[hr][center][h1][color=firebrick]Black James![/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] Newnan Courthouse Clocktower [b]Interacting With:[/b] The Dead, and the About To Be Dead [/center][hr] The empty clip ejected, the fresh one inserted as quickly as James's hands could insert it. A second, or just a hair over. The problem was, that second was another span of time he wasn't aiming and shooting. The skilled marksman raised the rifle just in time to see his friend and fellow agriculturist take a nasty bite to her arm. [color=firebrick]"Damn, girl..."[/color] escaped his lips as he took aim on the offending Dead Guy's cranium. His finger tensed on the trigger, and the undead melon exploded into a gelatinous canoe shape. Strangely, he had not actually pulled the trigger yet. He pondered possible answers to this seeming miracle. Perhaps in this moment of extreme stress, coupled with the canned meat that was somewhat past its recommended consumption date he had spread on crackers earlier, some manner of psionic awakening had occurred. Not dissimilar to the comic book superheroes he enjoyed reading about in his youth, possibly a thing that, especially in this dark era, was extremely necessary. Now, costume selection would be a touch slim, give the situation. Little in the way of custom fitted unstable molecules with which to adorn himself. Perhaps his overalls and cowboy hat would have to suffice. A battle cry would also be a priority. Now, his superhero name would be easy. "Black James". Yes, that would inspire the necessary fear in those that required it, and hope to the downtrodden. Plus, most everyone already called him that, so hey, easy transition. Yes, this would be a good thing. Now, to use his newfound head-exploding power to liberate Newnan from the scourge of invaders and walking corpses. And then he saw Zoie approach the scene, rifle in hand. Damnit. Ok, so he didn't have powers. He did still have a big fucking gun, though. In his hands, that was powers enough. Luckily, or unluckily, depending, the Edenite he wasn't able to shoot earlier changed direction, beelining for Maria instead of the Courthouse. Fine with James - it meant he was still in line-of-sight. One pull of the trigger tore the back of the man's head off. Some meters away, the fresh and bloody skullcap spun around on the blacktop like a grisly beggar's bowl. His next few bullets were dedicated, as requested, to ensuring a clear path back into the Courthouse for both Maria and Zoie. A glance back to the Armory gave him an instant boost of morale. James let the feeling of cautious hope wash over him, even accepting the smile forming on his lips. Captain Holloway, Ash, had secured the Armory. And he was [i]rallying[/i] Newnan to him. [hr][center][h1][color=steelblue]Ashton Holloway[/color][/h1] [img]https://31.media.tumblr.com/bcfab66a674d39bfaaddc28bd62d4470/tumblr_inline_ne41kcr5UN1s5par2.jpg[/img][/center] [hr][center][b]Location:[/b] Newnan Armory [b]Interacting With:[/b] Tom, Meg, Newnan [/center][hr] People of Newnan began streaming in toward the Armory at a faster rate. They had enough guns and ammunition to pass out for everyone present, definitely enough in the way of melee weapons as well. Now, they weren't helpless. Every man, woman, and child old enough to train with a blade carried one; it was one of the rules every citizen of the Newnan Safe Zone pledged to follow. Everyone carried at least a good knife. But a knife was far less preferable than a machete, or a spear, or definitely a nice, reliable shotgun. They didn't have forever, either. Zoie had left her perch to go help Maria, and without her there, her distraction would soon burn out and the Dead would be finding different ways to pass the time. Ash dearly wished he had a longer window to equip his people, but it was what it was. Do what he could for as many as he could, and trust that they could begin to take care of themselves. He took to personally passing out a series of handguns and clips of ammunition to the approaching people. [color=steelblue]"Mark, here you go. Sophie, take this. Good. Marcy, Dennis, keep the line moving. Richard..."[/color] That was Richard's cap, certainly. But that was not Richard under it. No sense asking questions at this point. A single gunshot sounded, Ash keeping a businesslike, nonchalant expression all the while. The Newnanites seemed startled to see someone's face concave and cervical vertebrae flap out of the back of their neck, but kept pressing forward to arm themselves. All except for one lady, who suddenly seemed very concerned with moving in he direction opposite of the group. Ashton looked to one Newnanite, this one the only obstacle between himself and a clear shot at the retreating invader, and posed a steady request. [color=steelblue]"Um, Deb? Head to the side, please."[/color] The Newnan woman, confused for a quarter second, suddenly jerked her head to the right as Ash raised his .45 and took a shot. The bullet ripped into the invading woman's back and out of her sternum, dropping her like a sack of wet dog hair. [color=steelblue]"Someone get her brain for me? And... you, take a gun. Machete, too. Who's next?" [/color] The fire began burning lower. It was now or never. [color=steelblue]"People! I need three more of you on my team. Two more teams of five, start clearing these buildings. Armory is clear, Courthouse is clear. We have new arrivals at the Courthouse, treat them good! Anywhere else, if you don't know them, they die. Everybody else: CLEAR OUR STREETS. We're taking back the inner wall. If you can, save the bullets for those fuckers that don't belong here." "We've got this, Newnan. MOVE OUT."[/color] There was a sense of purposeful pride, a certain beauty to the sight of a community righting itself. Frenzied but organized violence, bent on reclaiming their home. Thusly began the painful, necessary work of the citizens of a post-apocalyptic Newnan, beating order back into the chaos that their home had become. They fought for their right to have a safe home of their own, a task to which they set upon with primal justification moderated by the human need to care for their own - evidenced by their willingness to provide support to the newcomer Zoie, helping her get her precious injured cargo to safety.