[b]Robert - Cell - Bull[/b] The raider's words echoed repeatedly through Robert's clouded mind. Images from the past - the past even before the outbreak. Once again the man started to play with the crowbar as he walked side to side as though he were about to say something. "Those words are far too familiar to me. Allow me to share.." Robert started, laying his back on a nearby wall as he stared at the crowbar in his hands. He looked rather happy at this moment, as though his story brought great memories to him. "I was once a soldier in our armed forces. A general actually. About six years before the outbreak, I was sent to Afghanistan with several of my most trusted men. Within weeks of arriving, our base was ambushed and bombarded. Twenty plus men died that day, but that wasn't the worst of our situation. Both my squad and I were abducted from the base and sent into catacombs. Catacombs just like those of Tyler's. We were punished daily, pushed to our limits. They treated us like animals, attempting to get intel on the United States military force. But of course, they failed. My squad was trained by me, the best. None of them spoke. I had even lost track of how many months we lay in that underground." Suddenly, that smile had faded from his face. His facial features also turned dark, as his eyes red like blood. "We had been held in separate cells. We didn't even know who was still breathing and who was no longer. But for some odd reason, they decided to let us regroup in a certain room. All my five brothers were tied and kneeling beside me as terrorist held us at gunpoint. They asked us questions in their language, but we failed to understand. Therefore, they got a translator. The terrorist spoke to him, then he spoke to us. First thing he asked was if we were all under the 34th unit. He was right, but none of us responded. We were all hit with the back of their rifles. Next question: Where was the 35th unit stationed? Again, nobody spoke a word. And once again, we were struck. They continued and continued to interrogate us all. But nobody spoke. Not a single word. It seemed like days, but it was mere hours this interrogation. Then one of them seemed to snap when he pulled the trigger on Alphonso. One of my brothers killed in cold blood like he was a mere manikin. The terrorist then started to fight one another - verbally of course. The translator apologized for killing our friend, but none of us cared for such apology. We were all prepared to die for our country - for our nation. The translator proceeded to tell us that that was not the way they did business. But this was not business. He said he'd allow us one more opportunity to live. That we had to answer one more question and if answered correctly, he'd let us go. I watched him go up to Charles. 'What is beneath your feet?' he questioned my brother. Charles turned to me and to the rest of us. He returned to the translator. 'I don't know' he stated. A shot then rang as the bullet pierced straight through his skull. His body fell motionless. Then the pistol reached Joshua. 'What is beneath your feet?' was the question yet again. Joshua spit in the man's face before being shot. 'Wrong answer' the translator stated. Carlos and Stanley also failed to answer the question correctly. Both died instantaneously. The gun was then in contact with my own forehead. I lay on my knees helpless. 'There is only one answer' the translator said. Then he asked me the question - 'What is beneath your feet?'. I looked to my brothers. I could see their tainted eyes flow with water towards the ponds of blood beneath them. So I returned to the translator. He pushed the gun deeper into my head. 'What is beneath your feet?!' he yelled at me. So before I let him kill me, I responded: Sacred ground, watered with the tears of blood" Robert said, leaving the wall and heading up to Bull as he dropped the crowbar and pulled out his pistol, cocking it. "Their catacombs were then infiltrated by Marines. I was saved. But though I was not shot in the skull that day, though I was not killed by terrorist hands, I did indeed die that day. I lost all I cared about. Every single one of my brothers fell right before my eyes. All because I failed to protect them, because I was too weak to act accordingly. So now I search for a way to get stronger. A way to become powerful enough to prevent further mass murder. And it's people like you who stand in my way" he said, placing the pistol on the man's forehead. "So I shall treat you the way I was treated. Right now you understand what it means to be weak don't you? That's exactly what I felt. And you, that child, that blasted woman, Tyler, and all your raiders make me feel just like I did years ago. It is because of you that I lost all that power I had so long worked to gain." "Beneath your feet is sacred ground, watered with the tears of blood. Remember that in the afterlife." The echo of the ear-splitting "BANG" sprang out. Then it felt silent along with all other nuisances. ------------------------------------ [b]Floyd[/b] It was still bright so the broken branches were still visible. Each little leaf on the ground was a pathway to his destination. It pissed him off how easily the path was to follow, even idiots could do it. Every time he bent down to catch a closer look at the prints, his side irritated a little. Though it was a closed wound, it was still in the healing process. Every step, every physical movement would cause that wound more damage than good. It wasn't like his movements were exercises to strengthen that wound, it was merely putting it through stress. Anyhow, it had been about five minutes since he left, merely anything and he was already near his target. He couldn't believe the reason behind the sudden departure, but he tried to hurry and make sure everything was alright. The humidity of Louisiana was terrible, it made Floyd sweat like a hog. This weather made it even worse for his condition, but he wasn't about to turn back now. Suddenly an open range came forth, causing the path to fade. It was hard to track down anything in an open range, but he no longer needed to. He had eyes on his target and walked towards it cautiously before speaking. "What were ya thinkin?" he called out to the person before him. Jess sat on a rather large stone as she washed the clothing before her. "Why would ya come out here alone huh? Am I the only sane one around here" he asked without awaiting a response. He walked towards the woman and took the gun that was next to her. "And this? This ins't a toy Jess! You've never even used one of these before have ya?!" he continued as though he was her father. He wasn't trying to lecture her, but it was coming off that way. He then put the gun on the back of his belt and covered it with his tank top. "Let's go" he said, taking her by the arm as he dragged her towards him. He turned to each side to make sure there wasn't anyone or anything around before returning down the path he'd come down. He was quiet as he went back, not a word from his lips. He didn't even turn to see if she was following him after he let go of her. He didn't understand why she would go through such extremes just to wash some clothing. Didn't she understand she was pregnant, that child should come before anything in her mind. It kinda did in Floyd's. He didn't want anything to happen to it, nor to Jess. Like him to her, they were all he had as well. At this point, he's learned to cope with Jess and her child. He learned to somewhat care for them - in his own way of course. He may be hard on her from time to time, but it was just because he cared. "Ain't nobody takin this seriously anymore" Floyd murmured to himself as he reached the entrance of the home and opened the door for Jess, waiting for the girl to go into their little haven.