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Recent Statuses

8 days ago
Current Happy Constitution Day for my fellow Norwegians and liberty-loving mates! Hipp-Hipp-Hurra!
6 likes
16 days ago
"No guy in his right mind wears a white suit on a shank job."
1 like
21 days ago
Have you seen the Yellow Sign?
3 likes
24 days ago
Happy Labour Day everyone! Workers of the world, unite!
4 likes
26 days ago
Definietly red. Too bad I don't wear nearly enough red.
4 likes

Bio

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Alexander Polawski
Location: Graveyard
Skills: N/A

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There was a painful ache somewhere in Alexander, a sort of black hole that kept the old veteran's guard up as the group got together outside the bus. He couldn't place its location, rather it seemed to glow from wherever he was feeling after. While his eyes and ears were shifting past each member attending what would be his first funeral gathering in many moons, his stance echoing Atticus' cautionary tale, Alexander tried to isolate the pain inside him.

They started moving. While Alexander wasn't actively ignoring the story Daytona told Thalia about the fool named Dimsdale, he continued his attempt at supressing the pain distracting him from being alert. Yes they were a number of armed survivors with enough weapons to defend themselves, but in his opinion, nine out of ten times it was the guy not paying attention that got the first VC bullet, not that he could back it up with any concrete facts. Then again was he paying attention himself? The pain kept being a, well, pain in the bud. Perhaps it was the swan-dive that had roughened up his arse?

Alexander was swept of these searching thoughts as they reached their final destination - the graves proper. The sun shined as bright and annoyingly down at them as ever, sweat pouring down Alexander's face when he'd be much happier with a pair of good sunglasses and a Boonie hat, though that didn't cross his mind at that time. With Atticus announcing their arrival and asking the group whether they wanted him to say some words, Alexander looked blankly down at the graves, in particular the one belonging to a certain Kiwi.

The pain centered itself in his chest. Sorrow, grief, sadness. Alexander was sad.

It was by his sheer force of will that Alexander didn't fall on his knees in front of the graves, though he looked at them with an empty look. The others he didn't know or had only known real briefly relative to Lola, though that didn't make it any easier for a man who'd seen enough death for one life. Did he want Atticus to say anything? What was there to say, they were put to rest in the ground already. Alexander stiffled a quiver and held back most of the tears, simply crossing himself and looking over to Thalia. Lola had been her friend before they met in a TANK, she knew more about that strange Kiwi.

"I don't know. Thanks for the ride, Lola, and for the coffee. Keep the tea-set ready for us, would you?" Alexander said quietly, emotionally, though audible enough for most people to hear him. Whether he spoke to Thalia, Lola or himself was up for grabs, but somewhere inside him the pain both intensified and released, a brief smile tugging at his face. "May their souls and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace…"

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Nigel Cooper
Location: Hydroponic Garden (T)
Skills: N/A

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The mood was certainly lighter still back at the lesser Hanging Gardens of Babylon, at least this section of the grand wonder of the apocalypse world, and in no thanks to the dreadful humidity that weighed heavy on Nigel's shoulders. Thana's revelation had done more than enough to make Nigel forget about it though, the talk of other centers of human civilisation still making a stand outside of Camp Mexico Beach. And following her inside the greenhouse, he was eager to learn more from thought-lost bastions of humanity.

Nigel listened eagerly to Thana's tales, nearly forgetting what he was supposed to do though following her lead in the change of clothes. It was almost to good to be true, just like the wind blew through the pipes and made the dephts of Hades less miserable for those mere mortals. Through the exchange Nigel only nodded and gave the occational "Wow…" and such. For better and for worse, now he knew there existed other settlements outside of these protective walls - papermills and all! He was impressed, and it wasn't difficult to read the astonishment on his sweaty face.

"Well I guess shocked is a good of an adjective as I'll ever teach the younglings, if that's were I end up here among you. A working papermill? That would explain how you can afford giving us all these tests and forms you've done, and agreed, toilet paper is a luxury on-par with Chinese silk these days. But…" Nigel said back to Thana, getting off his wetsuit and re-dressing in his own shorts and t-shirt, glad to feel some air on his skin again. It was Thana's mention of a second group that made Nigel's excitement blow away like the humid air inside. "Who're those guys then, the Bayou? You mean all "dueling-banjoes" and frightening hill billies? Barbarians?" Nigel asked her, not liking the tone which she'd set for those people. These days you couldn't cherry-pick your friends, Sportucas had learned that thanks to the dynamic hetero-duo early, but still. Thana's words didn't conjure up a pleasent image of them. "Should I…or we be worried?"
Job interview went well, ate a good salad for lunch and generally felt like I did good. Good day.

Richard Barker


Nothing. Nobody shouted back to answer Richard after he'd asked for an update downstairs. Odd, hadn't they heard him, or did they choose to ignore him? Maybe, wouldn't be first ones to pretend he wasn't there. Richard contemplated going out and repeating his question, but something in his gut kept him in that same room, eyes and other senses going over the clues and weird shit he was seeing.

Going over the few sets of bits he had gathered already, Richard paced the room calmly as he repeated to himself the words and phrases he had just written down. "Watching…32 degrees 20,0' North…002 degrees 44,8' East…Carcosa?" He whispered to himself, scratching his head and puffing the stiff cigarette on his equally stiff lower lip, not making sense of what the detective thought Jeremy must have seen some logic in. The logic of a looney, sure, but still…"These are more tricks than a car filled with monkeys…"

Best to put the notepad away for the moment, Richard thought. He still had yet to search the remainder of Jeremy's room. On instinct Richard crouched down onto his knees and began looking horizontally along the floor, seeking anything hidded out of sight, and sure there he found something. Under Jeremy's bed the private detective pulled out a pocket watch, and not one of those cheap ones you could buy in Little Italy. It was a pretty expensive one, making Richard wonder why it had been hidded, or more likely thrown under the bed out of all places? And what was the piece of paper tucked underneath it? Richard pocketed the note without further thought, rather deciding he should keep looking and get out of the room sooner rather than later. Next stop, the closet.

The closet was open, containing only rotting clothes of various colours and styles. Geeze, the humidity really had done a number on the house. Good thing his own office wasn't as shitty as this, not by a long-shot. But just like the watch under the bed, something was hidded at the buttom. A wooden chest, rotting just like the rest of the house. He figured it had to be hidded, considering it was placed in the closet, even if it was hidded like crap. Well, better to take it out and see what was inside.

It was apparenly a solid moment for Ferd and Val to head outside and shout at whoever stool-pidgeon was watching them, and not in a stealthy manner either. Richard sighed, wondering if the next thing he would hear were "Hey there, stop!" or "He's got a gun!". "I guess those amatours need me…" Richard sighed, picking up the wooden box from the closet and quickly making his way out of the bedroom, proceeding to the staircase. "What did those two squares do? Also, anyone have an idea what this box is? Ol' Jeremy was hiding it like it was the Arch of the Covenant or something, except he hid it like a drunken cobbler in a swamp." Richard asked downstairs, looking over the railing at the remainder of the crew. "Jeremy really had an...eccentric collection of puzzles up here, like he was searching for someone or something."
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Alexander Polawski
Location: The Bus (Q6) Outside CMB -> Graveyard
Skills: N/A

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Whatever the conversations had been going on in front, behind and around him, Alexander had only slowly drifted back to the same realm as they existed in. A slideshow of images had passed before him and his tired eyes, thankfully in little-to-no need for glasses even for his age. It made him wonder, what were the role of…those guys who dealt in glasses? Their professional title eluded him like the faulty wire of a broken tv from the mid-1980's, he'd tried to fix too many of those in his lifetime. The silver lining was perhaps that all those hours cursing at the cheap electronics just might pay off those days.

The images that had kept Alexander occupied faded away alongside the scenery, seeing the bus drive away from the camp and somewhere away. The Graveyard. Back in his own reality, Alexander breathed in deep and straightened himself in his seat, turning to look at the others inside the bus. The guards - presuming they were the ones needing guarding - exfiltrated the bus. The Padre, Bass and Joaquin, making their way to open the heavy-set gate and guiding the bus inside. They were finally there, the slumbering fields of those passed and dearly missed.

Alexander wasn't sure what he had expected the Graveyard to look like. One word stuck out, one which could and had been used in his mind in his time there at CMB: Normal. Just like from the newspaper writing about wacky crimes in Florida, or even the page from a school book about the South. Alexander leaned towards the window, taking in the sight as Daytona instructed them to file out and stay close. Close marching formation.

The old veteran gripped the stock of his newly-leant double-barreled shotgun, letting the two young ladies Amelia and Riley get up and out first. While he wasn't expecting them to come under heavy machine gun fire as soon as they stepped out of the bus, Alexander wasn't prepared to feel a wall of humid heat strike him across his wrinkled face. It was as if he was hit by a Caribbean wave somewhere east of the Florida coast, forcing ol' Mugsy to use his one free hand to wipe off his face and give his eyes shade. Okay, perhaps glasses were something he'd have some use for, at least sunglasses.

Alexander, now standing outside the bus and next to Amelia, turned quickly to look at her and give her a brief smile. "Hey dear, it's gonna be okay. We'll stick together, be safe." He told her in an attempt to sound reassuring, while his own thoughts again wandered to scenes the Graveyard reminded him off. The gravestones looked the same and a similar heavy cloud hung over him like it had done back when he came home from the war. For a moment he swore he could see his father and mother's graves somewhere hidded behind a tree, but the lack of rain and cold reminded him of where he truly was.

This would have been a nice place to put her to rest.

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Nigel Cooper
Location: Streets of CMB (P6) -> Hydroponic Garden (T)
Skills: N/A

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Not until he outranked her. Ah yes, the classical Platonic philosophy of class structures, reinforcing the thought that power remains in the hands of those wise enough to lead. Nigel shook his head with a smirk on his face, almost tempted to give Thana a salute and a "Yes ma'am", though he thought best not to impersonate a military personal. He couldn't fault their way of structuring the hierarchy of Camp Mexico Beach, and so it made sense for him to still be ranked under Thana. The master standing over the slave, but like Thana probably needed him still, the master was nothing without his slaves.

Nigel fanned himself with the palm of his hand, following Thana the grueling journey back to the Gardens through the lumbering heat of Apollo and his sun. He longed to get back into the cool waters of the Gulf of Mexico, they hadn't been able to finish harvesting everything just yet. Following Thana, their first stop appeared to be the Greenhouse again. Waiting for her to answer his question, he watched her open the door and witnessing Thana curse the dreaded heat from inside. "No arguing about that. Felt like the forges of Mars in there." Nigel replied idly, continuing to fan himself and wipe the sweat off his face, looking forward to getting the done over with sooner rather than later. Hopefully he would get used to it…someday…hopefully.

"Wait…other settlements?" Nigel had to repeat after Thana, briefly halting his futile efforts to produce a western wind to cool his body. He had expected to talk about the prospects of scavenging and such, but trading? With other human settlements of civilised peoples? It might not have registered with him earlier if anyone had mentioned other centers of human habitation, but it sure stuck to him now. That and the mention of toilet paper, by the gods did he miss a soft roll of clear toilet paper. "So these other settlements, they're not part of your civili…I mean, they're not part of Camp Mexico Beach? Sorry I sound surprised, but I am. I've spent so much time alone. Suddenly in the span of a few months, I've not only joined one settlement, but now there's others?"
If you can do that, I'll also have Richard finish up his investigation of the bedroom as well!
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Alexander Polawski
Location: The Bus (Q6) Outside CMB
Skills: N/A

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Staring out the window of a bus, the scenery passing before his old and worn eyes like they had done so many times before. Gates opening and closing was not such a thing he'd witnessed too many times in his life, not like these. Blinking, Alexander guessed that the military check-points he'd passed so many times in his life were the closest he had gotten this far. That and when he'd walked through the massive doors of the church that one day. Breaching the wooden gates that separated his old life from a new one.

Marriage was a strange thing like that. It was the one assault he had no regrets for.

Alexander turned his head idly watch the activety inisde the bus, all the silence that weighed down on them all, and the few sounds of conversation dotted around the seats. The specifics did not colour the canvas that was his hearing, merely the presence of talking as the outer gate opened. The bus drove out, for the first time since when they came here Alexander got to see the outside once again. Not something he had missed seeing, that was for sure, bringing back the memories that kept him at his toes and the hairs in his neck standing cold.

The old veteran nearly zooned out before he registered Bass and the Padre adressing the lovely group of CMB tourists. Reviews, weapons, ammo, not fucking around…Somewhere in the back of his mind, Alexander was reminded of a certain incident involving a flamethrower filled with water, or was it beer? Military pranks, it was fucking hileraous at least, though a pain in the ass afterwards.

They were being armed. Right. Focus.

Being handed a double barreled shotgun and a pack of shells, Alexander accepted the weapon and nodded Bass who gave him the weapon. Not his choice of weapon, being more adept with a rifle or a pistol, but Alexander was not to complain. He was able to defend himself with this, he would prove it. Prove it so that he wouldn't blame himself for more deaths…

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Nigel Cooper
Location: Streets of CMB (L5 -> P6)
Skills: N/A

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The heat and humidity poured down on neo-Roman like the pebles of Balearic slingers, doubtfully powerful when not experiencing it yourself first hand. Nigel had trouble recollecting anything similar to the Florida weather, well besides his time in the swamps many months ago. This was exactly what the Persians had invented the umbrellas for, and Nigel could hear the voices of his pupils when they told him the artistic renditions of them "looked stupid". Perhaps, but Nigel felt he looked pretty stupid himself sweating like he did walking down the streets of Camp Mexico Beach.

Nigel got the attention of Thana again after having put forth his case, and he was not dissappointed in her response. The reference to Atlas put a chuckle in his voice, making him nod in sweaty agreement to her compromise. "Fair enough. Half the world it is then, but I reserve my right to choose which half." Nigel said back with a smirk, putting his hand up to shield his eyes as he looked forward. Still trying to get used to the city layout of their little fortress, he was at least in capable hands. If Thana got lost there, what hope was there left? His ears certainly were of no use, unable to pick up anything besides the sound of their footsteps, the natural world around them and the sweat pouring down his face.

"So you have the sea to fish from, greens growing in the gardens and under the waves, and somewhere out there the bees that are calmer at dusk. Are there any other sources of food you have here, like scavenging or hunting out in the wild? No easy feat importing Egyptian grain if anything were to happen." Nigel posed the question to Thana the Athenian, wiser and hardier than he was. It was an honest question, as well as a topic of conversation. He remembered how his old settlement had struggled to feed their people sometimes, hell he remembered the very first day when people first got hungry. Hunger was a feeling few people in America had truly felt, and not it was the basic instinct that drove people forward. Nigel didn't want the hungry wolf inside himself back.
I am reminded that I have good friends who believe I can do the things I want to do, and I will do all those things

Richard Barker


As Richard ascended the moudly stairs of what both looked and smelled more and more like an abandonded shithole of a house, he was pleasently surprised to have none of the fellow occupatents attempt to stop him. Clearly they approved of his snooping tendencies more than any well-minded client would have if they only knew how he aquired informaton. Either that, or they were too busy with taking care of themselves down at the ground floor. Yeah, like normal people would do.

At least something seemed off with Ferd again, a certain look of concern washing over his face as he replied back to Richard and telling him to call him whatever he wanted. Well that was a start, Fred was easier to say than Ferd. Then it was the matter of Richard's connection down in Boston. That part Richard chose to ignore, better to open that can of worms later when he didn't have so many balls to juggle. Also, he did not like the nickname Ferd gave him. Peaping over the railing of the stairs, Richard gave Fred one last look before he escaped their company in favour of the upper floor. "I heard that, Fred. Don't call me Rich, never been that my whole life."

The upper floor looked almost as shitty as the lower one, save from the doors themselves not having massive holes in them. Richard made it upstairs, his eyes pearing over the landscape of rotting wood, carpet and furniture before him with his scanning eyes, noticing the disturbances on the floor. Clearly someone had been here recently, obviously Val or Fred who'd checked what looked like a study. That ruled out him checking that. Bedroom it was then.

The door to what had been Jeremy's bedroom was weathered, but standing strong, and more importantly it stood locked. Richard grabbed the door handle with the end of his coat, feeling the door rattle by the lock still in the wall. Not to worry, the private dick knew what to do. Out of the few tools he kept hidded under his clothes, were a set of picks and wires. Lockpicks. Hey, you never knew when you'd need an extra set of universal 'keys', right? Soon enough Richard had picked the locked with an audible [b]click[/], pushing the door open and looking inside.

"Jesus Christ, Jeremy wasn't just a pen-pal now was he…"

Richard tried to take in the room as he slowly entered, though so many clues and strange bits stuck out to him and his police gut feeling. Firstly it was the fact that someone had upped and left in a hurry, packing their neccecities and gotten the hell out of dodge? That Harry fellow who was meant to keep the house under wraps? He shouldn't have had access to the room, but who else?

Clothes rotted strewn around the room, the only pieces of junk resembling any kind of orderly mess the pieces of paper and photographs around the room - either neatly lain down on Jeremy's desk or hung up on the wall, strings running from one photograph and another. String, red string, a colour of warning. "Jeremy, you're a bit of a coockoo, ain't ya?" Richard asked himself, taking a deep drag of his cigarette before continuing his snooping.

Which was only getting weirder and weirder.

In one moment none of this mady any sense to the New York detective, only the left-overs of a rambling looney now half-way across the world chasing three-headed giraffes on the African savannah…but in another moment Richard saw something shine from the pictures, notes and red string - Logic, coherent thoughts, clues. Missing people's reports, coordinates, photographs of random objects and locations tied to the former…and all of them leading back to that Dark Continent to the white man.

"Now this is a Chinese angle if I've ever been thrown ass first into one…"

Richard stood by himself in the bedroom, smoking the cigarette and simply taking in all the clues around him, touching nothing and leaving all where he found it. He took some notes on the way, though the bizarre nature of the room would hardly leave a clean mark on his mind. For a moment Richard leaned out of doorway, shouting down to the others. "Hey fellas, how your looking going? You find anything yet?"
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