Sigil

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Ash Holloway Location: Education Center (M) Skills: N/A

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It had been some time since Ash had given thought to Beatrice and Froggy. It was strange, seeing as he and Victor had been a trusted adviser for some time. There was a sort of kindness about the man that Ash remembered fondly. He barely remembered a time when he so much as raised his voice. But then seeing him again in Quarantine revealed a changed man. Ash was unsure as to why he did not give more of a fuss when Froggy was removed from CMB and sent out on his merry way. Or, maybe not quite "merry", persay. He looked like a shell of the man he was before, more animal than not, unpredictable and dangerous. He hoped it would be a temporary thing, a rough patch smoothed over by the passage of the week behind walls and regular meals with people he once considered friends and family. But apparently he was too far gone. It was a shame and a pity.

Beatrice, on the other hand, he did not have such a close relationship with. It was interesting for him to note that, out of everyone who knew her who made it down to CMB, the only ones who appeared to note her departure were those in the Eden group. Some people weren't built for society. Others voluntarily removed themselves from it, by choice or by reckless action. Ash supposed this very philosophy was why he was thinking of Victor and Beatrice. Both left because of choices they made, though one was a little more voluntary than the other. It seemed much like Hunter, in this regard. The thought persisted that he might yet be a productive member of a community, were it not for certain choices made in the heat of stresses imagines from past experiences, without giving this place a chance yet.

Then, the continuing testimony caught up Ash's attention, full and rapt. He was not witness to a lot of what went on. To his eyes, the sins committed could be explained away by various means; new position, sudden shock of being in a place where the Dead were not potentially lurking in every doorway and abandoned automobile, and mostly the suppression of instincts thereof. These additional pieces of information were not the best for his case. And the video. Especially the video. He would have liked the opportunity to see the entire, uncut video, to fast forward through or to reference earlier bits at his leisure, rather than just look at the highlights reel. But admittedly, there wasn't a lot that one could do from a jail cell to make up for ...the things he did in the jail cell. It didn't look good to Ash. Somewhere deep down, and probably because of his own lapse into darkness, he hoped there was chance that the kid might be able to say, or not say, that which was needed to allow this community to help him. Everyone needed people now. It was just how things went. Without people, left to his own devices out in the world with this paranoid and aggressive mindset, he would die. Period. Exile might as well be a death sentence.

But the question Ash was sure these people were thinking (as he was thinking it, too): Was there a risk to the community if he stayed? They all knew what would happen if the answer was yes. Ash kept his thoughts to himself, sitting in his chair. Though now that Hunter himself was give the option of testifying, things got a lot more interesting. And urgent. This might save or damn him. Was his speech or his silence a batter strategy? More than that, did he even want to stay? Had anyone asked him? It looked like someone was about to.

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Thalia Carmichael Location: Education Center (M) Skills: N/A

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Most of the testimony seemed predictable, from Thalia's point of view. Like she had seen all of this before, repeated ad infinitum, both before and after the uprising of dead people. But that was the funny thing about points of view: They tended to change with the onslaught of life experience, and the past five years had given everyone (who was still alive) more life experience than they really wanted. So when Gunny's testimony got to the portion where Hunter reacted to having his dog removed from his care, Thalia's more recent life experience colored the statement accordingly.

Petty. Breaking people. Abuse them as they wished. Sick. Thalia took the testimony in, her head pointed squarely at the man speaking. Her eyes slowly moved to view Hunter, looking for any kind of reaction or confirmation. Thalia had seen people like the ones Hunter was describing, with traits which he attributed to the authority in CMB. She had sunk a knife into several of them, swung a short machete into others, and shot so very many more. Thana was present and could vouch for many of the horrors that Thalia had witnessed - the blood, the viscera, rooms specially set aside for the mutilation of human bodies. Torture rooms. Zeds hung from the ceiling in a macabre mockery of tapestries, moaning and snarling at the living below. Thalia saw he cages where prisoners were kept, too. But more than this, the one thing that stuck out in her mind was a bucket. It was chock full of gouged out eyeballs, some with the optic nerve trailing along behind, all sloshing about in some dank and fetid fluid. Thalia took the opportunity to punt it as hard as she could to provide a gruesome distraction before filling the air in front of her with 9mm rounds traveling at high velocity.

Maybe Manny could better educate them in the ways of a petty, abusive, sick collective of sub-humans who treated people as they wanted. That's where they found him. Eden. Hunter's reactions might have been more in place there, were he to have ever been a guest of theirs. Of course, that kind of reaction might have gotten him flayed, or his nonvital organs peeled out of his body, or his manhood split and quartered back like a hot dog stuck in a microwave for far too long. His screams would have been legendary. Maybe his dog would have been forcibly fed to him. Maybe they would keep the dog alive for a long as possible as the process went on. At least then, a piece of it would be with him for as long as they allowed him to draw breath. Yes, Hunter in Eden. That might have been a sight. Instead, he had the opportunity to speak ill of his hosts while given regular meals and his canine well treated, albeit not in his presence for some of that time.

So Thalia looked to Hunter surreptitiously, not tipping her hand that she was sizing the guy up yet again. She was still not a huge fan of organized civilization, nor the rules which imposed on her freedom to do certain things just because she might feel the need to do them. She might wish to leave the place, climb a tree, or sink a float hook into water to catch something for supper. She may want to feel the wind on her face from someplace high, smell pine sap close up and personal, perhaps. Keep her weapons on her at all times, certainly, and train whenever she felt like it. While these things were inconvenient to her, things like regular meals were certainly not. By the time the recording of him in his jail cell came about, Thalia was only looking at it to catch the highlights. She had seen and heard enough. Her opinion meant nothing in this instance anyway, and she was not testifying at this time. There were too many similarities between herself and Hunter; glaring ones at that. The one thing that made them very different were the choices made. Thalia knew that she was damaged and probably always would be. It was no reason to fall to pieces. Deep down, she hoped Hunter would turn a corner here, that maybe all he needed was time. But in the end, whatever decision the community came to, it wasn't going to affect her in the least.

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Hank Wright Location: Education Center (M) Skills: N/A

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While the phrase, "This is better than pay-per-view," might have been uttered by Hank from time to time since their inclusion in the Camp Mexico Beach community, he truly meant it this time. Hank didn't give a more or less decent rat's hindparts about reality TV back in the day, preferring a good WWII documentary or anything Western, but damn if this wasn't some good, old-fashioned, family style entertainment. Not the parts where things were mentioned in monotone voices and points got repetitive, but the shiny, new bombshells that were dropped every so often really gave Hanktholomew Patrick Wright a deep down sense of unfolding drama, and right in front of him, too. Every so often, he would give Wayne a quick nudge and point out little nuances coming from people on the stage, defendant, council, or witnesses, as they spoke or reacted to the speech of others. It felt good to flex his intuitive nature again, and in a capacity that was not life and death.

But it was when the video played that he leaned forward in his seat and clapped once, giving a quick exclamation that he cut off out of a sense of propriety, "Hey! - <coughcoughcough> ...um, sorry." It was pretty obvious that he got a little excited by the novelty of video evidence and not exactly the content therein, seeing as it had scarcely begun. Hank would have to apologize, or at least something like it, later on. When he found out to whom it should go, of course. But the real moment of suspense came when he waited to see what Hunter's answer was going to be when called upon for his own defense, or keeping quiet and letting them pass judgement. If he was in the kid's shoes right then, Hank would probably have opted to remain silent, but this? This might wind up being both edifying and diverting, both. He just wished he had some popcorn. Or a beer. Some Chex Mix might do in a pinch, but not the kind with those dark brown, dehydrated pumpernickel bits (or whatever the hell they were) in it. The good stuff. Ah, but it was as much a pipe dream as any other. So he settled back and let the trial continue without further distraction on his part. When he saw the actual content of the video, he only had one thought on it, which he voiced significantly quieter than his first outburst. "Oh, shit..." It seemed to fit the situation well enough.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Ash Holloway Location: Education Center (M) Skills: N/A

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Ashton looked up from his seat to view Nigel retaking his seat next to him. He gave the man an accommodating expression and returned to his time-honored habit of staring mostly straight ahead, blankly waiting for the trial to continue with the one exception of turning back around to see if he could meet Thana's gaze for a moment. He was not an overly garrulous man, and this wait was nothing compared to sitting motionless in a transport plane, crossing an ocean, debating upon whether it was worth it to risk traversing the uncertain footing of a forty-year-old aircraft aircraft not built to the comfort or stability of commercial standards for the purpose of relieving his bladder in an hastily arranged bucket and/or tarp setup. Not a glamorous existence. Nevertheless, an existence he knew well.

When things finally did get back underway, Ash was keen to note elements of Tatiana's testimony. She was being more than a little evasive, which was something that gave him concerns. Mostly, those concerns were for her. At the same time, Tati's hesitation to speak was due in part (he assumed) to the fact that the incident was a personal matter between she and himself. Nobody's business, and moreover she was correct; it had no bearing on the facts of the Court Martial. Ash gave Tatiana a supportive look as she stepped down and went back to her seat. She was, as she had stated earlier, family to him. Jack's testimony was likewise terse, though he did do something interesting: He repeated Tati's speech word for word, and in front of a native Russian speaker in attendance. Of course, that same Russian was there when the words were originally spoken, so there was nothing new there. And surprisingly, the Major did not reveal what was said, either.

When it was his turn to give testimony about the events in Quarantine, Ash went against his instincts to be as open as possible with these people. He remained honest, but he stood by Tatiana's decision to keep their personal affairs personal, as backed up by Major. Upon being asked why Tati hit him and what was said, Ash responded, "Respectfully ma'am, this is a family matter. I cannot in good conscience answer when it has been established through testimony that this has no bearing on the trial." He continued with a straight face, "Plus, I don't speak enough Russian to give an accurate accounting of what she said, ma'am." All true things. If it was important, the other Russian speaker would have reported it in detail. This felt like a fact-finding expedition for the sake of curiosity, not the pursuit of justice. And it was an interesting point that these people seemed to want to know more about how he got his ass kicked by a Prima Ballerina. In his old life, Ash might never have lived it down.

He maintained accurate testimony as to the events which followed, detailing the gap of time between the end of the incident and the beginning of Hunter's rant to Tatiana. He related to the best of his ability what Hunter had said to Tati, though the exact wording of it had to be taken with a grain of salt. The delivery was straightforward and without messy things like deviation of emotion. What he recalled to the utmost of detail was, upon being asked, his reaction to it. That reaction was less than endearing. His relating it to the court was toneless and direct. "I told him that Tatiana was a gem. I then told him that if he did that again I was going to, and I quote: 'feed you to the fucking corpses myself'. Following that, I asked if he understood what I had told him." The lack of direct response at the time of the incident was expected. Though if Ash were being completely honest, in that exact moment he almost wished that a move were made. Taking another hit that hour to remove what he perceived might be a threat to his people was a strategic risk that he was willing to take.

Concerning what came later, he didn't have a lot to add to what was already related to the court. "I cannot say much about the incident between Hunter and Beatrice. When Miss Decker first restrained him, my attention was on Tatiana. Afterward, I witnessed her give a warning about his behavior, followed by a possible consequence if her warning was not heeded, as the others have testified."

When dismissed, Ash rose and again, respectfully, assumed the role of a military man exiting a formal proceeding, as this was the closest thing to it that he had been party to in years. He settled into his seat and waited for the next time he might be called up.

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Thalia Carmichael Location: Education Center (M) Skills: N/A

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The words Nigel shared concerning the latest clue rattled around in Thalia's head for a while. Ask the cook? She was familiar with the phrase "too many cooks spoil the broth". It had even occurred to her when she read the note the first time purely because of the vaguest of similarities between that expression and the one referenced in the note, but had dismissed it almost at once. It failed to make any sense to her. Sitting there in the Auditorium, she began to mull over the idea again. It wasn't exactly the Riddle of the Sphinx in terms of clarity, as if riddles were meant to be very clear in the first place. Objectively, the first time she read through Oedipus she had no fucking clue what the answers were, either. So much for her fancy Boston college education. With a mental shrug, Thalia figured that she'd check in the with cook anyway, when the opportunity presented itself. It wasn't like she had a great idea of her own.

Testimony was entertaining at least. Thalia even cracked a smirk when Tatiana was answering questions. The woman was strong. A different kind of strength than to which she was accustomed, certainly different from what she was exposed to growing up, but it comes in many forms and she had it. What was more, she had friends willing to risk their safety and security here to back her up. Thalia was not one to make friends with a lot of people. More than half of the time, she wished she was far away from everyone else, maybe up in a tree someplace or on a rooftop, tending to her own needs purely. The last couple of years had her becoming more open to being chummy with a select, small group. Looking at how Tatiana had people willing to back her like this gave Thalia some pause for thought. There was yet another type of strength here, too. Like La Familia, but if any of these people were blood relation then she was the Queen of France. Glancing down at her artificial arm, she knew that she had to diversify the assets which kept her alive and gave her strength. But building one's self back up seemed much less difficult than making connections like that. She looked around the room, trying to find her "Eden" group, or what was left of them. Alexander, Manny, and Thana. Did they have that same kind of interpersonal loyalty? Thalia hoped so.

When called up to the stand, Thalia wasn't particularly sorry that she couldn't offer up much insight. She was not opposed to getting to the bottom of the situation and having this trial over with, granted. There simply wasn't enough motivation for her to feel one way or the other about it. Perhaps this is why her answers were very neutral and direct.

Concerning Ash and Tatiana: "I don't know. I don't speak Russian."

About her take on the exchange: "Ballerina drahpped the Captain. Kinda funny, but I wasn't watching them. They weren't a threat. I was watching everything else." And she was, after the initial assessment of the two of them. Thalia was watching their guards, the exits, potential problems, ways to leave fast and quiet if necessary. She was the very spirit of survival for herself and her people.

She was keenly aware of the space of time between Tatiana hitting Ash and the noise from Hunter. "Yah. A little time passed. I guess he wanted to be heard. I couldn't say why." Thalia did remember putting a token barrier between everyone else and Alexander around this time, as the older man had gone through enough right then. She was defensive even from Tatiana, even as she started to pick up Alexander's broken coffee cup.

But as for Bea? "Ah hell, I was helpin' Mugsy find a place to sit. Rough day." She remembered as much as anyone what happened, but didn't see the very start to it as the was literally just turning in the other direction. Beatrice had her back, and she was between Thalia and the potential threat. She did have a front row seat to the fallout, though. "Bea said she gaht this, then went and gaht it. She wrapped it up simple. More generous than I might have been. It was still impressive." Thalia didn't like talking about Beatrice. So far as she was concerned, the woman abandoned them. her actions prior were still very cut and dry, and deserved reporting as such.

Otherwise, Thalia told the truth, whole truth, and nothing but, relaying from her point of view with short, to-the-point responses. When it was done, she rose and returned to her seat with a dull expression on her face. Inwardly she was brooding, letting a little of her family's darkness of thought and action wash over her. This was all just a hair too civilized for her tastes. When she sat back down, Thalia gave a sigh and wondered when this would be over. Patience for matters like this was not her strongest point.

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Hank Wright Location: Education Center (M) Skills: N/A

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"Yeah, hey, I saw what happened. Same as everybody else say what happened. It was ...whew... one of the funniest damn things I've seen in my life. Multiple ass-kickings in a six minute period, I mean, yeah. Don't get me wrong, best as I can figure there was a lot of steam that had to be blown off. I guess you people get that all the time here with new blood. Ah, but what do I know? Well okay, I do know that if there was a movie based on the events of that day in Quarantine, it was going to really need that song, 'Everybody was Kung-Fu Fighting' in the soundtrack somewhere. But not the 70s version. Get another recording done, you know, bring things into the new millennium." Hank saw, and reported what he saw, but just couldn't help making various points of social commentary from time to time.

"Look, you want me to break this down psychologically? I can do that. Make a puppet show for you if you like. Haul out the various verbal charts of needs and isms" that fueled that blood-and-coffee Bacchanalia back there. Stuff like that. It isn't going to change a thing from what everybody else is saying. The coffee was great, though. Spared no expense for the refreshments."

Upon the application of a sterner tone or insistence of relating the basics of what he witnessed, Hank was able to make a no-nonsense summary of the events in question, from his point of view. Summarizing was something he did well. But so was bullshit. This had a scoop of each, hopefully with a pearl of cranky wisdom atop.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Ash Holloway Location: Mess Hall (C) -> Education Center (M) Skills: N/A

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"Hmm," intoned Ash in a contemplative manner. Thana's point wasn't something that he had considered; that they were reviewing witnesses giving repetitive testimony for the sake of those who were not present. That would mean that, in addition to the general application of justice, this Court Martial was also about letting the public know. It made sense. One of the lessons of an Officer concerned the application of authority, specifically two types: Granted Authority and Perceived Authority. Granted was easy. It was given to you, like a title. It was the way a career Sergeant would defer to a still-green Lieutenant, or the way a civilian employee would follow the orders of someone in a management, just because they were in charge. Perceived Authority was a little different. It was knowing that the person in front of you was capable of handling the task at hand and genuinely trusting that their judgement was bringing everyone forward. It was an issue of respecting that authority, even if rank was not a factor. Or that there were looming consequences for disobeying. The Council of Camp Mexico Beach seemed to be demonstrating that they possessed both Granted and Perceived authority, moreover wanted everyone to know it before they passed judgement. It struck Ash as the right thing to do. But to her continuing commentary about the initial meeting of Hunter, he responded, "Better safe than sorry these days. Curious on how this one turns out."

Ash's potentially too-indepth reading of the situation was cut short, his mechanism for introspection jarred to a sudden stop by Thana's comment about liking their time apart, citing that it kept her from getting bored with him. It took him a half a second to realize that she was laying on the sarcasm, especially when she brought up the bit about them proving the adage about absence making the heart grow fonder. Ash was not a fan of that saying. He'd lived it for almost a year and a half. He had to admit that it was funny, however. Ash wrapped an arm around Thana for a second and gave her a quick squeeze and half-whispered, "Oh, you're a tease," he said playfully. "And I wouldn't have you any other way."

Thana had finished her soup first, which was indicative that Ash was either losing his touch or that he was slowing down his usual Army pace of eating for the sake of demonstrating manners in front of Thana. She wasn't a whole lot ahead; just enough to make his last bites when she started counting down a hurried affair. The memory of the last time she counted down a minute rebounded fresh in his mind, prompting him to recover a mindset more suited to basic training. The last few spoonfuls of vegetable soup disappeared in a shovel-like fashion and he found himself scrambling to tidy up his area and get the task of putting his things away accomplished. Thana's count continued, the maddening cadence which dictated the next moments of his life, and he swore to beat it to its natural conclusion. Breezing past Thana on his way up to the front of the Mess Hall, Ash slowed to offer to take her dishes and flatware as well, then shook every leg he was capable of shaking for the purposes of outmatching the inevitable countdown.

By the time they met outside of the Mess Hall, Ash was smiling with a cocky confident air about him. He stood to attention and threw a spot on salute, relating in chipper tones, "As ordered, Ma'am." He was only too happy to accept his prize, holding it to the same regard as any honor bestowed upon him in recent memory. It occurred to him that he really, really wasn't accustomed to smiling this much. It was something he looked forward to getting used to.

Returning to the Auditorium, Ash took up the seat that he was sitting before their meal break. Like Thana, he made sure to see where she was sitting, way up on the balcony, before turning his eyes to the gathering group of people filling seats. There wasn't much for him to do now except bear witness to the remainder of the trial unfolding, and he was going to do so respectfully, observing as much as he could and taking mental notes on the entirety of the situation.

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Thalia Carmichael Location: Mess Hall (C) -> Education Center (M) Skills: Stealth

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"Catholic," Thalia enunciated, in response to Nigel's summary that her father was War Priest. Looking at the history of the Church, it wasn't a completely unfair comparison. In the case of Father Benicio Gonzalez though, it wasn't wholly accurate. She shuffled back another mouthful of bread, adding to her statement while chewing, "Wrong Horseman." While the horseman of War was an interesting choice out of the Four, her family served a different master.

The joke that Shears made about Joaquin being a barber didn't exactly hit Thalia's funny bone. She did give the man a deferred bob of her head and a quiet, "Nnn," as he mentioned that her brother was a more than fair hand with a knife. Yeah, that sounded like him. And her, once upon a time. But she couldn't bring herself to force a laugh at the idea that the guy should have been a barber. A more natural bit of mirth did escape her when Shears mentioned Atticus knocking out a tooth and blessing it, though it sounded more like a misplaced snort than anything else. Thalia rarely laughed pretty. Or laughed, period. Maybe she should loosen up some. Take up a hobby. Socialize, maybe. Open up to others. The directed thought of that almost made her snort again. Not today, and probably not tomorrow.

A couple more ideas as to what answered the riddle on the card came to mind, but they all seemed off. Thalia gave a sigh and flipped over the card so that Nigel might see it, then stuffed it into a pocket. It was frustrating enough dealing with this semi-domestic goose chase, and she was fresh out of ideas. As soon as attention was diverted elsewhere, anywhere but on her, Thalia gathered her things on her tray and quietly rose. Hopefully, she could just disappear into the movement of people and find her way back unnoticed. Unfortunately, the same curse that was upon her once godly ability to be quiet asserted itself again. The tray slipped off of her metal hand where she had tried to balance one side of it and clattered back onto the table, drawing more attention than she liked. Exhaling with acceptance and resignation of her own failures, Thalia walked her tray up to the dump site and handled her affairs accordingly, then hit the bricks outside.

It was a quick enough jog back to the Education Center. And the same measured amount of time to find her seat, again. She tried to mull over the meaning of the next clue, throwing any kind of euphemism or colorful, cliched phrase into it to see what might logically stick, but it was of no avail. Then she took a different approach, considering which person in Camp might fit those words. The idea now being not to figure out the riddle but to apply the words of the riddle to someone she had met in here. A lot of hands messing things up. Too many hands. Thalia was not operating out of her wheelhouse with this. Then again, her usual wheelhouse was apparently cut off from her, so this was just par for the course today. She could figure it out later. The trial was about to begin again.

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Hank Wright Location: Mess Hall (C) -> Education Center (M) Skills: N/A

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"You know there, Maldonado, being in charge of balls is way too easy a dig to get in. Standards, sir. Standards." But even that was intended to be it's own piece of snark, as opposed to an actual admonishment. Hank gave a shrug and returned to his food, hesitant to admit aloud but fully aware of the fact that life wasn't, for the first time in a long while, particularly awful right then. The kind of not particularly awful that made him start to think to the future. Specifically, his future in this place and how he might make himself useful. This idea was not to be confused with the initial plan of his and Wayne's, involving retiring on a boat someplace and fishing until they died of boredom and/or cardiac arrest. That might yet be possible, although no one here was going to hand them that retirement boat unless certain criteria was met first, not the least of which would involve, well, them being useful. So he thought to this point almost exclusively.

That exclusivity was shattered when Wayne fired a tiny crustacean out of his nose. Hank raised his eyebrows with some surprise, regarding the act as one might a missed putt on a golf program. "Ooh... almost, buddy. Though (and this is just me, personally), I might lay off the nose candy unless we pull sentry duty. Then, I say we bring on the Colombian Pixie Sticks. Like, by the handful." Hank was a fan of purpose over pleasure, unless that pleasure involved steak and beer. Then again, that was its own purpose.

On the subject of serenading Ash and Thana, Hank was in full agreement with his nuthouse associate. "You know, pick out their window and I'm all for it. The pipes might be a little rusty, but... Wait, there is no 'but'. It's gonna sound ass-awful. I'm in. You want to see if Sportacus wants to join? Get the band back together, huh?" Hank was having way too much fun with the idea.

Ordinarily, the idea of joining someone on a "potty break" might have seemed a little odd. There were two glaring facts that were appropriate to the situation, though: Anyone who spent more than a couple hours out in the world might realize, if you had to cop a squat or even just water a bush, you were in a vulnerable position and it was essential that you had someone on standby to man a rifle while you took care of business. And secondly, Hank really did have to relieve himself. "Yup, keep those more aggressive suitors off of you. Gotcha, let's go." So after their moment ditching excess fluids, Hank walked alongside Wayne, opting to discuss what songs might be appropriate for a moonlight serenade until they eventually found their way back to their seats. Sure, it wasn't Court TV, but it was the next best thing.

"Hey, Maldonado? How do you think Judge Judy would have called this?"

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Ash Holloway Location: Mess Hall (C) Skills: N/A

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The overwhelming officialness of the last few hours was tilting Ash's demeanor to something more soldierly, and with that came certain traits. Some were more beneficial than others, such as his tendency to speak clearly and respectfully to people around him, befitting his more humble position in the community. Others were less beneficial, like his occasional propensity to horking back a meal like he was still in Basic. It was this impulse that Ash had to stifle. He could already feel himself leaning forward and picking up his spoon like a digging tool rather than an eating utensil before remembering that he was, more or less, a gentleman. More than that, he was taking his meal with Thana, who deserved a more refined dining companion. So he straightened himself, held his spoon like a mannered adult, and indulged in the spicy vegetable-y goodness in front of him. Between veggies and fresh bread, this was something he would have gone for even back Before.

Thana's question about how much longer it was going to take initially gave Ash some confusion. Then after a moment, he realized that she was talking about the Court Martial, specifically. He gave her a little nudge and a monosyllabic, "Ah," when it came to him fully, and responded thoughtfully. "Couldn't say. Not far in and they are belaboring some points." He shook his head and gave a little shrug. He had no idea either. "It's not like anyone's disputing anything as facts." Which they weren't, yet. "I'm betting that whatever Monroe says will make or break the trial. Only X factor. It'll be done right after he speaks, one way or another."

Ash gave the occasional glance in Hunter's general direction. His position was not enviable, but it was telegraphed by his actions alone. If anything though, it gave the rest of the new people (himself included) a look at CMB's way of handling things without having to go through it themselves. This could be a learning opportunity, even if it pulled away from time better spent elsewhere. "Hope it's soon. I'd love to spend more time with you than it takes to finish a bowl of soup." His accent, usually slight, was beginning to flare again. Thana had that effect on him sometimes, Ash realized.

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Thalia Carmichael Location: Mess Hall (C) Skills: N/A

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Thalia did not like having her plans postponed. Shears was being evasive, but did say that he would pass along what he needed to after food. This earned him two things: 1) A long, hard stare from Thalia, and, 2) a grudging amount of respect about prioritizing supper first. Fine. She had waited this long. While not an overly patient lady about most things social, Thalia had waited this long, and could for another half hour or so. So she went along ahead and got her meal, now sitting quietly by herself as to avoid social situations that might potentially annoy her.

Imagine then, dear readers, her surprise when two social situations sought her out, specifically. The first of the two came in the form of Nigel, the fellow with whom she had sparred earlier. The mostly casual way in which they had corresponded before was okay enough, but the look on her face might have tipped people off that she didn't want to be bothered. This was the price for living in civilization, Thalia supposed. She took in a breath and let it out slowly, then looked to the Roman-ish guy. Nigel wasn't causing any harm. She simply wasn't accustomed to his presence. It reminded her a little of that first meeting with Alexander. She didn't particularly give a rat's hindquarters about that guy, either. She had half a mind to ditch him after he entered one of the houses in search of coffee mugs. Things had a way of changing. This did not mean that she was going to welcome the guy into conversation with open arms (though there was some respect due to the earlier fisticuffs). So she went with her usual direct approach, when asked about her history with weapons. "Dad insisted." It wasn't much, and it was said around a mouthful of bread, but there it was. She might even feel better about the answer were it not for the fact that she pretty much got set back by ten years of training, thanks to having to re-learn around a false limb. Then, just to throw the man a bone, "Father Benicio Gonzalez. Priest outtah Monterrey." It wasn't anything he wouldn't have gotten by asking Atticus or Joaquin. Less, in fact. Thalia continued eating her chowder.

The second one, the barber, was semi-invited. Not expected that soon, granted. He had said something about food first. Apparently, he meant after he'd gotten his meal, not after he was through with it. It was probably a clarification that she should have inquired into. In any case, he had something she wanted. That dead stare loomed on her face again as she accepted the card, her eyes not leaving Shears's face until she flipped it over to inspect its lettering.

~They say many hands make for easy work, yet this one person would know this not to be true.~

It had to be something about hands, didn't it? Thalia wasn't immediately sure what the note could have meant. She lay it face-up next to her on the table and got back to her meal, a slight scowl forming in the face of it all. Could it mean whomever is in charge of the boats? Hands being another word for personnel, and them being busy. Or maybe it was Tesla, the person who labored to make her metal hand. Of those two possibilities, she went for the latter more then the former, but in the end had no idea. A glove maker, maybe. In any case, she continued to hork back her meal, savoring that which could be savored in the relatively shorter amount of time it took her to insert food into her frame.

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Hank Wright Location: Mess Hall (C) Skills: N/A

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In the midst of a classic, quite Hank-ish mentality of why-the-hell-not-(?), our steely, middle-aged protagonist gave a shrug, made a face of exaggerated (if false) consideration, and followed Wayne over to the stage area. Being the ever astute observer of the human scene, this particular chow hall was a veritable library of multiple different personalities, all sitting and eating together in what he observed was relative peace and harmony. At least on the surface. It never ceased to amaze the ordinarily cynical man that circumstances had a way of throwing together people who might have otherwise truly despised one another in such a way as to inspire not only cooperation, but community. It was a way that humanity often marveled Hank. Not that he might ever let a word of this be breathed out loud and in front of people. It was a beautiful thing, though. The end of life as they knew it served to amalgamize those who remained into a single culture, whether they liked it or not. And as the next generation came up after them, humanity would see a tougher, more apt variation of human rise to claim the world around them.

Of course, this was also the beginning of humanity's second Dark Age, so all of the hearts and flowers could take a screaming vault into the back seat of leering pessimism. And with THAT in mind, Hank strode right along behind Wayne, plopped his happy ass down on the edge of the stage next to him, and took a couple of bites before giving his very good friend's words a heartbeat of consideration before returning his commentary with, "Yeah, I wonder how good he is at distance running. Hell, for that matter, I wonder how he's going to look with an apple in his mouth." What followed was, albeit a little forced, a chuckle that was reminiscent of one or the other of the puppet duo, Statler and Waldorf.

But to follow up, so long as they were entertaining themselves at the expense of others, "Whoa, hold on a sec there, buddy! It that Sportacus over there, trying to make time with one-armed chick? Oooh Sporty, you nut; got some ball-balls on that one, huh?" Hank made a cocky expression and nudged Wayne with his elbow. Then he looked to the soup. Yup, that bowl full of happy was going down quick.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Ash Holloway Location: Education Center (M) -> Mess Hall (C) Skills: N/A

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The testimony seemed to crowd around Ash getting a misleading statement about Thana's ability to pull in breath from back in Quarantine. It was not his best moment, granted. In any case, the memory of how he felt had stuck with him, even if he had already silently forgiven the deception by omission. Thana was alive, all was good. Now if they could just get done what had to be done with this trial for the day, he could get back to doing a mixture of nothing and everything with her while the rest of the world just kept spinning around them. The fact that there was a trial was a great sign for the civility of this settlement. The fact that it seemed more or less fair was a boon, too, when one thought about how things could go down outside of the walls like that. Ash was okay with these things. He was even more okay when they called for a break. True, he could go for a meal, stretch his legs, do whatever came naturally, but the fact that he had someone to do these things with could not be overstated.

So it was with a heavy heart that he did not see Thana as he glanced up at the balcony. He was hoping they might have their evening meal together. The trudge up the aisle, still walking with respectful precision as he had for the Court Martial so far, seemed to take longer than it might otherwise until he was almost out of the building. His heart lightened considerably at the sight of Thana waiting by the front door. It was a little touching. She waited for him. It seemed in this day and age that few people did that, and he counted himself as blessed for having someone willing to stick around for his company. Ash offered her his arm and, whether taken or not (as he understood that she might be considered On Duty at the time), went with her the distance to the Mess Hall with a smile that, not too long ago, was a lot rarer. "Hey, missed you down there," he said, a little playfully.

Feeling the need for greenery, Ash selected the rather spicy vegetable soup. He wasn't sure why, exactly. Spicy food wasn't the easiest to get hold of for him for a while, and despite not being someone who overly ran for the capsicum, it was something a little different. Different was good sometimes.

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Thalia Carmichael Location: Education Center (M) -> Mess Hall (C) Skills: N/A

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Testimony was an ongoing thing, and while learning as much as possible about Camp Mexico Beach and the way they did things here was a priority, she was pretty sure at this time that she had learned all that she could at this point in the trial. Maybe more would be revealed at sentencing. Or verdict, whichever came first, though Thalia was pretty sure she knew which way this was going to go. It reminded her of Alice in Wonderland, when the Queen found out that someone was painting her roses red and so put on a trial to make sure "justice" was met. The sentence was already established, as was the verdict, and they had difficulties figuring out which was supposed to come first. Except with this, it was fairly obvious that Hunter was guilty, whatever that meant, of offenses which ranged from the insubordinate to the merely foolish. Until everything had gone through its proper course, Thalia would just hang out and wait, maybe get called on and pretend to be content to be there.

Except that the last part was obviously a lie. It was hard for her to pretend to be anything but what she was, which mostly involved being mildly irritated on the day-to-day.

Oh, but Thalia did notice Shears with growing interest. He was the next stop on her ongoing hunt for whatever the hell she was supposed to be hunting for. That, and she could do with a shorter haircut, so long as she was thinking about it. So she waited until it seemed like a good point to approach, and then moved to do so with quiet, grace, and surreptitiousness.

Except that she had all the quiet, grace, and surreptitiousness of a yodeling chainsaw giving birth to triplets. Coming up behind Shears as he filed away and toward the door was more of an exercise in Thalia misjudging the distance to him and getting caught up in a push of people, prompting her to band her metal hand on the back of a nearby chair and having to get out, "excuse, um, yeah, pardon, damnit, need to, grr, ...fuck." When she finally prodded her way up to the man, Thalia blew out a breath and said very bluntly, "You know you'ah the next on my list, Shears." She cracked the barest of smiles. "What'cha got for me? She continued on her way to the Mess Hall, glancing over with a pause to provide conversational incentive, "Oh, and tell me on the way. If I don't eat something soon I'm gonna really bitch out." More to reality, Thalia was more likely to grow quieter and even less sociable until that need was sated, probably with the action of foraging or the application of a pointed stick. In any case, wherever Thana had gotten of to, she must be having the time of her life with this.

In the Mess Hall, Thalia selected the seafood chowder. It was meat, which was always a plus, and it was chowder. What self-respecting New Englander, even one who was raised during some pretty formative years in Mexico, was going to pass up the niftiness of chowder? Thalia found a mostly relatively quietish place to sit, held up her spoon with her one fully working hand and poised to attack the bowled up fishiness, whispering the single-word battle cry of every hungry Bostonian: "...nnnchowdah..."

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Hank Wright Location: Education Center (M) -> Mess Hall (C) Skills: N/A

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There was a general lack of regard on Hank's behalf as to what everyone else was doing, beginning the very moment that the Professor called for a recess. It was not really a hard and fast matter of the erstwhile Sheriff's overriding interest in whatever was for supper, nor his massive, gnawing hunger. Not to say that Hank couldn't go for a burger, or whatever, just then. He was frightfully bored with the whole trial; the repetition, the mind-numbing sameness or every piece of testimony that kept pointing in the same direction over and over, was rubbing his nerves roughly. If he had the benefit of a six-pack to numb things up, that would have made it more tolerable. But this? Nah, not his scene. Hank had been in several courtrooms in his pre-apocalypse career. Civilian courtrooms. Events where, for the sake of expediency, one side concedes certain things as fact based on overwhelming certainty and they move on to attack or argue their point in a different fashion. This had none of that. Of course, this mindset came from a man who also had no problem drinking lots of beer and watching the same WWII documentary three times in a row. The things which bored him were fickle sometimes.

Mostly, Hank really wanted a change of scenery. So, this lack of regard for what everyone else was doing translated in him springing up right along with Wayne and heading along with his hetero lifemate in a determined and direct pace to the Mess Hall. His lack of desire to engage in unnecessary conversation was a bit of a boon for him in this instance, as he made good time arriving and scuttled into line readily. He settled on vegetable soup and rolls for his repast. Being a steak guy, and having no shortage of fish as of late, he was comparatively in the mood for something that might have been pulled out of a garden. And bread. Fresh bread made the tragic loss of 99.7% of humanity more bearable. "Hey there, Maldonado. How's about we pick a good spot to quietly make fun of people like those two old guys from The Muppet Show, huh? Need something to break the bland we've just been dragged through."

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Ash Holloway Location: Education Center (M) Skills: N/A

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There wasn't much for Ashton to relate in this portion of the questioning. If they were establishing some sort of timeline, great, but as he remembered things, Hunter didn't do anything particularly hellworthy in the locker rooms, nor the shower. Words were exchanged, granted. Short, beginner conversation, led by an innocuous icebreaker. All the same, he was called to the front and it was his responsibility to answer said call. So again, Ash rose, posture and demeanor fully to the efficient and professional, and directed himself to the stage.

All the same, he was asked about the events of the locker room and mens' shower. Rather than bore all parties with a full rundown of describing himself and others participating in their various elements of personal hygiene (as grateful as he was for the availability of hot water and fresh linens), Ash kept his commentary to discussion to which he was direct party, following a general overlay of circumstances which were already outlined by those who had come to the stand before him. "I had asked if anyone else had a military background, ma'am. I got a simple response to the affirmative from Mr. Polawski, Father Pearson, and Mr. Monroe. Miscellaneous responses from others." The memory of Atticus mentioning his place and times of deployment stuck out to Ash. They might have shared a patch of ground at the same time. It was something he meant to talk to the preacher about. It had been an attempt to initiate conversation between the groups that was largely unsuccessful. In hindsight (no pun intended), it was probably not the best time to attempt opening unifying conversation; not until they were fully clothed.

With no further prodding to elaborate, Ash rose, turned sharply in practiced military protocol, and returned to his seat in the greater auditorium.

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Thalia Carmichael Location: Education Center (M) Skills: N/A

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Thalia had half a mind to ditch the proceedings and climb up to the balcony with Thana and make impolite commentary about people with her. Or maybe sneak over to where Tatiana and Jack were seated and whisper about anything else. Or hell, try and see what was up with that Checkbook girl, seeing as they had certain similarities in sarcasm and disdain for humanity in general. It was funny that Thalia had patience to stand in a freezing stream with a four-pronged stick, waiting for a fish to pass by so she might stab some protein for breakfast. She could remain in darkness, letting it wrap around her like a familiar blanket, for hours until the right moment lined up for her unnoticed egress or to press something sharp into the back of someone caught unawares. But this Court Martial? It was beginning to chafe.

Already in her mind, Thalia had devised her hypothetical escape plan, just in case Rube Goldberg Machine of events here spiraled into something grotesque and painful enough to warrant her hasty absence. A couple of them had come to mind actually, but the problem that this open room with little in the way of hard cover presented was that, in the event of such an unlikely occurrence, Thalia would require the benefit of a distraction. Or a hostage. It was strange how her mind kept working like that, imagining the most improbable worst case scenario and taking steps to remain two chess moves ahead of it. Maybe she did need to attend those group therapy sessions. Hell, maybe they should hand her a group of younger, up-and-coming survivors so she could make them more like her. That was a smirk-provoking thought. She could only imagine what her father might think, seeing her teaching the youth how to commit acts of stealth and knifepoint murder while evading people. Like they did to her.

That last thought lanced through her with emotion. She still didn't know whether he was alive or dead, or in Monterrey still, or looking for his family the way she had been. Eventually, she needed to know. Thalia reminded herself that this place would make her strong again, and only from a position of strength would she have options. She would bide her time, years if necessary. In the immediate, Thalia was going to sit idly and listen to people discuss an inconsequential conversation occurring in a shower.

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Hank Wright Location: Education Center (M) Skills: N/A

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Again Hank took the stand, and again, without showing actual disrespect for the proceedings, he did feel a little bit of annoyance at being called up for something like this. He had half a mind to ask the court directly if him giving his opinion on a snatch of conversation was really worth the effort it took for him to get up from a chair and sit down in another one, especially if this line of questioning was already verified under oath by others as a non-issue. But, the wheels of justice were fuzzy and prone to acts of monotony, and so here he was, being fuzzy and monotonous. Then he ran a hand over his head, which held only a week's worth of stubble, and realized that it would be some time before he was fuzzy. Fine. Monotonous it was.

"So there I was," he started, as if to paint a lavish description of an epic moment, "surrounded by tile, getting nude in front of a whole bunch of strangers." Hank shrugged, continuing, "And Wayne. But he's a strange guy anyway, so... I stand by my statement. Anyhoo, after a few well-chosen remarks alluding to prison shower scenes on cable TV, we all got ourselves squeaky and then, um..." Hank began motioning vaguely in Ash's direction, "That guy from the Terminator movie (the first one, not the sequels) tried to make some small talk while humble-bragging about being Army." To give the devil his due, Ash did look remarkably like the actor who played Kyle Reese from the original movie. "And he asked if anyone else was. Dunno, maybe he wanted to make friends. Couple said yes, couple said no, then we all toweled off and had chowder." A satisfied smile, followed by a wink in the Professor's direction followed this expert testimony.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Ash Holloway Location: Education Center (M) Skills: N/A

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Taking the stand again, Ashton maintained the same sort of militant composure that he demonstrated with his first walk up to the stage. The questions asked seemed a little toward the vague for his tastes, considering the nature of the Court Martial, so he confined his answers more or less to the defendant in question as not to muddy the waters with details unrelated. Also considering he was asked questions requiring more than a yes-or-no answer, Ash responded with greater situational detail.

"Team Newnan, my group for the initial evacuation of our settlement and relocation, approached from the north. The Colonel had me pegged as Army immediately and demanded my credentials. Name, rank, number, etc. I complied, informing that our arrival was at the request of Lt. Commander Thana Martin, to report to Master Gunny Macsen Martin. He verified Zone of Action and we immediately deferred to his authority. Monroe was already present at this time on the other side of the Huey. Couldn't hear what he was saying clearly enough to give reliable testimony. Can confirm the conversation on Maddoc's end as accurate to his testimony, ma'am. Two other groups approached from the south and the west, respectively. Long lost cat, too, if you'll believe it. I identified the group from the west as the other half of our people from Newnan (Team Eden), and notified the Colonel that we had no connection to the group from the south, nor Monroe himself, ma'am."

When asked about his take on the whole situation, Ash responded, "Overwhelming set of coincidences that got all parties to that place at one time, and we still might have missed each other were it not for the Huey landing. Everyone was in a position where they had to show remarkable trust. Being out in the world for too long makes it hard to do that. Year, four months, and some change is a couple lifetimes out there. Everyone had something they cared about on the line. My take, ma'am, it that the situation could have gone FUBAR very fast and it was a miracle that it didn't. It was a good day."

And finally, the question of how he was feeling at the time. This one required that Ash delve into a part of him that he wished to remain buried for official matters. Talking about his feelings wasn't a strong point. So, he kept it mostly to the subject of the Court Martial unless asked otherwise specifically. "Cautious. Suspicious at first. The fact that there were a number of people I did not know around heightened this. Some relief when Zone was verified, but too many unknown factors. I had people there for which I was responsible; the presence of a potential troublemaker did not sit well with me. After we were all disarmed - all of us, and in transit, I felt better, ma'am." The Newnan folk were strong and had numbers. Were all on equal footing, Ash would have put his money on them if it came to an altercation. Now that they were all one tribe, so to speak, this last piece of tribalism was moot. In any case, Ash didn't want to throw Hunter under the bus, but he did strive to be honest to them and to himself.

When the questioning was over, Ash continued to show the expected discipline and mannerisms of an officer, deferred to Court Martial protocol, rose, and retook his seat. Another glance up to Thana before he made it back down was comforting. Though he was a person obliged to his personal code and the concepts of jurisprudence where such things were preferred and practical, he did hope in some small amount that this would be done expediently.

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Thalia Carmichael Location: Education Center (M) Skills: N/A

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Thalia took her seat at the witness chair when called upon, this time with significantly less in the way of extraneous noise. Of course there was less. Now that fate had deemed that every eye in the place would be on her, she was able to move fluidly and quietly. This had to be some kind of sick joke, expectorated down from the heavens above to teach her humility. And here, of all the sins she was genuinely guilty of, Thalia did not believe that Pride was one in which she required a lesson. Wrath, maybe. Gluttony? The ability to not gain weight and an overappreciation of canned pasta (among other things) made it a contender. But this had nothing to do with what was going on one way or another.

Briefly, she wondered if she had to swear on a bible, or some such similarity. If she did, and she used her fake hand, did it still count?

Thalia's more blunt nature was in bloom as the questions were asked. She tried her best to be as open and honest as possible. After all, she had nothing to hide. The people of CMB already knew what kind of a person she was and whose family she came from, so false innocence was stupid and ultimately counterproductive. "Yah, so, we wah cutting through Wewahitchka, making for Mexico Beach. Friggin' choppa lands. Navy - sorry, Thana was gone then and Beatrice wahs in chahge." She paused for a moment, look of both sadness and rough anger flashing across her face in even amounts. Continuing, though notably more terse in word and demeanor of speech, "Coming down highway 22, um - from the west." She was almost mocking Ash's testimony from earlier. Thinking about where the sun was in the sky that hour, yeah, he was right. "I was scouting ahead. Usually do. I was..." She didn't want to use the term "expendable", but it was kind of appropriate. "Nevermind. Gahd damn duck... Time I gaht theah, Huntah was saying something about making sure we were who we said we were. Talking about us, the othehs, whatevah. I know he was smiling. I didn't trust it. Until I saw Navy's guy and his group, I was planning on getting us out."

She did not say it aloud, but in case the situation turned into a firefight, she was planning on targeting Hunter first. Of all parties present, he seemed like the greatest potential source of conflict, and that included the guy manning the 50-cal, so long as he was armed. If he was the origin of a fight, the tactic was to eliminate him and either utilize cover or drop her own weapons. It might have given her plausible reason to expect mercy, seeing as she was dispatching the aggressor, and/or focus attention on her so her team could escape. Thalia was more satisfied that it was not necessary. "When Bea and them caught up to me, it was almost immediate disarming, so... heah we are. We weren't on the scene long enough to see a whole laht of whatevah go down. Tension was big. I noticed that." Were it not for the fact that Thalia was genuinely trying to make this place work, she wouldn't have been as honest as she was, nor remotely as talkative.

So far as how she felt, her answer was a little colder than most. "There's no feeling. Out theah, I avoid new people. If I can't avoid, it's risk and reward, fight or flight." Thalia looked to the judges assembled with piercing eyes, summarizing from her keen instinct for survival, "If more people at that crossroad were like Huntah, you never would have seen us." The statement was open to interpretation. Never would have seen them at all? Never would have seen them until it was too late? Or more accurately perhaps, they never would have seen them until they knocked on CMB's front gate.

Either way it was a sober reminder for Thalia. She might have become something similar to what Hunter was now, and probably much, much worse, were it not for people who helped her and became her friends. As it was, her antisocial and potentially violent tendencies didn't need any more encouragement. Just a direction.

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Hank Wright Location: Education Center (M) Skills: N/A

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Hank sat in the witness chair looking a little bored and a little testy, like a burned-out mathematics teacher who just couldn't seem to get the little bastards in his classroom to grasp the basic points of long division. Granted, this was his civic duty, and all of that. Cost of doing business in one of the last benign pieces of civilization left, yadda yadda, but he really just wished that he could sit in a balcony someplace and make colorful commentary alongside his hetero lifemate, Wayne, like slightly less grumpy and significantly drunker versions of Statler and Waldorf from The Muppet Show.

"Yeah, I was out there. You wanna know what happened? Fine. Me, Maldonado, Apocalypse Barbie and Sportacus..." Hank paused, giving a little wave out to the rows of chairs in the greater auditorium, "...came up on the kid there talking some shit, like he wasn't about to be whisked away to a land of mashed potatoes and clean sheets. Hell, the helicopter ride should have been worth some quiet time, at least. I mean, it's no Tilt-A-Whirl, but what is, right?" Hank sighed. This stuff had been related a few times already by different witnesses, and while parliamentary procedure was often repetitive and boring, his years with the Cheshire County Sheriff's Department made him familiar with the hassle enough to just go with it for now.

Hank gave a brief outline of what details he could clearly remember, which fell in line with the established testimony so far. Apparent to him, this was overkill designed to establish some baselines for future testimony, considering that they were jumping around the timeline of total events. His follow-up about how he felt at that time was hijacked a little by personal observations about Hunter's demonstrated psychology, or one interpretation of it. "The kid was letting his Bulldog mouth overload his Chihuahua ass in front of new people. The new people didn't strip him for spare parts and that's how I knew you guys were alright. All in all, I might have thanked Hunter for that tidbit of information. A lot of other people out in the world would have used him as target practice for being so irritating, and I'd have to flip a coin to see whose side I'd be on, then." He looked over to Hunter directly, quickly addressing him like a stern patriarch, "Do you want to get shot? Because that's how you get shot. I hope this self-destructive thing is a phase and you get over it before you take others down with you."

Looking back to the Court representatives, "If you ask me, the kid needs something that'll give him a sense of accomplishment. Far, far away from scissors he can run with. As for how I felt?" Hank leaned back in his chair and smiled a little, as if he was thinking of some faraway point of happiness, "That chopper was the prettiest damn thing I'd seen in a long, long time, and I wasn't going to let one disgruntled guy and his dog ruin it for me. There was nothing I could have done about it one way or the other anyway, so I just stuck around to see the show. Does that answer work?"

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Ash Holloway Location: Education Center (M) Skills: N/A

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Ash had to admit a twinge of something akin to loss when his name was called. It was a Court Martial; an official military tribunal, such as it was. He had been to a few of them. Every time, when addressed by court officials, it was done so with his rank leading the sentence. Admittedly, it was Lieutenant back then. He hadn't the occasion to be involved in a trial since making Captain. His promotion came with the start of the outbreak which led the shambling, hungry dead to vastly outnumber the living. The continuation of his military organization and discipline was what kept him moving in the direction of survival, even when that direction had him deferring to other, more experienced persons. It was part of who he was and the removal of it felt a little hollow. Nevertheless, it was just a title. One he worked hard to earn over the course of years, but a title nonetheless. The lessons of it, and the code he swore to uphold, could not be stripped away as readily.

So Ash rose, his demeanor bearing the respect and dignity that the event warranted, and took his place as witness. He risked a subtle glance in Thana's direction and felt better for her presence. With this reassurance cemented in his brain, Ash put full attention to the proceedings. The questions seemed easy and evident enough, though sometimes it felt like the events in question happened a year ago. There were a lot of changes which took place in their lives recently which tended to drive memories to the side. Ash had been thinking about the day in question recently, reviewing them mentally like he was studying printed words, and so felt confident that he might be able to provide an accurate accounting. Sitting with rapt and attentive posture, Ash listened to the Professor and responded appropriately.

"Where you working in Mechanics that day?"

"Yes ma'am," he responded succinctly.

"Did you see the defendant return from lunch?"

"Yes ma'am." Again, a yes or no question without circumstance surrounding required a short answer.

"Was he late?"

"Yes, he was late, ma'am." Not by much, but late nonetheless. Maybe if it wasn't stacked with other things, this wouldn't have been as big an issue. This was not his decision to make; Ash's duty was to answer and let supporting questioning to and from others color the implications of the truth.

"You were working with him before lunch correct?"

"Yes. All morning, ma'am."

"Was anything said or done that would be considered dangerous or confrontational?"

Here is where the tiniest amount of grey trickled into the situation. "No ma'am." Referring to him as "Private" wasn't the best impression to make, but it was hardly something worth getting too upset over. Nor would he consider the game plan of cleaning the bathroom confrontational either, even if the presentation did seem to make the assumption that he'd never had perform manual labor in his life. "Enthusiastic at first. A little condescending. Nothing dangerous and nothing confrontational, ma'am."

When given the go ahead to step down, Ash rose, posture erect and attentive. Turn, walk, turn, resume as he made his way back to his seat from earlier. He locked eyes with Thana, up on the balcony still, and permitted a little smile to come across his features. Provided the public portion of the court martial that day was handled relatively early, he wouldn't mind seeing what the two of them might do together.

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Thalia Carmichael Location: Education Center (M) Skills: N/A

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For starters, fuck that chair. That chair could smoke a donkey turd in hell for all Thalia cared, and if there weren't people around she might have bashed the thing to kindling, just for the purpose of using it as such and setting it on fire right in the middle of the room. Thalia was willing to bet that the fire suppression system in the building was a thing of the past, and even if it wasn't, this was a risk she was willing to take just to teach the rest of the sitting apparatuses around her a lesson in not giving away her position, especially if it meant murdering said chair and defiling its corpse with fire. That chair could kiss her ass and die. The moment she got back to the apartment and she had a moment in her room (that she still didn't feel altogether comfortable in), Thalia was going to blame that gahd damn duck for everything and give it a stern talking to. To recap: Fuck that chair, and fuck that duck, too.

Thalia selected another chair nearby. Thankfully, this one didn't have the same issue as her first selection. But of course that made sense; she wasn't trying to remain unnoticed, and so the environment was working with her. Or rather, not working against her. So much for brushing up on an old skills that particular hour. She would have her time. She would rise to prominent greatness, making the badlands of North and Central America fear and respect the very whisper of her name. Oh yes, the One Winged Angel would no longer be associated with some video game populated by emo-goth Japanese child heroes, but the running and stabbing and shadowy force of Thalia Angelica Carmichael, daughter of Father Benicio Gonzalez of the Catholic Church, and Seguidora de la Dama de la Muerte Inmaculada. But first.... a Court Martial stood in the way of her completing her next objective.

So there she sat. Thalia might have even thought it interesting seeing Navy's boyfriend take the stand, except that he was predictably straightforward in his answers and practically screamed former military with every action he took, including breathing. Yeah, those two were a match. But until she was personally called upon, Thalia was just going to sit here and mind her own business. For now.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Ash & Thalia Location: Education Center (M) Skills: N/A, Stealth

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The tiny elements of a trial were where the only parts that made it interesting, in Ash's opinion. The rest were solid and established protocols for the establishment of jurisprudence, necessary to ensure the closest possible thing to a fair and impartial outcome. Was it perfect? No. Ash noted some details about which he might have gone a different direction, were he in charge. Though giving it some thought, the now-dead settlement of Newnan was run in the fashion of a benevolent military dictatorship with him at the helm following the death of Lt. Colonel McCormick. He alone passed judgement over those living within Newnan's walls. Considering some of Ash's personal issues during this time, perhaps this trial system was better than the summary judgement of a Commanding Officer in the field, as he had done, even if he did not fully agree with every aspect of it. Established order was likely fairer than the whim of a single man, regardless of the apparent decency of that man. With this in mind, Ash remained seated and relatively stone-faced as Hunter rose to his feet, confident that the people of CMB had this under control. It did not stop him from placing a hand on the arm of his chair and tensing, as if to leap to action if necessary, though this was suppressed like many other things about him, his observations of the court officials assuaging his feelings of urgency.

Continued testimony went with far less in the way of drama (except for a cough from the back of the room). This was more ideal. Drama in courtrooms was for primetime television. When they called for a short recess, Ash remained as he was. He had no immediate need to visit the facilities, and was had to admit a sense of curiosity in how things were handled in the room between sessions. Added security? Lax? Sealed room? Or merely people twiddling their thumbs, waiting for the trial to resume?

Thalia, on the other hand, had her own, evolving agenda. Aside from the fact that she had to be there due to the post-apocalyptic equivalent of a court summons, she had her own reasons for wanting to be there. A desire to see what passed for a trial here was one. Now, seeing how the security team worked was another. Hunter's sudden movement, and the reactions of everyone around him, were fairly entertaining. Moreso was her brother's reaction. The cold, unyielding stare of a man who she knew from personal experience was calmly contemplating killing the guy in front of him if this developed much farther. She couldn't help but smile a little. One observing her might even feel a little unnerved at the expression, considering the simple, direct, possibly bloody course of events which might follow. She did not smile because of the potential for looming death, as many might think of her. Her views on the application of violence were cold and utilitarian in its application. Dispassionate about the actual stabbing and shooting, if not the reasons behind it. Joaquin's reaction reminded her very much of their uncle. Less growling, but like the old man himself. It was strangely nostalgic. The flamboyant man was definitely Familia.

Another portion of her agenda was rooted in the idea that she needed to be out and active to better regain her sense of personal spatial perception, what with the loss of her hand. It had affected her more than she wanted to admit out loud. Using and relearning the subtleties of her more dexterity and athletic based skillset was paramount. And what better way to practice than out and around people? For starters, she made her attempt to move unnoticed with the crowd of people departing the room. Unfortunately, her chair had other ideas. The drawn out rrrnsqueeeeeeaky that came of her removing her weight from the seat completely obliterated her chances of doing that. As did the unintended clack of her steel hand against the chair back as she rose. Keeping her shit together as best she might despite the rising irritation threatening to color her face, Thalia immediately vowed to change her plans for being here in Camp Mexico Beach. To hell with learning new skills. She was surviving fine without them. She needed to bolster and relearn the ones she already had, starting with hitting, stabbing, and stealth. She was a goddamned shadow, once upon a time. This was embarrassing.

In the back of the room, a breathy, quiet chuckle sounded immediately following the very innocent and hardly noticeable fit of coughing coming from the venerable gentleman with the imaginary friend. The chuckle did not come from the man himself, rather, but the man sitting next to him. Hank was a man who took matters of civil court proceedings seriously, and was a little annoyed that Wayne did that, but he wasn't about to pass up an opportunity to get a little mirth in. And he was a touch upset that he didn't think to do it first. In any case, he wasn't the grudge holding type today, so he simply rose from his seat when they called for a recess, citing, "Taking a piss there, Maldonado." and exited, to return shortly thereafter with a more relieved look on his face.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Ash Holloway & Thalia Carmichael Location: Education Center (M) Skills: N/A

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Ash looked with curiosity as he realized that Hunter did not dispute the charges laid in front of him in any way. First he was given the option to leave if he wished, no harm, no foul, and rejected it. Now he did not even plead one way or another before witnesses were called. Or, the first witness, anyway. He was unclear as to the stage of a Court Martial they were in, though to be fair, a small, autonomous unit like Camp Mexico Beach couldn't exactly go by strict interpretation of the Uniform Code of Military Justice. The setup seemed like a more compassionate form of a drumhead trial; that being a court martial put together in the field, usually in a warzone or during a state of emergency. Ash had read about these during his time at the Virginia Military Institute. They were covered in Military History and Theory classes, albeit briefly. Performed by most nations' military in one form or another, mostly in the nineteenth century, they were notorious for already having a verdict and sentencing ready before the actual trial was called to order. This one held a different feel, though. Certain allowances had to be made for the reality of the world they lived in, and being objective, everyone was constantly in a state of emergency. It was compelling to Ashton to view and process the protocol he saw unfold before him. With genuine interest, he continued to take in the CMB trial process, and what it meant for Hunter's future.

Meanwhile, Thalia was feeling a little exposed as she sitting in her seat off to the side. It was bad enough that she drew every piece of attention to herself when she sat down, even after doing her utmost to remain as unnoticed as a wisp of fog in a shadow. That part bothered her more than it really should have, giving it some reflection. She used to be a much quieter, stealthy person, and now... it was a blow to her reputation, now that she was in a place that was vaguely familiar with her background. Or her family's background, at least. It was irritating. On the plus side, it would serve as decent psychological fuel to get herself back to her sneaky, fighting best over the course of however long they would allow her to train in this place. This trial wasn't even a blip on her radar past the information is provided on how things worked here and the nature of those who were in charge. If called upon, Thalia would be a good girl and do as asked - truth, whole truth, nothing but - though for her this was an information gathering opportunity.

From somewhere in the back, Hank was also looking over the proceedings in earnest, though his interest was in getting a good, long look at the people as they spoke. He had a talent for reading the nuances and actions of others, and this was like an edgy, psychological smorgasbord to feast upon. In between people talking, he would play a random game of rock-paper-scissors with his hetero lifemate, Wayne. He did speak once, very quietly, to his friend during a transitional period in the proceedings as to not give even the appearance of interruption. It was a question unrelated to anything going on with the trial. "Hey buddy, you um, you remember that cat that came in with us?" he whispered, almost to soft to hear up close. "Have you seen it at all since quarantine? You think it's even still alive? You don't suppose..." His thoughts went back to a meal with a protein source he couldn't quite identify from a couple days ago. "Nah, couldn't be." He shook it off and returned to viewing the fun up front.

*Nothing to see here*