[hr][hr][center][h1][i][b][color=4682b4]Ash Holloway[/color][/b][/i][/h1][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/d5206a2a-b010-4d49-a931-ca0504404e96.gif[/img][/center][hr][center][color=steelblue][b]Location:[/b][/color] Quarantine (Briefing)
[color=4682b4][b]Skills:[/b][/color] N/A [/center][hr][hr]

	[i]"Arrangements were made to offset these,"[/i] speaking about costs for an extensive search. It's what struck Ash first. True, nothing comes free in any world, but survivor recovery? Granted, that might apply if they were part of the Mexico Beach community, which they weren't yet officially and definitely weren't while they were being searched for. Thinking logically on it, the only one who might have given any portion of a rat's ass, let alone enough to make arrangements for incurred expenses, was the only one who knew they were out there: Thana. Depending upon how the local economy worked here, had she just indebted herself to her own people on their behalf? He would have to ask her about it later. 

	The description of Newnan was a little harder to swallow. He was there. He knew what happened. He got one hell of a view of their home collapsing as he navigated around it in his Hordebuster, sweeping for survivors. He got to see the earth open up and swallow everything they had worked so hard for, bled for, that many of them had died for. The collapse. The fires. I his mind's eye, Ash was back there, observing the hell that was made of it all. 

	Ash didn't know why he was handed pictures of Newnan, post destruction. Upon being told what it was though, he had to look. It was crushing. This was their home. A dream of Leann's that he fully supported, and later took over. It was doing well, too. Crops coming in, people getting back a piece of what they lost, building new lives. He skimmed through the images quickly, but it was burned into his mind like he spent time memorizing them. Why he passed them on for others to view was beyond him. Maybe they needed closure, too. Newnan was dead. On spark of hope that came from it was the recovery of his engineering notes, and James's agricultural ones. Those were to be the blueprints of a secondary site in case they needed to expand. Or help others to rebuild. Those and the other records were part of the proof that they were a decent, ethical people that tried to help humanity thrive under the most adverse of conditions. 

	Somehow, hearing the full reason why Newnan fell didn't make him feel much better about it. While learning that there wasn't anything he could have done about it, he didn't assign blame to anyone, including himself. Not for this. What troubled him about it was, for a brief moment, he thought that it might explain away some of the psychological symptoms that he had been afflicted with. The problem was, he wasn't overly sensitive to things like that, and they had been plaguing him for a long while. No, it was still something that would remain with him. The toxic air just exacerbated it for a time. Well, more than ever, Ash knew who he was. Whatever had knocked him off his rocker was tucked firmly away, still part of him but no longer trying to influence. It always was part of him. Realizing that allowed him to overcome it. 

	The last part was surprisingly relieving to hear, in a bittersweet way. They had recovered and properly interred some of their dead, specifically the ones that had passed outside of Newnan's walls. He had no idea who Lola Holler was, but he knew the others. [i]James[/i]. Yeah, when quarantine was over, he was paying his respects. Glancing about the room, Ash note that people were looking at him. Trying to read him still? It didn't matter. He had nothing to hide. His face was, as always, toward the stoic side, though his eyes were red-rimmed and telling of sorrow; not the open grieving of fresh loss, but the memory of a highly cherished [i]what was[/i]. 

	[color=4682b4]"I would greatly appreciate paying my respects. Thank you."[/color] His voice was solid, with weary undertones, like a man placed under the burden of heavy responsibility. Not unlike the officer he once was. [color=4682b4]"You've done us a great service. I hope that our records can help Camp Mexico Beach thrive. We'll talk about how we can do the same, if you all are willing."[/color] Granted, he was still operating under the hope that all of the Newman group was deemed worthy, by whatever litmus test was used to judge them. That was the next hurdle to overcome, and he had a feeling that the results were likewise tucked away in their files already. These people seemed organized. Very. 



[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=dc143c]Thalia Carmichael[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/45f8049e-1846-4cc8-9eee-8e4039fdcf20.jpg[/img][hr][b][color=crimson]Location:[/color][/b] Quarantine (Conference Room)
[b][color=dc143c]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A [hr][hr][/center]

	Thalia was still leaning against the wall after the others walked past and had their own session in Briefing. She made a decent enough showing of keeping tabs on the people in the Conference Room, but in reality, he mind was buzzing with what she had learned. There was a lot that went right, a lot that went wrong, and a ton of coincidences that brought them in the position they all were in. Part of her wondered what would have happened if she never got a signal on her old company satellite phone a year and a half ago. She might never have known what happened to her family with any certainty, nor her battle-sisters, and she never wold have met these off people that she had been with for a while now. Though Thalia wasn't the overly expressive type, she did sometimes consider telling them that she regarded them highly, both as friends and as being a vital part to her survival strategy. The last part - not as touching. But it was high praise from a woman who was a confirmed survivalist. 

	Maybe she wouldn't have lost Lola, though. Maybe she stayed with the eccentric Kiwi in her fortress of iron and they cleared the path all the way back to her family's place in Mexico, breaking through whatever trouble others were warned about. A tank was a hell of a force multiplier, this day and age. That was a hard "what if" to deal with. Things were what they were. This was something different than to which she was accustomed, and it was all a little uncomfortable for her still. But she had friends, even if she kept them at a distance, that she wouldn't have ever known if those thins hadn't come to pass. And more was opening up because of it, too. 

	In truth, Thalia was also a little nervous. What did she have that any of these people could use? She was basically the outdoor equivalent of an assassin. Her foray into Eden taught her a lot about herself and her willingness to take lives. Not just that, but she could still the righteous fire burning in her from all the way back then, knowing that she was killing people who deserved it. She was getting a taste for it. If felt good. It didn't used to, but in her defense she had come across a group that was downright ambitious in their pursuit of human suffering. She killed their leader with all the moral ambiguity of a lady peeling an orange, and felt great afterward. Even took a couple of bullets in trade. There was something inside of her that was way too much like her uncle Caesar. How would that be of use to a military run community? Would she even be able to find a place among these people? how long before she was pining to be back outside of these walls, fire-hardening a freshly cut spear and cooking a feral dog over a firepit? Yeah, and fuck this air conditioning. It made people weak.  

	No, she promised that she would give this place a chance. She had motivation to do so now. She wouldn't allow herself to get weak. Thalia would train. Harder and longer than ever, until she got her edge honed back, better than before. She could decide what to do from there. For now, she waited. One more day. 




[hr][hr][center][h1][b][i][color=deb887]Hank Wright[/color][/i][/b][/h1][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/c15b5cfa-637f-4db5-9e1a-711ea98444fc.jpg[/img][hr][b][color=burlywood]Location:[/color][/b] Quarantine (Conference Room)
[b][color=deb887]Skills:[/color][/b] N/A [hr][hr][/center]

	[color=deb887]"Well hell yeah, we teach the little guy how to fish."[/color] That would mean that they learn all about it before. Now, hunting he could do. Fishing, the more relaxing of the manly, food-producing sports? Nothing beyond putting a line in the water and hoping for the best. But hey, that's why they were there, right? Right! That and the other thing. It was a massive other thing that he was just now contemplating in fullness as he expected to be dead long before getting here, but it counted. The whole "hope for humanity" bent aside, Hank was giving specific notice to the attention Wayne was drawing on account of that little baby boy taking a liking to him. Maybe the baby just had good taste. Or was just as crazy as the rest of them. Back in the day, both of them had their own families. That kind of instinct never goes away. Just like Wayne, Hank was marked by the experience of being a father. Anyone who was would have noticed what was going on. What got Hank was the fact that some of these people seemed surprised. 

	Hank took a glance back at the other two in their survival party, Nigel and Erica. They hadn't spoken a whole lot since Quarantine began, ad that was easy to figure out. The same stubborn, mildly insane qualities that kept them alive out [i]there[/i] were hardly endearing. Now that they didn't have to huddle close to keep from being found and eaten by Assholes, both dead and living, there was little reason to tolerate each other. They weren't going to just evaporate, though. They would be behind the same walls for a while, accident barring an unfortunate death. Might as well extend an olive branch. [color=deb887]"Hey there ...ah, Sportacus! Apocalypse Barbie! Why don't you c'mon over here and join us, huh? Can you really say [i]NO[/i] to an adorable baby and a Mel Brooks movie? Bring it on in, guys."[/color]