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[h3][color=00aeef][i][b]Emanuel "Manny" Newman[/b][/i][/color][/h3]
[i][b][color=00aeef]Location:[/color][/b][/i] Streets L5 --> General housing (X)/Apartment 1D
[i][b][color=00aeef]Skills:[/color][/b][/i] N/A
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	The streets were beautiful this time a night. The view reminded him of years ago when he would get home either after dark, or when the sun was getting to set like it was now. It reminded him of the day when he first had purchased the plot of land he eventually built his business on, and he and his Husband would spend hours a day trying to set it up reading old books, hiring professionals only when they were needed the most, and able to squeeze up enough money between the two of them to afford it. Though financially they were stable after that period in their life they still had other problems to deal with. Though most sunsets like this reminded him of pretty nights, there was a short period of time where the sun setting meant another night of hoping no visitors would arrive and cause trouble. Manny at that point in his life made a reputation for himself, and that helped bring an end to things before things got really bad.

	But that was the past. The long nights of waiting to see what may happen are over. Now they had food, shelter, and no unhinged people burning things in his yard. There were no more nights of hiding in random houses hoping that the dead didn't barge in to rip them apart, with nothing to stop them except hoping it was few enough that their small group could fend them off int he dark with blades and a couple firearms. He made his way towards his new home. It wasn't much, but it was safe. The hardest part for him now would be starting many aspect of his life over in this new community. Something he isn't looking forward towards, but he wouldn't have to do it with a shotgun in his lap anymore. On his way to his apartment he could see the ocean. Though he had seen it may times in his life, it was an amazing sight to see none the less. The only times he had seen it post end of the world it was normally surrounded by carnage. Like the old stone fort, the land around them burned, and moaned. Always moaned. In the early days he remembered what he thought was burning on the ocean. Now? it was clear. A smooth line of sight more clear then even the old days. 

	Walking into his apartment he would find himself a comfortable seat in one of the recliner chairs to sit in and rest with his eyes closed. He didn't like it, but age was catching up to him. A day of physical tasks either being running for his life, or a day of thorough cleaning all day took its toll on him. But he had a place to rest and recover for now, and that for now would be enough. 



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[h3][color=00a651][i][b]Hunter Monroe[/b][/i][/color][/h3][i][b][color=00a651]Location:[/color][/b][/i]  Jail (AA) Cell B
[i][b][color=00a651]Skills:[/color][/b][/i]N/A
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	Having a rough idea of what his priorities are, he needed to figure out how to make that work. Maddoc made it clear, leaving with Izibell wouldn't be allowed. So leaving wasn't a good option. Not unless he thought he had a real chance to get out with Izibell. Realistically though, a chance like that wouldn't happen. So he had to find a way to make staying work. The long list of apologies would be a step. He upset and pissed off a lot of people. Thinking about it, even if he got the chance to leave he'd want to do that anyways. It made him think about what Nikki said about mistrust. He figured some of that was a lot more true then Hunter gave it credit for. Though he had little hope getting over it. Hunter's experience with officers was poor even before coming here, and many of the ones here felt like those he had met in his short career. It was easy to see their mistrust too, he wondered if that was was due to the conflict with the other group. Either the mistrust caused by that conflict, or he wondered if it was a case like his. Where his mistrust led to conflict and that is why they were still trying to help them.

	His therapy appointment would be coming up in the next couple days. He wondered if that got canceled because he was now in lock up or if some poor bastard would have to meet him here. Both probably didn't work too well in his favor. And then there was making himself useful. To make himself a pain in the ass to replace. He thought about the skills he possessed. He chuckled at that though, it wasn't in his favor either. Most of his skills were good for the world outside the walls. Something unlikely they'd let him do. He could handle his way around most types of firearms with relative ease, but after how today went them giving him a gun seemed nearly impossible. He has countless years of salvage experience, and the experience that came with trying to get some of that salvage to work again. They seemed to already have a pretty fully crewed repair team from what he saw today so that may not work either. 

	A part of him considered bribery, but he already tried to buy Izibell back using what gear he walked in with. That made no progress. He thought back to his time on the road, stockpiles of things that as an individual traveler would be useless to him, but maybe to a community some use. The most useful ones were from the early days, and likely picked clean by now. It didn't help that he had no idea what the total inventory of things they had here were, or what they were looking for now. He considered some of his personal stashes he had placed in case he lost his gear or he needed to double back in case of an emergency. But the goods there would be rather few, most stashes he made being less then the gear he walked in with. Sure, guns and bullets were nice. Even a couple days of food for one person. But was it really worth the time and fuel for someone to go out and collect? He figured less then likely. And that was assuming they were all still there and that no one else had found them.

	He wondered what else he had to offer. Not as much as he would have liked. He knew his way around explosives, but like the firearms things, he had little hope they would ever let him handle anything like that after today. He chuckled. Most of his skills he had were well balanced for someone living on his own outside of the walls. But inside? He had few skills useful for the new modern world. He thought back to the early stockpiles, the ones he found that were more or less useless to him at the time. And he wondered which were most likely to still be intact.