[hr][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][color=firebrick]Location:[/color][/b] Building [b]C[/b] (James's House) 
[h3][color=9e005d]~Dream Sequence~[/color][/h3][/center][hr][hr]

	The day was long and hot in Newnan, sun striking down upon the blacktop. James had opted two measures to beat the heat; his gargantuan smoker/grill was pulled under the shade of nearby trees, and he had stripped to the waist, letting the shoulder straps of his overalls hang around his knees. He was cooking, obviously. If he wasn't out growing food, killing food, or planning either, he was cooking. Birds called overhead, high in the trees under which the amicable blackneck took shelter from the sun. James turned, shaking his big spatula at them. No way they were going to drop their birdie bombs on his picnic fixin's. 

	Many people had began to gather around him, anticipating the smoky, meaty pieces of well-seared (but not well done, he was not a Philistine) animal flesh. Lots of people, keeping a little distance, each politely waiting as they approached one by one, plate in hand. They said nothing to him, content to pass by and collect their food from him with big, warm smiles. It felt good, providing for people. And these were his friends, every one of them. 

	Dexter and Lorna walked arm in arm, sharing a pulled pork sandwich. It was difficult to manage; the sandwich was messy but good, and one paper plate between them. He never really imagined the two of them getting together, but it wasn't just about survival anymore. Peace makes for as strange bedfellows as war. Even stranger if it comes after an especially prolonged conflict. Jonas and Victoria were together before all of this, and here they were still. Maria reached out, beaming at James and holding out her plate with both hands for him to load up. And load up he did. Even Leann gave him a little smirk, as tough as ever. She was a great leader. Strict, but worthy of respect. 

	A very familiar, very tall blonde lady sauntered up to him, holding out her plate. She put an arm around him as he slapped a slab of good, smoked pork down, the cooler metal of her mail armor providing welcome relief from the heat of the day. Then she took a step back, simultaneously stuck out her tongue and extended her middle finger in a vulgar but playful gesture, and stepped back into the crowd around them, joining her sister. 

	Everyone came up to him, one by one. Everyone took meat, enjoyed themselves, and in their own way let him know that they were his friends. And then as sure as the setting sun, everyone walked away. There seemed to be someone James was missing. He scanned the people around him through the now hazy air, as if his vision were blurring or the world was whiting out. He did find who he missed from before, one of the last people to become obscure by the pale haze. His favorite troublemaker, in tank top and ponytail, hands on hips in the way she would when about to give someone a good yelling at. Then she smiled, gave James a hearty (though strangely muted) laugh, and walked into the whiteness with the others. 

	James started to walk after her, his arm outstretched as if to take her hand and pull her back to him. He didn't get more than a step or two when he felt a hard hand slap down upon his shoulder and hold him in place. He froze in place, slowly turning his head back to see what apparition had latched onto him. While technically, he had been described as "One Of The Scariest Men Imaginable", James was not afraid of him. Maybe a little before, but not now. No, the venerable Mexican badass looked at him with understanding and sorrow. Suddenly, and in startling contrast to the others, he spoke to James in warm, honest tones. 

	[color=orangered]"Not yet, [i]Hermano[/i]. You're not done yet. We're good, James - we're all good. None of us can get hurt anymore. We don't starve, we don't need protection. But the others are still in danger. You're a good man, James, and they still need you. The hardest part hasn't happened yet."[/color] James nodded to the older man, taking in everything he was saying as the world turned to blank, pale nothingness behind them. 

	[color=orangered]"You're not really going to remember any of this, and that's okay. Just a dream, right? But it will stick with you, deep in here."[/color] he prodded James's forehead with a steely index finger. [color=orangered]"I want you to do me a favor, okay, hermano? I need you to wake up."[/color] 

	[color=orangered]"Wake up [i]now[/i]."[/color]