was probably how many Vietnam Vets had felt once they got home. He felt sorry for them.
"I guess they would keep us separate. Keeping us together really blows the whole points of making sure anything we have doesn't transmitt. But really, I don't know. I wasn't a medic or anything like that back..." Aleander began to explain to Manny, but stopped his words as both Atticus approached with the bag, and that he didn't want to talk about that. Not now. "Alexander Polawski. Polawski with a W." He informed Atticus, graciously taking the bag before speaking to him in a hushed voice. "Father? Is there somewhere to worship in the camp?"
Nigel "Hadrian" Cooper
Location: Camp Mexico Beach, Florida, the Bus Skills: N/A
Nigel "Hadrian" gave a smile back to Erica, trying to imagine what a cruise in the Caribbean would have been and felt like. It was such a contrast to the situation they had ended up in now, but the thought of a more colourful past was to smile at. Also that Nigel felt Erica trusted him to talk about her past, even if it was something small like that. "Yes, we stick together. Regardless if they're friendly or not, we're outsiders, and outsiders are always looked upon with different eyes than family." Nigel "Hadrian" answered, looking from Erica, Wayne and Hank and back at the priest who would be responsible for this little legion of Roman entering a Gaulish town.
Atticus, "One from Athens" or "Athenian". Greek. So nothing new under the sun then?
The sight within the camp was just as impressive as the walls keeping it safe, if not being the golden standard of an already excellent detachment. They had everything; housing, a hospital, manufacturing, and a school. "Hadrian" had to pull on a smile once again at the thought of teaching youngsters, reminders of a better past. If he was accepted, and he wanted to stay, was this where he'd end up?
"Hadrian" felt unsure of what to tell the Greek, as he would refer to him as in his mind. Simply giving "Hadrian" as his name was not a sign of good faith, not after everyone else had given their proper names. But he had never said his real name to anyone in his group, just because he didn't want to give away too much information. Then again, if he didn't who knew what antics Old Man Grumpy-face and Glitterfuck would be up to? He argued with himself about this while Hank talked with Atticus, surely giving another shot at spreading his beloved nickname like a disease through a city. So when Atticus came to him with the bag, Nigel "Hadrian" gave Hank one of his now typical "Annoyed Teacher Look", then looked back at Atticus. "Nigel "Hadrian" Cooper. I prefer Hadrian, if that is okay? Sacerdos."
With that said, Nigel "Hadrian" looked at the three others, mostly Erica to see their reaction to his real name coming to light. Perhaps he feared what Erica would say about him not telling her his real name, or he was awaiting whatever verbal punishment from the others.
Location: In The Nile! -> Cargo Deck Skills: Social Cameleon
"That...that is a comfort to hear, Lady Munn." Mahendra managed to comment back to Vera, the trio now in The Nile and swimming their legs off back to the safety of the ship. So it hadn't been unholy and evil magic caused by the presence of a stolen mummy, but the supernaturely voice of Corporal Reddish who caused Vera's nightly swim. It was both a comfort to think that the Gods hadn't caused this accident, but the thought of what more harm a man's voice alone could cause was of concern. Was he to take part of the expedition all the way?
Perhaps Mahendra should invest in some protective wear for his ears when they arrived in Zagazig?
It was with great relief and delight that Vera was firstly pulled out of the great river of civilization by George, and then Mahendra himself. Mahendra had to give the American with the mask of terrors a smile of thankfulness, looking at him for a moment before joining Vera at the crate, taking a final breather of safety as they were no longer submerged in water. Mind you their clothes were still as wet as the deepest parts of the river, but they didn't have to swim for their life. Mahendra was about to look up at George and J.C. in order to thank them, when he saw their unusual exchange. George asking J.C. if he was there, and J.C. replying with a witty comment and a pat on the back. This wasn't just the words or actions of someone in confusion; "Firstly let me thank you both for saving mine and Lady Munn's life, and secondly...do you two know each other?"
Richard Barker
Location: Main Deck (Stern) Skills:Observation, Deduction, People-reading
"Good, good...I was hoping that fella you talked with wasn't doing anything to you." Richard said almost casually to Faye, though his look of concern persisted for just a little longer. Who knew what kind of man she had ended up with, but at least she was safe now, and not in the water. Speaking of which, was seemingly being taken care of by person or persons unknown. Good, Richard didn't want to get his feet wet. "Oh great, three? Any idea why? Doesn't sound like a casual night-swim in a major river-delta to me."
Richard placed his half-way burned cigarette between his fingers, turning from Faye as he took in the crowd standing around them. He could only see small clusters of the crowd, like baskets of fruit on a summer market in the center of New York with apples, pears, oranges and grapes all separated. Had any of them caused this incident? It surely would have made for a good distraction, it sure as hell got the private dick's attention. But the first cluster of people didn't stick out to him, and he looked back to Faye to answer her last stab at his earlier...escapedes."Too bad, 'cause I didn't get much more than you, at least not related to our case. Guy's name was Franklin, no surname given. Saw he had a journal that sure didn't look like his, but he avoided by my questions like a Tamanny Hall fossil dodging morals. Then after...you know what happened, he up and left." Richard answered as best and short as he could, placing the cigarette back and scratching his head at the whole business. He didn't like it. But Faye did ask him if he was okay, so that was something.
"What? Yeah, sure I'm fine. Been through worse...I need a stiff drink and a tailor though."
Oh great, she was pulling the I'm not like them card in front of them. Robert raised his brows as he took another slow, long sip of his cup of coffee. Clearly she had an even stronger desire to get the information that Caesar and Keystone had asked to gain access to, but was even more persistant. He looked at Adeliade and Claire as their dialouge continued to write itself like the scene from a law-based tv-show or something, silently judging the two of them. Mostly Claire.
And then she was off, almost certainly to tell her two employers, Robert assumed they were. Robert gave the same shrug back to Adelaide looking back at her. "If he's smart about it and accepts that she does the book-worming for him, he shouldn't. Then again he was not the brightest fork in the bookshelf earlier, so what do I know? I just deal in insurance. " Robert said back, giving a light chuckle at his words as he took another sip from his coffee. He needed a refill soon, drinking at the pace he did. "Speaking of which, still waiting for that answer on those Greek Underworlds and souvlaki." He asked, looking down into his cup and back up at Adelaide. "Please?"
With the two teams eventually coming through the portal and at the rendevouz, Bentley shot each member of his temporary Gang a curious yet friendly look. He was analizing them, as best as he could analize a major character from their respective universes in the short amount of time they had. His own team consisted of a tall humanoid man like most of the others, wearing a beanie, jacket and jeans; Delsin Rowe, who Bentley would call Delsin. The chain around his arm looked dangerous enough, but he could also turn himself into smoke? Sort of like the Guru? "Not the best time for introductions, but good to meet you. Sounds like you can get places most others can. And don't tell me you know of The Countessa? Sure sounds like her..."
Then it was the other member of his team, Tiz Arrior. This warrior...wait, was that a pun?! Bentley noticed that he looked rather average, and that he didn't say anything of what he could do. Why? He sounded optimistic around the company of him and Delsin, and Bentley didn't want to push the issue, not now. "Welcome to the Gang, Tiz! I'm sure we'll get along yes, let us just stick together. Do you have a weapon, by the way?" Bentely dared asked at the very least. The master-planner turtle turned back to his binocucom to look at the bridge and tower when he heard Tiz's comment about...well, what Bentley had said and he didn't understand. "Remind me to explain the wonders of quantum physics later, Tiz."
Soon the other team had gathered as well, with their leader, "The President" adressing them all. Another member of a gang, like he and Piper. And what a temper he had, like Muggshot but with worse words! It didn't take long for President to tell them to move across the bridge, and was off. Bentley gave a quick look of disbelief, they hadn't properly scouted it out yet! Not that he could ascertain much from his prelimenary look, and so he adressed his own team. "All right gang, looks like we're on the move. Follow me, and keep your wits about you. I don't like the silence..."
Things didn't improve much for Bentley on the inside of the temple, with the whole places giving him the spooks. The gusts of wind on the outside, the statues of various beasts, the altar at the end of the grand foyer. Bentley rolled his wheelchair towards it, his head and eyes moving back and forth in search of danger or clues. And he sure found both with the sense of dread that washed over him and his analythical mind! And the voice...it spoke to them.
"Eh...yes. We are but...humble visitors from a far-off land. We come in peace." Bentley said in a nasally nervous voice, his hands clutched together as he tried to figure out where the voice came from. But he was one of the leaders, and so he kept speaking. "We come looking for a...for the one known as "Dormin", and seek answers to a virus...a sickness. Do you, unseen entitiy, know anything of such nature?"
Alexander didn't ignore Manny per say when he didn't look back at his fellow baby boomer to answer his questions, as he spoke back to him all be it in a lowered tone. "The only thing I guess about this place, is that they know their shit. Can't pull vehicles like these out of their asses, after all. That's good." Alexander answered Manny, leaning his head against the window as he felt the cool A/C blow on him. On all of them in the bus. Thalia and Beatrice were both talking behind them, but his thoughts were drifting further and further away with the bus, the cool air, the tired ol' bones of a man who'd been through a whole lot of shit.
It felt odd to be standing out in a rain which was cold and not warm, in a wind that carried with it brown, yellow and red leaves from the autumn trees signalling the end brighter days and the beginning of darkers ones. Some might call it poetic, a fitting metaphor for the mind of the young man standing out on the rainy street of Chicago. To him it was more than that, something much more: It was home. A home he had not seen for a very long time, a place he'd feared he would never return to, even feared that he actually would. He hadn't even had time to visit it before going straight to his fathers funural. And now? It wasn't much of a house the way it looked in the autumn rain, shadowed by grey clouds and an absent sun.
But to Alexander, it was the only place he had left to go.
The sound of military boots against the wet concrete could do nothing to drown out the sound of memories piling up in his head as he walked towards the front porch. It looked just like it had before he left to go to 'Nam, only sadder. He remembered having spent many times out there, avoiding his father's scoldings while watching people walk by. Now none looked at him, perhaps not noticing the military style of his attire or simply not caring. Alexander Polawski, young but scarred, walked up the small staircase up to the porch, fumbled for the key in his pocket, and locked himself in.
Dusty, dark, devoid of life. The interior was one of a house left empty. Not in a hurry or in an orderly move, but in the way you'd leave your house assuming you'd return shortly. It wasn't returned to, not by the man who lived there. His father. William Mathias Polawski, droven over by a car while drunk. Alexander saw evidence of his earlier presence everywhere in the newspapers stacked underneath the coffee table, case for his father's glasses, the photograps hung up on the wall. Taking of his jacket and hanging it up on a hanger, the young soldier already a veteran walked up to pictures of his father, his mother and himself. His mother died not long after Alexander was born, he never knew her. His father and he always argued. But on all those pictures Alexander looked at, they looked happy, all of them.
Even William and Alexander had been both happy once in a while.
The cabinet of booze was left open, one of the last signs that his father had been up late and drinking, been alive. Alexander knew how much he drank, he too had stolen a few sips here and there before he went overseas. Whiskey, Brandey, Wine, there was plenty to drink there. As Alexander approached the cabinet, the image of he and his father in a fishing boat on Lake Michigan kept popping up, the man and the boy both smiling. That could have been them now. Reunited and happy. But thanks to the inhabitants of the cabinet...
The sound of bottles clinking against one another was only matched by the pouring of liquid down the drain in the kitchen. Back and forth the young man marched between the living room and the kitchen, grabbing each and every bottle from that cabinet. On that day, Alexander swore never to touch a drop of booze ever again. His father had warned him not to go, to stay and do better than that. And now, that Alexander sat on the kitchen counter and poured every last drop of alcohol down the sink, tears silently running down his cheeks, he promised his father that.
Old man, look at my life. I'm a lot like you were...
Alexander was brought back to reality with Daytona talking over the intercom like a tourist guide would when arriving to Disneyland, if they did that he didn't know having never been there. The gist of it was that they had a significant settlement in Mexico Beach, lead in a military fashion by the "General". Their induviduality forsaken in favour of survival. Yup, that was the military for you. "Me neither Manny, me neither...But if someone's going to weather this shitstorm, it's a military." That's when he saw the town roll past them, the massive wall that certainly was the perimiter defences of the camp and the gate. First truck went through, gate closed and was gone when it re-opened. Camp Mexico Beach. "If we don't get the boot from the General, it sure could Manny...I'm getting to old for this shit..."
Nigel "Hadrian" Cooper
Location: The Bus Skills: N/A
Nigel's stoic look around the bus continued throughout the first better part of the bus ride to wherever Daytona were taking them, wherever and whatever their base of operations were. It had to be decent at the very least, with all the organisation that had managed to pull off with helicopters, trucks and radio. But Nigel "Hadrian" was looking around the bus at the various clusters of peoples resting in their seats. He wasn't in the mood to day-dream like Hank and Wayne were about beer and summer vacations, although perhaps he should? His guard was up, though the presence of the sane Erica did help.
Nigel "Hadrian" eventually settled down with looking out the window alongside her, trying to calm down after the initial meeting. Maddog had offered them safe passage and shelter after all back there, and his words had appeared true and honest in nature. So he was uncertain of what to feel about Daytona's talk about the settlement. Military-run small town with good walls and large numbers of living people. Military-run meant efficient and strong, but not always merciful. The 95 % acceptence rate was another double-edged sword. He caught sight of Erica looking at the boy in the back, and he couldn't help but possibly think what she did.
"Been to Florida before, Erica?" Nigel "Hadrian" asked his fellow survivor by his side, turning from the others to look at her, attempting to make normal conversation. Normal conversation in a desperate and unormal situation, but with a small smile. "It looks nice, if it wasn't for all the Undead. Never got the time to travel here, wish I had now." He continued, looking from Erica and out the window again as the wall and gate came into sight. "Reminds me of the Aurelian Walls. These guys really know their construction. Only people with good siege weapons can get through that." Nigel "Hadrian" commented, partly to himself but also to Erica, if she listened. To her he could talk like that without being called a nerd, which was refreshing.
Looking back at Erica, he pulled a smile as he straightened himself in the seat. "Let's hope Fortuna is on our side this time."
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FourtyTwo
rocketrobie2
