[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=00aeef]Emanuel "Manny" Newman[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://i2-prod.mirror.co.uk/incoming/article6733955.ece/ALTERNATES/s615/PAY-Former-James-Bond-actor-Timothy-Dalton.jpg[/img][/center][hr][hr]
[center][b]Location:[/b] Quarantine
[b]Skills:[/b] N/A [/center]
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Things seemed to be getting worse by the second. The voice that cut him off was the boy who admitted to being a soldier in the showers. Manny thought he seemed to young for that, but he struggled to judge that sometimes. But he went on a rather long rant against the small woman who had knocked over the other soldier. He got loud, he went on a while, but it seemed very delayed, Manny wondered what had caused that. He wondered what held the boys attention long enough to delay this kind of rant. He couldn't tell what he was trying to get out of it either, if he was trying to be helpful in a rather shitty way, or if he just felt like busting skulls for the hell of it. No matter the reasoning, Manny still disapproved of the boy's behavior. Even though Manny wasn't a fan of how the situation was playing out, it had started to die down, and people were going back to isolating themselves. Not the ideal solution, but it worked for the time being. The boy picking things up again would only lead to things getting worse.

After several people had explained to the boy why he shouldn't do what he did for a lot of reasons, Manny looked for the guards again. And it seemed he wasn't the only one. The one who was dressed as an ancient soldier had also pleaded with the guards to intervene and stop this madness before it got worse. Trying to keep track, he wasn't sure if that was before or after Beatrice had tackled the boy to the ground. "[color=00aeef]Shit, fucking shit.[/color]" He said in a hushed tone to no one in particular. He wondered if the guards would react to her too. But... they didn't... they did nothing... Nothing at all. What kind of guards were they? Though with listening to their response to the ancient soldier, he seemed to get the idea. Prison guards. Their job was to just make sure they didn't leave, and they didn't give two shits past that.

Between the fear of a military dictatorship, and the lack of professional behavior he had witnessed since he arrived, Manny was even more concerned then before. He wanted this place to work out, but they had some pretty serious problems. It was almost like these people found a book on how to do things, but didn't really care about how it was done, as long as it was done. Manny tried to look around for any glimpse of hope that would reassure him that things were looking up, but found none. Manny remembered something an English professor told him while he was getting his degrees. The real world sucks, there are no Utopias. The closest you can get is a place with the appearance of a perfect world, just to destroy your hopes. Dystopia. He always thought of that professor as a very negative man, but now more then ever his words made sense. Manny wasn't sure he wanted to see what this place was like outside of this motel.

But Manny was a glass half full kind of guy. Even if the forces in charge here had their problems, the place still had their best chance to survive. And if the guards weren't going to get off their ass and do something, Manny would. One of the other men who decided to describe everyone to the best of his ability had given a brief description of Manny. "[color=00aeef]Age is as much a mental state as it is a physical, but you are damn right I am done with this shit.[/color]" Though he didn't raise his voice he was annoyed. He wasn't a soldier, he wasn't a guard. He was a fucking dentist who had made great use of some old hobbies of his. He was once a kid who made stupid choices, and didn't correct them until someone very close to him had perished. But he would be damned if he wasn't going to do something now, he wasn't going to be like those lazy fucks at the door. 


[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=00a651]Private Hunter James Monroe[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://data.whicdn.com/images/180439341/large.jpg[/img][/center][hr][hr]
[center][b]Location:[/b]  Quarantine 
[b]Skills:[/b] N/A [/center]
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To put it simply, Hunter had fucked up. He wasn't sure what was going through his head at the time, his rant was very unlike himself. He wondered if ti was built up stress letting loose due to a lack of fear or stress of anything else, or if it was something else entirely. No matter the reason, he had fucked up. He had the attention of the whole room, and he wasn't a fan of that. He had a few options here, and he had to make sure he chose them wisely. Option one, the least likely to work, fight his way to Izibell and get the fuck out. But using only a coffee cup, with several well armed guards, and several other people with military training of some kind, he didn't think that would work. Even if he had all of his gear plus body armor, he wasn't sure that was likely to work. Option two, shut the fuck up and pretend it never happened. No one else would forget, but maybe they would leave him alone long enough for another play. Option three, beg for mercy. He wasn't very good at putting up a show, but he might have been able to pull something off. But he had some pretty poor people skills. His last option was let the guards get involved, but it seemed they didn't really care to do that. He thought that odd, even when he pulled guard duty at the stadium, despite him having no experience there, part of his job was to prevent fights and conflicts from getting out of control. He wondered if their definition of control was staying in this room. Negating option four. No matter what he did, he couldn't let himself do that again, or anything like that. 

The Russian mother responded with a simple statement. Sure, he didn't know her specific situation, but she didn't know his situation either. She didn't know the things he had to do to stay alive, the things he did for others, the things he did to find his family again. He did know that the kid losing their mother because she lost her shit was stupid. Though looking back, taking a moment to think about it, there was a lot of better ways he could have said that. Truth be told, he wasn't worried too much about the mother herself, he was more worried about the little one losing what family they had. The guy that had been sucker punched decided to threaten him too, Hunter took note, but said nothing. He noted that he was the about the same height at him. Hunter wasn't sure if he believed the threat, but he said nothing. Though he wasn't sure about the Gem comment.  More people came, many with their own threats and promises. Hunter didn't speak a word, though his face did do that smirk he had whenever someone mentioned his military career. Though it wasn't a smile of joy. One that if he was speaking would say something along the lines of Shut the fuck up, the old military is a joke now. Nothing left but ego maniacs and tyrants. At least once shit hit the fan. But he tried to keep that grin down too.

What he did take note of was the girl about half a foot shorter then he was bringing him to the ground. He was surprised by this, he avoided playing football for this exact reason. He tried to get up, but he was pinned, and pinned well. His best guess, she had experience. And unlike the threats from the others here, he thought that that guards might do something with all this going on, but they didn't. He took note of this, and would need to remember it. Hunter tried to move at first, but it wasn't much use, he was too weak in his current state to do so. It made sense in his mind, he had been on a starving diet for a while now, barely eating enough to stay alive. Barely able to carry the gear he had, and debating what he would drop when he became too weak to travel with it all. 

He knew for sure though, he couldn't might his way out of this. He was too weak, too light, and had no way to gain leverage again. Plus, even if he did get her off, what then? Maybe what he remembered of his training would kick in like muscle memory, but going back to option one, he couldn't fist fight everyone using only a coffee cup. "[color=00a651]Get The Fuck Off.[/color]" He spoke stern, but didn't raise his voice. He was struggling to breath like this, he had to think fast otherwise he was fucked. He tried to think his way out of it, but lacked the means to do anything. After a moment, he calmed down, and was ready to cooperate. A year or two while he was still at peak strength he could have probably gotten out of this, and even had the strength to pull something off. Even if unlikely. now, no. It took him a moment to swallow his pride, but he began to speak and yield. "[color=00a651]Okay...[/color]" He took a few deep breaths still struggling for the words.

One of the old men, the one who Hunter made note of to use as a shield if shit hit the fan came over to Hunter at the end of his rant. He was ready to take it and move on, but a few of the chords he struck were... harder to ignore. Bringing up that those here had someone, he was alone. He was able to distract his emotions with the next sentence, how he knew nothing about surviving. He found that funny, even started chucking a bit. "[color=00a651]Yeah I guess I do suck at kissing ass to strangers, but I think I got the rest of it down.[/color]" Probably not the best thing to say, but he needed to distract himself from being reminded how alone he was. His laughter died when his mother was brought up. "[color=00a651]You can say whatever the fuck you want about me, but you fucking leave her out of this. She's an amazing woman who did Nothing to you.[/color]" He spoke in a calmer tone then he meant, but he was still struggling to breath while pinned. He let the man leave, Hunter was left in his thoughts now. "[color=00a651]Fine.... whatever. Shutting up.[/color]" He spoke. He tried to stay practical, but it was hard. "[color=00a651]Just... let go of me.[/color]" He said in one of the calmer tones he had used that day.