[hr][center][h1][color=steelblue]Ashton Holloway[/color][/h1] [img]http://vignette3.wikia.nocookie.net/avp/images/9/92/Mike_aliens_3.jpg/revision/latest?cb=20130414051040[/img][/center] [hr][center][b]Location:[/b] Hwy 34, outside of Franklin, GA [b]Interacting With:[/b] Maria [/center][hr] Ash suppressed tightening his jaw and balling his fists (as best he could anyway) at the mention of James driving away with his 'Buster. It was best to ignore it for the meantime, anyway. Being as there was nothing he could do, it wasn't profitable to dwell on it. Still, he had a connection with that vehicle; it was sentiment for the most part. If it were possible to have loyalty to an inanimate object, that would be the best description. [color=steelblue]"It's like your bow. Used to belong to Dad."[/color] Ashton's voice was soft, but his face was anything but. [color=steelblue]"My father started a distillery. We 'stilled before, it just wasn't what you'd call legit. Anyway, the startup wasn't exactly enough to get a fleet of shiny new trucks, so our motor pool was ...eclectic... One of which was an old Canadian Freightliner with a sleeper cab, used to belong to a brewery. Last owners outfitted it custom as a dump truck, if you'd believe that. Fucking massive dump truck with a sleeper cab, I got no clue what they were thinking.[/color] The good Captain was feeling wistful. Relaxed even, talking about something near and dear to him, from before the world collapsed. He gave a good chuckle before continuing. [color=steelblue]"But, it's easy to fix, dump truck or not. Damn near every part can be made to fit in the damned thing, and it's easily machinable. The old diesels, I tell ya. Anyway, we installed a soft cover and a loading ramp, and BAM, we had ourselves our cargo truck. It was the most out-of-place monstrosity you'd ever see at a truck stop, but the old girl kept Dad's business alive. Kept us alive. Ugly truck or not, it did what it was supposed to and [i]would not die[/i]."[/color] His demeanor changed, shifting back to the harder with which the Newnan Group was familiar. [color=steelblue]"After Atlanta fell, me an a few my men left out of Dobbins. Turned into a real shitstorm. Trekked back home to Virginia, settled in for a while. Good people, mostly. Had a setup - not as good as Newnan, but good."[/color] [color=steelblue]"A megaherd came at us from the direction of Charlottesville. Had us pinned in for seven fucking weeks. We had food, water, walls. Just didn't have a way out. I figured, if we could get everyone into the trucks, we could get out, maybe outrun the Herd. We just didn't have anything that could make a hole for people to escape from. But we had that old rebuilt Freightliner." "Well, I'm an engineer, goddamnit. I know how to use a wrench and a blowtorch, and the damned thing already had monster pushbars installed. Reinforced, converted to run on alcohol (had plenty around), bigass cow catcher on the front. I turned that machine into a BEAST. Took me over a month, working with the tools I had, but when I was done, the Hordebuster was birthed. The old girl kept us alive again, and I'd be lyin' if I said I didn't take perverse fucking glee seeing all those dead bastards flying around like rag dolls." "We didn't all get out, owing to the stupidity of a few. But that's a different story."[/color] He fell quiet for a long time, absorbed in his own thoughts. His thoughts were abruptly cast aside. The number of Walkers had increased significantly. They seemed to be coming out of the woods, some with particular interest in an RV. The reason was obvious; fresh meat on top. They were sparse around the roadward side of the Winnebago, which looked like the best place to make an extraction. The SUV was a large personal conveyance. While not as large as the RV, it would be the spectacularly lucky Walker that would get on top. He thumbed open both power sunroofs, front and backseat. Ash pulled his Detonix .45 and handed out to Maria. [color=steelblue]"I'm betting they need our help. I'm pulling alongside. Cover them up front, they can hop in through the rear. Ready?"[/color] [hr][center][h1][color=firebrick]James Grady[/color][/h1] [img]https://v.cdn.vine.co/r/avatars/6AE78329E91063505631975227392_pic-r-1396533712688c4afde8ecf.jpg.jpg?versionId=ZnGOSit0zozlhxpJk0w6QVx4cSozVRdq[/img][/center] [hr][center][b]Location:[/b] Ralls Rd, Stately Residence Driveway just off of. [b]Interacting With:[/b] Alicia, new Survivors [/center][hr] [color=firebrick]"One little, two little, three little Deadians..."[/color] sang James, watching the occasional Walker get struck by, and immediately flung away from, the roadbeast that was The Hordebuster. [color=firebrick]"Four little, five little, six little... Hot damn, Alicia, those're people! The breathin' kind!"[/color] He laughed with joy and triumph, be it possibly premature for either. [color=firebrick]"Let's go say hi!"[/color] The jovial boar-wrangler readied his pistol and swung the 'Buster in the right direction to come alongside the survivors. He gunned it, smashing the occasional corpse into its component parts, until he was within spitting distance. Reaching back, he opened the suicide door leading to the cab and yelled, [color=firebrick]"Ya'll better RUN!" [/color] Gun in hand, he had no intention of being taken unawares by the random walking medical cadaver. Of course, he was no fool; he had no intention of being taken unawares by some random asshole who wanted the truck, either. Whatever the case, there was a MASSIVE horde on the way, and James had no intention of being there when they showed up. From the looks of things, that would be in about ninety seconds. [color=firebrick]"Tick tock, gentlemen. Tick muthafuckin' tock.[/color]