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[h3][color=steelblue][i][b]Ash Holloway[/b][/i][/color][/h3][i][b][color=4682b4]Location:[/color][/b][/i] Gaskins Still, Foodmart Exterior
[i][b][color=4682b4]Skills:[/color][/b][/i] N/A
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	A mild twinge of objection took Ash as he noted alongside their observers that Team B was fracturing. Better judgement might have them staying together as a group, obviously, and he had to suppress the urge to say something, make some suggestion, bark some command that might have kept them operating as a cohesive unit. The problem wasn't that he felt they were going against protocol, like some impotent stickler for all that which was spit and polish, prim and proper; for Ash, this was a simple matter of trying to keep people alive. Their lack of tactic increased the likelihood of tragedy without equivalent potential reward for their risk. 

	Ash glanced to their observers and then back to Group B, briefly. Was it part of the test for them to act in the best interests of all parties, including the other group? He shook this idea from his head. They were out in the world. He needed to focus on what was best for the people he was with now, not the greater community. [color=4682b4]"Alright ramblers,"[/color] he began, a sense of pride forming now that he realized that his group was sticking together like an organized team, [color=4682b4]"let's get rambling."[/color] He noted the suggestion coming from Nigel and gave him a nod. It wasn't a bad idea, whenever they got around to moving farther up the street. This wasn't exactly an urban area and such a practice would give some cover to one side. Not quite the strategy used by his people in The Sandbox, seeing as his enemy there was fond of utilizing Soviet era RPGs which could be used to great anti-personnel effect if the targets were near to a wall detonation. But if the Dead were capable of properly using such a weapon in the first place, Ash figured there was a whole lot more to worry about. Likewise if the living had casual access to said armament. 

	The erstwhile Captain kept his focus on his task at hand, trusting that the team had their own angles covered. They were assessing a building before entering, and he was keeping to this, advancing with his carbine in a low ready position. Ash took in the knowledge of animated Dead being spotted by others, in the first instance Nigel, and mentally filed this away. Too far out to be an issue right that second, not enough of a threat to fix it with a bullet and draw more attention to themselves. His tactic was fairly simple - being in possession of a weapon with range, if a noisy one at that, he could serve as excellent, accurate backup to the others in case a melee attack went awry, thusly giving two chances to down a corpse and provide cover from any living assailants. Again, noisy. But the lives of his team were worth more than the contents of the list. Maybe next time, he might request the use of a bow or crossbow to round out the group's options. 

	The convenience store wasn't the only structure in their immediate vicinity. Large, above ground diesel storage tanks lay in front of the main building, closer to the road than the regular gas pumps and the overhead rain shield. An unattended dumpster quietly sat, peeling green paint out behind the store, as well as another low building a little ways off. Ash reasoned that they might give it look when they were done with the food mart. It could likely wait. When they came back around, he quietly mentioned to the rest of the group, [color=4682b4]"Wouldn't mind finding their transfer pump inside. Give that storage tank a look too, time an' circumstance permitting."[/color] 





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[h3][color=crimson][i][b]Thalia Carmichael[/b][/i][/color][/h3][i][b][color=dc143c]Location:[/color][/b][/i] Gaskins Still, Foodmart Exterior
[i][b][color=dc143c]Skills:[/color][/b][/i] Knife
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	Others looked for Zeds, Thalia did too. Keeping one eye on your surroundings, even when one was asleep, was the best way to not die that she'd figured out so far. That and only coming into formerly populated areas when she absolutely had to. To that note, this whole outing seemed like a waste of time except to see if they could function as a group. Perhaps it was a good thing that she spent all of that time with Thana the rest of the "Eden" team. Without this necessary experience working with a group, originally led by a former Naval officer, Thalia might have felt even more out of place with these people. Possibly to the point of taking her quick and quiet leave of these people now that she was well fed, armed, and outside of the walls. 

	Thalia volunteered for the role of rear guard with this group. It was one suggested by Mr. Army Captain, and this was the key point here - [i]suggested[/i]. He didn't order, nor did he specifically point to her to assume a role. This made a difference to her. He mentioned a plan when nobody else seemed to. It made sense, more or less. So Thalia took it upon herself to hang back a little, keeping her eyes on not only the details of the building they were to enter, but to the group's back. She saw the one Zed that Nigel pointed out earlier and mentally started a tally. That was [i]one[/i]. Another corner of her brain kept track of exterior doors to the building they were scoping. Front, obviously, with large windows that a metal fist or piece of ammunition could get through. Rear loading door, likely only opened from inside. 

	Another note was the dumpster out back. It could possibly be useful to climb on top of or stand inside in case of more Zeds than they could handle, as both a defensive measure and as high ground they couldn't get their rotting asses up to. Easier pickings then. 

	As the group passed around a corner of the building, Thalia remained toward the back, not quite liking the look of a blown over stack of wooden pallets. She couldn't quite put her finger on it until she saw it shift. The ground suddenly became dangerous. Shambling to a crawling stand among the tall, brown grass and scraps of stapled wood was a creature which used to be a woman. Stringy, sparse hair of a now indeterminate color stuck sloppily to a desiccated face, featuring milky, sunken eyes. 

	That was [i]two[/i]. [color=dc143c]"Got one heah,"[/color] she announced, stepping to one side slightly to clear a line of secondary fire. The move was not from any military training she had received recently, but rather security protocols from her previous life with the MSS corporation. The memory of that life made her feel conscious of a scar residing below her collarbone, received from a bullet back before Zeds were ever a consideration. She shook it off. From the corner of her eye, Thalia saw the muzzle of a carbine turn in her general direction. She stepped forward, keeping her 9mm pistol at the ready but leading with her metal arm in a defensive posture. Defensive, unless one counted the knife pointed forward in an underhanded grip. It was with this that she struck out, taking one lunging step forward to drive the blade into the eye socket of the former person before quickly stepping back, letting gravity bring the corpse down. It was a funny feeling, using a knife without the telltale sensations in her hand. Foreign, somehow. 

	First blood to the Edgelord Mestiza from Boston. Back to [i]one[/i]. 

	Satisfied, Thalia regrouped and kept tabs on the Zed farther out. It wasn't critical. She couldn't quite tell if it even sensed their presence yet. But her job now was to watch their backs, and that was definitely worth notation. The once-around the building complete, Thalia's eye caught sight of another one. It wasn't right on them, but might be a problem if Ash wanted to check out the diesel tank like he mentioned. It was partly underneath, seemingly pinned by something or otherwise unable to use its legs. They couldn't see it from the vantage of the street, but from here it was clear as day. And back to [i]two[/i]. 

	[color=dc143c]"Diesel tank, down low,"[/color] she intoned, motioning with her prosthetic. Now came the question: Did they handle them before they attempted to enter the building, or after? [color=dc143c]"Two total."[/color] 

[center]*****[/center]
	Hank kept quiet, just as he said he would. He held a woodaxe in one hand, upon which he was precariously balancing a clipboard. Notes were taken. Occasionally, odd facial expressions or an errant head bob every now and again. This turned into something more serious when actual danger came to the forefront, but still, the notes. He looked to his fellow proctor and shrugged, then went right back to his observations.