[hr][hr][center][h1][color=662d91]Alexander Polawski[/color][/h1]
[img]https://t1.daumcdn.net/cfile/tistory/24727F37520C6D902D[/img][/center]
[hr][center][b][color=662d91]Location:[/color][/b] Wewahitchka (C4 -> C5)
[color=662d91]Skills: [/color]None[/center][hr][hr]

So far they hadn't been getting shot at by any clever VC waiting for the imperialist Americans to walk into their trap, so that meant so far so good. Alexander still hoped that his gut was on his side on this one, that this wasn't any well-laid trap at all but a genuine rescue. Had been plenty of oppertunities where he had been wrong, really fucked up the situation FUBAR for others and himself. So as he limped forward like the crippled Vet he was on his pegleg, he quickly said a few words to God.

The duck was too good an oppertunity to not enjoy though, and coming up beside Thalia while she struggled with little plastic toy stuck harder than a Chicago winter in December, he slowed down and couldn't help but shoot her a satisfied smile. [color=662d91]"Shut the duck up; we got bigger birds to rib!"[/color] It was all in good jest though, and beside he wasn't alone in the fun with Manny and Bea laughing too. The helicopter was still slowing down, and possibly loud enough to drown the duck out. Fucking duck.

Alexander stopped for a moment to take a quick good look around while they still were in the clear. Probably. He didn't see anything, but in the distance the old vet could hear someone talking. No, not talking; shouting. If Sergeant Jackson had been alive and well, he wouldn't put it past him to be the one behind the commotion...and he really wouldn't have wanted to see if it was true then. Two voices, shouting something like...This felt like Army or something. [color=662d91]"Sounds like there might have been others flocking to the Huey already. Those guys aren't joking around, are they? If they're the real deal, I haven't been so glad to see the Army my whole life."[/color]

[hr][hr][center][h1][color=#B8860B]Nigel "Hadrian" Cooper[/color][/h1]
[img]http://images4.fanpop.com/image/photos/22900000/Lucius-Vorenus-rome-22923240-350-215.gif[/img][/center]
[hr][center][b][color=#B8860B]Location:[/color][/b] Wewahitchka (E7 -> D8)
[color=#B8860B]Skills: [/color] Scouting, Basic Psychology[/center][hr][hr]

Nigel "Hadrian" kept advancing with Erika, shooting her a thankful smile as she noted she got his back. Of the three survivors he were with, she was the one he felt the safest with; mostly verbally, Hank and Wayne could keep his back safe physically, but were no strangers to using their pathos in more creative ways as each day passed. "Hadrian" kept silent at first as Erika introduced their group to the helicopter people. It went well actually, to a surprise. Not that that lasted any long.

Before he could open his own mouth, Hank had managed to steal the stage in front of him and once again hammer through his 'beloved' nickname. "Sportacus". Soon Wayne had joined the bandwagon, the two friends of questionable sanity indulging themselves in the verbal gladiatorial combat that had become his life with them. Nigel "Hadrian" just gave the two of them a look of annoyance, breathing in heavily and trying his best not to scould them like the over-confident teenage students they were. Like Jesus Christ of Nazaret said himself, "Turn the other cheek." [color=#B8860B]"...praebe alteram maxillam..."[/color]

He wondered how many cheeks he had grown since he first met them. 

As he looked at the soldier standing between them and the chopper, he listened to the words the chopper people shouted out. Kittens? This world really had gone to Hell and beyond. Nigel "Hadrian" listened to the order - yes, an order, like he was in the Army or something. Which he sort of had, just a replication of an ancient one. Handing over their supplies and weapons, go with them and possibly get within a safe zone? It could have been a trick, a clever Greek play to fool them into an ambush. But as he thought about it, really cranked the words of the man called "Maddog", he couldn't help but feel that his words were true. It wasn't a threat, but an genuine offer. 

[color=#B8860B]"And afterwards, what then, Maddog? Will our belongings be returned to us if we are deemed fit and we wish to stay? Sir."[/color] "Hadrian" shouted back as a question, visibly patting the sheathed sword by his side as he stood with Erika and Hank. He did want safety, but he preferred to keep his own sword and other gear if he could. He had made it all himself after all, and in more cases than not a sword and shield was better than any gun. And while he was at it, he gave another annoyed look at Hank.