[center][b]Georgia Rhettland - South East Block[/b][/center] --- Georgia peers over the area, shuddering at the eerie lack of both flora and fauna. Carefully, she removes her sunglasses and secures them in a chest pocket as she surveys the area. This was not what she had been expecting, “Oh dear... Thomas, Carolyn, what have you two gotten yourselves into...” She unconsciously finds herself rubbing her hands over her arms where her old scars almost feel as if to be itching with an old pain. The memory of hot, burning pain and fear hit her suddenly. Quivering, she keeps her jet-black eyes trained on the cloud and the soldier who had just come out of it. “I need at least one person to come with me to provide back-up ballistics. We need information and I think Mister Morai will have plenty...” Her fingers tremble towards her bug-mask before she switches in favor of the static-voice-projector. Already moving to follow Morai, her eyes stay on the fog. It would create a natural damper effect upon the transmissions. Chances were, anything beyond a small range would be nothing more than garbled garbage to anyone who could hear. She frowns, before the idea came. Short, simple, precise. She begins to toggle the radio on and off to follow the morse coding: 'T-H-O-M-A-S.' “You better get my message, Cara...” Catching up to Morai, she finds herself faltering for words in the presence of the stranger who could be summarized as looking like a hot mess... All before blurting out, “Tell me what's in there.” "... I have... No fucking clue..." Morai admits as he hangs his head in shame, stopping for a moment to catch his breath. "...Death... Endless death... All I remember clearly is... Fighting off something which... Which had a... A chainsaw... Sword..." He covers his mouth, fighting back the urge to vomit. "...My sister... She was not so lucky..." Her mind starts to spin at the implications. A chainsaw sword?! Why had she never thought about such a thing! It would be a simple enough design to draft, she imagines, and a far more effective than what she had. Her mind starts to wander towards old novels she had stumbled upon about some sci-fi in an alternate world. She slows for a moment, suddenly distracted by the idea that it must be a cloud brought on by cultists of Chaos! Which draws her back to the lack of life around them again, “What happened here? Where are all the bodies?” She shudders at the vivid images spinning in her head about what cultists must be doing with the dead. "Here?... I don't... I don't know..." Morai says as he shakes his head. "I ended up separate from everyone else running away... Had to double back, ended up here instead of south west... I don't take it any of them made it huh?..." Where most men would succumb to panic or sorrow, his eyes remained simply empty, devoid of any significant emotion or even a spark of life. "Probably... Bodies just... Scattered everywhere..." His radio comes to life along with Georgia's. Morse code returned: C-O-M-I-N-G. “Alright, alright,” she looks at his wounds and winces. “Look, let's get you to cover, Mister Morai,” she shifts her assault rifle into her hands, “I'll check you over, slap on a few sticky-bands... But, Mister Morai, can we trade out? I like the boom-blastin' a bit more given the close-quarters.” She holds up her Standard Issue with a hopeful look. "No. This is all I have left of my sister..." He says, before mumbling one final part. "And me..." He loads the next shell with a pump of his shotgun. "I can't move very far, but... I could cover anyone in the apartment from trouble. Just... Find me a corner and lay me down, patch my wounds... I'll do my best." A little bit of fire was back in his soul it seemed. "Besides, you're a listener... I don't think they train you to handle shotguns." “Ah, guess you're right, Mister. I'd probably start up the space program again if I tried to shoot that thing anyways,” she winks and gestures with her gun to the apartment, “If you can keep a place secure, I'll direct anyone we come across your way. Give you some buddy-ups, a good rendezvous and a place for all of us schmucks to fall-back if we're smartin' bad.” "If we're falling back, we'll all die... We tried to retreat... They showed no mercy... They cut us down... They knew exactly where we were going, and when... They came like angels of death... And all we could do was die." He checks the ammunition in his pistol, then nods. "I'll live as long as I can without medical aid, obviously." He chimes in with a bloody grin. Georgia gets a big childish grin on her face, “Good on ya, Mister Morai. But, if you make it and I don't, I bestow upon you my left boot.... And let me tell you, that's my favorite one.” She nods assuredly, before patting on him to start moving, “Right, enough jack-jabbering, we're gooses out here.” "... Huh... So you must be the odd friend Carolyn talked about... Duct tape huh... Real clever..." He chuckles, then coughs up a little blood. "...I got a few minutes left... Maybe a couple hours..." “Don't worry. The stick-silver will fix that. It fixes everything," but the worry was still clear in her eyes.