[b] 1SG Abram Chamberlin - New Orleans/Vicinity of the Catacombs[/b]
((Did I do the bold thing right?))

Abram Chamberlin came to with trained reflexes and sudden movements; the cans had rattled in the alley behind the building. quickly, he seized his pistol with his right hand and proceeded forward with expert movement. The man quickly moved to the alley window, one of three windows in the apartment. This window gave view to the alley and onto the streets adjacent to both sides, the one facing east gave view to the street directly outside it. 

Abram peeked out of the window to examine the line of rope that held up his improvised alarm system; a series of cans and spoons that clanged whenever moved. A single biter had straggled into the line and now observed its surroundings with irritation. The man didn't bother to open the window and put an end to the creature; instead he simply slid the black blinds closed and returned to his business. "God bless you're hell bound soul, my friend." He muttered quietly. He laughed quietly to himself; God must be taking a nap... 

The man scratched his beard absently, but then stopped to examine himself in a wall mirror. He was still as fit as ever; maybe he'd lost a few pounds, but at 6'2 and 200, he didn't worry about becoming scrawny. He was, however, aging. His dark beard had been come slightly peppered and no longer bore strong emphasis to his dark face, but it wasn't close enough for him to be thought an old man. He slid a hand under his shirt and lifted the hem a little bit. "Yikes..." His formerly defined abs were not at all what they used to be, albeit sixty days in hell could do a lot to one's physique. 

Presently, Abram dropped the hem of his shirt to his waist band and proceeded to the north-facing window. This was his most prized besides his setup on the roof, where his tripod rested. This room was the only room on the uppermost floor of the building, and he'd pushed every piece of furniture except the bed to block the stairs. Nothing was coming up and nobody was going down. The only access to the building lay on the roof; a single ladder that somehow managed to reached the top. 

Abram pulled the window blinds apart and looked outside. His eyes set hard on one place; the catacombs. Said place was the residence of terrible men who were to low to be called demons. These men held women for breeding stock; he'd watched them bring countless women and girls through the front gates. Only a few days ago; about three or four, they'd hauled in a woman and a young girl. Upon taking a glance at the teenage girl through his scope, he saw that she couldn't be a day over fifteen. He'd also noticed that her face reminded him of someone, but he couldn't remember who.