[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]Eden: Hallway outside Men's doors
[color=662d91]Skills: [/color]Pistol, Suppression Tactics[/center][hr][hr]

The situation did appear to be improving after the last hail of bullets flew down that hallway, giving the old veteran the time to once again take stock of the situation without falling into habit of shouting at the enemy like he was in 'Nam. That was good, though that did give him the time to feel the pain in his hands again. Alexander opened his hands to look at the burns and gashes in them, a sight always reminding him of bomb-victims, either civis or GI's, never a pleasent sight. Especially those poor bastards that got napalm'd, and he thanked God countless times that he wasn't one of them.

Alexander let the others go on ahead without him, setting his focus on their bag left on the ground. He got down on his knees and starting to search through it painfully, looking for anything to bandage his hands with. And that was when he felt something slip out of his pocket, the Pocket. His gashed left hand felt on the Pocket. Empty. Alexander shoved both his hands down in the bug-out bag, desperatly rumaging through it in search of his second most precious possession; his rosary. Clothes. No. Notebook. NO. Compass...NO! Just when he was about to do something stupid, his hands felt that familiar texture of the small wooden beads and the silver crucifix between his fingers. [color=662d91]"...Thank you..."[/color] Alexander whispered in relief, clutching the rosary between his hurting hands and fiddling with it, before wrapping it around his wrist and getting to bandage his hands. 

Thankfully it wasn't too difficult, and the bandaging would help him use his hands less painfully. He hoped so; He never wa a medic, but bandaging he thought he knew. With his hands bandaged up and slinging the bug-out bag over his shoulder, Alexander looked from the two T's advancing down the hallway and back over to Beatrice as she came walking. He didn't now her well - hell, he didn't know any of these people well by most standards, but she would have made Sergeant Jackson proud any day. And if some were going front, some had to cover the rear. Holding his new gun pointed down the hallway they came from, ready to give any Eden-asswipes flanking them a real bad day, Alexander walked slowly backwards after the group. [color=662d91]"If they flank us, we've got to find another exit-route once that shit hits the fan. Sadly no cake-walk climbing out any windows like this, since the stairs is the only way down as far as I know."[/color]