[hr][hr][center][h1][i][b][color=4682b4]Ash Holloway[/color][/b][/i][/h1][img]https://66.media.tumblr.com/c6f0f86d13839f8542e4b754c251da73/tumblr_ojog8uNf9k1qdhps7o1_r1_500.gif[/img][/center][hr][center][color=steelblue][b]Location:[/b][/color] Wewahitchka, FL (C8 -> C8)
[color=4682b4][b]Skills:[/b][/color] Leadership, Perception [/center][hr][hr]

	Approaching the scene was, for Ash, equal parts [i]tactical[/i] and [i]leap of faith[/i]. Reason had him considering the possibility that a lone chopper wouldn't just set down in the middle of an unknown area without good cause. It would have to be secured first. So, this was a secure area that they just wandered into absently, meaning that the helicopter was sent to investigate them specifically, or this was a matter of unique happenstance. With what he had witnessed over the last few years, it could very well swing either way. Of course, if this was a very recently secured area, that might mean that there were people hiding out in the periphery at that moment, and this chopper contained merely the token advance. 

	Small tactic experience reminded him that, with a showcard like a working helicopter in play, unknown persons might be drawn closer to it while their perimeter troops (if applicable) would tighten the noose around their position. It was a no-win scenario without shooting their way out, and anyone left behind might be captured or killed for it. Of course, he could have directed his people to make a quiet exit to the flank, possibly evading the perimeter. THAT is where [i]tactic[/i] gave way to [i]leap of faith[/i]. This close to Mexico Beach, anyone there would have time to get tipped off by a patrol and send the welcoming committee. Air support could be there in plenty of time. Ergo, there was an excellent chance that these people were from Mexico Beach. 

	Leap of Faith. They sucked sometimes. 

	It especially sucked when, upon scanning the area around them, he didn't see a damned thing that would be considered accompaniment for that Huey. They weren't there at all, or they were hiding really, really well, or Ash was having some sort of episode. Thoughts to the looming possibility of ambush were cut very short by the sudden shift of attention - that of the man who was apparently in charge of the helicopter squad - from the people in front of him around to Ash himself. Name, Rank, Number. The man was military, which further supported the Mexico Beach theory. Time for that leap. Ash straightened and raised his hand to issue a silent command of [i]Halt[/i] to his people behind him. He then lowered his rifle to a "patrol ready" carry and cleared his throat, intent on response. 

	Before he could answer the cigar-chewing soldier, another voice sounded from their group. This one was softer, and aimed, he assumed, at Tatiana. Ash risked a glance back to the petite (but tough as nails) woman carrying her baby boy. With narrowing eyes, he turned his head back around to stare at the man who still required answer. Ash made unequivocally certain that his words came across with volume and clarity enough to be perfectly heard and understood by anyone in the area, particularly anyone who might or might not have a rifle trained on them at that moment. As it happened, his native Virginian accent chose that moment to add color. 

	[color=4682b4]"Holloway, Ashton J. - Captain - 231-84-6806. United States Army Corps of Engineers, Combat and Civil Works Divisions. We are en route to Mexico Beach by invitation of Lieutenant Commander Thana Martin. I need..."[/color] He stopped for a half second, trying hard not to add any unnecessary emotion to the introduction. This wasn't just about him. [color=4682b4]"I am to rendezvous with her on site. If she is not present, I am to ask for a Master Gunnery Sergeant FC [i]Macsen[/i] Martin."[/color] There it was, for the good or bad of it all. [color=4682b4]"Same Zone?"[/color][sub]1[/sub]

[hider=Translations]
1	=	The term itself is a shortened version of ZOA, or Zone of Action; not a specific location persay, but an area within a larger place of operation for a specific tactical objective. To ask someone if they are within the same ZOA, in this instance, asks if they are on the same side and/or working toward a similar goal in the area. By extension, it also identifies them as benign or hostile, and military or civilian. This is based upon how they answer, and if they even can answer.
[/hider]

[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=dc143c]Thalia Carmichael[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/ea723e40-65c1-4fa7-a118-c584435a6743.gif[/img][hr][b][color=crimson]Location:[/color][/b] Wewahitchka, FL (C4 -> [s]C6[/s] C5)
[b][color=dc143c]Skills:[/color][/b] Stealth, Dexterity, Perception [hr][hr][/center]

	Oh the bitch was funny. Real funny, that Beatrice. While not a huge video game player back in the day, Thalia did have the odd occasion to vent a little tension kicking the crap out of digital people, mostly in strategy games. Maybe it lent itself to the occupation she took with her uncle's company. Of course, the fact that her uncle owned a company helped a lot, too. But getting back to her original thought, the idea of a "Secret Level of the Apocalypse" was funny as hell to her for some reason. 

	Perhaps this was why she chose to narrowly avoid a suspect puddle of something in her way, dashing as she was toward the relative cover of the buildings in front of her, and landed her foot directly onto something that couldn't have been better designed to screw over her plans of stealth or surprise if a team of engineers were paid handsomely to do so: 

	It was a duck. A yellow rubber duck, wrapped in duct tape, [i]sticky side out[/i]. Now, Thalia had no idea how it got there, nor why the tape retained its supernatural adhesive properties. It just didn't make sense. But sense or not, the One Winged Angel now had it attached to the bottom of her shoe, and she couldn't just stop on a dime to remove the damned thing. To make matters horribly, horribly worse, the insufferable duck was very adept at making noise. Lots and lots of noise. Enough noise that could never actually occur in a natural setting as to draw attention from anything not utterly stone deaf in the immediate vicinity. Yes, the woman known to mere mortals as Thalia Angelica Carmichael, Familia Gonzalez, truly a monster of silence and dexterity, was just laid low by a childrens' toy that pressed out an awkward [i][b]mmkwack-squeakee, mmkwack-squeakee[/b][/i] sound every single time her foot hit the ground. In her effort to stop the godawful, position revealing noise ([i][b]mmkwack-squeakee, mmkwack-squeakee[/b][/i], remember?), she slammed her shoe upon the blacktop some two times before giving up that tactic. It just grew louder. 

	[i][b]Mmkwack-squeakee! Mmkwack-squeakee![/b][/i] 

	[color=dc143c]"Shiiiiiit!"[/color] she whispered with urgency, though the reason as to why she bothered whispering was beyond her. Even trying to remove the damned thing brought about more [i][b]mmkwack[/b][/i]s and [i][b]squeakee[/b][/i]s, far more than to which the was comfortable. [color=dc143c]"God. Damn. Ducks."[/color] The moment they came into season, she was going to eat the fuck out of one, just for revenge. [color=dc143c]"I live through this and it's duck sushi, asshole..."[/color]


[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=deb887]Hank Wright[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://media.giphy.com/media/3oKIPA7Szer68wR9XW/giphy.gif[/img][hr][b][color=burlywood]Location:[/color][/b] Wewahitchka, FL (E8 -> D8)
[b][color=deb887]Skills:[/color][/b] People Reading, Advanced Psychology [hr][hr][/center]

	Hank wanted to feel out the situation with the trained eye of a legitimate professional. He was trained by the best law enforcement agency that New Hampshire had to offer to read subtle clues coming off of people. It made him better at his job. More than ever, knowing about people and drawing accurate conclusions about them quickly was important to survival. Even if Wayne sometimes made it difficult. Wayne was a good man anyway, just that sometimes his specific challenges were more challenging than at other times. It was why Hank was around. Wayne made his presence valuable in other ways. 

	Perhaps that was why the former Sheriff was shocked to hear what he blurted out as soon as he caught up to the man. As if in [i]total unrelenting agreement[/i] with Wayne, Hank clasped his hand down on his friend's shoulder and announced, [color=deb887]"Oh my dear and unshaven [i]God[/i], Maldonado, but I'm with you on this one! A guy my age gets one, [i]maybe two[/i] boners a week he can do something constructive with, and I'll be damned if I'm going to waste good stiffage on anything but that glorious piece of flying machine. Holy hell, but I'm a-getting to that choppa!"[/color] 

	Luckily, he kept his shotgun to his side the entire time, but he just couldn't keep himself away from potential smartassery for some unknown reason. Some unknown, horrifying reason. [color=deb887]"Yeah! The lady's right."[/color] As if to back up her introduction, he pointed at the various members of his party o' four, intoning, [color=deb887]"Wayne, Erica, I'm Hank, and this highly intelligent and talented man over [i]here[/i] goes by the code name of 'Sportacus'. Don't let him be modest, either. He's really earned it, from the first moment I met him. Salt of the earth, that Sportacus. Say it with me?"[/color] he paused with a faux expectant look on his face, as if waiting for others to ready themselves, [color=deb887]"[i]Sportacus![/i]"[/color] Repetition was a key point in memorization and association, and from this first impression Hank hoped that the seed would grow into a happy Romanesque tree. He had zero opportunities to do this over the last few months, and Hank was a guy who took to the little joys when he could.