[hr][hr][center][h1][i][b][color=steelblue]Ash Holloway[/color][/b][/i][/h1]
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[hr][center][b]Location:[/b] Building [b]1[/b] (Cells) -> Building [b]1[/b] (Infirmary)
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	[color=steelblue][i]Do it anyway, Captain. Put a bullet in his knee. An example must be set. Anything else is an act of weakness.[/i][/color]

	Ash felt his hand raise just a mere inch or so before the weight of his Detonix .45 pulled him back to coherent thought. This one was trouble. The thought crossed his mind that perhaps everyone would be better off if he were given some provisions and a good knife, shoved into a trunk and deposited in a random spot at least three days' drive away. Or merely shot and left to bleed out in this very cell. Nothing that a hose and a shovel couldn't fix. He was of little good in here except to use resources, and until he began to show some signs of trustworthiness, he was going to stay right there. 

	At least, until Ash finally gave in and listened to the ruthless, more pragmatic Soldier within, and ended this perceived threat where it sat, grinning at him like it had accomplished something. It was becoming harder, mostly because the son of a bitch had yet to prove any usefulness whatsoever, in Ash's eyes. Point of fact, the thought of walling up the cell with good brick and mortar crossed his mind, solid with the exception of a slit near the bottom where one may, if inclined, fling a pancake through every now and again. 

	Newnan's (originally) reluctant leader opened his mouth to say something meaningful and/or scathing, his radio crackled. Jim's voice gave Ash pause. Before he responded, he wanted to be away from this room. Back down the corridor and into the main foyer next to the Infirmary, he addressed the whole of Newnan. [color=steelblue]"This is Ashton Holloway. We have an incident involving our people, out on the road. I need volunteers to assess and retrieve, if necessary. Arm up and meet in front of the courthouse in five. [i]Five[/i] This is Astrid and Bridgette. We're bringing them home."[/color] 

	Ash's face went as stone, preparing for a conflict. He entered the Infirmary with the cold confidence of a military commander, and addressed Beni with direct familiarity. [color=steelblue]"You heard the radio. Two riders went out, two horses returned. I need to know [i]exactly[/i] where they went to. Directions, landmarks, alternate routes. Traps and defenses, if there are any. Mostly, I need you to convince me that your people didn't have a hand in it."[/color]

	He tilted his head to the side, continuing, [color=steelblue]"If you'll excuse me, I have a phone call to make."[/color] The grim man didn't bother leaving the room. He produced Caesar's satellite phone and punched up the number labeled "M'hija". If they were in a situation, he really hoped that he didn't just give them away. 

	

[hr][hr][center][h1][color=firebrick]Black James(!)[/color][/h1]
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[hr][center][b]Location:[/b] Building [b]C[/b] (His House)
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	James heard what went out on the radio, the same as any near a Lead, within a main building, or a security point. He knew that the Viking ladies had gone out to help some new people - new people that would hopefully be peaceable, friendly types. Now their horses had returned without them. This news inspired a reaction, traditional to a gentleman of rural Southern upbringing. [color=firebrick]"Aw, [i]HELL[/i] naw."[/color]

	They weren't the fastest of friends, but James had a lot of respect for these women. They were as much a part of Newnan as he was, now. Angry or stoic, vulgar or distant; they were part of the tapestry of their community. Even if parts of that particular length of decorative cloth had the occasional snarl. Come to think of it, James liked those women very much. Certainly enough to take up arms and join the group gathering in front of the Courthouse. He didn't have much to get together. Just a quick stopoff to grab his rifle. 

	The notebook which he had been carefully penning for the past number of hours wasn't finished. Merely an outline of his plans for the next year or three, along with instructions for the plants already in the ground. The inside back cover of the last book he was writing was inked, just before he set off to reacquire his rifle: "Don't got a Will yet. If I die before I do, let Zoie sort it out." He intended to drop it off before he left Newnan, for safekeeping. 

	[color=firebrick]"On my way, Cap'n. Miss Zoie, I be back soon as I can, help you out."[/color] Just then, he had someplace to be.