[hr][hr][center][h1][color=662d91]Alexander Polawski[/color][/h1]
[img]http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--ajfUwE6Xck/UgACmdSNkgI/AAAAAAAAAlI/KE4-NTjPy2Q/s1600/de+niro.gif[/img][/center]
[hr][center][b][color=662d91]Location:[/color][/b] Outside Eden, Golf Course, Treeline east of 8 --> Between eastern treeline and 8 --> 8
[color=662d91]Skills:[/color]None[/center][hr][hr]

What must have looked like a war-comedy like that of M.A.S.H or something light-hearted, was in fact deadly serious business taking into consideration that there wouldn't be just camera- and audio-crews listening to Alexander continuess singing. For all he knew, there were walkers just waiting for a chance to bite off his ankles, or worse; those folks at Eden he had heard about. Probably wouldn't take kindly to strangers lurking around their B.O.O. Especially one singing like he was in a musical.

[color=662d91]"The most refined ladybugs do it. When a gentleman calls, Moths in your rugs do it..."[/color] Alexander sang out in a not too-bad voice, but that was beside the point. He still thought he was out on patrol in Vietnam, his mind still playing tricks on him. Soon the squad leader, Sergeant Jackson ordered them to stop while he checked out a suspected Viet-Cong village up front. But with Alexander still singing, it didn't take long for the massive brute of a former Texas ranch boy to stare just as madly as Thalia had at him. "I swear to God, Chatter, I will rip out your vocal chords and show them up your ass if you don't shut up!" 

That Alexander did. With a sudden shock, he found himself once again standing in the treeline outside of Eden, Georgia, not Da Nang in Vietnam, 1971. Cole Porter still clung tightly to his mind, but he no longer sang that cursed song. Back in action, Alexander kept up the pace and spacing he felt was best, and kept moving south. But as he did, he lost sight of Thana. Even if she was Navy, Alex trusted her to take care of herself, as well as Thalia. He had to, if they trusted him. He kept going south until he had the treeline at 8 at his right. 

If Alexander was to get to the other side of the golf course, the other treeline just in front of him seemed like a good staging point as any other. Alexander hadn't noticed anything as he made his way down the original treeline, but as he began moving quickly out of his treeline and towards 8, he clearly didn't notice where his feet were going. After running a short distance, he snagged his foot in something hard enough for him to fall. Hard. On his face. He had no idea what it was, not that he had enough time to think before his face made impact with the ground as hard as a long-distance bomber. 

It hurt. Oh yes, it hurt like a cheap Italian beer on a thursday afternoon, or a punch the same night. Alexander, still lying on the ground, tried to raise his head to see if he had exposed his position, but still dizzy he couldn't make left, right or center. [color=662d91]"...I'm getting too old for this shit..."[/color]

And getting too old was perhaps a fitting description of him, as the old vet kept tripping over his own feet, again and again like he was over 60 or something! His face once again made contact with the golf course, which would have been ironic if he had enjoyed golfing. He did not. For all intents and purposes, he was stuck right there in the middle like a sitting duck. And since he clearly could not walk, the veteran pushed on the only way he could: he crawled. 

Even the crawling was filled with trouble. He slipped in parts of the snow, then slipped some more on parts of ice, and the cold temperature was starting to crawl up his body. But with some divine intervention, good old luck and military perseverance, he finally made it to 8. Sure his pride was hurt, but it couldn't possibly get any worse after this? Alexander, now prone in-between trees and snow, tried to stand back up. He had to see if he had been spotted or not, or else his current position would be compromised within seconds! But with a crack, thud and hushed groan, he was back on his ass, sitting in the snowy underbrush of the treeline like a useless retiree who couldn't get up. 

He wasn't sure if this was worst, or the consequences if Thalia heard about this later, only reinforcing his nickname.