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[h3][color=00aeef][i][b]Emanuel "Manny" Newman[/b][/i][/color][/h3]
[i][b][color=00aeef]Location:[/color][/b][/i] Hospital/Medical (B)
[i][b][color=00aeef]Skills:[/color][/b][/i] N/A
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	Failing to get the pot off Lisa was a rather harsh blow. She had been down a while now on poor doc and it seemed she and doc just needed a break. SB came over with her own thoughts on the matter, and was ready to end this right here and right now. "[color=00aeef]Thank you.[/color]" He said to her once she got the pot off Lisa. Lisa herself then made an attempt to get up but it appeared that after what she had went though she was having a rough time with it. "[color=00aeef]Here, let me help you there.[/color]" Manny took her hand and tried to get a good lift going. He thought he had decent footing, and seemed like he might be able to do it this time. Sadly he wasn't as fortunate as he would have liked. 

	His age started to show again and he made no progress. He cursed himself a bit, he wasn't sure if there was a leverage issue or if there was a simple raw strength issue. But he couldn't get this done. "[color=00aeef]Sorry...[/color]" He let go catching his breath. Thankful this wasn't a life or death situation. But what if it had been? What if this was a situation where he couldn't do what needed to be done and people could die because of it? Was it a sign he was getting too old? Or was the dentist turned field medic over thinking things? He hoped the last one, but he would be getting close to the age he considered retiring at originally anyways. Chances are SB would have to help Lisa again, or maybe they could do better next time.



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[h3][color=00a651][i][b]Hunter Monroe[/b][/i][/color][/h3][i][b][color=00a651]Location:[/color][/b][/i] Cell B
[i][b][color=00a651]Skills:[/color][/b][/i]N/A
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	Hunter laid down on the bed in a state of between being awake and sleep. Sleep was a great way to pass time, but Hunter wasn't a fan of the dreams that followed it. With nothing new to distract his thoughts it became too easy to dose off. He got tired a lot faster nowadays compared to years ago when he could function for days before he collapsed. He wondered if that was because he was a teenager then, or because the current times have just worn him down to the point where it didn't take much to tire him out. Or maybe in this case it was more of the boredom getting to him, and the lack of his traditional stressors that kept him going day to day. So Hunter found himself in a state between being awake, and being asleep.

[hider=Hunter's Stadium Day Dream]
	Hunter's dream state led him back to years ago. He found himself in full fatigues, a gas mask on his face, and his old M-249 SAW in his hands. A staff Sergeant had grabbed Hunter by the door by his jacket and pull him close. "Private, you're with me. We got a job to do." Hunter knew the man had said more but in the dream he said nothing else to him. The staff sergeant as well as others from his scattered company had started to push inwards on the stadium. Saving what refugees they could, and rallying what soldiers might still be inside. The refugees were sent back down the path that had been cleared and was now being secured by another mixed squad. As the mixed squad had started to use up the ammo supply, the staff sergeant called a halt to the advance as he pulled another magazine from his vest. He gave the order to hold this position and let whoever else was still alive come to them. Hunter remembered protesting, the first time he had spoken since security inside the stadium fell apart. "[color=00a651]Sir, it's a blood bath in there, we can't expect anyone to be able to fight their way out of that without... us?[/color]" It wasn't the strongest argument he had on him. In the spur of the moment, it was the only words he could form. "Ammo count private, we don't have the ammo to fight forward and expect to do any good." 

	Hunter looked at his own weapon. He remembered doing a count that morning on his own personal ammo supply. The unit was still stocked for ammo, but he had no idea where that ammo was now. On his person though, he had almost 600 rounds of ammo. While two of his squad mates carried another 200 rounds. Looking at his gun now, he could see the end of the belt of ammo. He checked his person to see the last belt of ammo. Another 100 rounds. He wondered if he had lost some. Or if he had actually used that many trying to get out and then fight his way back in with this mixed group. Gun shots started up again as the next wave of infected broke into the tight hallway. Hunter remembered the controlled burst fire that his unit answered with as they held the line. Hunter saw the last of his ammo get used up, and spent what felt like forever trying to reload the gun in his hands as the rest of his unit kept firing. They were flooding in now, from the other hallways, from the back rooms, from the back end of this hall, from the stadium itself. For every one they killed ten more came to replace it. They had fired off so many rounds that the new infected who came in had to climb over bodies and many times would just trip and keep crawling. Hunter had finished reloading right as he heard a squad mate call "Out". Then another. Hunter open fired just in time to hear the staff sergeant shouting at someone. He had trouble making it out over the gunfire but it sounded something like, Get back here! 

	THUMP. Hunter recognized the sound from basic training, someone just fired a grenade into the approaching crowd. They were packed nearly shoulder to shoulder now closing distance.  He ducked in anticipation for the explosion. He saw the blast explode seeming to vaporize a few of them, including one that looked like his old English teacher. He saw others flown and thrown great distances, and many more getting limbs blown off and burnt. He got up and got ready to open fire again, only to watch those who had been blown to smithereens start standing back up as if nothing had happened. The ones who had lost legs crawled towards them as if that is how they always moved. Many who had guts blown out started walking like nothing had happened. Those on fire didn't even seem to notice. The ones who had lost their arms seemed most inconvenienced out of all of them, struggling to get back up with little or nothing to lean on. He wondered, did any die from that? He looked around a bit to see more of the squad missing. One of his squad mates was reloading the grenade launcher like it was his only option to survive, one had drawn a sidearm, another was panicking, and frantically searching about probably out of ammo. He looked down to see the infected who had taking the brunt of the grenade, the head of the English teacher looking monster. Just the severed head opening and closing it's jaw, trying it's best to bite at Hunter. Looking back he wondered if it was trying to move, as if the motion of the jaw would roll the head somehow. 

	Hunter pointed his weapon at the severed head and fired off a burst longer then he intended into it. "[color=00a651]What the Mother Fucker!?[/color]" Then he saw how close the horde was. He saw the net grenade flying this time, and land right through the torso of one of the infected, and do nothing. No explosion, no nothing. Two words came to Hunter's mind at that moment as he started to run out of ammo. "[color=00a651]Oh shit[/color]". He fired until the last of his ammo got used up, and looked around to see he couldn't find the staff sergeant anywhere. Had he retreated? Where was the squad? He realized he had turned around, let his back face the dead. He turned to meet them right as one had grabbed his uniform. "[color=00a651]FUCK FUCK FUCK![/color]" He panicked, trying to shove it off panicking. Then he remembered, he's a soldier. He has weapons, and this freak didn't. He grabbed his sidearm suddenly thankful and feeling like an idiot for complaining about having to carry even more gear. "[color=00a651]DIE MOTHER FUCKER DIE![/color]" That was the phrase that came to mind, the one his training sergeant had told him to keep in mind when handling his saw. To help him time the bursts to keep consistent fire without using all his ammo. Though he ended up doing just that. Firing 15 rounds point blank into a single infected. It fell dead, though he's not sure which round killed it. But since that was the only magazine he kept for the gun, and he couldn't find the rest of the unit, he booked it for the exit. Passing by the new bodies and the new infected as he ran still not sure where the rest of his squad went.
[/hider]

	Hunter snapped out of his day dream for a brief moment shaking his head. He didn't like nodding off in the best of conditions. It left him vulnerable, and he still didn't know how his current situation would play out. Even by dinner time he didn't know what things would be like in here. He had spent hours locked in a room with dead people bits. And he had lost track of time again. He didn't know if he had been asleep for a few seconds or a few hours. Was it the next day? No... It didn't feel like that much time had passed. Maybe an hour or two... maybe seconds. Hunter got up and rested his head on the bars. "[color=00a651]...this fucking sucks.[/color]" He simply stood there standing just to keep his blood flowing and to stay awake. He wasn't too tired, but tired enough that if he wasn't doing anything and got bored he could go off to sleep even if for a short bit. Mostly he needed something to do to keep his mind and or body active.