[hr][center][h1][color=steelblue]Ash[/color], [color=firebrick]James[/color], & [color=orangered]Jefe[/color][/h1]
[img]https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/bf/24/21/bf242114f2b516cb8b3c311fd773cd87.jpg[/img]  [img]https://v.cdn.vine.co/r/avatars/6AE78329E91063505631975227392_pic-r-1396533712688c4afde8ecf.jpg.jpg?versionId=ZnGOSit0zozlhxpJk0w6QVx4cSozVRdq[/img] [b]&[/b] [img]http://cdn23.us1.fansshare.com/photos/dannytrejo/machete-danny-trejo-machete-kills-vest-hero-breaking-bad-691917003.jpg[/img][/center]
[hr][center][b]Location:[/b] Newnan 
[b]Interacting With:[/b] Each Other, Survivors, Leann
[/center][hr]

In the instant following Ashton handing over Alicia's sniper rifle to her father, all manner of Hell began breaking loose. Caesar snapped to attention, the mild amount of warms and fuzzies he felt at the moment supplanted by the sudden re-awareness of the urgency of their situation. He still neglected speech, but gave the Captain the slightest, almost imperceptible nod before snatching the rifle's strap around his torso and retrieving his machete. 

A blur of motion caught Ash unprepared as Caesar brought his blades to bear, the first whipping toward his neck with speed he couldn't have hoped to match if he were braced to receive it. Cold steel slid across Ash's skin, just below his jawline before he realized Caesar's intent: his head was being pushed roughly to the side as the older man's second blade thrust past, impaling an undead eye socket with a sickening [i]pop[/i]. 

Simultaneously, Ash's recruit seemed to have caught whatever infected Caesar earlier. The Marine turned into a blur of urgency and polished steel, laying waste to many animated corpses and clearing the path before her. The engineer was duly impressed, even if his grief-wracked psyche wouldn't let him show it. If there was a moment to take, that moment was now. 

His own sorrow at the loss of Alicia had to be put aside. This was a time for survival - his and his community's. Ash forced himself to say, if only in the brooding darkness of his own mind, that she was but one soldier. Soldiers fought, soldiers died. They did so for a greater purpose, if they were lucky. His novia did just that, if Black James was to be believed. To die now, to let these survivors die now, would make her loss pointless. 

His tears ceased. Hell, his [i]emotions[/i] ceased. Newnan didn't need them right now. Newnan needed the Captain. Ash put away his gun and replaced it with his large, knuckle duster fighting knife. 

Take command, secure your people, get to the Infirmary. 

Back at the Hordebuster, James was not having a good day. He'd be damned if he was going to let another one die, likewise he'd be damned if he was going to sit this one out. True, if he stayed in the 'Buster for a good long while, the area would eventually dissipate and allow him more freedom of movement. The inventor of this life-saving road beast used to live in it, for crap's sake. There were stashes of supplies somewhere in here, enough to keep one going for a while were they so inclined (though James was a little fuzzy on how he relieved himself in the truck, or what he was supposed to do with it after), but that really wasn't an option here. The resident Blackneck was going to get these people to safety. Or at least help. 

[color=firebrick]"Ok, James,"[/color] he said to himself, [color=firebrick]"You gonna get both these white niggas out the street and under a roof, and you gonna have fun doin' it."[/color] Minimal psyching up necessary, the generally optimistic James grabbed both his rifle and Alicia's pack, shouldering them both and tightening down the straps with a solid yank. He slung open the door, hit the power locks, and hopped down from the great vehicle. 

The Ralls Rd. survivor who addressed James earlier, the one who wanted the cigarette, looked to him with with uncertainty. [color=DC143C][b]"Tell me what to do, where to go, who to talk to, whatever it is and I'll do it."[/b][/color]

James grabbed a midsized woodsplitting axe from the floorboard and closed the door behind him. He straightened the brim of his almost jaunty cowboy hat on his head, and addressed the concern in a non-judgemental, straightforward tone. [color=firebrick]"Here's what you gonna do. Raise that hammer high and bring it down on anything gets too close, y'understand? See them folks down there?"[/color] he said, pointing at Ash and Caesar, [color=firebrick]"We meeting up with them, and pushing to that building over [i]there[/i]. Stay close behind an' keep breathing. C'mon."[/color]

Ash looked back to James, noting he had a passenger in tow. A clear, cold voice he barely recognized as his own issued, [color=steelblue]"Hold the line here, Jefe. We're expecting company."[/color] A ragged gurgling prompted Ash to action - he held his machete out to keep the creature at bay, its point sinking into the thing's sternum. Its progress was halted, giving the monotone engineer the opportunity to insert knife into cranium at his leisure. The effect, while not remotely as flashy nor as skillful as his elder companion, was an excellent example of pragmatic execution. 

Caesar grunted in affirmation, the most direct line of communication he'd made in a while, and gave his machetes a twirl to sling the putrid, blackened blood from them. The bladesman widened his stance and braced to defend his position. 

From around the side of the Hordebuster came the standard redneck warcry of [color=firebrick]"YEEHAW!"[/color] as a jogging vision of dark skin and overalls obliterated a Walker skull with a one-handed sweep of a woodaxe; his other hand clutching his hat to his bandanna-swaddled head. He continued his afternoon calisthenics toward the other two Newnanites, (hopefully) with Dexter in tow. James looked dead at Ash, asking, [color=firebrick]"We gone?"[/color]

Ashton nodded grimly at James, repeating his question back to him verbatim, as a statement. [color=steelblue]"We gone." 

"Offensive Wedge - Caesar takes point. James, you and I flank at weapon's length. New guy, bring up the rear. Make for the courthouse, meet Leann in the middle. And GO."[/color]

The venerable Mexican, surprising even himself, found his feet moving along to Ash's orders. Perhaps it was his state of grief; letting the man who was supposed to be in charge dictate to him actions which were, in fact, reasonable. Without a growl or comment, anyway. Two steps later, Ash and James began their own jog, weapons at the ready, flanking their pointman. 

There was an appreciable amount of space and hostiles between themselves and their Commanding Officer. The removal of these obstacles from their path did demonstrate a marked difference in their styles of melee combat: Caesar led the way with fluid but brutal motions, the perfect example of calm and rage warring within a man of considerable skill and experience as he dealt death with both hands; a master of his craft punctuated with obvious emotive content. Ash demonstrated effective and straightforward technique, not too defensive and not overreaching; Economy of Motion, reserving what energy he might need if a huge push was required. James... James found an opening and planted an axe-head into it. He made a rotting skull resemble a canoe and moved onto the next one, existing merely in the moment. Truth being, he'd rather be shooting. 

Steadily they cut their way to the Infirmary, meeting up with Leann on the way.