"And after the storm
I run and run as the rains come
And I look up, I look up
On my knees and out of luck
I look up..."
     - Mumford and Sons

Was that a red, or did I just make it? The thought vanished as quickly as it came, washed away by rain and tears. Hank knew he was going too fast yet he was resisting the urge to go faster. Tom's frantic call followed by the officer's neutral, no doubt practiced, tone still echoed in his head. Whipping around the turn he finally slowed, practically jumping out of the car not even bothering to put in park as he pulled the key out. Running to the house he through open the door, Tom's name on his lips. The sight that greeted him stopped him cold. A hillbilly had his brother while another was pointing a shotgun toward him. They were both grinning as the shotgun went off...

Hank woke with a start, breathing hard. The fire was basically dead he noted with a sigh, the file cabinet drawer he had loaded with broken chair parts held more then the baskets but still needed to be fed regularly. Looking down he smiled as he reached over and used his free hand to brush a strand of hair off Tom's face. His other was gripped by the kid who groaned as Hank pulled it free. Shhh...go back to sleep, the storms over. Standing he grimaced as his muscles protested. Tossing a few files and chair pieces to get the fire going again he looked around the room they had taken, clothes spread out to dry on various pieces of furniture. They had turned the table on it's side to use as a shield in case the window blew out.

We can't be the only ones. Shaking the thought away he focused on their situation. He'd talk to Tom later, but last night aside from Benson going ape shit on Brady the others seemed to be holding it together. And NM. He was worried about the teen. He couldn't imagine almost drowning, let alone loosing a large portion of the closest thing to family they had in one night. He had sent Tom to stay with him instead of going himself because he figured even if NM wanted to be alone he'd be less likely to push the kid away then himself. Now that the storm was past and they could breath a little easier he could try and talk to him himself. If only Mortimer were here, he's better qualified at this then me.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
Just going to find NM. Don't know if he'd be awake somewhere or  still asleep.

---

Pure exhaustion had induced the rattled teenager to rest in the early morning hours when it had still been dark. He'd had Tom's welcome company through much of the aftermath of the fight with Sam and escaping the storm. Despite the escape of slumber, he was still troubled by events of late. Thirst and hunger dominated the parts of his mind that weren't fixated on the missing members of their band of survivors. Would they find everyone? Could they?.. Should they?

Awake for a little while already, NM sat against the wall where he'd planted the night before, barely having shifted much even in sleep. Bedraggled, the long haired youth glanced wearily towards Hank as the older survivor stirred awake. Licking his dry lips, New Mexeeco said nothing, managing only a solitary nod of sorts before his gaze drifted to the light peeking in from around the table they'd turned against the window. Although New Mexico had always bounced back he felt like he was walking a fine line this time. The living history of their group kept falling apart, and despite his young age he felt like the oldest man alive.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
Here I am! Haha

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This message was last edited by the player at 04:11, Sun 22 Nov 2015.

Dominic hadn't slept well. A combination of the storm, last nights fun and games with the Bohannon's, the medieval surgery he'd been forced to perform and the fact that he had to come up with some halfway decent plan of where the hell they should go resulted in him tossing and turning for several hours before finally giving up and examining their tattered and waterlogged map by the light of his Zippo.
As the first rays of daylight started to filter through the grimy windows Dominic; now red eyed and irritable felt that he had at least found something worth suggesting to the group as to where they should go next.
With people starting to stir from what little sleep they'd been able to get Dominic pulls on his still damp clothing and moves into the main part of the office "Get some cooking fires lit, everyone eats" he quietly announces, knowing that they would be needing their strength today. That and cans of food were damn heavy to carry.
Leaving the task of cooking something edible out of the odds and sods of canned food they had to those who knew better, Dominic sat down in one of the office chairs and slowly massaged his eyes with thumb and forefinger. Wishing that he had gotten a little more sleep last night or failing that, still had a pack of smokes on him.
Waiting until the smell of cooking had brought the bulk of the group into the main office Dominic would then proceed to speak to the group in calm if slightly weary voice "ok people listen up, as you may well have guessed, after last night we're moving on...now the way I see it we've got a couple of options, one option is that we could head north to the state pen in Angola; high walls, razor wire, food, medical supplies and riot gear, it wouldn't be easy but it'd be worthwhile once we managed it" or rather if we manage it Dom silently added. Taking out a prison full of zombie inmates would be no easy task even if they only went after a single wing. But on the other hand they'd have a veritable fortress in which to live in "...option two is we head south and set up shop in somewhere like Slaughter or St Francisville which would put us close enough to raid into Baton Rouge and the surrounding towns, hell we find ourselves a boat and we could sail on down to New Orleans if wanted to...so …any thoughts?" Dominic finished, asking the group as a whole but directing his gaze towards Mahmoud, Izzy, Hank and Lorenzo, in other words the people he felt he could depend on to say something useful about these suggestions. Admittedly it didn't mean that he would do what they said, but he'd at least listen to and take on board what they had to say about the situation they were in. Hell perhaps they could suggest something better that he’d overlooked. Either way he wasn’t going to go dictator on them all just yet.

The task of making something resembling a meal wasn't something Lorenzo was interested in. It wasn't that he couldn't cook- he could, pretty decently actually, although that wasn't something that he advertised. He just knew with his arm the way it was, he'd just end up frustrating himself. Even though it wasn't his dominant arm that had been snapped, the limited mobility more than the pain was already annoying him to no end.

Lorenzo had already been awake, seated in one of the office chairs. It wasn't clear exactly how long he'd been in it, his arm had been bugging him too much to get any meaningful amount of sleep.

He listened to Dominic spitballing, swiveling his chair side to side with a somewhat bored expression. Lorenzo wasn't really the plan guy. He'd been told he was stupid often enough growing up to believe it, and was resigned to just muscling through things or kicking asses on someone else's behalf. He more or less just did whatever the more senior members of the group wanted- when it suited him, anyway.

"I'm not getting on no boat, Doc," he stated flatly, as soon as Dominic opened the floor. "That's gonna be a headache."

He continued to swivel the chair, looking off to the wall for a second. He didn't think he really needed to elaborate on why a boat wouldn't work out with their current crew.

"Something lowkey might be the best bet," he continued. He looked between the others, looking almost uncertain, as though he doubted they were listening. "We got, what? A buncha kids, a chick with one leg-" he held his palm up to Izzy, either trying to stop her from taking offense, or just trying to shut her up. "- old people, a few pussies, and two hicks who've fucked off to I dunno where."

"Not exactly a force to be reckoned with, y'know?" Lorenzo shrugged. "In my humble little opinion, I don't think storming the walls of a big, fat prison's the best option. Anyone close by and with halfa brain's gonna be set up there already. I seen that kind of game before, and I don't like our odds. Now, seizing a little piece of ranchland or something 'til we got our pants on right could work."

He leaned back in his chair, yawned, and shook his head. "Just what I'm thinking," he concluded nonchalantly. "I don't really give much of a shit."

Isabelle might not have moved as quickly as others but she could manage enough to help gather and prepare food that would bring everyone into one circle, more or less. On her mind was finding a staff or walking stick that could facilitate her mobility. Even though she was maimed, she was still a young woman.
Once they all began talking, she listened to Lorenzo, knowing before that he resented her as a liability. She was about to speak up for herself when he raised a hand to quell her counter.

Waiting a moment of the briefest of silence after his comments, Izzy took her turn. She had a vested interest in going north, because she had sent her children back in the day to a safe haven, at least at the time. She was cognizant of their state however, and wanted to conceal her bias for their destination for the time being until they were in shape to travel.

"I think we should set up in St. Francisville, or yes, Slaughter, so temporarily, while we regroup and ready the Caravan for a longer trip. We can organize our supplies, make sure our people are right enough in body and mind, as well as re-arm ourselves. If we can get a couple vehicles running, all the better. If we stay nearby for the short term maybe some of our people will find their way back to us." She spoke to Dominic but loosely to everyone present, then turned her attention to Lorenzo.

"Lorenzo, don't forget to include yourself in that list of invalids you just railed off." She had heard that Lorenzo had saved New Mexico from Sam, or at least had done so in the pursuit of their food stuffs the night before, so she countenanced Lorenzo's words with the fact the man hadn't slept well, and he had actually been a big help to the group, attitude aside. "Lorenzo might be right about the prison. In any case we don't have the muscle should we have to clear the area of walkers."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:16, Sun 22 Nov 2015.

Mahmoud stood amongst the group, a mostly empty can in one hand which he sampled like a soda pop to avoid getting his dirty hands on the precious food. His face was becoming quite grizzled, given time he may be able to grow a majestic Sikh beard like his father.
Also they lacked spoons. The others had gotten their share of the contents before Mahmoud had gotten at it himself. Food was a great motivator for early morning meetings, it reminded him of when he was working his programming job in Houston, and management would bring platters in for 5AM meetings.

His rifle slung on his back, one hand's fingers hooked under the strap along his shoulder, the other gripping the can of food as he listened to the others, mindful of any sniping between their friends due to the stress of the last many hours.

"Rallying somewhere in the area briefly would help us take stock of our supplies and situation. As for bigger plans, we're going to run into Biters no matter where we go, but someplace sparsely populated or at least with lots of open, or high ground is ideal. We aren't far from the Appalachian Mountains, really, I'm sure we could find some cabins up there, and plenty of food with the spring and summer opening up. Whether we stay there or not, if there are boats left on the coastline we could set up on a small island, clear it of walkers, use the water as a buffer from hostile folks, and make occasional raids back to the mainland."

Hank didn't know if NM not moving during the night was a good thing or not. Grabbing a couple dry, well, drier socks off a chair and slid down next to him. Hey. He held a pair out to the teen. They might be a bit loose on you but until you find some clothes that fit feel free to use mine. He paused a moment looked to the ceiling. Hell they're starting to be a bit loose on me. Mulling over his next words he ran through what he remembered from his sessions after the crash. I can't say I know what you've been through, or I know how to make everything better overnight. Turning to look at the other he put a hand his shoulder, hoping to get some focus. But keeping it in isn't good, it just...lets things build until they explode. That I know. He glanced to Tom, though his tone suggested it wasn't just the kid he was talking about. What you do, is up to you. But you don't have to do it alone.

Hearing the others moving around from the ajar door he stretched out his legs. Get changed, you need something a bit drier. I'll bring you guys some food if you want to stay in here. Standing he moved to the door and took the impromptu door stop out from under it. Turning before heading out he added over his shoulder, Have Tom get changed also when he wakes up.

Sitting by the door as the others started talking about their next move Hank picked his green beans one by one. The water had been the first thing gone to make getting them easier. He'd given NM a can and left one for Tom before starting on his. He suppressed a smile at what he'd imagine Janice's reaction would be at Lorenzo's snipe. I'm for going north at some point, hopefully someplace we can't be surprised by hurricanes. We didn't get a chance to hit the houses at Slaughter but who knows how many zombies are still around.

Mr. Cauldershore stoked the meagre cook fire, the smoke from it venting through an open window. The man sat quietly and tried to listen but he was haunted by those lost to the storm. Nevada, Cass, Ricky, Saito, Hector, Joe... Not to mention that bad bit of business in the car park that took Gary. The severity of this storm might have been less than Katrina, But Cauldershore was feeling the pain much harder this time. There was community back then, shelters, FEMA. Now there was a bunch of wet, nice folks in a junk arse office eating crummy old canned food.

"Going south at all won't do. The hurricane will have taken New Orleans from us. We need to move north east, away from the Mississippi River, away from the flooding. Either that or cross the river and head west. But I don't know where we'll go...
There's nothing left for us but the walking dead."

Cauldershore's face was pale and his expression was blank. He was still dressed in his wet clothes but at least the small fire gave him the illusion of being warm.

FLASHBACK - St. Louis, before the Caravan Ambush

"No no no, please don't do this!" Karen screamed as the white haired man hit her again and again. She was on the floor of the office, blood pouring from her face, unable to protect herself from the madman. "Shut up!" He yelled back. "You'll do this or you'll never see him again!" He kicked her hard in the side, cracking a rib in two. Karen struggled to catch her breath.

A dark eyed man burst through the door, dragging Kaidan by the arm. "If you try to run, we'll do this again! If you try to escape, we will kill your mom and then we'll kill you! Do you understand me?" He yelled in Kaidan's face, pointing at Karen, broken on the floor, making it clear that these people were not to be toyed with.

Chapter 5 - The Caravan "And After the Storm"

"Fuuuuck!" Karen awoke suddenly and screaming. She curled and rolled on to the side that didn't hurt and screamed once again in agony. The jagged wound in her side was one thing, but the civil war era fix that melted her skin back together was totally another. The cauterization had indeed stopped the bleeding but now she had a nasty burn wound and was susceptible to infection.

With a can of food in his hands Dominic quietly listened to what the others had to say; trying not to examine too closely what it was he was actually eating and simply contenting himself with the fact that it was warm and filling.
The general consensus was that taking over the prison was a firm no, and when he actually thought about it he had to agree, though he did find himself clenching both teeth and fists when he heard Lorenzo bad mouthing Izzy with only the girl’s own retort preventing him from saying or doing anything unwise. Sure Izzy wasn’t exactly capable wading into the thick of things anymore but there was no need for Lorenzo to write her off as being useless.
Taking a moment to get a handle on his temper Dom simply lets the rest of the group say their piece before speaking in a reasonably calm voice “The problem with heading north is that we’ll freeze to death come next winter...that and there’s going to be Zed’s no matter where we go, though at least if we steer clear of the cities it shouldn’t be too bad” Dom pointed out, echoing what Mahmoud had already said on the subject of the Zeds before continuing “...personally I think we need to find somewhere a little more permanent, there’s only so long we can survive on what we can scavenge, we need to start growing our own food...rear pigs, go hunting and so on” not that he had the first clue as to how to do any of that. His uncle had taken him fishing once; three hours sat by a river and he’d caught nothing but a cold though that wasn’t to say that they couldn’t get food that way, only that he was certainly no fisherman. He also had to admit that Mahmoud’s idea of finding an island or a place in the mountains was more than a little appealing but first they had to regroup and rearm.
With his breakfast finished he tosses the empty can into one of the dying braziers; licking the tomato sauce from off of his fingers before speaking to the group “Well...Slaughter may not be the Promised Land but it’ll do for a start...eat up we’re heading south” and we’ll just have to hope it’s not underwater though they should be pretty safe as it was a fair distance away from the Mississippi and besides if it became apparent that the whole area was flooded then they could always change direction and go elsewhere.
It was just as they were reaching this decision that Karen suddenly awoke with a scream prompting Dominic in Benson’s absence to go and see if she was alright “It’s ok, you’re alright” he said, placing a hand upon her arm in what he hoped was a comforting manner “Now I am just going to check your wound...c’est bon...right, good news is the bleeding has stopped however the bad news is that you’ve now got a rather nasty burn, sorry about that” Dominic apologised sheepishly once he’d finished examining her side, wishing that he hadn’t had to resort to using methods such as that. Normally he’d apply antiseptic to a wound such as this before then applying the dressing in order to prevent infection setting in, but with all of his supplies currently under several feet of water that was going to prove problematic “I don’t suppose any of you found a first aid kit in this place?” Dominic asked over his shoulder already suspecting that the answer was no, meaning that he’d just have to hope that they could find what he needed in Slaughter and that it wouldn’t be too late when he did.

In reply to Hank Lucion (msg # 8):

It took NM a moment to register but finally he blinked and accepted the dry-ish socks from Hank with a small smile, as if to reassure him that he was still there, somewhere, and was grateful, with Hank's hand on his shoulder serving as a temporary, emotional anchor. Contact was something people used to take for granted before the apocalypse, in the present it could get you killed, depending on the circumstances. New Mexeeco hadn't broken down in tears yet because he was still exhausted as of late to do so, and even then he reminded himself that he could keep it together a bit more, as long they didn't lose any more friends. It used to be that he could count his lost comrades off on one hand, then it was two, and now he was losing count, though the names were never forgotten.

"Hey, Hank.. Um, thank you." The teenager replied after Hank had risen, and asked NM to help Tom get up and going. "I'm glad you and Tom are still here."

Beginning to slip on the socks after peeling his own damp ones off, the dryness of the new(not really) pair caused him to feel some respite from the reality of the struggle they were living. "Hey, Tommyboy, its time to get up. I think the others are meeting."
This message was last edited by the player at 02:02, Sun 29 Nov 2015.

Karen gritted her teeth as hard as she could. "You burned me?!" She asked the doc, taking in a deep breath, trying to hold it together with the pain of the large patch of melted skin. It was hard to think about anything else, but she tried. Karen slowly and carefully rose to a sitting position, pain shooting through her core and tunnel vision threatening to topple her, but she made it. "Please tell me the pain meds made it out of the Big House with us..." She said, shaking a little.

Between the cold and the rain last night, and the wound in her side, Karen was feeling a bit frail. This wound was by no means the worst she'd suffered. In Iraq Karen was all but blown to bits by an IED, and the first time she'd met Dominic he was patching up her busted face and broken rib. Now, she was simply seared like a steak. Karen could make it through that.

"Where's Bohannon?" She asked looking through the soggy members of the Caravan that remained in the room. Having only scattered memories of last night after getting hurt and passing out, Karen wasn't sure what had happened to the man she had spent the night with before the storm.

Sleep, when it came, was fitful. A part of him knew he should probably have gotten out of his wet clothes before falling asleep. The bigger part was exhaustion, at the storm and their flight from the compound. That and all of his extras were soaked at the time. Feeling Hank move away he lifted his head slightly before being told to rest. Turning over he adjusted the chair cushion he had been using as a pillow, vaguely aware of NM and Hank talking.

Eyes slowly opening at the mention of his name Tom gave a slight shiver. The fire had been nice but nowhere near enough to fully dry him out with clothes on. Stretching he rolled to his back, all 5'5 of him giving another shiver. Rising to an elbow he rubbed his eyes. I hate hurricanes. He murmured. Looking over he gave a small smile at the sight of NM moving around. Morning. Coming to a full sitting position he inched his way closer to the fire before adding another piece of wood. I'm ah, sorry I was so quiet last night. Just with the storm and all... He shrugged, not really sure where he was going.

“It was the only way I could stop the bleeding” Dom said in an apologetic voice as he responded to Karen’s accusation that he’d burnt her before she then inevitably went on to the subject of painkillers. He couldn’t blame her, he’d be wanting painkillers too if he’d just had a hot knife pressed against his side, but unfortunately it would seem that he had no good news for her as she then asked him where the cowboy was causing him to wonder which of those questions was worse? Whether it was the fact that he had no real pain medication to give her or that her boyfriend; assuming of course that Benson was in fact her boyfriend, was currently missing.
Wishing that he didn’t have to be the bearer of bad news Dominic pulled the battered packet of Paracetamol from out of his pocket and popped first two and then after a moment’s thought three of the pills out of the packet and handed them to Karen “I am afraid that that’s as strong as its going to get...the rest of my stuff is underwater, as for the cowboy...well...I don’t know how much you remember about last night but he and Brady had a major falling out, me and Luke had to step in to stop them killing one another” Dominic explained deciding to gloss over the fact that only one of the brothers had been in any real danger of being killed last night  “...the last I saw them they were walking out into the storm together to talk things through...I was kind of hoping that they’d have come back by now” he said genuinely curious as to where they could be and hoping that nothing untoward had happened to either of them.
Either way the brothers had until everyone had finished eating and had packed up their things to turn up or Dominic would be forced to leave them a note and hope that they would be able to make it Slaughter by themselves.

Lorenzo shot Izzy a venomous look at her comment about him being an invalid. He was cocksure that even with the use of one arm he was still going to be a better fighter, and just better at getting shit done in general, than half the bozos sitting around in here. At least his arm would heal. Izzy would be legless until the day she died. Then again, he honestly thought she had a better chance of growing it back than someone like Luke did of growing a pair of balls.

He continued to swivel in the chair somewhat lazily, but now his jaw was clenched. The conversation quickly turned to more productive things than Lorenzo insulting most of the people present, so all he ended up doing was exhaling sharply in a huff and fell silent.

Once the debate concluded he felt calmer. Snaps of anger usually came and went quickly. He wasn't sure why he got pissed so easily. Probably got it from his dad or something. It had been an asset in his old crew, but these guys seemed a lot more touchy-feely or some shit.

Lorenzo let out an annoyed sounding sigh and reached for his smokes, then made an even more frustrated sound when he remembered he didn't have many left. He just wanted something to occupy himself with until they could leave. Oddly enough, he didn't have much of an appetite since yesterday.

He'd already cleaned his knife last night, but he drew it and started going over the blade with a damp rag, holding the knife limply in his busted arm to keep it still. He listened to Karen and Dominic but it wasn't like he had anything helpful to offer. Still, he found himself mouthing off anyway.

"The mysterious case of the missing rednecks," Lorenzo muttered. He looked up from the knife, one-part wry, and one-part just plain mean. "Those two were always fuckin' tense, even I could see that. And to get rid of tension like that, you either gotta fuck each other or you gotta kill each other. Now, I don't know how y'all do it in the South, but seeing's how they're brothers... Wouldn't hold my breath on either of 'em coming back."

It was probably entirely too blunt, but Lorenzo wasn't known for his tact. He honestly couldn't think of a nicer, less sarcastic way of saying he wasn't going to be waiting around on two guys who had chose to wander off last night.

Luke had listened to the discussions, somehow managing not to interrupt with a suggestion or two of his own, perhaps realizing that planning for the group was not his forte. Things had become awkward before with the Benson's fighting, with Gary being lost not all that far from the group, and then Lorenzo had started picking at Izzy. To top it all off, Karen's rude awakening and the helplessness of the medical situation had put Luke on edge yet again.

Shifting his feet as he stood near a window, keeping an eye on the outside, he remembered being out in the open when on the raid, and how they'd been chased back by biters. He'd spent most of the time since Z-Day inside of Fort Dixie. Without walls and safety in numbers, he was clearly worried about hiking out again.

"Man why does the place have to be called Slaughter? I'm gettin a bad feeling about this.."

Mahmoud had already began gathering up the packs, making sure that inventory (what there was of it) was ready to go despite the general state of the group. With Dominic deciding where they were going, he was eager to get a move on while they had plenty of daylight. He hadn't been to Slaughter like some of the others, so he wanted to be prepared as much as possible. It wasn't just getting to the town on foot with wounded people in their group, it was setting up a secure space in the town once there.

Rifle slung over his shoulder, with a meager pack of goods in a pack upon his back, Mahmoud approached Karen and Dominic, moving to his haunches to be at eye level. "We'll be able to travel light enough for obvious reasons, but we'll need to have someone on point, while others help Karen. I think Izzy will be okay moving with a staff but we may need to assist if we are pursued out there. We'll organize how you like, we just gotta get to Slaugher as soon as possible, as quietly as possible."

"You're probably right but it won't hurt to scrawl something on the door just in case" Dominic reluctantly agreed with Lorenzo, the guys somewhat blunt mannerism's starting to get on his nerves, though for now he was going to put it all down to a lack of pain medication.
As Mahmoud joined him as he finished with Karen, Dominic listened as he urged them to get moving; suggesting he find someone to take point before they started moving.
With both Karen and Lorenzo wounded and Gary and Benson missing, Dominic's choice of point men was kind of limited. Once the majority of the group were ready to go Dominic got up onto his feet and quickly started organising things "Ok listen up; Hank I want you and NM to take point, if you find anything out there that we need to know about then come back and let us know, Don't pick any fights...Cauldershore I want you to help Karen, the rest of you stick together and follow me" with his instructions delivered he makes his way downstairs and waits for the others to join him. Taking the time to scrawl a brief message on one of the grimy windows to tell the Bohannon brothers that they were heading for Slaughter should they still be alive.

Sticking to the roads as best they could in order to avoid the quagmire like conditions resulting from last nights storm, Dominic would wait until the group was moving before dropping back to join Izzy as she moved along with her improvised staff "are you alright? That arse Lorenzo not causing you any bother is he?" he asked in a low voice. Wanting to see if she was ok without making her think that he thought she couldn't stick up for herself or anything daft like that "...Also how badly am I doing? I mean...can you tell I am making it up as I go along?" he asked with a slight smile and only half joking when he asked it.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:39, Sun 06 Dec 2015.

"You're shitting me Dominic. All we have is Tylenol?" Through Karen's medical history she'd been put of all sorts of high power pain meds, Tylenol may as well be Pez, for what its worth. But it would have to do... Karen swallowed the pills with a gulp and tried to stand. With Mahmoud's words about Karen slowing down the group, she was compelled to prove him wrong. Unfortunately, Karen overestimated her strength and pain tolerance for the moment and came tumbling right back down, her face all scrunched up her eyes glistening in the flickering light of the cook fire. "I'm fine!" She interjected before anyone could say anything. "I'll be alright for the trip to Slaughter." She added, rising this time successfully to her feet. "I won't be a burden, I've had worse than this." Karen crossed the room, trying to get a feel for what the pain level would be like out on the road. She could take it. "Let's go."

In reply to Dominic Dubreton (msg # 19):

Benson Bohannon sat alone on the curb outside the office building, his hair and clothes soaking wet from the rain, his boots and arms covered in mud, and his nose and mouth dripping with blood. The cowboy sat still and unnoticed, solemn sadness in his eyes as he watched Dominic write a message on the window. "Dominic..." The cowboy's usual smooth Georgian accent was now hoarse and raspy. Bohannon wiped his eyes and rose to his feet. "How is she?" Bohannon ignored the others as they slowly trickled out of the building, his focus only on the one he cared about, and on Dominic's answer.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:48, Sun 06 Dec 2015.

With Dominic's orders to carry out, Cauldershore snuffed out the cook fire, tidied up the place a bit and packed what insignificant salvage they'd gathered into peoples packs. With Karen's continued insistence she was "fine" Cauldershore kept his watchful distance from the poor gal and let her be. The friendly man offered his assistance to everyone as they all readied themselves for the trek to Slaughter. Last time it had been about a four hour walk, and that was over good ground. There was no telling the state of the roads now after the storm and the flooding. It was quite likely that there could be some serious wash-outs along the highway, never even mind the fallen trees. This walk, with the bigger group, with the wounded, the tired, the hungry... this trip would be much harder on everyone.

"Shall we?" he offer Karen his gentlemanly arm for the stairs, seeing her hesitance to undertake them. "That wasn't so bad, was it? Being hurt doesn't make you weak, dear, but rather quite the contrar-" a violent cough cut him off at the end. Cauldershore held up his hand. He too was "fine."

He hadn't noticed the cowboy sat there on the kerb; his hand instinctively dropping to the sword at his waist as he heard the rasping sound coming from behind him. The man was in a sorry state; soaking wet, filthy and covered in blood but from what Dominic could see unhurt...at least physically anyway "In pain, but that’s to be expected...with some clean dressing and antiseptic she should be fine" Dominic replied in a casual voice as he destroyed the message he'd been writing with a quick smear of his hand. The paramedic deciding not to mention the obvious problem in finding those items, or asking the stupid question of where Brady was, the fact that he wasn’t here making it abundantly clear to him what had happened to him Well...that’s the Bohannon problem solved.
Ignoring the rest of the group as they filed out of the building, Dominic walks over to the bedraggled cowboy and holds out the man's revolver; handle first so that he could take it if he wanted to "we're heading back to Slaughter to regroup and rearm...depending on how things go we may stick around for a while before moving on" he said; bringing Benson up to speed on what was going on.
By this point the group was out of the building and getting ready to move out "Come mon ami, we've got a long way to go and Karen's been asking for you...I think she'll be glad to see a friendly face, though perhaps lose the blood first, ok?" Dominic finished with friendly voice and a quick hand gesture around his own nose and mouth to indicate what he was talking about before then moving away.
They had a long walk ahead of them.

With any luck the storm spread some of the zombies out of Slaughter. Hank thought, simply nodding at being put on point with NM. Reluctantly finishing his last bean he tossed the can into the corner before standing. Giving a slight knock on the closed door before entering he slipped in and reclosed it behind him as Dom went to look after Karen. Hey, um, we're going to heading to Slaughter. Get a better idea of what we have and what's next. Slipping his boots off he went over to his drier clothes and grabbed a couple things. Glancing to NM as he sat in a chair and slipped off his socks, You and me have point duty.

Choosing what to wear was simple enough for Tom, grab whatever was driest. Not wanting to push NM out of the room he used the table as a privacy screen, figuring if the other was changing it'd work for both of them. After that was done he moved the fire basket over and sat next to NM, digging into the green beans Hank had brought earlier. Cringing as Karen's scream made it's way to them through the door he looked NM. A scream's better then moaning and gunshots, right?

Looking up as his brother entered Tom paused a moment at his words. He briefly wondered why they weren't going back to the compound to look for the others. He was about to ask but stopped, not wanting to upset NM. Instead he focused on the here and now. When are leaving?

Soon, so get your things packed. He answered, waving his feet before the fire to dry a bit more. We didn't get to the houses so assuming they haven't been hit before use we should find some supplies. Standing he went behind the table and starting the wet to dry change process. Who knows, maybe we'll find some clothes that actually fit. Once he was changed and only slightly damp with all the clothes repacked he headed out with the others.

Seeing a lone Benson waiting he glanced around, hoping he and Brady were just keeping their distance. With no Brady in sight though his hand tightened briefly on the crowbar. Taking a breath he reminded himself they had gone out in a hurricane. The storm could be why there was only one now. Or Benson could have actually followed through with his revenge. Now wasn't the time to find out though, maybe after they got to Slaughter.

Karen came out the front door, Mr. Cauldershore offering his assistance to the wounded woman. Level ground felt fairly nice compared to the strain of going down stairs, each step down jarring the burnt hole in her side and causing her a slight cringe. Karen figured however that on flat ground at a reasonable pace she'd be able to walk to Slaughter unassisted. The uncertain prospect of narcotic painkillers was also a motivator to keep her moving.

Seeing Benson on the street without Brady gave Karen the clear explanation of why she'd woken up with out him this morning. She had of course hoped to see him again, but now discovering that he'd run off to fulfil some half-baked revenge plot instead of being there to help her through the night had no doubt impacted their strange post-apocalyptic quasi-relationship.

Karen approached the spot where Benson and Dominic stood, clutching her side. She spoke to Bohannon in what most men would recognize as the tone of a displeased woman. "So he's dead then?" She asked, accusatorially. As Benson nodded regretfully back at her, she snapped back "Kay" and walked off.

She really wasn't trying to act like Cookie...
This message was last edited by the player at 06:15, Tue 08 Dec 2015.

In reply to Dominic Dubreton (msg # 19):

Izzy was able to keep up with the others, but it was going to be an issue when they ran into the next big herd. She knew it, they knew it, but she wasn't prepared to lay down and die, not while her boys were out there, somewhere, in this hell hole. She'd even gone so far as to tie a blade around the pointy end of her improvised walking stick so if need be she could use a biter's eye-socket as leverage.

On the walk, she kept with the main body of the group, smiling a little Dominic's way when her companion briefly joined her to ask her opinion. "It's like public speaking, no one knows you make mistakes unless you point them out yourself. Don't worry about wingin' it, Dom. That's all Cookie ever did, and Kail before her. No one can expect more than your best. That won't stop them from blaming you when something goes to shit, though." She said with a quietly humorous tone, though there was seriousness in there.

Noting Bohannon along with Dominic, Izzy continued to move as their medic and new leader moved to address the now sole Bohannon brother.

New Mexeeco was already standing and essentially ready when the inner circle meeting wrapped up. He'd grown a bit quieter in the last short while, still reliving some trauma that he thought he'd gotten over, while dealing with the new mental scars as well. The teenager was silently dreading going out on the open road, but kept it to himself as he withdrew his machete from the scabbard, now strung so as to sit at his lower back on its side for easy, initially stealthy withdrawal when the time came. He had no real pack to carry, but at least he'd travel light.

Karen's screams had given NM some tension, which melted somewhat with Tom's rejoinder, which earned a knowing nod from a world weary NM. "Alright." Was his simple response to Hank's mention of their duty as point men. He'd done it before, but was still a bit out of sorts. Still, he knew better than to complain, and would try to do the best job he could.

As they headed out of the office, NM gave Tom a small smile and a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. He wanted Tom to feel that he was okay, even if he wasn't.
The sun hitting his face, NM averted his gaze, seeing at the same time Hank did a solitary Benson but no Brady. "I'm glad they stuck you and I together." NM mentioned quietly to Hank as they made their way to the front of the group, which on point would be some distance ahead of the others to screen for walkers, or worse, people.

The Caravan was on the road again. Sometimes, "on the road" felt more like home than any home ever did for the Caravan. The farm house, the Fort, the Industrial complex, they were all stops along the way. But the road was the most consistent thing the Caravan had. It was always the same.

The problem for Bohannon this time was that he felt more alone now than he ever had in his life. Brady was dead. Ever since Nashville Benson had been picturing the moment he'd take his revenge. He'd longed for it, he'd fantasized about it. It had become his very purpose. But now that Brady was gone, Benson felt more empty and lonely than before. He might even go so far as to say he hated himself.

And now after last night it was entirely possible that the only other person in Zombieland Bohannon got along with might hate him too. He watched Karen walking up ahead, alongside Dominic. The way she moved, it almost taunted him. Almost told him "you could'a had me."

Bohannon was so far lost inside his own troubled mind he didn't even notice the thick jam of abandoned traffic strewn across the highway until the Caravan was almost upon it.

Karen worked as hard as Izzy to keep up with Dominic, but for different reasons. She had sensed the woman's feeling towards Dom, and got the impression that it was probably mutual. But Karen wanted to be near Dominic for simple pragmatic reasons. She felt unwell. The weather was fairly cool, yet Karen was breaking a sweat. And her whole body felt achy and shaky. She was probably fighting an infection, which was dramatically worse than the pure and intense pain she felt constantly in her side.

As the Caravan drew near the jumble of cars ahead Karen hesitantly slowed her pace. "What do you wanna do Dom? Go around, or go through?" She asked, drawing her weapon and confirming she had no ammo. If things got sticky in there, they might be screwed...

Hanging back seemed like a good idea to Lorenzo, so he took up the rear. Less chance of getting mowed down like a row of stupid ducks. Also, he didn't need to deal with any of the conversations going on. That was a bonus. He'd felt gloomy and pissed off since last night and just didn't want to deal with... Well, anyone here, really. The tolerance he usually had for their dramatics was at an all time low.

He tried to tell himself he should be making more of an effort, socially at least. These people had been nothing but nice to him for the most part, and had taken him in when he was hungry and freezing his ass off. He sighed heavily and tapped his fist against his head a few times, lightly, like he was just barely resisting the urge to sock himself.

The clogged roadway didn't warrant the momentary, indecisive pause among the group in Lorenzo's mind. No point in planning if he didn't know what he was up against. Pausing was frustrating. Talking instead of doing was annoying. Why was Dominic's input so important? What, did he have some blinding insight on the cars that they didn't? Lorenzo sincerely doubted it, so he couldn't give less of a shit on what Dom's verdict was.

He was still stubbornly laden with a stupid amount of gear, two packs and an empty rifle across his back, but he didn't pause. It looked like he was going to keep stomping right into the cars, but he stopped a few paces ahead of Dominic. It was obviously not going to be a permanent arrangement. He stopped only to take stock of the situation, arm throbbing from the jolts his heavy footfalls had caused. He winced and elected to ignore it. Broken arm be damned. He wasn't going to twiddle his thumbs at the back the entire time like a gimp.

"Yo, México!" he called out to the guys up front. His knife was drawn and he was shifting on his feet, already filled with the sort of anticipatory buzz that came before a fight. His next words sounded almost hopeful."What'cha boys got up there? See anything?"

Tired, damp and with several members injured the group’s pace could almost be described as leisurely were it not for their haggard appearance. In fact in their current state a passerby could be forgiven in mistaking them for a small herd of Zed’s as they made their way down the road. The days of them being healthy, well fed and armed now seemingly long gone as they walked down the road dressed dirty, ragged clothes, carrying guns for which they had no bullets and with only the shakiest of plans for the future.
Glancing up at a road sign Dominic found himself suppressing a groan as he saw how many more miles they still had to go before they reached Slaughter where they would then have to find somewhere secure to spend the night, assuming of course that nightfall didn’t simply force them all into the first building they found.
 It was at this point that Karen asked him what he planned to do about the long stretch of vehicle strewn highway that was coming up before them; an inconvenient and potentially dangerous obstacle or treasure trove depending on your point of view. Considering her previously close relationship with Benson he was kind of surprised to find Karen walking with him and Izzy whom Dominic had decided to stay close to just in case she needed any help across some of the muddier patches of ground they’d come across of course...or at least that was what he kept telling himself anyway.
Looking over at Karen it didn’t take any medical training to tell that she was far from being healthy which perhaps answered the question of why she was walking with him and not the cowboy. Ignoring her question for the time being Dominic walks over to her and places a hand upon her forehead before then carefully lifting her top just enough for him to inspect the wound; grimacing as he discovered the first possible signs of an infection.
Not for the first time Dominic found himself cursing the storm that had forced them out of their home and robbed him of the means of helping these people, many of whom he considered to be friends “Ok Karen, you’re with me from now on, the pair of us are going to take things nice and steady” Dominic said, slipping a supportive arm around her shoulders; surprised that she was still able to stand let alone walk considering how hot and feverish she was “...we’re going to stick to the verge and hard shoulder where the ground is better, it’ll also allow us to check out some of those cars along the way” Dominic explained, quietly hoping that at least one of those cars would have a first aid kit he could use, hell if it wasn’t for the fact that they were all jammed together he’d suggest they try starting some of them up and drive the rest of the way to Slaughter though maybe that idea was best forgotten until they reached the end of the traffic jam and were sure that there were no Zed’s lurking nearby. Sure it’d be safer for them to by-pass the cars entirely but that would mean going cross country and he doubted that Karen and Izzy would cope with the quagmire last night’s storm had produced for very long, and besides they were in desperate need of supplies and Dom didn’t want to pass up the opportunity of being able to find something in amongst those cars. Maybe they’d even get lucky and find something like an ambulance just waiting to be opened up and looted.

Leaving his bag with one of the uninjured and otherwise unhampered members Hank gave his brother a hug before heading to the front. I know, I know. I don't think there was anything we could have done. He murmured, following the kid's stink eye to the lone Bohannon. Just focus on the here and now, ok. I'm going to need you to keep an eye out in case any zombies sneak past us.

Heading up with NM he glanced at the teen as he spoke. Me too. Luckily the trip was uneventful, with only the occasional deer rustling along the road side. Taking the occasional glance behind them he stayed silent during the trek, processing their losses. With no idea on Joe's current whereabouts currently Brady's was the hardest to take. The man had taken a shotgun blast to help save Tom, and despite his words to the kid he couldn't help wonder if things would have turned out this way if he had spoken in Brady's defense.

Stopping at the jam he tried a couple of the leading cars, not willing to risk setting off a car alarm by breaking a window. How's your shoulder? He asked, looking for a way through to the cars stuck in the middle lanes. Pulling two reusable bags from a Cube he gave one to NM.

Hearing Lorenzo and the others approaching he made his way back with the Home Depot reusable bag he had found. While he didn't have a huge haul every little bit helped. He shrugged, Couple stale boxes of crackers and flat soda. Depending on how far this thing goes there's bound to be a police car or ambulance in there somewhere, right?

New Mexico listened to Hank's advice concerning Bohannon etc, having no reason not to agree with the older guy, who'd done right by him all along since they'd been together in the Caravan. It was useful advice, focusing on the here and now, which was all they ever had anymore, which used to be all Mexeeco needed, but might not have been enough anymore. "You're right, you're right. I will.." In spite of his own issues, he knew he had to be responsible and watch out for the few of them they had left at that moment. Like a wayward thread from a bedraggled sweater, all they needed was a good pull to come undone. "Eventually there need to be rules, we can't just keep ignoring when people in our group just go and murder one another, can we?" He mentioned quietly to Hank, the circumstances of Brady's disappearance among others not sitting well with him, but he wasn't in charge, and didn't want to be.

Further up from the group, coming to the logjam of vehicles, NM joined Hank in meandering through or over a couple. They tried to gain some sight of what lay ahead, similarly unwilling to mountain climb possibly alarm ridden cars, broken glass, or groping undead arms. Finding a cube truck with Hank, New Mexico took on one of the bags they found from Hank as the other asked about his old, not so old injury. "I've noticed over time that this big patch of numbness there hasn't gone away." He answered, guarding his emotions a little, but not well from someone like Hank, well practiced at reading his own brother. "I.. I kind of worry that I'll cut myself, or, or get a bite or scratch from a walker and not notice." The teen frowned, brow furrowing briefly in thought when they heard Lorenzo call out. On the bright side, Hank had spotted supplies, even if they were scant, they were a bonanza to the group at this time.

Making their way back, he was glad that Hank had spotted the Cube so they had something to contribute to the group. "Hank spotted the Cube truck with this stuff. Its a good find, considering what we lost. I think I saw a police van further up, it had some D-E-something acronym on the side."

Mahmoud brightened up when Hank and NM returned to the main body of the group with the crackers and soda. The dark skinned Caravaner, without shaving supplies, was in the process of growing a great black Maharajah style beard naturally due to his ethnicity. His genuine smile broke up the manscruff. "Great job, you two. You make a good team I think." He promptly moved forward, a pack hung on his back, ready to take anything so they could remain light of foot. Uninjured and one of the fitter members of the group at this point, he had volunteered to be pack animal, which also gave him an excuse to keep an eye on Lorenzo. The volatile fellow wouldn't accept help easily, so Mahmoud would linger close since he wasn't given point-man duty anyway. With his rifle slung over his shoulder and the handful of bullets left, he'd do better as a Sheppard anyhow.

Under Dominic's direction, they began to meander around the traffic on the shoulder of the road. It was a good call for their wounded, which included Lorenzo even if the guy wouldn't admit it. "A DEA van is probably what you saw, 'Mexico. Good eye. Maybe we can get some medicine for our people, might make the trek less uncomfortable for some." Mahmoud cast a glance to Dom, helping Karen, then Lorenzo, who at least could carry himself, though the logistics guy of the group was concerned about that arm. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm hoping for a box of beer. Maybe we'll find one in a creek near the road, eh? Bet that'd keep 'em cool." He was at least trying to keep spirits up, even if it sounded strange coming from a man who was quite a straight laced, almost managerial type.

Tom followed the others out, glad most of the water weight was gone from his pack. Any hope that the Bohannon brothers had worked things out was squashed at the sight of just one waiting for them outside. If looks could kill...Right... Easier said then done. Watching Hank head up to take point he ran through some of his breathing exercises, gripping his tire wrench.

Keeping as far as he could from Benson Tom watched the side of the road. Despite what Hank said he couldn't help but occasionally glance to Benson, his grip tightening slightly every time. When they caught up with NM and Hank he stayed to the side, purposely keeping his eyes locked on the forest around them.

Benson could feel the collective eyes burning holes in the back of his head, but he ignored it. Moving on and pushing through was more important now. The jam was an unfortunate conundrum. They could take the time to pick through and search for loot, but the amount of time that would take combined with the danger of stirring up trouble would spell disaster for their wounded. Lingering here could spell the end for them. But if there was some meds, or a proper first aid kit or something in one of these cars, that might be the one thing that they need. So they were screwed either way... Damned if you do, damned if you don't, right?

Bohannon peered in through the windows of the cars he passed, not spending any time on each one, just giving it a cursory glance as he walked. He ignored Dominic and meandered through the roadway to get a better look. The caravan's pace was such that if he moved quickly, he could peek in the windows and still keep up. If he saw a backpack or a bag or anything in the car that looked untouched, he'd try to scavenge it.

Benson peered in on a crashed old white Neon and saw an orange duffel plunked on the passenger seat. A decaying body  slumped over the steering wheel told Bohannon that the driver had died there. The cowboy moved over to the passenger side door and took a second look before gently pulling the handle. The duffel bag caught the sunlight and almost gleamed like a prize in front of Bohannon. He pulled it open and spilled the contents on the seat and combed through it. It was the guy's clothes and a wrapper from a Cliff bar... Son of a bitch.

Benson stripped off his damp, bloodstained and muddy shirt and traded it for a baggy tee and a pretty ugly checkered shirt. Then he pulled off his wet socks and replaced them too before shoving them back in his wet boots. The cowboy threw the strap of the duffel bag over his shoulder and shoved some of the clothed back in it, jus so at least he had something.

The sighting of the DEA van piqued Boh's interest. The possibilities of what could be in there were endless. He wanted in.

"Drug Enforcement Agency?" Karen beheld the large black armoured van with genuine curiosity as the Caravan approached it. "Why would they be out here, you'd think the war on drugs would have taken a back seat to the war on the dead, right?" But they were out here none the less. "We have to get in there." She said excitedly while clutching her side. "Woah." Karen felt dizzy for a moment and threw her arm out to catch Dominic's shoulder to stabilize herself. "If this is a SWAT van, we could get weapons and armour, a first aid kit, they might have some seized product in there too, which might help Lorenzo and I, right buddy?" she said to her injured counterpart, kind of joking but not really.

Karen turned to Dominic. "We have to open it. I just hope they're not still inside, like, you know, risen..." Karen moved slowly and painfully to the rear door or the tall van, pressing her ear against it. "I don't hear anything, should I knock?"

Karen had spent part of her career riding in vans like this, she knew them inside and out, and she didn't like their odds of springing the sealed, heavy armoured doors, especially not quietly. And if the Zed tac-team was inside the van they'd be hard to kill dressed head to toe in kevlar.

“That’s…kind of what I was worried about” Dominic replied to Karen’s statement over whether or not whoever had been riding in the back was still inside Armoured Zed’s, just what we need! Dominic wryly thought as Karen limped over to the doors with him following close behind just in case she keeled over again. Like everyone else in the group he was excited by the prospect of what lay within the van; his mind filled with visions of tactical body armour, assault weaponry and pharmaceutical grade medication just waiting for them to take. However he was also wary over the fact that nobody else had thought to open up such a prize, which begged the question, why?
“Oui…see if there’s anybody home, I’ll go check the front” Dominic spoke as Karen suggested knocking. Better to find out there was a mob of Zed’s inside now rather than after they flung the doors open.
Walking round to the front of the vehicle Dominic was greeted with an open passenger door; the driver still laid slumped in the corner with most of his now congealed brains still decorating the window; the passenger perhaps? Dominic mused as he climbed into the vacant passenger’s seat. A quick search telling him that the driver’s gun and the contents of the glove box other than a few pieces of litter were long gone however the keys were still thankfully within the ignition. Cautiously leaning across the corpse of the driver Dominic caught a glimpse of the teeth marks on the dead man’s arm giving him a better idea of what had happened that day as he pulled the keys.
Finding nothing of interest Dominic returns to the others; tossing the keys to Karen so that he could draw his sword “See if any of these will open her up, if there’s anyone inside we let them out one at a time and deal with them like that” Zed’s weren’t renowned for their balance so Dom hoped that they would be easy enough to deal with once they were sprawled on the floor, even if they were armoured “D’accord…open the door whenever you're ready”
This message was last edited by the player at 17:06, Sun 03 Jan 2016.

"Sounds good Dom." Karen wanted to prove she could handle this, even if she was hurt and fighting an infection and feeling a little bit feverish. Karen banged three or four times on the doors and listened to the sound that came after. It was the distinctive clangour of armoured bodies bumping against the walls of the van. "Ready?" She swiped her retractable whoopin' stick from her police belt and held it at the ready.

"Three..." Karen took in a deep breath. "Two..." She gave the baton a practice swing, noting the strain on her side. "One!" Karen pulled down on the door handle, the weight of the zombies pressing against it burst it open with underestimated might. The first zed fell flat on his face, the second landed on top of him and stumbled forwards towards Dominic, and the third only got half way out before Karen slammed the door on his leg. This one was flailing around with his leg pinned in the door trying to get free or get to Karen, he clearly wasn't sure which. The pinned guy flung his weight to the side with a hard jerk and snapped his leg in half as Karen continued to try to shut the door. "FUCK fuck fuck, help me out here!!!"

Karen swung down at the pinned guy as his rotten jaws snapped up at her, but she didn't have the strength to hold the door and fight him off. So she put a boot on his face and used his head as a stool to apply greater pressure to the door, managing to just hold the other reaching limbs at bay.

The plan had been sound in theory but in practice had been less than desirable as the combined weight of the Zed’s flung the door open before an injured Karen could slam it shut again.
Raising a booted foot high, Dom placed it upon the helmeted head of the second Zed to leave the van; pinning its face against the road to expose its neck. A pair of swift over arm cuts quickly severed the rotting flesh of its neck allowing Dominic kick its still snapping head under a car leaving the first Zed still struggling to move out from beneath the motionless corpse atop of it allowing him to assist Karen.
Thrusting his sword into the skull of a thankfully helmet-less Zed he shouts over his shoulder to the others “A little help over here guys!” the medic suddenly realising that it would take more than the two of them to deal with the van’s occupants that were currently trying to force their way out.
Throwing his weight against the door Dominic watched as the Zed that had been the first to fall from out of the van finally freed itself and crawled towards him. With both of his hands busy keeping the door closed; he knew that he would have to move away from the door in order to dispatch it. However with Karen in such a weakened state he feared that she would be unable to keep it closed by herself and thus allowing the rest out as a result. How many men were there in a SWAT team anyway? Damn! The questions you think of asking after it was too late.
Meanwhile the Zed inched closer and closer towards them with Dom praying that if the thing decided to go for him that it would try for his boot and not his jeans as he doubted even Kevlar would stand up against teeth for long and so taking a deep breath Dominic once again shouted to the others “Hey! We could really do with that help around about now!”

Very quickly the pillaging of the DEA van had turned into a mighty scrap. Though it probably wasn't wise to have let Karen involve herself in the endeavor, they hadn't known there were any walkers inside. Also, she, unlike Luke, was trained military. And Dom was their leader, and had saved Luke's ass a few times already, he wasn't about to question.

Although Dom and Karen were able to take out the first couple, they were quickly overwhelmed by the clown-carlike van of armored biters. Wavering, Luke had hung back, freezing up, looking around at the others as seconds ticked like hours before finally snapping into action.

Since the hurricane he'd taken to arming himself with a long metal rod akin to what was strewn through cement blocks, and with this he sprung forward. Raising it up above his head like samurai sword or woodchopping axe he swung down on the kevlar-clad biter crawling up towards Dominic and Karen, of course doing little damage. The thing did not even wince.

Panicking briefly as it was about to bring its jagged teeth to Dominic's boot, Luke dropped his metal rod, the item clanging on the asphalt. Bending down, he grabbed hold of the tactical legging of the prone zed and hauled ass backwards, pulling it away from Karen and Dominic a couple meters before he tripped on road debris, sending him onto his backside.

Events escalated quickly, Mahmoud, like Tom, keeping an eye on their surroundings while the van was investigated, before all attention turned to what was now a highly dangerous situation. Carrying the pack of supplies on his back, Mahmoud was armed only with his rifle, but wasn't keen to use it, especially on biters with body armor. Once Luke had pulled away the last of the walkers to make it out of the van, so far, Mahmoud moved in. The creature wore a helmet, making brain piercing difficult, leading the dark skinned, increasingly bearded survivor to wind up and deliver a solid, steel-toed boot tip into the rotter's jaw. Sinewy flesh and brittle bone and cartilidge snapped and all it took was a second strike to knock the jaw completely off of the biter.

It still writhed, but was far less formidable with only the top of its mouth.  "Finish it!" Mahmoud told the others, while then throwing his body weight against the van doors in assistance of Dominic and Karen. One of the taller members of the group, and stronger as time went on, even Mahmoud had difficulty keeping back an unknown amount of impending doom.

"There's nothing for it, we have to fight it out." In the back of all of their minds was the great need for the supplies, hell even if the attire the zed infested van had to offer. It wasn't like they could run either with the kind of rag tag group they had, also.

Isabelle took her chance when Luke's initial efforts only bought time, with Mahmoud delivering the real saving grace by dislocating and removing by boot the crawling walker's pointy bottom teeth.  One legged, yes, but assisted by her walking stick, Izzy moved forward quickly and without fear, her body light so that even while minus a leg she could move when she needed to, at least briefly.

Using her lone leg as leverage against the debris Luke had tripped over, Izzy shoved the bottom end of her staff under the side of the still writhing and potentially dangerous zed, who like her, could still be dangerous when not whole. With a quick jerk and considerable exertion that the crisis demanded she flipped the walker on its stomach. Its arms extended upwards as it tried to get up, tongue flopping and frothing from a jaw less head, Izzy raised her staff again in realignment and slammed down into the roof of the creature's mouth, perforating the skull from below, destroying the brain, rendering the beast motionless.

This fucking guy.

As Izzy prepared to give the zed on the ground the coup de grâce, Lorenzo diverted his path toward Luke. With his good hand he yanked the mustachioed moron up by the back of the shirt, hoping to minimize the time the guy spent panicked on the ground. Poor little bastard.

"Up and at 'em," he growled. He continued to walk with his hand on the back of Luke's neck, steering him back into the fray like one might do with a disobedient child who had wandered away. The ghoul Izzy had dropped was good and dead now. Lorenzo regarded them both for a second. There was something on his face that looked vaguely like approval, but it was gone as quickly as it came.

"What the fuck's the deal? They busted the latch?" he asked Luke sharply, watching the trio holding the door shut. He had missed whatever had transpired with the van, and wasn't sure how the previously dormant vehicle became a threat. "Whatever. Follow me. I'm gonna show you a cool trick."

Finally releasing Luke, he swatted him lightly once on the back of the head as a reprimand. It was good he had actually made a grab for one of the zeds. Not so much that he had landed flat on his ass like a scared little girl. The two things cancelled it each other out in Lorenzo's eyes, but now he was trying to give Luke another chance to actually be useful in his own weird, abrasive way.

"Tell me if they move so I don't get bit in the ass," Lorenzo said to Luke. "I'm gonna see if I can get the car behind the van in neutral. Get in the driver's side, you're the wheelman. And brakeman."

Lowering onto his belly to see if there were any surprise guests under the car made his eyes water. His arm hurt so bad he thought he was going to puke, so he rolled over onto his back and scooted under the car. "Oh yeah, and let me know when it starts rolling so my head don't get squished," he wheezed out from under the vehicle. "Atta boy."

Assuming nothing cataclysmic happened, Lorenzo shone his light around the underbelly. He knew enough about cars to steal them and didn't care enough to learn the terms beyond the basics. Thankfully his less than reputable mechanic background meant he could work quick. He knew he'd find the transmission cable, and beside it would be the whatsit with the lever-thing that would get the rig moving once disconnected.

He wiggled back out, hoping the incline and the somewhat incompetent wheelman would be enough to ease the car forward. If not, he'd go around the back and push. Hopefully the vehicle could give the other guys some breathing room and act as a sort of buffer. Or something... Because right now things were looking a little touch and go.

It took a moment for Hank to decide if NM's question about rules was rhetorical or not. No. With their numbers what they were every person mattered, and pre-Zombieland punishments wouldn't exactly work now. Then Benson would probably face life in prison, or even the death penalty, now... Now wasn't the time to figure that out. I wonder if the fort had any? Shaking the thought he took his own advice and refocused on the route ahead.

Hearing NM's fears he paused in his search for second. He gave the teen a reassuring smile. You've made it this far with that shoulder. Just keep doing what you're doing and you'll outlast us all. Even with his limited knowledge of NM's past and history with the caravan Hank doubted he'd be able to keep the upbeat attitude the youth had.

Heading a couple cars past the DEA van Hank turned as he heard the commotion. Running back he joined Karen and Dom as they held the van's door shut. Any idea how many are left?

The hipster of the group winced as blood splatter sprinkled his ankles upon Izzy's execution of the crawler. He had no choice but to move when a strong hand took a fist full of the back of his shirt, hauling him right up off his butt and onto his feet, his brown eyes bugging out in panic initially. If it had been a walker he might have been zombie chow. Instead it was Lorenzo, whom he was fairly intimidated by even when they weren't in a rumble with armored zeds. Ask a question about the van latch in that sharpish way, Luke seemed at a loss, shrugging but trying to answer anyway to avoid any rebuke from the other man, who even minus a wing was formidable to him. "I-I don't know, maybe they need to lock it to keep it the latch down??" Seemed plausible to Luke, watching as he was, not terribly eager to join the push against the doors, there wasn't enough space for many more of them, anyway. The height of the van put a downward disadvantage of of momentum from the weightily clad inhabitants.

When Lorenzo drafted him into something possible heroic and therefore risky, Luke just went along with it, like with Dominic in Slaughter, basically a automaton, an extra hand without a brain. "Ah, okay!?" Being in Fort Dixie for so long, he hadn't been exposed and desensitized to the undead. Despite his terror, he was eager to prove himself, especially to Lorenzo and the Doc.

Somehow hearing Lorenzo's command to keep an eye out over his internal rambling and the noise the others were making, he nodded in confirmation, "Got it!" He piped up, licking parched lips, becoming a bit flushed and uneasy when given responsibility to be the driver and brake-ologist. However he did follow through, perhaps because he feared Lorenzo's wrath should he embarrass himself again.

Keeping an eye out for Lorenzo while he slid under the vehicle, Luke wrung open the rusty driver door of the car, eliciting a metallic groan. "Gotcha, Lorenzo!"He slid inside, keeping one foot temporarily on the pavement to ease the vehicle should it roll before Lorenzo extricated himself, and/or if Luke missed the beat on warning the guy.

Luke had not even a cursory understanding of vehicles, having ruined at least two cars in his time from never having gotten even one oil change, for example, but whatever Lorenzo did, it worked.
Using his foot on the pavement, Luke gave a starter push, though was glad when Lorenzo gave the car that extra oomph, with Luke fulfilling his end of the deal by keeping the steering wheel straight, his right foot hovering precariously above the brake while the other joined it inside., the driver door still open.

"Doc, Hank, everybody MOVE!" The mustachioed millennial yelled out, quite loudly in fact, to the others holding the doors shut. What Lorenzo had planned with Luke's physical assistance should have been obvious, that they were going to try to block the back doors shut with the now neutral car's front end.

It was just as Dominic was contemplating the prospect of kerb stomping the approaching Zed and more importantly whether or not it would actually achieve anything other than hurting his foot that Luke intervened. Dragging the thing safely away from his legs he then watched as Mahmoud and then Izzy dealt with the creature after Luke’s own attempts had proved to be ineffective. With the crippled woman's performance bringing a look of admiration on his face as he spoke in an amazed whisper "Wow... c'est incroyable" the paramedic doing his best to quickly lose the admiring before either Karen or Mahmoud who were both very close to him noticed and decided to comment.
With four of them now pushing on the doors they were able to comfortably keep the Zed's within and had it not been for the protruding limbs Dominic was almost certain that they'd have been able to re-lock it.
With Lorenzo and his unwilling assistant busily working on a nearby car Dominic turns his attention to Karen as he echoes Hanks question "Karen, you were a copper right? How many more are there liable to be in there?" he asks, figuring that there couldn't be many more in there when he heard Luke's warning.
He wasted very little time in getting out of the way, not wishing to be pinned between the two vehicles. The door suddenly swinging open as a result of the inward pressure allowing a Zed to lunge through the gap only to then have its arm guillotined off by the door as the car crashed into place "Nice work mon ami, now all we have to do is inch the car back enough to let them out one at a time and then whatever is in that van is ours" if nothing else they would be the proud owners of several suits of police issue body armour and whatever was in the dead men’s pockets.

"Hard to say, didn't you find the driver dead?" Karen replied to Dominic's question with another question. "Three on the ground, probably four, five left inside." Karen's head spun as the car came careening towards her. "Everybody MOVE!" Karen dove off to the side of the van, doing a sort of clumsy tuck n' roll manoeuvre that more so scraped her elbows and tore her scab open than anything else. She sat up with her legs sprawled out in front of her and looked at the stunt men with an amused smile. "Nice work with the car guys!" She called up at them, slipping her hand into her jacket and applying pressure to her wound. After a moment she withdrew her red stained hand and wiped the blood on her pants.

"Let's pull the car back just far enough so we can open the door like twelve inches, then we can get Dominic up on the hood to hack the zeds to bits with that sword of his. Carefully of course..." Karen rose to her feet slowly and hesitantly, her eyes falling on the sword that once belonged to a man she murdered. Dizziness getting the better of her, Karen took a few steps back and perched herself on the cement guard rail. Letting out a deep, shaky breath Karen added "I'm just gonna sit this one out, okay?"

Lorenzo gave Karen a thumbs up at her shouting her praises, a huge grin spread across his face. He was looking entirely too smug and pleased with himself. Of course it was a nice job. He'd done it, after all. He sauntered behind the car and shifted the SKS on his back to his right shoulder, and upon reaching the car thumped the roof several times, loudly and enthusiastically.

"Not bad, Fresa!" he exclaimed to Luke.

Still looking pleasantly surprised, he rounded the car to the passenger's side and wrenched the door open, preparing to lean into it to help back it up. "Better to hit the brakes sooner than later," Lorenzo advised knowingly.

Again, still sounding entirely too pleased with himself. All his movements were quick and energetic- compared to the morning, he looked completely ecstatic now that he had something to throw himself into. So caught up in the task at hand, he didn't even notice how fatigued Karen looked. He assumed she was just getting out of the way. He rocked back and forth impatiently, waiting for Luke to put the rig in reverse, watching the van's doors all the while. This should be good.

Four or five... On the one hand they were contained, on the other they were contained. They could keep them in but letting them out in any sort of controlled way would be tricky. Leaning against the door as best he could Hank just caught the warning. Leaping aside he stumbled into a Kia missing a rear door. That'll work. He murmured, glad they could focus on killing the zeds instead of letting them out and killing them. Moving to the side of the barricade car's front he gripped his crowbar in both hands. We let the first one through, knock the second one down and use it to trip up the others? Dealing with them on the ground would be easier given their numbers.

Bohannon approached the DEA van, wielding a bowie knife formerly belonging to his brother Brady. "Wha'd'ya'll say we get this this show on the road?" He asked with a cock of his head. With Lorenzo and Luke manning the car, and Boh, Dom and Hank at the ready to receive their new friends, it was time to get this over with. The car inched back slowly and deliberately, the door creeping open right along with it. The skinniest of the biters pushed with all his might until suddenly he burst free, lunging clumsily at Dominic, arms outstretched and dark rotten teeth barred.

"Woah!" the cowboy hollered at Lorenzo. "That's good there!"

The next lurker threw her weight against the inside of the door, kind of bounced off of it and rolled her way out onto the road. Righting herself again she passed Dominic and lurched straight towards Hank, a gargled snarling sound emanating from her mouth carrying with it blood and bits of unidentifiable tissue. Her claw-like fingers reached out for Hank's arms or chest, or neck, whatever they hoped to grasp.

Number three was a large man, not dressed in the Police body armour like the rest, but instead in a fine suit and tricked out cowboy boots... and handcuffs. The prisoner squeezed through the door and fell down at the foot of the van, tossing and turning like an overturned turtle trying to get back up but ultimately failing with his hands cuffed behind his back.

The final two zombies popped out of the truck almost simultaneously and careened towards the awaiting men poised to slaughter them. Whomever was nearest could likely handle them. Bohannon wasn't really concerned with the zombies anyhow. "There Lorenzo! Back it up out of the way!" All Bohannon really wanted was to get inside and see for himself what was locked away inside.

The plan set into motion, Mahmoud led one of the last two walkers away from the others, slowly edging back, using the end of his rifle to keep the armored biter just far enough away. "I've got this one hooked, someone finish it." Mahmoud didn't want to use his rifle, waste a bullet, when someone could, hopefully, quickly put an end to the zed's brain functions. Just had to get that helmet off or out of the way or go around it.

The plan was simple. Roll back the car and let the Zeds out of the van one at a time so that the group of bedraggled survivors could pick them off at their leisure. However nobody seemed to have figured on them leaving the van with such speed as the first one to leave practically leapt at Dominic.
Jumping back quickly so as to avoid the grasping hands and gnashing teeth, Dominic swung his sword hoping to remove the creature’s head like the hero in a graphic novel or something. Unfortunately unlike said hero Dominic hadn't had anywhere near as much practice with the weapon and was somewhat under fed meaning that instead of severing the neck like he'd intended he instead inflicted an horrific wound across its rotting face. Had he been facing a living opponent the wound would have been more than sufficient, but on a Zed all it meant was that the thing was able close the distance between the two of them and make a grab for him.
Clamping his hand about the thing’s neck; Dominic’s arm quickly became drenched in the congealing blood flowing from its bisected face. Trying his best to push the attacking Zed back whilst simultaneously arching his own back to keep the thing from clawing his eyes out Dominic bought himself just enough clearance to raise the sword position its tip in front of its left eye, after which he simply released his grip and let momentum and blind rage do its work, with the pair of them falling into a heap as the dead weight of the zombie pushed him to the ground.
After confirming that yes he was still alive and that yes the Zed was well and truly dead with the entirety of his sword now protruding from its skull. Dominic carefully rolled the corpse from off of his body just in time to hear Mahmoud shouting for assistance.
Realising that it was going to be no easy task freeing his sword from its victim Dominic instead scrambled to his feet and dashed over to the helmeted Zed currently being fended off by Mahmoud and threw a leather clad arm about the things throat. As if sensing what was about to happen the thing started twisting violently in a desperate attempt to free itself of its attacker and feast upon its flesh. Meanwhile Dominic very carefully prized open the helmets visor to expose the Zed’s face, knowing that one wrong move would result in the Zed’s teeth clamping down onto his fingers followed by a very hasty amputation, probably using his own sword. Well…that would be one way of Izzy getting even he wryly thought before giving Mahmoud a look that signalled that he could deal with the Zed whenever he was ready.

So much for one at a time. Luckily it seemed the number of targets spread the threat a little at least. Timing his blow Hank swept the crowbar up, catching the dead woman's arm. Using her momentum he pushed her flailing form into the Kia's open back with a slight grunt. Last year the sight could have been part of a comedy as her rotting body took a couple moments to realize it should stop trying to go forward. Now it bought Hank the time and room to take a swing at a knee, a rewarding *crack* as the knee cap broke, leaving the leg waving at a slightly off angle. Taking a step back he'd let her shattered knee bring her to the ground when she got out. There were others left to take out for now.

Given the noise the others were making, not much but the silence and eerie scene made it seem louder, Tom watched the trees hoping they would be enough to stop anything from hearing the group. Twisting his hands around the tire iron he jumped slightly as the car was rammed into the van. Turning he saw the others getting ready to clear the van. He also saw Karen sitting to the side, hand still slightly bloody even after wiping it. Moving over to her he took off his pack, I have some dry Tee shirt strips if you need them. Opening the bag he couldn't help but glance toward the battle ground, wondering if he should join.

In reply to Tom (msg # 57):

The erie silence that amplified the clangour of the fight for the van was only otherwise broken by the sounds of the woods. The rustling of fallen leaves, the sporadic popping crack of a twig... The wind in the branches almost even sounded like whispers. The silence was erie indeed.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:00, Thu 21 Jan 2016.

In reply to Tom (msg # 57):

"Thank you Tom." Karen said, delighted by the boy's kindness. Tom joined the Caravan only days before Kaidan went missing and in the months since, Karen hadn't spent much time with the boy. She wasn't exactly avoiding him, but she hadn't made an effort to get to know him either.

Karen roughly folded the strip of t-shirt into a loose bundle and slipped in inside her jacket and under her shirt. The commotion earlier of trying to hold shut the van door had torn open her burnt scab and sent a trickle of blood to soak through her shirt and drip down her side. She applied gentle pressure with a grimace.

"They've got it." Karen assured the boy, reading the look on his face that said he wanted to get involved with the scrap. The violent display before them phased neither Karen nor Tom these days. There was once a time when the sight of several men being slashed and beaten to death would have traumatized a young person, but those days were long passed.

"Can I ask you something?" Karen said, turning her gaze towards the teen. "Could you survive out here all alone? Like, if you didn't have Hank, and you had to do the sorts of things we have to do to survive out here, could you do it alone?"

Sure. Tom replied as he closed his bag. Though if it was to her thanking him or reassuring him wasn't clear. He was used to being a sentry, and the space limited the number of people who could really fight, but usually they could tip things more in their favor before things got this far. That and they were several fighters down. He was already running through how he could get in while limiting the danger to himself when Karen's question caught him off guard.

His mouth opened then closed as he worked around the unexpected question. It was something he'd never really considered. Hank had only taken risks when absolutely necessary and they could be minimized, preferring flight over fight. It was probably one of the main reasons they were still around. Without him... It would depend...If I kept to the suburbs... He scratched his neck slightly uncomfortable with the question, or at least the timing. He hadn't spent much time talking to Karen, having spent most of his time with Joe, NM, Brady, Hank, or in some quiet corner being a teenager. If I could avoid dealing with people it'd make things easier. At least zombies only want to eat you. He wasn't sure how many people knew about what happened at the rest stop, he didn't think Joe would have told the others and he knew Hank wouldn't have said anything beyond the basics.

In reply to Dominic Dubreton (msg # 55):

Mahmoud and Dominic had been working together long enough now that they were fairly in sync when fighting the undead side by side. When their new leader cast himself against the zed that Mahmoud had been luring, he knew he had to move quick or the tables could just as easily turn the other way.

"Got it Dom, just keep him steady.." Mahmoud moved forward, pulling a thin but long fillet style knife from an up to now hidden sheathe at his ankle to carry out the war effort.

The visor raised by the brave Doc, Mahmoud brought a hand onto the upper part of the helmet, his thumb assisting in keeping that visor up and out of the way. Raising his other hand, he quickly zeroed in on the easy entry to the biter's brain. With the two of them keeping the snarling, grasping beast as still as allowable, Mahmoud was able to sink his blade into the corner of the zed's eyesocket and into its frontal lobe, slaying it.

"You alright, Dominic?" The long standing Caravaner asked Dom immediately after their mutual threat was put out of its misery, concern on his features but not seeing any bites on the other man.

Bohannon side-stepped the Zombies to be the first one into the van. He'd let the others deal with them while he took a cursory first glance. Wielding the orange gym bag he found, Bohannon stood just inside the van, pulling the door closed behind him. His eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness. Once they did, the cowboy took stock of the contents...

Two passenger benches lined the side walls of the van, for the SWAT Team to ride on. In the centre of the floor was strewn the seized cache of drugs and weapons from a DEA raid, all bagged and tagged for evidence processing.

The weapons found included eight guns. Three were rifles, one modded with a suppressor. The remaining five handguns were fairly standard, though decorative pistols along with two suppressors, and a couple thousand rounds of assorted ammunition.

Next to those were three bankers boxes containing the illicit items seized in the raid. All the boxes were sealed shut with tape and labeled on the sides and lids. The first box was assorted small quantities of cocaine, ecstasy, and pot. The second box contained several thousand dollars in cash, and a couple large bags of assorted prescription pain pills. The third box was full of heroine, packaged individually for sale, and for distribution hidden inside of ceramic statues of religious figures. And last were five bricks of heroine stuffed inside a very expensive guitar with the word "FATE" scrawled up the fretboard that the cops were too sheepish to have smashed open.

Bohannon stooped and hurriedly dug through all of the items as the others finished up outside. He wanted to take his pick before the others interjected.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:50, Sun 24 Jan 2016.

In reply to Tom (msg # 60):

Karen listened intently to Tom's answer, trying to take what he said and apply it to Kaidan. She was still holding onto some small glimmer of hope that he was alive out there somewhere. "Would it..." Karen paused as Bohannon hopped up into the van alone. Her brain went in circles trying to figure out how to ask what she wanted to ask. "...Would it be easier to survive out here... if you didn't... feel... anything?"

Karen was always pretty private about the way her son was. She figured he faked it well enough that most people wouldn't notice, and those that were important enough to be a part of his life, those that were close enough, would figure it out, and that talking about made it more of a big deal than it really was. Kaidan's grandparents refused to acknowledge it. His dad killed himself because he was scared of it. And his teachers were too blind to see it. The way Kaidan was was Karen's alone to carry. And that he was missing and possibly dead, that was hers too.

A low curse escaped Tom's lips as he followed Karen's gaze. What did Benson think he was doing? First Brady now this? His grip tightened on the tire iron. Feel anything...? He slowly figured she had to be wondering about Kaidan, why else would she be asking him about making it on his own? But feelings? I guess... His frustration at Benson hiding during the fight turning to confusion at what Karen was implying. It'd depend on who I ran into, really. That and the situation. He bit his chapped lips, unsure how to try and reassure her. There's a lot of freaks out there, but there's also groups like this one. I'm sure he's fine.

Feeling the corpse grow heavy as its un-life was taken from it Dominic released his grip from around its neck and simply let the thing fall to the floor to then roll up the thick leather sleeve of his jacket to reveal an arm thankfully devoid of bite marks despite the pinching of teeth he'd felt at one point during the struggle "Oui...I'm fine" Dominic replied to Mahmoud; letting the sleeve drop as he returned to the first Zed that he'd dispatched.
With two of the remaining three Zed's now incapacitated; one by handcuffs and the others by crippled limbs, Dom left the remaining one for someone else to deal with as he placed a booted foot upon the dead Zed's head and with a horribly wet sucking sound pulled his sword free of its skull.
Pausing long enough to end the fat Zed with an almost casual thrust to the skull Dom made his way to the van to find the Cowboy already inside "found anything good in here mon ami?" he called as he climbed inside. Taking only a cursory look at the guns and drugs as he sought out the first aid kit that he knew would be in here.
He eventually found what he was looking for strapped beneath one of the benches, and aside from a few minor items it appeared to be mostly complete. Or at least complete enough to do a better job of treating Karen's wounded side.
With first aid kit in hand Dominic slowly makes his way to the door trying his best not to see what the Cowboy was doing, suspecting that it was not for the good of the caravan that he had been in here first. So long as he didn’t touch the pain meds or get himself or someone else addicted or killed then he could help himself to whatever the hell he liked.

After they had finished off the last of the walkers, Mahmoud was much like the others curious about what they could pilfer from the DEA van. His reaction was similar to Tom and some of the others considering Bohannon's behavior. He thought it should have been addressed by Dominic but he also knew that now was not a good time for a debate or a fight.

Nominally a logistical guy for the Caravan, Mahmoud came to the door of the van, opening it if it wasn't already by Dominic. Promptly the man was whipping out a crumpled notepad with a pencil from his pack, which he had set down just outside the door, and began taking inventory of everything that Bohannon had not yet scavenged for himself. "Looks like we have enough firearms for everyone, Doc. We can barter the rest of the stuff if we encounter anyone friendly. We should find a place to store out of sight what we can't carry. Can come back for things later, maybe."

While the others went through the van, NM had already sheathed his machete into its place along his thigh. Instead of crowding the spoils of war that had until recently been locked up, he was starting on the less glamorous task of stripping the dead of their SWAT gear. He kept mum on Bohannon's behavior, but left it alone. They were all too tired, hungry and exposed for any of that nonsense. There were still plenty of good people left in the group, anyway.

NM's primary goal was to acquire new(for him) socks and boots, and th rest would follow. They were what he was using the most since the flood and had been ruined by the effects of the storm.

Going down to his knee's, NM settled upon one of the several corpses and began bottom up, his dirty fingers working diligently to undo the combat boots from the deceased SWAT officer. He didn't know if it would fit, but he'd try every set if he had to until he found one that fit well enough. "We are going to be quite formidable with all this." Mexeeco mused to no one in particular, his hair falling down around the gaunt edges of his face as he pulled the first boot free from the dead body.

Izzy wasn't as content to let go the fact that Bohannon had snaked his way in through the van doors while the rest of them risked their lives. She stood waiting outside on the pavement while Bohannon finished scooping up his choice items, whereas Mahmoud and Dominic pretended not to notice the selfish behavior.

Whenever Bohannon did step out, Izzy would obstruct his path, her features neutral but her eyes judging as she stares up at the cowboy. "Why the hurry, Eastwood? What'd you take?" She held her walking staff in one hand, the end bloodied somewhat as it rested on the ground, helping keep her upright. "You don't get to murder someone in this group and then steal from this group." She wasn't going to let him walk away without being confronted. One leg or not, she wasn't having it. "Drop the bag."
This message was last edited by the player at 21:25, Sat 30 Jan 2016.

Bohannon's bag had filled out a little between when Dominic left and when Isabelle confronted him. In reality, he had slipped the big Ziploc of prescription pills into the gym bag and tucked it under the extra clothes in there, and then tossed a couple boxes of Colt cartridges on top... But he wasn't ready to reveal his treachery just yet.

"Relax stumpy, you know anyone else that uses these?" Boh reached in the bag and held up one of the boxes of bullets. If Mahmoud conducted his inventory thoroughly enough he'd see the evidence tag on the outside of the box the listed around a thousand prescription pills, but Bohannon hoped to be in a better position when that happened... as in not cornered and with his gun loaded. Bohannon replaced the box into the bag and took the two steps down to meet Izzy at her level.

She clearly wasn't convinced...
This message was last edited by the player at 02:49, Sun 31 Jan 2016.

With the van’s undead guardian's dispatched it was like Christmas for the survivor's as they began picking through the contents of not only the van but the dead SWAT team's pockets with NM already helping himself to a set of armour and some new boots "That's the idea Mon ami, even raiders will think twice if they see us with this kit" Dominic replied to the teen as he made his way over to where Karen was sat talking with Tom "We take the guns and whatever prescription stuff they have in there, the horse and E's we leave for anyone stupid enough to take it" he then said, calling over to Mahmoud who seemed to be currently taking an inventory of the van's contents with the paramedic managing to get a few more steps before stopping to then call "...oh, and take the money it'll make good kindling" who'd have thought a couple of grand in cash would have no other use than starting a fire? And personally he’d throw the narcotics onto it as well. Although he knew that Heroin would work as a pain killer he had no intention of using that stuff unless things were really desperate and he also had no intention of treating addicts which was perhaps something he’d have to point out to the Cowboy, considering what he was currently picking over.
Walking up to the injured blonde, Dominic offers her a smile as he holds up the first aid kit he'd scavenged "Hey Karen, lets get you into the back of that van and I'll get that wound of yours dealt with...sound good?" he asked, figuring she'd prefer lying down on one of the benches as opposed to the road. It would also give her a bit of privacy because although they'd all been living with one another in pretty close quarters for quite a while now she probably wouldn't want to strip off in front of everyone.
It was around about this point that Dominic could hear Izzy's raised voice as she challenged Bohannon, with the Cowboy claiming he'd taken nothing but some ammunition. Giving a weary sigh Dominic turns to look at the Cowboy and in a level voice starts to sort out a situation he'd hoped to avoid "Cowboy...somewhere in that van there's an inventory clipboard...if we dig it out are we going find more than few .45 round's missing?"

Between him and Mahmoud mopping up the remaining zeds was simple, no thanks to Benson, the one he injured helping to trip up the others. Leaning against the blocking car he ran a hand through his hair, ignoring the slight pull as knots were broken up. He'd have to hit the barbershop when they got to Slaughter. Taking a moment he glanced over to where Tom and Karen were talking, a slight smile tugging at his corner of his mouth. It was good to see him interacting with more then those he usually did. Of course he'll have to now. Turning as the smile faded he moved to start stripping the SWAT members of their gear, though he kept an ear on what was happening with Benson. Not that he expected the man to do anything, but it helped to be prepared.

Karen nodded as the boy reassured her, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I hope so. Thank you." With Dominic's approach Karen dropped the topic of her missing boy, compartmentalizing it inside her head with the other things she couldn't do anything to fix.

Karen eyed up the cowboy as Dominic invited her to go into the back of the van. "I think I'd rather keep my distance..." She countered. "Can we do it here?" She was happy enough sitting on the concrete barricade. Karen unzipped her coat and pulled it and her shirts off, just up to the one shoulder, exposing her gnarly side-wound, but keeping her chest covered. Blood had soaked through and stained her shirt layers and the lining of her jacket, and the small rag of t-shirt Tom had provided her had a bright red spot through the centre. Her burnt scab had torn apart and she was bleeding again, not to mention also fighting the infection that resulted from the dirty water washing over the wound during the storm.

"Dominic, maybe you should hold on to some of that heroine. You know, just in case it ever comes to that. It might be kinder than a bullet..." She added as Dominic set to work cleaning up her wound. Then when the doc joined in on the Bohannon situation, she whispered her take on it to him. "Don't let him suck you down to his level. He's just looking to start a fight. Don't give him the satisfaction." It was the kind of advice she'd have given her son about a school bully, but Kaidan never seemed to have that problem.

Lorenzo waited by the car until all the zeds were dealt with. Reluctantly resigned to the fact it was better to not get involved with armoured ghouls in his current state. Giving the car one last pat he moved in a lazy circle away from it, watching the van. More accurately, the people squabbling outside of it.

He decided not to get involved. Instead he sat down on the hood of a nearby station wagon. He lay his SKS beside him and rolled his shoulder. Eastwood and the gimp were in some kind of stand-off. Even though only one of them could technically stand reliably. Lorenzo snorted to himself then burst out into a full-on, derisive cackle.

He didn't understand why Doc and the others were making such a big fuss. If they were smart enough to be opportunistic, they could have gotten an early shot at the spoils, but they weren't. Now they were just being petty because they were jealous, self-righteous tools.

"Cowboy...somewhere in that van there's an inventory clipboard...if we dig it out are we going find more than few .45 round's missing?"

"Boo shit! Who gives a fuck, Doc? He got first dibs. Tough luck," Lorenzo retorted, shooting Dominic a pointed look. He looked over to Bohannon, appearing baffled. "Clipboards. Ay, my God in heaven but you people. Like half the world ain't dead. There's gonna be plenty more shit where this came from. Acting so fuckin' self righteous. Like Doc wasn't one of the first fuckers outta the house last night. Seemed more troubled 'bout me getting supplies than finding that little girl. But by all means, let's all shit our collective pants over this."

He spat and looked away, staring daggers at the ground and muttering to himself.

In reply to CO-GM (msg # 58):

The sound of the wind in the trees picked up with each passing moment the Caravan lingered here on the highway. It was only the slightest of breezes, but it was amplified by time and by the calm stillness of the world. The ambient noise of the forest seemed to escalate in kind with the rustling of leaves and occasional popping crack of a twig muted by the songs of birds and the buzzing, chirping, busy sounds of insects.

The cowboy was taken aback by Lorenzo's not quite directed but resounding support for his actions. Bohannon had spent enough time with the Caravan to know their moral code, their laws, and how pretty well each (surviving) member would react to any given instance of conflict. However, Lorenzo had joined the Caravan during the long cold winter and had kept mostly to himself and to the other winter recruits, so Bohannon had never really gotten inside his head. Thankfully, Lorenzo was quite apt at making his thoughts public.

"Y'know, L'renzo's right Doc. We're standin' out here burnin' daylight while y'all get ready to bring down the law on me for having the stones to get to the goods first. I don't have to remind you that were out in the wild, do I? Civilization died a long time ago..." He was addressing the crowd.

"There are guns in there. Ton of ammo too. Take those an' forget about drugs and body armour! Y'all take what you need an' lets move out, 'cause  we can stand here in the middle of this highway and fight about it, or we can haul our tired and hungry asses to Slaughter and to our next best chance at finding a half assed meal again!" Bohannon was talking loud enough for the whole group to hear him, not interested in legitimizing Izzy's attempt to be sherif. He lowered his voice to a harsh growl just for her. "Don't you act like you know what happened last night. You don't have the slightest idea." Bohannon's voice hung on the word "slightest." Having to dredge up the all too recent memories of last night's events with Brady brought an uncommon amount of emotion to Benson's face. The cowboy's eyes glistened for a moment as his eyes met Isabelle's before blinking and clamping down on the vulnerability he was displaying.

Mr. Cauldershore was keeping out of trouble while most of the commotion was happening. He hadn't exactly been feeling on top of his game since the hurricane, what with all the people they'd lost and the strength it took to survive the disaster. Actually, Mr. Cauldershore found himself feeling quite weak at present. His breathing was heavy. Laboured, almost. He found himself uncomfortably cold too. He pulled the collar of the once fashionable and now heavily soiled suit jacket he was wearing up around his neck to try to capture some warmth. The aged gentleman slowly crept forward, closer to the group and found a truck's tailgate to sit down on, not too far from Lorenzo. His skin was pale in the sunlight and his eyes looked heavy. Cauldershore muffled a cough into his arm.

Dominic quietly seethed as the group’s pair of trouble makers spoke their macho bullshit about being opportunistic enough seize the day and grab the best gear for themselves at the groups expense.
Dominic's temper had never been good; volcanic was perhaps the best description. A long low level burn followed by a destructive explosion that had landed him in trouble on more than one occasion, though knowing this was the case helped and he was often able to back away from the precipice before he fell in. But all the same the Berretta just inside his jacket was growing very heavy with the three or four shots it held more than enough to deal with the pair of them, ah but then I would be the bad guy; a tyrant dictator ruling with a gun...no, there's more than one way to skin a cat.
Turning to look between the pair of them a smile with all the warmth and friendliness of a shark spread across his face as he began to speak in an unnaturally cool voice "survival of the fittest is it? An interesting choice for a man with a broken arm but hey, what the hell, it is the end of the world as we know it" he said to the pair of them before raising his voice to address the entire group as a whole "strip off the armour and grab what you want from the truck, you have until I've finished dealing with Karen and then we're going…oh and before any of you think of having a little party I am not dealing with addicts so if you start rattling or get too stoned to keep up…" he finished in a voice that more than hinted at what would happen to anyone guilty of those particular crimes, before then striding over to the truck.
After helping himself to some 9mm rounds Dominic gave the pile of drugs a quick looking over. Discovering that there was enough recreational stuff to keep a party for an 80's hair metal band going but nothing he could use other than the single packet of Heroin he slipped into his jacket pocket; deciding that perhaps Karen was right and that it would make for a nicer exit than a bullet would.
After finding what he needed Dom would then quickly set to work on Karen's wounded side; cleaning and suturing the wound using the supplies within the first aid kit he'd found before then applying a clean bandage, hoping that he'd caught it in time to stop things from getting any worse.

Izzy had been just about ready to clobber Benson in the temple with her staff, but instead simmered in place in front of the scavenger, having enough control not to do anything drastic until Dominic had something to say. Insults bounced off of her, she'd heard plenty of comments, seen the way people looked at her since she lost her leg, but it wasn't like she would be the only amputee once, IF, the world ever settled.

Shooting Lorenzo a look when he butted in to add a chorus to Benson's sentiment, Isabelle then averted her fiery gaze back to Benson. To some Lorenzo might have had a point, but Isabelle was there, she knew Dom had done what he had to do to save the lot of them.

Benson seemed as stubborn and quarrelsome as ever, but she did see something change in his disposition. It was true that she didn't know what had happened, but Benson hadn't done anything to dispel in-group myths.

"I don't know how you murdered Brady, that's right. But don't act like we don't see you only give a fuck about yourself. If you don't need us then jog on." She countered, seeming to relent on the matter by virtue of Dominic clearing the air, but begrudgingly.

Moving forward with the help of her staff, Izzy shoved Benson in the shoulder as she brushed past him to go to the van, to collect a handgun from the pillaged goods. With Benson larger than she, it wouldn't affect the cowboy much, but it was the thought that counted. "Fucking vulture." She cussed under her breath, just for Benson, as she passed him to the van.

Luke watched events transpire from the background, as usual not eager to be thrown into the mix of it all, but looking to the others for a cue as to how to take things. Once, and if, events settled down, Luke would approach the van, when space allowed, to select for himself the acoustic guitar therein, with a dual but lesser goal of gathering himself a handgun, though he was remiss to ever have to use it.

"Sweet, a guitar! Looks like Shallow Gravy is going to make a comeback!"

Mahmoud kept his eyes on the prize, the DEA van, and continued to quickly jot down a tentative inventory, including what items went to whom as the group came to loot the vehicle. He would relegate for himself once again the packhorse job for everything Dom wanted gathered and stowed away. It didn't sound like they were coming back, so anything they left was left behind. Everything could be used, as long as they didn't tear eachother apart.

Time ticked by, in what felt like a long time considering how exposed they were on the road like that. Mahmoud would join NM after the van was thoroughly gone through by everyone, to scavenge up some SWAT clothing, minus the awkward helmet and face-screen. He wouldn't put any of it on for time being, it was enough to have a change of clothes that was also protective wear for later.

Lorenzo remained seated on the car's hood and gave Dominic a stony look. The fact that the medic had completely ignored Lorenzo's comment made him all the more guilty in his eyes. Dude had cared about one thing. Saving his own ass and his cripple of a girlfriend.

He waited until Dominic was away from the van, glaring at him all the while. As if he could somehow project his thoughts of French fucking faggot frog and coward just from his dark looks. Sighing, he rubbed his eye tiredly and stood. Fuck this shit assed group.

He gathered what he wanted from the van, avoiding looking at or talking to anyone. He took some ammo and a pistol. Checked the safety and stuck it into his waistband. There was some things he took which the others wouldn't necessarily agree with, but if they thought bricks of drugs wouldn't be a good way to bargain (or party) they were stupid.

The only armour he took was a helmet. It made him feel like a Road Warrior reject. He loved it. He kept the visor up and looked around, trying not to look as upset as he actually was.

The only person who seemed to be talking any sense was Bohannon. Lorenzo sidled up next to him, reloading the SKS. "So, Boh. Doc always this passive aggressive?" he asked, watching the medic and Karen steadily. "Unless the apocalypse has been real hard on you, you're how old? Thirties? Don't that little shitheel piss you off trying to boss you around?"

Bohannon was nonchalant as Lorenzo approached him, patiently taking .45 rounds out of his bag and slipping them into the loops on his gun belt. He didn't really turn his attention to Lorenzo as he replied. "That's the beauty of it. He can't "boss" me around. Cookie knew it, and now I'm gonna make sure Dominic knows it too. That's why I took these." Bohannon presented a baggie of Vicodin and a baggie of Oxycodone, both perched between his fingers and held up discretely. "I know what that arm feels like..."

The cowboy wasn't used to having anything resembling an ally on his side, but if an offer of much deserved pain meds could secure the alliance, then it was well worth it. Especially if Dominic was going to try to play hard ball with Lorenzo and refuse treatment to force obedience. Bohannon was going to make sure it didn't work.

Once the wound was clean, sutured and bandaged up, Dominic gave Karen a single apologetic look before getting up and leaving; not even bothering to so much as mention pain meds as he did so, after all why promise her something he didn't have a second time?
Placing his fingers between his lips he gives off a single sharp whistle whilst making the classic "Take off" motion with his other hand before turning to move down the highway with a look on his face that said he wouldn't tell them again.
Once they'd gotten a short distance down the road and with the worst of his anger having worn off; vented upon a car window so that he could retrieve the rucksack lying on the backseat, Dominic would drop back in order to walk with Izzy; the one person he knew who wouldn't tip him over edge "You know...I think I had the only loaded gun back there...I could have shot them both and be done with it, yet I didn't...does that make me a good guy or an idiot?" he quietly mused, more asking himself the question than Izzy before giving a snort of bitter laughter "hell...is there even a difference?" he said with a wry shake of his head before lapsing back into contemplative silence; listening to anything Izzy had to say on the matter as he did so.
He wasn't sure how long he walked down that road going over the events of the previous night in his head, had he just been out to save his own skin? it hadn't felt like he had, then again Lorenzo was right, he hadn't gone after the girl though nor had he risked anyone else's life by sending them out looking for her...shit, that whole situation was fucked up and you know it! You did what you had to do! and yet he suspected that it along with the memory of a certain blonde would be keeping him up at night for some time to come.
More silence. Another mile and they'd be at the turn off for Slaughter, or so the sign said "Go on, let me have it" Dominic said to Izzy, finally breaking the silence "...I knew full well what Bohannon had planned and I shouldn't have let him and Brady go outside together...I just figured that...oh hell, I don't know what I figured" Dominic finished with a world weary sigh as he wondered how things could have gotten so bad, so quickly "you realise that if I find a fast bike in amongst this lot then I'll be gone in a flash, right?...what do you reckon? Fancy coming with me?"

Tom moved away as Dom approached with the medical supplies. While he was glad to be away from the conversation he wondered what she had meant by not having feelings. Another time. Maybe? Was that something he even wanted to know about. He had been wondering what Kaiden was like, what it'd be like to have another guy his age around. Grabbing his pack he went to where NM and Hank were stripping the armour, looking out to the woods and cringing as voices were raised. Ring the dinner bell why don't you? He murmured, shaking his head. Turning to the last two in his rapidly shrinking pool of sanity, Anything good?

Great, a storm, half our group gone...now this? Fighting in the middle of the highway was not what Hank considered something good for a long life. Nor was shattering whatever passed as unity nowadays. Moving to the next body he worked the slightly bloody chest piece off, turning it over in his hands, shaking his head slightly. Here. Tossing the piece, with slightly more shoulder coverage, to NM he slipped on the one he claimed for himself.

Nothing your size, unfortunately. He shrugged, answering Tom's question. Hell even the one he had on would need to be adjusted once they got to slaughter. Not that he planned to have his brother in a situation that he'd need to have any armour, but it would have made Hank feel better.

In reply to Dominic Dubreton (msg # 83):

After they had cleared and cleaned up what they could and were continuing with their loot towards Slaughter, Izzy found herself walking with Dominic. She managed to keep a brisk pace despite her one leg again with the help of her walking staff and because she was still pumped with adrenaline from confronting Bohannon.

She looked to Dominic with some sympathy but also some concern, clearly as worried and stressed out as he was, though those feelings could, in a way, sharpen their resolve if they would just let it. She bit her tongue when he asked if he was an idiot or a good guy, though her baggy but focused eyes conveyed enough. Dominic was a good guy, but he couldn't always avoid the tough decisions. Cookie in the end couldn't make the real tough choices, whereas it pertained to law and order within the group, and she ran away from them all.

After a silence he asked her opinion again, and dropped a trouble nugget of information. She stopped them both as the others continued to walk, her hand resting on Dominic's chest to compel him to stand put. Izzy was close to him, and didn't care if the others made any assumptions. They wouldn't be able to hear her or Dominic clearly as some small temporary space was made between them.

"You want to go?" She asked him, maybe clarifying if he was serious or not. Perhaps she was seriously considering his offer, or was aghast he was suggesting it, maybe both. "What about the others? Mexico, Hank and Tom? Mahmoud? What about them?" She looked Dominic in the eyes, unblinking, searching for something in the medic and leader, her gaze honed though there was a betrayal of barely contained emotion. "Why am I so special?"

By the time the group was getting a move on, New Mexico had already pulled on one of the used pairs of SWAT boots, even peeling off the socks from the biter corpse, which, while icky, were at least not soaked and ruined like his own.

Suitably dry and dare he say it, comfortable in his new digs, he nevertheless remained somewhat aloof. Like Tom he acutely felt the tension in the group, and was assessing who he could still count on. "Hi, Tom." Mexico offered as Tom approached, pointing down at his new, slightly bigger than ideal SWAT boots. "I don't know if I'll be wanting to kick any doors down, but these will come in handy. Hopefully the smell wears off." Not like he hadn't gotten used to the sickly sweet scent of decay accompanying almost everything.

When Hank, who had been looting the corpses, tossed a more shoulder-inclined bodyarmor component his way, NM caught it in both arms, surveying it with a slowly spreading smile, though it was little compared to what he was like being the storm and his attempted murder.

"Thanks, man." He had just recently been mentioning to Hank his problems with his still fragile shoulder, where he'd taken buckshot from Sam's goons months before, that had required emergency surgery from the Doc, and some lives to guarantee supplies for the work.

"Thanks for looking out for me." NM brushed shaggy hair from his eyes as he thanked Hank, before strapping in the body armor that would add protection to his numb shoulder. It would allay some of his concerns a great deal, and he looked pretty badass too. "What do you think? Do I look ready for the Thunderdome?" He asked Tom and Hank, not sure if they'd get the reference, but it didn't matter.

As the group moved down the road after they finished their pillaging, he'd make sure to stick with the Brothers' Lucion.

Mahmoud walked on point with Luke at the front of the group, keeping a sound distance as everyone milled about between eachother, and scaled back from their tribulations shortly ago. Worried about the state of the group, Mahmoud knew that the best thing he could do was maintain order in their supplies, and lightness in his temperament. He endeavored to keep a smile on his face, to at least look like he was crazy enough to be optimistic. It would at least keep Luke happy, someone easily influenced it seemed, which, in a way, was good enough for Mahmoud to feel like he could make a difference.

"So Luke, you any good with that guitar?" He asked his companion good-naturedly, glancing to the younger guy then ahead, down the highway, towards where a green sign hung above the traffic, it said SLAUGHTER : Ahead.

In reply to Mahmoud (msg # 88):

Luke held his handgun in one hand, taken from the van, proud of his new armament that was better than the metal cement pole he had been dragging about and that had proved less than ideal in a fight. Mahmoud had already scolded him for accidentally pointing it at him, to which Luke was embarrassed, for he liked Mahmoud a great deal. The guy was still calm and happy, which the mustachioed millennial was drawn to in an increasingly uncertain world and situation.

On his back was slung the guitar taken from the van. It's illicit contents had been quickly removed by Mahmoud, and Luke was eager to use the instrument when they had a chance. Maybe his tunage would lighten up the mood of everyone else. Maybe he'd even impress Dominic and Lorenzo!

"Am I any good with it? Does the Tin Man have a sheet metal cock? I know what I'm doing dude, rest assured. You don't win fourth place at Mayazula Community College music festival finals without some serious finger-play." With one hand he indicated as much by exhibiting what could be described by the uninitiated as 'jazz hands'.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:39, Wed 17 Feb 2016.

Hey. Tom looked over the corpses being stripped, briefly wondering how long they had been trapped. Who would have thought to make child size riot gear. At the mention of Thunderdome he tilted his head slightly, shrugging. He'd only seen the trailers for the movie but it sort of looked the part. Needs more spikes.

Going to the van he looked around, part curiosity having never seen the inside of a swat van part seeing what could be taken. Frowning at the lack of a riot shield he eyed up the remaining guns and ammo. Taking the empty guitar box he tossed as much as he could into it, rifles sticking over the edge as he turned back to the others.

No problem.  Hank smiled as everyone else seemed to be getting ready to leave. He just hoped the gear wouldn't paint targets on them, other groups wanting the weapons and armor and not caring how they got it. Or fights within the group over missed spoils. The smile faded slightly at the thought. Nodding at Tom's words he let out a *hmm* Maybe some chains.

With Luke and Mahmoud taking lead he retrieved his gear and whatever else the other two thought they could do without while on point, becoming the temp pack mule. Let Benson and Lorenzo see the world as everyone for themselves, hell at the very end it may very well come to that, but if wasn't for this group he wasn't sure how the winter would have gone. Following the road he kept an eye on the woods, Dom and Izzy's falling behind going unnoticed.

Feeling Izzy's hand being firmly placed on his chest, Dominic stopped dead in his tracks with a surprised look on his face as she moved to stand in front of him. Asking him whether he was serious about leaving the group, and what about the others?
Dom's initial reaction was to point out that he'd need a bus to take them all with them too, however the look in her eyes killed the joke before he could even finish thinking it. His offhand comment had seemingly scared the living daylights out of her though why the prospect of him leaving had provoked such a level of concern from her he wasn't sure "I...I don't know...maybe...have you never thought about just upping sticks and leaving all this agro behind? I mean I've got two assholes causing me grief with some survival of the fittest bullshit and all I can think is… why am I putting myself through all this?" Dominic wearily complained; not really expecting to get any form of response to his rant other than man up and grow a pair only to instead have a rather emotional Izzy ask him what made her so special "I...I don't know...you just are" he replied in a stunned voice, not really knowing why he'd asked her to run away with him other than the fact that he liked her and that the mere idea of not having her around left him with a hollow feeling in his chest "...I…I like you Izzy, I like having you around, you’re funny, you’re smart and at times you’re the only thing keeping me sane…though I can’t for the life of me work out why, considering everything that’s happened you want anything to do with me…Its not like I am rich or anything” he said with a nervous laugh; feeling increasingly foolish and wishing that he hadn’t told her half of what he’d just said great, and now she thinks you’re an idiot, maybe you ought to give it up before you make things any worse his mind helpfully suggested with the rest of him deciding that perhaps that would be a good idea too.
It was around about this point that Dominic realised that the distance between them and the rest of the group had grown somewhat and so quickly seized the excuse in order to change the subject away from his rather awkward ramblings “we should probably get moving before we get left behind…hell, maybe we’ll even find that bike on the way” he joked knowing full well that he wouldn’t be going just yet.

The road to Slaughter was mostly quiet, the Caravan only encountering a few lone wandering zombies and dealing with them with ease. The pitiful scraps of stale food scavenged from the abandoned traffic did little to sate the growing hunger of the dozen tired  Caravaneers. The group's pace that began the day as slow at best had become a crawl by the time the little town of Slaughter came into view. The maimed, wounded and sick among the travellers doing little to speed the journey.

Upon reaching the town the Caravan would find it to appear much as they last left it, but for the effects of the wind and the rain. The main street was picked over last time and would be of no help this time. However the houses that sat quietly lining the side streets of Slaughter may yet prove to be of value. On the far side of town a proud church steeple peeked out above the trees.

Welcome back to Slaughter

In reply to CO-GM (msg # 93):

Karen walked down the road by herself, kind of in a bubble. Her pace was slow and every step felt like she was climbing a steep hill, only this road was flat. All she wanted was to sit down. Or for someone to swoop in and save her... Bohannon? Kaidan? Dominic? She had a hole in her and it was all she could do not to lay down on the pavement and fall to pieces.

The sight of finally reaching Slaughter should have been a welcome sight. But it wasn't. She knew the town was picked over and there was nothing substantial here to save the Caravan. Maybe it would act as a quick base of operations for the time being and Karen could finally have her rest while the others tore the place apart looking for some small scraps of food and maybe finding life saving antibiotics in someone's medicine cabinet or at the back of a drawer.

"We're here" she spoke quietly and sounding unimpressed.

This infection was going to kill her...

In reply to Dominic Dubreton (msg # 92):

*before reaching Slaughter*

"Of course I've thought of it. I've been waiting for this group to find its way for some time. To be honest I'm not sure why I've stuck around so long either. I'm sure we're both wondering if I could make it out there on my own now, minus a leg." Isabelle answered Dominic's question, sighing slightly, gaze drifting a little as she thought of her reasons for joining the Caravan, that had never really led anywhere. Contrary to her best efforts she had ended up bonding with these people, what was left of them, so much that she wondered if she even believed her kids were alive still. "Also, I want you to know I've already forgiven you for what you had to do, to save my life that day in the forest. I'd have done the same thing for you. Thank you." She felt this needed to be said, for she noted a sense of guilt about Dom for some time, but had left it alone while times had been crazy. This time was as good as ever. "Just remember, now you're stuck with me." She smiled a little.

As Dominic complimented her, Izzy searched the man closely with her eyes, which had a hard edge to them, but still undeniably some humanity in there beneath all the survival instinct. She was glad that Dominic would not be leaving as soon as she might have thought, and in that thought she realized how much she really needed him.

A pause as the group putting a little distance between themselves and the two of them. When Dominic pointed this out, and they prepared to catch up, she reached out to the medic, smooth but dirty hands briefly gripping the lapels of Dom's jacket. Leaning in she would try to share an intimate moment with the man, kissing him softly, quietly, and hoping no one had seen it, but not really caring.

"If that makes things awkward between us, then just deal with it." She spoke quietly after leaning back from her sudden engagement, eyes briefly on Dominic's before looking down between the two of them. "And yes, we should catch up to the others."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:22, Sun 28 Feb 2016.

When the group staggered into town, Mahmoud and Luke were still on point, entering the perimeter of the townfront a couple minutes before the rest of the Caravan. Mahmoud had be this time silenced Luke's constant talking, and managed to convince the self-proclaimed troubadour to hold off on breaking out the newly scavenged guitar until they'd secured the area.

Mahmoud held his rifle aloft in both hands, not so much for shooting but for show, in case they came across living hostiles, something too common for his liking. Along the way he'd dispatched a few walkers with the butt of the long, expertly crafted weapon, the solid wood and metal frame dealing deathly blows.

Pulling Luke along, Mahmoud urged the mustached millennial to wield the police baton scavenged from the DEA van, while telling the younger man to keep his pistol holstered. He didn't trust Luke holding a weapon behind his back, not for nefarious reasons but rather Luke lacked firearm confidence. If Mahmoud was going to die it wouldn't be from friendly fire if he could help it.

The two point men situated themselves behind a dumpster at the precipice of town where two paths lay in front of them ; the much rummaged main street, and the row of neighborhood houses nearby looking quite undisturbed. Appearances could be deceiving however.

When the rest of the group caught up, Mahmoud advised with a hand gesture that they stay out of sight with him at this rallying point for now. Karen was looking worse by the moment, and Lorenzo was still nursing a raw looking wing. "Alright people, these houses look like our best option. I advise we clear them out one by one then pick one to barricade and defend." He waited for everyone's perspective, though felt his option was prudent. Mahmoud would go with whatever Dominic advised.

Luke seemed uneasy about the operation, remembering the last time he'd been in town and how they'd barely escaped. He was still shocked they lost no one that day. It would be one of the last times they had great numbers on their own side. Dominic had gotten him out of that scrape when he'd had a nervous breakdown, and he was already trying to make up for it by keeping his head straight this time around.

At least he had a pistol, even if he was hesitant to use it. For now his clammy hands currently gripped a SWAT baton, his mustached face peeping around the corner of the dumpster, keeping an eye on Main Street. "This town gives me the heebee-jeebee's man. Eery as fuck."

As Izzy’s lips broke away from his own Dominic couldn’t help but give her a surprised look. He hadn’t seen this coming; he’d kind of hoped it would but had never given the idea of her actually liking him much credence, after all he had cut off her foot despite what she said about forgiving him. And yet it would seem that he had been wrong and that the girl he had been growing increasingly fond of during the course of the winter did indeed feel the same way about him, which went a long to explaining things.
With Izzy pointing out that they should indeed catch up with the others Dominic cast a single glance over his shoulder to watch as the rest of the group carried on walking down the traffic strewn highway seemingly oblivious to the fact that two of their number were no longer with them, before turning his attention back to her “Screw em, they can live without us for a few more minutes” he quietly spoke; placing his arms about her body and slowly drawing her in close to him for a single lingering kiss that he hoped would show her that he had no intention of being awkward around her.

With three of their number decidedly worse for wear it hadn’t taken much effort for the pair of them to make up the lost ground, for even with one leg Izzy was still in remarkably good shape; easily matching the pace that Dominic had set.
They finally caught up with the rest of the group around about the same time as Mahmoud suggested they started clearing the houses “Sounds good to me…lets start with those three” Dominic said nodding his head towards the nearest group of buildings, quietly wondering if any of the group had noticed the moment he and Izzy had shared together back on the highway and whether it would solicit any comments from certain members of the group.
It wasn’t that he was embarrassed or anything but rather that he felt that it was none of their concern and so didn’t see the need to advertise the fact that he and Izzy were perhaps just a little more than just friends.
Drawing his sword Dom casually strolls up to the nearest of the three buildings he’d pointed out and bringing the blade up level with his ear ready to thrust, carefully opened the front door to reveal what would have once been a rather neat little hallway were it not for the layer of dust covering everything.
After delivering a few sharp raps to the door in order to rouse anything lurking within the gloom and receiving no response Dom lowers the blade and steps inside “I’ll check upstairs, Bohannon, you take downstairs” Dominic stated, purposefully sending the Cowboy the hell away from him as well as giving Dom the best chance of being able to scoop up any meds lurking in the bathroom and bedrooms which were the natural habitat for prescription meds.
Without waiting or even listening to any protest the cowboy may have concerning this arrangement Dom started heading up the stairs, trusting the rest of the group to split up between the two levels as they saw fit.
Entering the first bedroom he found it quickly became clear that whoever had lived here and gone whilst the getting was good; the drawers yanked open revealing only a handful of discarded clothes, with the wardrobe in a similarly looted fashion. Grabbing a discarded T-shirt that was around about his size and stuffing it into his rucksack Dominic leaves the room so as to check the other rooms, hoping that the others were having better luck than he was.

Lorenzo's eyes lingered on the church steeple. Despite Mahmoud talking about the houses, he clearly had other locations in mind. Overall he thought something like that might be more defensible than some residential place but he didn't want to bother with any arguments right now. The main objective was just finding somewhere for the injured to settle. Then they could do more recon. That was something even he could get behind.

"Well, it is called Slaughter," he muttered offhandedly to Luke's comment.

He carefully shrugged his various bags off his shoulder and back and onto the concrete. There was an unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth and he still had the riot helmet fixed to his head. His dark eyes flitted disinterestedly over Dominic disappearing into the home, and he took a few lazy steps away from the house and sat on the curb. He glared one way down the silent roadway, then the other.

Sweat was beaded on his forehead. A broken bone was bad in itself. He'd been kicked around as a kid and had some broken ribs before, but that had been okay with just some bedrest. And his big brother somehow conjuring pain meds. There wasn't going to be any bedrest yet. Physical exhaustion was something he was used to, but more annoying than that was each jab of pain reminded him of yesterday's events.

For all his bravado, getting in such a close fight didn't feel good. It didn't occur to him at the time, but things could have ended up worse for him than a broken arm. Aggravatingly enough, the thing about Sam was if their "leaders" weren't such chucklefucks Lorenzo probably wouldn't have met him over the winter, let alone had to kill him the way he did. The dumbass even had the gall to try and drown some scrawny fourteen year old. He was pissed they kept that liability around as long as they did. He couldn't comprehend it. If it was up to him, he would've taken the old bastard out and shot him way sooner. There hadn't even been a "thanks for cleaning our mess, Lorenzo." He ran a hand down his face and blinked a few times, deciding getting drunk tonight was probably the best course of action.

He studied their surroundings cautiously, then he lit up his smoke and studied his companions. "Cauldershore," he called out. "Why don't you sit? You look shittier than usual. And that's saying something."

He glanced over at Izzy, and for a second it seemed like he was looking for her help, but then his face dropped back into its usual grumpy glower. Her gentler nature would probably be better to make sure the old guy was doing alright. Lorenzo had been watching him since last night, but the guy was looking especially bad now.

Izzy was relieved when Dominic enveloped her frame in his arms, being clear about his feelings considering the two of them. She made a soft sound as he kissed her that last time, telling her exactly what she needed to know in that moment. She would smile after they broke, only stifling the sincere expression once they reached the immediate vicinity of the rest of their people.

The air was still as Dominic drew his Cavalry sabre, the rasp of the blade lightly singeing the air. Izzy kept her handgun holstered for the time being as the others moved forth. Her walking staff was becoming like another limb for her considering her adeptness in wielding it, but this was a time when they needed two-legged survivors to search quick and quiet.

Izzy, like Lorenzo, noted Cauldershore's state of health as the group settled or moved towards the houses. She shared a look with Lorenzo then, finding semblance of vulnerability or empathy. Although her sharp tongued companion returned to his de facto poker face, she was willing to take whatever overture she'd seen at face value.

"Cauldershore, sit yourself down please, I have some water for you." She spoke with enough sensitivity to her words as she approached the older man, but with enough underlying authority to indicate he better not argue or downplay his condition. "How you feeling, hun?" Whether or not Cauldershore cooperated, she was already pulling her canvas canteen with precious little clean water. She glanced over to Lorenzo, briefly, assessing his condition as well. Hopefully the guy would accept help if she offered it to him as well.

"How about you, Lorenzo?" She intended to offer him water as well, splitting it with Cauldershore if Lorenzo accepted. Izzy wanted to ask Lorenzo if he was alright, but didn't want to put him on the defensive, taking his machismo into account.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:22, Thu 03 Mar 2016.

In reply to Dominic Dubreton (msg # 98):

Bohannon agreed silently with Dominic's instructions, felling quite happy to be by himself. The cowboy drew his now fully reloaded Colt in one hand, holding it out low in front of him on his left side. In his right he wielded Brady's Bowie knife. He wanted have all his bases covered for whatever they found in here.

The two men split off to check and clear  the two floors. Bohannon crept not so quietly down the creaky old wooden steps to the basement. The space was dark and cluttered, mostly old boxes and long forgotten furniture. Cobwebs and a small chain from a light bulb hung from the ceiling, both becoming tangled up in Bohannon's hair as he passed them.

No danger presented itself lurking in the shadows down here, so Bohannon holstered his weapons and headed into a cramped room with a washer and dryer, as well as the furnace and water heater. Bohannon knocked his knuckles against the side of the water tank, nodded to himself and moved to collect a relatively clean plastic bin and a rolled garden hose from the stored items in the corner. The thin skin and layers of insulation were easy enough to plunge his knife blade through, and slightly harder to work into a round hole wide enough for the hose, but he made it work. The hose fit well enough once Bohannon pounded the sharp lower edge of the metal down flat. One end of the hose was slid into the bottom of the tank, the other was wrapped in a piece of cloth and dropped into the bin after a quick siphon.

As the water drained through the filtered hose Bohannon headed back upstairs to the kitchen to se if he could find any bottles of jugs to carry water. He opened up the cupboards and rummaged through them, not being neat about it. Items fell from the shelved and bounced off the counter and onto the floor with a loud crash. "Doc! You find anything?"

In reply to Isabelle (msg # 100):

Lorenzo seemed to be thinking over the offer, and not in any particular hurry. He looked between Izzy and Cauldershore then took a long drag from his cigarette. It was predictably dry and awful tasting, but he maintained a blank expression until it stopped annoying him. The traces of whatever made a smoke enjoyable to him were minimally present now, but it was a habit he maintained nonetheless. He wondered how much water there still was to go around. He exhaled the smoke through his nose. His eyes prickled and he shook his head.

"No, Chavela," he said with a dry cough. He tapped the end of the cigarette, then cracked a small, lopsided grin. "Cooties."

He seemed content to resume quietly sitting and looking about the silent street. Everyone looked so bedraggled. It was a little pathetic. Though he supposed that was to be expected, rolling around with a gang that willfully collected kids, old people, and other folk that were generally useless. Even keeping chicks and using them in combat was kind of weird to him, but whatever.

"You're pretty fast hopping around with that little stick, aren't you," he commented brusquely, without really looking at Izzy. "How long you been like that, anyway? Since before you found these guys?"

He fidgeted absent-mindedly with his newfound helmet, and when he glanced over at Izzy he actually seemed interested. He waited expectantly, and for the moment there was just a curious, raggedy young man studying her rather than a misplaced thug.

Mahmoud, leading Luke, followed Dominic and Bohannon into the first house. As one man went upstairs and another down, Mahmoud and Luke would move through the main floor. They moved as quietly as they could, though Bohannon would be able to hear their footsteps creaking on the floorboards.

The first place Mahmoud was interested in was the kitchen, where he kept his pistol holstered to free up both hands to open cupboards and drawers. "Fingers crossed.." He found spoiled food in the fridge, causing the progressively bearded man to recoil at the smell before closing the fridge door.

As he did this, Luke kept an eye out for anything obvious they could use, the younger man likely this sort of place as a potential temporary home as opposed to the old office building or industrial camp.

Peering out the back window, Luke spotted a swing-set hanging from a mighty old tree, a treehouse situated up the long trunk in what looked like a roomy set up.

"The kids here were lucky, my mom would have killed me if she found me up one of those." He mused aloud to Mahmoud as he stood in the kitchen, looking out the back window instead of watching his companion's back.

"Aha!" Mahmoud declared with in triumph, extricating himself from a knelt down position on the floor, where he'd gotten into a larger cabinet. Turning around, and getting Luke's attention, he lifted an unopened fifteen pound bag of white rice, and dropped it on the island counter in the center of the kitchen. "Found it in what I assume was the health-nut's diet cabinet." Mahmoud couldn't help his smile appearing among the forest of his black beard.

Finally. Hank muttered as they finally made it town. At least the storm seemed to have cleared out the zombies from the last time he was there. Along with taking a couple power lines down he noted with interest. He'd lost his wire from earlier during storm but that would do nicely. Following the others to the house he watched the group split. Leaving the extras he was carrying by the door he turned to Tom. Why don't you go check out back, see if they have a shed. Maybe we'll get lucky and they left some nice pointy tools for us...Mind going with him? Directing the question to NM he looked to where Luke and Mahmoud were rooting around the kitchen, I think we've got the inside pretty well covered.

Following after Dom he glanced at the pictures still hanging on the wall. Two kids in soccer uniforms. Mom and Dad's wedding. The M&M family Halloween costume shot. Hank shook his head. At least they look about Tom's age. Reaching the top of the stairs he tapped a closed door gently, listening for any response from the other side. Anything good? He asked Dom, cracking open the door to reveal a bedroom turned office.

In reply to Isabelle (msg # 100):

Cauldershore took the water, slowly and shakily. Not a moment after passing the water through his lips did it come spewing back up all over the grass. "I'm... I'm sorry." He whispered with a horse voice, wiping the vomit from his hairy chin. In his seated position he wasn't as unsteady as he'd been a moment ago, but all other signs pointed to his being rather unwell. His words were followed immediately with a hacking coughing fit that rendered him quite breathless. He swung his hand out firmly into the ground the keep himself from falling right over onto his side.

Mr. Cauldershore was in a sorry state.

The teens were gathered on the outskirts of town, far away from the eyes of the roaming group they had followed in secret to Slaughter. "Alright. It's decided then." Kentucky and his partners addressed their leader obediently, prepared to carry out the orders he had just given.

So, three teenagers walked down the centre of the street, dressed head to toe in rugged, heavily worn gear consisting of make-shift armour segments and patched together outerwear. But beneath the rugged facade the trio were wearing the staples of every teen's wardrobe. The kinds of things you'd find at the mall like band tees, sneakers, skinny jeans and deep v-necks. They were like hipster road-wariors. There was a tall, good-looking boy in the centre, a timid shaggy-haired boy to his right, and a confident blonde girl to his left. None of them appeared to be armed.

They walked cautiously and non-threateningly towards the group stationed outside the house. When they came within speaking distance, the good-looking boy began. "Hello! Good afternoon to you all." He was calm and friendly. "I need to speak with Dominic. Can that be arranged?"

Lorenzo balanced his smoke precariously between his fingers and gave Cauldershore a rough, awkward sort of there there pat on the back. "No worries," he muttered. He kept his hand there long enough to ensure the geezer wasn't going to topple over, then quickly resumed smoking.

Shortly thereafter he noticed the trio approaching down the street. Just his luck most of the able-bodied people were off in the house- for some reason he thought he was still included among them, as if he was somehow more useful than the others even with a broken arm. The new kids looked harmless and that was exactly why Lorenzo didn't trust them.

It was like flipping a switch. He stood up quickly, immediately on the defensive, and took stock of the teenagers with an expression that could curdle milk. It was pure disdain. He wasn't impressed by them, and he wanted whatever ringleader that had sent them down to scout out the Caravan to know it. He left his smoke in his mouth, ash dropping off the end, and braced his one good hand on his waist. This knocked his windbreaker back, the Colt in his waistband a shameless, non-verbal threat. The kid bode good afternoon and Lorenzo sneered.

Then the kid in the middle actually mentioned their oh-so benevolent Doc. Now Lorenzo was just confused. He maintained his glower stubbornly, even when faced with the seemingly friendly teen. He didn't like being confused.

"I can 'arrange' for my boot to speak with your scrawny little white ass," Lorenzo informed the kid. "Better not have any babysitters watching us through ironsights, kiddo, or they're gonna have a pretty good view of that and then some. Whatever the fuck you want you can spit it out here and now."

His cigarette bounced a little worryingly while he spoke and he made no attempt to keep his escalating voice down. He took a few steps toward the new group, only enough to put himself between those still by the curb, like a pit-bull on a very short chain.

The second bedroom was in a similar state to the first; drawers yanked open with only a handful clothes that looked to belong to a pair of young boys remaining.  Judging by the posters and sports pennants adorning the walls it didn't take a genius to figure out who's room this had been, with the paramedic pausing to flick through a pair of old Marvel comics before stuffing them into his bag figuring that if neither Tom or NM wanted them then he'd read them at some point.
It was as he was pulling the old ammo box out from under one of the beds that he heard both Hank and Bohannon asking whether he'd found anything "Not really...looks like these guys left in a hurry" he called back tipping the contents of the ammo box onto to floor to reveal along with a heap of toy soldiers, a couple of baseball cards and an X-Wing. An unopened packet of choc-chip cookies and some gummy bears either your mum didn't know about this or she was far more lenient than any of my parents ever were Dom thought to himself with a wry grin; stuffing the midnight snack into his bag and heading for the bathroom at the end of the hall.
The bathroom was pretty much as Dominic had expected it would be; a small, neat room with black and white floor tiles, a shower in one corner and a white painted medicine cabinet over the sink.
Opening the pair of water stained mirror fronted doors Dominic rifles through the usual crap that accumulates in peoples medicine cabinets and throwing most of it into sink as he did so before he finally found the small orange plastic bottle in the corner "Bingo!" he said plucking the bottle from out of its hiding place and examining the label "Well boys, it looks like Mr...Reynolds...had a skiing accident so now we are the proud owners of around six Oxy tablets" he called down the corridor to Hank and the Cowboy, assuming of course that they were still around to hear him "So...you guys find anything good?"

In reply to Lorenzo (msg # 107):

Kentucky looked disappointed. He had sort of hoped that this transaction would be handled as pleasantly as possible. But just as their leader had told him, that just might not be possible. The man standing before him was acting as what appeared to be the misfit ringleader. Siting out on the curb with him were clearly the parts of the Caravan unable to be trusted with any real work, probably due to the sorry state they were in. The ringleader had a busted arm, one woman was missing a leg, another two were as white as ghosts, and the rest were around Kentucky's age. Clearly not any kind of threat.

As the girl standing beside him almost interjected Kentucky raised his hand in protest. Having Dakota fight with this guy wasn't the plan. "Look... You must be 'Lorenzo' right? That's what we were told anyways. Lorenzo, you're not the one in charge. So we don't want to talk to you. Go and get us Dominic. Please." He remembered his manners with a small smile.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:21, Sun 06 Mar 2016.

In reply to Kentucky (msg # 109):

Lorenzo raised his eyebrows as if to say is that so? and smiled back. It wasn't a nice smile. Apparently not remembering his manners, he spat on the ground. All he could taste were the goddamn cigarettes.

He scanned behind the trio tensely, watching for any movement. Even he on some level realized standing here arguing with the kids wasn't going to accomplish anything, wired as he was. If they were so hellbent on speaking with their supposed leader, Lorenzo would oblige. If only to sate his own mounting curiosity. Besides, now that he was really in the open and no snipers had taken potshots at him, he figured they were probably genuinely harmless. Probably.

"Joto," he laughed. "Alright, you got me. I will get our dear leader. He's making a house call. No funny shit."

He finished by giving the middle kid a stern look. Though now his expression seemed somewhat playful. He scanned behind the kids one more time. Then he trudged over to the house, half expecting to hear shots from behind him, and poked his head in the door.

"Dom-i-niiiiiiiic!" he shouted. It was an exaggerated whine, like a kid calling for their parents. "There's some kids out here looking for you! Asked for you by name! Fancy."

He scowled a bit as he announced the last part. Maybe them having some previous relationship with Dominic was possible, but Lorenzo had never met them, and was not at all happy about them knowing his name. He ducked back out, waiting for Dominic and watching the kids suspiciously.

Tom let out a sigh as they came within sight of the town. Adjusting one of the rifles to stop it from sliding off his shoulder he followed the others to the first house, gladly placing the box on a coffee table. Looking around he almost resisted the urge to jump on the couch, raising a small cloud of dust from the cushions. So soft... After the compound he felt like he could just go full cat and melt into the furniture piece. Rolling his eyes at Hank's words he tossed quickly tossed around the idea of flipping him off. Mid hand raise he stopped, not wanting to risk "guard" duty as the others raided the surrounding area. Rolling off he went through to the back yard.

Rifling through a couple desk drawers Hank shook his head. Nothing, not even a secret snack stash. Walking out of the room he shrugged. Couple books in there might be useful though. Tilting his head slightly at Lorenzo's call his hand tightened. The only groups he knew of that had kids had been heading the opposite direction of the Caravan. Rushing to the bedroom window he looked out. Three of them, if you've met them before it was before me.

Izzy was heavily concerned about Cauldershore's health, keeping a steadying hand on the man's shoulder as he rolfed up what little lunch he'd had. She gave an appreciative expression to Lorenzo as the firebrand showed some human empathy and helped comfort the ailing gentleman that they'd had the pleasure to add to their group. Even though Cauldershore hadn't been with them long, he'd proven himself to be a welcome addition.

The arrival of a trio of teens sent Izzy's blood cold as she observed the young folks approach, one hand moving to her pistol grip in her waistband and the other clutching her walking staff. Her eyes quickly narrowed as the teens made demands and Lorenzo appropriately rebuffed but tactically indulged them.

The one legged young woman rose from her position assisting Cauldershore to withdraw her glock and raise it eye level with the three young people that encroached ever closer. "Keep smiling kiddo and I'll pop a hole in that smirk of yours." Izzy threatened with an aloof and cool disposition, leveling her pistol most prominently on the ringleader of the kids as Lorenzo called for their leader and her beau.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:34, Wed 09 Mar 2016.

New Mexico had been somewhat subdued after the DEA van, having become familiar with that sensation of impending doom as they approached the ominously named town of Slaughter. He was fond of the armor that Hank had helped fashion for him, covering that numb section of his shoulder that still reeled and was recovering from multiple shotgun shell fragments months earlier. Since the storm he had grown closer to Hank and Tom, which scared him.

Searching out the house, he followed along with his companions, joining Tom in enjoying the accouterments of the house and home before they encountered company out front. When the group of dangerous strangers arrived, NM was in the backyard with Tom.

"Fuck. Shh!" He cooed to the younger teen, bringing a finger to his lips as he drew a pistol scavenged from the DEA van in his right hand, his machete still sheathed on his thigh.

He peered around the corner of the house from the backyard, catching sight of the three teens imposing themselves on their people in the front of the house. His heart caught itself and he glanced over to Tom, trepidation on his features as well as a resolve that tempted attack of the insurgents, even if they were similar in age to Tom and himself.

"This doesn't look good. We might have to.." NM spoke in quiet, hushed voice, uncertainty gripping him in the last, much like he gripped the hilt of his handgun. He didn't want to hurt anyone, but he feared what would happen if he did not. Lorenzo had saved him not long ago, and he felt the compunction to pay the man back, a man who was far more kind that anyone thought. Izzy had done her fair share as well, right from the beginning of the Caravan, and Cauldershore had proven himself invaluable in his eccentricities and knowledge. Even Karen, NM had grown fond of for her endeavoring to soldier on.

He wouldn't let his people be harmed if he could help it. But could he get himself to cross that threshold?

Wyoming shifted his feet as Kentucky led them towards the group assembled within and without the house ahead. Dressed similar to his companions, he differed in outward countenance, seeming a little unsure of himself, but nonetheless unarmed in a non-threatening way. That in itself was risky, as he stood to the side of Kentucky, sweating precipitously, his slender form conformed in sweat, his clothes wet under the arms and in the small of the back.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:13, Wed 09 Mar 2016.

Books...books could be useful depending on what was in them; after all they would need to re-learn all kinds of skills if they were going to rebuild society. Though personally he would have preferred they found food instead. Dominic was about to reply to Hank when he heard Lorenzo calling up the stairs in a whining kids voice that there were group of kids here to see him. It was the kind of voice his half sister had used when she was about to dob him in to his step-mom and so no doubt like Lorenzo intended it grated on his nerves.
He wasn’t sure what was more alarming about the situation, that there were three “Kids” outside wanting to talk to him or the fact that they knew his name, and so moving to join Hank at the window he peered down at the trio trying to work out if he’d ever met them before “Non…they’re nobody I’ve ever met before…” he replied in a quiet voice that betrayed his concern over the situation; they weren’t armed but that didn’t mean that there weren’t others close to hand ready to start gunning down their wounded members and Izzy at the slightest provocation “Hank, go downstairs and get the others, I want you to lead them out the back door and circle round the back of our guests, Understood?” he said; already moving towards the stairs before he’d even finished calmly issuing his instructions.
It was probably nothing, they probably just wanted to talk, or trade They know your name! His mind screamed in response to all of his rational explanations as to why there were three kids wearing armour outside asking for him. They know your name and they know you’re in charge…you’ve only been the leader for two and a bit days so how can they possibly know that you’re in charge!? Now that was a troubling thought because if they knew that then what else did they know?
Approaching the front door, Dom drops his bag onto the floor so as to free up his arms before walking outside with his sabre casually resting against his shoulder, lending the leather clad Frenchman an almost piratical air…assuming of course that the pirate in question had been fasting for the past couple of weeks.
Stepping out into the front garden where the confrontation between his people and the trio was taking place; Dominic casually walks up to the ringleader being sure to stop far enough away so that the kid couldn’t easily attack him with any knives me may have hidden, but close enough that he could use the sabre if required “D’Accord…you wanted to talk, so lets talk”

The boy in the centre stood his ground against the woman pointing the gun in his face. He simply smiled politely in acknowledgement of her displeasure with him, (just like his leader had encouraged him to do.) His smile turned to Dominic as he emerged from the house.

"Bonjour, Monsieur Dubreton!" The boy spoke with excitement. "My name is Paris. Paris Kentucky. And I represent a group of individuals known as the Lost Boys." Kentucky was speaking as though he was about to offer Dominic a business card.

"I have a riddle for you Dominic. What am I missing?" The boy looked to Dominic and the others for any kind of response. "You don't know the answer?" He looked disappointed. "I am missing the contents of a certain DEA van parked out on the highway. And I want it back Dominic. All of it!"

"Your Caravan took something that belongs to us. So it's only fair that we took something that belongs to you too. We have one of your people. I won't tell you who, just trust that I know everything about you, and that I had to learn that information somehow." The look on his face portrayed that this was a fortunate situation for everybody. "We're prepared to offer you a trade. Return to the very spot we're standing on now with what you took from us, and your person goes unharmed... Don't, and well, they'll die. You have until sundown to make your decision."

They had barely started speaking to one another before the kid started to get on Dominic’s nerves with his insurance salesman's voice, with it taking all of his willpower not to slap the boy when he started talking about riddles. Which was just as well as it was at this point that Kentucky delivered his thinly veiled threat and the true motive behind their meeting.
Apparently they had a member of their group as a hostage, which nicely explained how they'd come to know so much about them all, and would return said hostage unharmed in return for the contents of the DEA van they had found back on the highway. In short it was a robbery and either they were dealing with three chancers trying to bullshit their way into taking what they wanted or they really were part of an armed gang holding one of their group hostage and were willing to execute them if they didn't get what they wanted.
With no one having gone missing between here and the highway the list of potential victims was relatively short and made shorter by the fact that at least two of them wouldn't have said anything unless under torture and another wouldn't know the answers even if tortured. But all the same, fuelled by the dregs of his earlier anger Dominic gave his answer in a cool, emotionless voice "Fine...shoot them, see if I care" he said with a disinterested shrug, interested to see how Mr Paris Kentucky would react to him point blank refusing his offer. Calling his bluff was risky move but with any luck it would buy Hank and the others enough time to get around the back and cut off their retreat. Once Dom had the three of them where he wanted them they could begin the process of negotiations and see what Kentucky had to say for himself.

Lorenzo trailed after Dominic once he came out from the house. He waited behind the medic while the kid, Paris, rattled on, then started to circle around the small group to stand off to the side. He was eyeing them up and down.

Paris. What a name.

Lorenzo snorted loudly and took a slow drag from his smoke. He raised his eyebrows. The entire time he watched the sweaty, nervous kid with a predatory look, like he was trying to decide how best to gut him. Once Paris finished his haughty, stuck-up-his-own-ass-spiel, Lorenzo exhaled like he was suddenly refreshed. He flicked his cigarette butt at the nervous kid.

"Doc," Lorenzo spoke up between his teeth. "I'd like to just raise a motion here."

He glanced over at Dominic with a subdued look. It was bordering dangerously on respectful.

"Pretty fucking weird these guys would keep their stuff in a locked van fulla ghouls. Almost like they're- hm. Full of shit."

He put a hand on his pistol and studied the kids. He wasn't one for games. He wasn't going to play along. He refused. His old crew wouldn't have even entertained this. These little shitheads would be lined up against a wall, saying their prayers already. It wasn't even the fact they supposedly had a hostage. The fact of the matter was, Lorenzo did not get played. He simply did not and he wasn't about to start. The muscle in his jaw was working and he was trying very hard to not start yelling again.

"This is how it should actually be. We're keeping the little culero," he looked over at the nervous kid, then to Paris. "And you and your bitch will come back with whoever it is you have. Just the two of you. We see one more person and we put a bullet in his head. Then it is a fair trade."

He made no move to draw his gun, but he was deadly serious. He jerked his head, indicating for the kid to come over and stand beside him.

Ohhh... Tom eyed the tree house for a moment, memories of him and his friends playing in David's surfacing. They'd had a snack stash, binoculars, comics, chairs...it had everything a kid could want. Hell, Steve even managed to sneak a Sports Illustrated Swimsuit edition out of his recycle bucket. NM's expletive snapped him back, the question on his lips dying as the gun came out. Moving to the corner he peeked around his closest friend in the group. Kids, actual kids... But they aren't armed... He eventually managed in an equally quiet whisper, glancing between the trio and NM. And one of them looks like he doesn't even want to be here.

Right. Hank nodded, glancing back out the window as Dom headed off. If he never saw them before... Heading down stairs he made for the kitchen. Dom wants us to circle behind the group. They can't be much older then Tom and it doesn't look like they're armed. The discovered rice, which would normally be cause for celebration especially in such quantities, was glazed over in light of the situation. Which means they either just want to talk or they have people watching from the woods.

Leaving his bag in the kitchen before moving out back he saw NM and Tom had already spotted the kids, NM with gun drawn. Walking up to them he briefly considered bringing them along. Hey. He whispered as he came up. We're going to circle behind them. You guys stay here so we have them on three sides. Glancing at the gun he hoped it wouldn't come to needing it. Moving off he hopped the back neighbor's fence where he wouldn't be seen from the street and followed it to where it butted against the woods. Jumping that he snuck his way to an abandoned car, keeping an eye out for any signs of people or zombies in the woods, and the street ahead through the windows.

In reply to Hank Lucion (msg # 121):

Mahmoud had been through this situation too many times. When Hank arrived on scene in the kitchen he gave a nod of quick comprehension and proceeded to put the bag of rice back where he had found it. Chances were no one would discover it while they dipped out for this maneuver.

"Right behind you, Hank. Luke, lets go." The ever more bearded Caravaner replied, then took responsibility over the normally skittish Luke. "Leave your guitar behind, buddy."

With Luke in tow, Mahmoud quickly moved along with Hank. Mahmoud was armed with his rifle, and a pistol was holstered to his side. He did not intend or want to use either, but as a precaution he pulled his rifle from where it was slung on his shoulder. "Keep your gun in its holster unless something happens or we tell you to take it out, Luke." Seemed like common sense but it was better to be safe than sorry, because Luke was not comfortable or very trained in firearms use.

A quick rendezvous with the younger Caravan members out back, and then Hank was off leading Mahmoud and Luke around on a flanking maneuver. Mahmoud's expression conveyed seriousness but he felt obliged to offer a small awkward grin of reassurance to NM and Tom. It troubled him that NM was so quick to arm himself against the seemingly unarmed strangers, kids at that too, but it was something to address later.

On the way through the woodline, the three encountered a lone biter meandering through the pines, which Mahmoud dealt with soundly with a solid strike to the temple with the butt of his rifle. Afterwards he clubbed the sopping, fleshy skull to ensure complete stillness. Adrenaline made his actions quick, experience made them accurate.

Fitter than he had been before the apocalypse, Mahmoud was able to keep up with Hank, but had to assist Luke who sometimes choked when there was a hurry afoot. Nonetheless, the three of them were able to approach from their end of the encounter, with Mahmoud and Luke backing Hank up as the leader of their side crew. Mahmoud held his rifle at the ready, though was hesitant to use it, while Luke was all too happy to remain hands-off his own handgun unless called for. "We'll follow your lead, Hank."
This message was last edited by the player at 00:11, Tue 15 Mar 2016.

Despite Izzy's serious disposition, she was well aware how exposed they were in the street, and was like most of the others put on edge by the youth of these strangers, and the knowledge they displayed about their group.

Slowly, she lowered her glock handgun, not wanting to precipitate violence from individuals unknown in the area around them. As Lorenzo ably dealt with the leader until Dominic arrived, Izzy was searching the nearby buildings calmly, trying to ascertain of they were alone with the youngsters. She did not want to hurt kids. They hadn't had to hurt kids yet..

She stayed close to Cauldershore, cognizant of his condition that was still unknown, fighting the impulse to pick up her walking staff and move closer to Dominic as backup. A glance towards Lorenzo, and she knew that she would have to rely on the wounded but still strong and quick-witted latino who sometimes rubbed people the wrong way. Izzy found herself glad to have him now, even if he was minus a wing.

Keeping her hand on her pistol though it was lowered, she cast a look to Karen to see if she was capable of protecting herself should they be surprised from behind. Whatever happened, she wasn't going to let their group be captured again..

Tom's reminder that the kids out in the street were not armed drew NM back from his fight or flight response. A look of reflection crossed his young face as he drew back from peaking around the corner to address his slightly younger friend. "R-Right.. Right. Yea, they aren't armed." Mexico was visibly troubled by his own reflex, his hand lowering that held the gun, grip shaking a little bit. What's wrong with me. We don't hurt unarmed kids. Maybe this was the post traumatic stress disorder that so many survivors secretly suffered from. "Yea, that sweaty one doesn't look as sure as the leader or the girl." Like Tom, he kept his voice low.

He hated Sam, and did not miss the bastard, but it seemed that the recent event of his attempted drowning at the hands of the brute was still affecting him, still rattling him.

When Hank, Mahmoud and Luke arrived quietly and quick in the backyard, NM nodded in understanding, slowly holstering his pistol, immediately relieved that Hank had given him the out of staying behind with Tom. They might still have to fight though. Who was ambushing who, exactly? He couldn't hear all of what was being said out front. "Alright, we stay here. Got it." NM nodded to Hank before the man moved off with Mahmoud and Luke. The shoulder armor, SWAT boots, etc that Hank and Tom helped him scavenged provided him with some psychological reinforcement, but he was still eager to avoid hostilities.

When they were gone NM glanced back to Tom, looking for as well as providing any reassurance he could, before peaking around the corner at the kids out front, remaining as still and quiet as he could. Thankfully they'd had lots of practice.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:09, Tue 15 Mar 2016.

Wyoming shifted his feet uneasily as Lorenzo eyed their group, and began to circle in like a wolf as the Caravan leader approached to negotiate with 'Tucky. His tongue drew over his dry, cracked lips as Paris confidently addressed Dominic, displaying some of that grace under pressure that their leader had in spades.

Dominic's glib and pithy reply to Paris' words quickly troubled Wy even more than he had been already, and he glanced to Dakota and Paris in turn, though they did not look back his way. Why he'd been recruited into this situation he knew not. Perhaps their leader was trying to toughen him up, or put an kind face on their demands.

Lorenzo continued to make Wyoming uneasy, and though he wasn't a violent person by nature, he wished they'd brought something as a semblance of security. Or maybe that would have made things worse. Whatever Paris and the boss had discussed, this couldn't have possibly been predicted as the outcome.

The Hispanic man who seemed a giant to the thin, nervous Wyoming, continued to display that gun of his, while zoning in on the three of them, Wyoming principally. Culero? He did not know what that meant, but it sounded very denigrating, causing Wy's heartbeat to pick up a notch more than it already was.

It actually took him a second to process that he was being told to submit as a captive, a hostage, and he turned deathly pale, a bead of sweat rolling down his face and dropping off of his jaw. Eyes widened, and he looked to Paris for the more confident boy to say or do something.

He should have waited a moment, but he had been ready to bolt already. Looking down at his feet, he took a couple tentative steps towards Lorenzo, not believing himself, that he'd do something like that. But he did, though he stopped short of where Lorenzo had indicated with that authoritative jerk of the head. The frightened youth was closer to Lorenzo than to Paris and Dakota, suddenly feeling buyer's remorse and looking like he was about to hop back to his own people than complete the journey to the glowering, intense Hispanic man.

"It was rather careless of them, wasn't it?" Dominic quietly mused in response to Lorenzo's comment over the Lost Boys choice of "hiding place", a half smile curling up at the corners of his mouth as Lorenzo continued to speak even getting so far as to actually get the Culero to take a couple of steps towards him before he thought better of it.
Tapping the flat of his sword against his shoulder in a casual manner Dominic offers Kentucky a smile with all the warmth and friendliness of a shark before speaking "I have a riddle for you...how many people does it take to deliver a message?" he asked the youth in front of him; giving it a few moments for the boy to fully grasp what he was saying before raising one solitary finger in answer to his question, showing that he wasn’t the only one that could play games "I’ve got to admit, I like Lorenzo's thinking but for once I don't think he's gone far enough, you see with one hostage you may just decide to cut your losses and leave the Culero here to his fate, but two hostages, especially a pretty female hostage should make sure you keep your end of the bargain" and get you to come clean if you're trying to bullshit us he silently added, though it was probably safe to assume considering the information they had that they really did have a hostage, but it didn't hurt to cover both possibilities.
With his demand made all humour dropped from the Frenchman's face as he adopted the same business like tone he used when treating a patient; the kind of tone that got people to do what he asked without sounding overly bossy "now what you're going to do Mr Kentucky is go and tell Peter Pan; who I suspect will be somewhere nearby that he'll get his people back unharmed in return for ours and then and only then will a fair trade concerning the contents of that van be considered...now I take it I don't have to insult your intelligence by telling you what will happen if you or your friends here try anything stupid?"

Cauldershore was shocked by this ongoing confrontation with these mysterious children. Where were they from? What happened to their parents? Why were they so cruel? None of these questions really mattered to the old barman as he suddenly erupted into a coughing fit so violent and broken only by a brief spell of vomiting that it resulted in a spray of blood collected in the palm of his hand.

As the conversation between the two leaders of these groups intensified, Cauldershore had been moving away from the street and towards the house that the men were searching. By the time he threw up he was inside the living room, collapsed on the floor, holding himself up on the arm of the couch, blood on his hands and lips.

He didn't want the Lost Boys to see him like this.

As usual, Bohannon marched to the beat of his own drum and ignored the other's attempt to encircle the road where the hostile negotiations were unfolding and instead opted to climb over the back fence of the yard and situate himself in the thick scrubby bush that lined the roadway and separated the houses. With his Colt drawn, Bohannon sought to determine if the three kids in the street were alone or not, and if so, then he wanted to try to find where they'd come from. Squatting in the bushes, the first thing he had to do was lose the bright orange shoulder bag he had his ammo and prescription meds in.

Pulling up the grass and leaf-litter Bohannon dug the bag a shallow grave, just deep enough to conceal it unless one knew where to look. Satisfied, the cowboy snuck off. He moved as quickly and as quietly as he could, not wanting to be seen by his people or theirs, and found himself a good vantage point to scout the area. He moved his eyes back and forth across the thick wooded landscape looking for potential hiding places or signs of movement, zombie or teenager, each as treacherous as the other.

It reminded him of cold mornings spent hunting with his old man, perched in the woods or searching for a deer trail, all the while with Brady whining that he was bored. He choked on the thought of Brady for a second.

His focus snapped back to the present as a dark shadow of movement caught his eye. Bohannon found his prey.

Karen maintained her seat on the curb, several meters away from where Dominic and the kids were standing. Her pain was searing and her head was feeling dizzy from the fever, but she could not be drawn away from the scene before her. If the Boys really did have a hostage, why wouldn't they reveal the identity? Wouldn't that give them extra impact and strengthen their demands? But if the hostage was bullshit how did this Kentucky boy know so much about the Caravan, even down to the name of the group, not just the individuals and their roles in the hierarchy..? Things weren't adding up. Kentucky had information that went deep. He even knew Dom's last name... Karen wondered if she even knew Dom's last name. How did this boy know so much?

Karen calmly pulled her now thankfully loaded sidearm (with ammunition that the Lost boys had laid claim to) from its holster on her belt and held it discretely in her lap as Isabelle's outburst dissipated and Dominic seemed to be going tit for tat with the Lost boys.

Crap, what the hell was Dominic doing? She knew that hostage negotiations weren't a part of his vocational training, but he was not trying to defuse this situation at all. He was simply escalating things, trying to put Kentucky in his place or something. He reminded her of her step-dad in that way. And Lorenzo was absolutely not helping things. But Karen felt too weak to intervene too much. She simply wanted to cool things off a little and maybe redirect Dominic's efforts a little. All she could think of was "He's bluffing Dominic" she interjected casually. "Don't indulge him. He has no bargaining power, that's why he's trying to intimidate us. Just send the children away, they can't have our guns."

It wasn't to his surprise, but it was to Lorenzo's relief the nervous kid took a step forward. He wasn't above it, but he preferred to not shoot the boy in the kneecap to stop him from leaving. It worked better if he played along.

Lorenzo moved forward when the kid halted, in a move so quick he had obviously been going over it in his head. He clasped a hand on his shoulder, then yanked him over to stand by him. Obviously he could make a run for it if he really wanted to. It was more of a symbolic gesture. He even let go after a few seconds, then resumed tapping the butt of his pistol with a bored expression, not even reacting to Cauldershore's sudden exit.

The way Dominic was talking was certainly taking Lorenzo back to his old crew. Not really in a good way. Lorenzo had busted jaws, snapped arms, and stole an ungodly amount of things with them. But threatening women. No, he didn't really like that. He didn't like the implications, even if the threats were empty. His dark eyes flitted over to Dominic while he talked, and they seemed to contain the same amount of warmth they had while observing the kids. Not much.

"They know things, Karen. Ain't about being intimidated. It's about patience. And I don't have patience for threats, not even if they smile while saying them," he interjected, speaking guardedly. Again, practically through his teeth. Though he apparently addressed the blonde, he was watching Dominic. "One. Is. Enough. Like I said. A clean, fair trade. Then once they know their place, maybe we'll entertain a civil fucking dialogue. You do not come up to us spewing shit and expect to all walk away."

He clenched his jaw shut and glared at the other two kids, apparently done airing his opinion on the subject. Keeping Culero seemed like a good plan to Lorenzo. It was obvious the nervous kid would be easier to manage. He could tell the girl had fight in her. She wouldn't be worth the headache. Dominic was a lot of things, some of them good, but all Lorenzo thought he was right now was grossly out of his element.

In reply to Dominic Dubreton (msg # 126):
In reply to Lorenzo (msg # 130):

'Tucky was trying to emulate his cold and calculating leader... his Peter Pan... as best he could, following his very specific instructions to the letter, as much as that was possible, considering the changing elements present here. P.K. smiled his cute little smile as he listened to the banter back and forth between the participants in this sloppy rendition of good cop, bad cop. Just as his leader had instructed. Even though truly he was terrified for Wyoming's safety if left with these people, Pan had assured him that if it came to that, their people would be okay. Unfortunately Wyoming did not receive the same reassurances.

Kentucky outstretched his arm in front of Dakota to signal to both her and to Dominic and Lorenzo that she would not be joining Wyoming. "'Kay." It was now time to take this little game to the next stage. 'Tucky didn't know what the next part was, but he trusted that it would work out in the end. "If thats how you want to play, then we can play that way. We'll see you back here at sunset. The prisoners and the guns, everything on the table, and then we'll come to an agreement."

Kentucky backed slowly away, waiting to see if anyone would stop him in protest. He and Dakota had a bit of a trip to get back to the group. A long winding path to ensure nobody could track them.

Hank didn't know if he should be relieved Benson went off or not at first. Though given the kids appeared unarmed it was probably safe to assume they had someone as back up, if he was going to look for said support it was probably better to have him out there. Assuming this went peacefully and he didn't do anything to risk it at least. Watching the standoff he bit his lip as the nervous kid stepped forward and was practically scooped up by Lorenzo. It seemed they would be having a guest until whatever was going on was settled. Watching other boy back away he waited for some sign that they should bar the path, hoping they wouldn't need to, praying this could all be settled on at least neutral terms.

Watching the protective hand go up to stop the blonde from joining them, a smirk briefly plays across Dominic's face Yeah, she's definitely the valuable one out of the three However with Kentucky refusing to hand her over and Lorenzo stating that one hostage would suffice Dominic wasn't going to press the issue, as taking the girl would probably end up with somebody being shot which was the last thing they needed at this point in time.
Silently watching as they backed away Dominic throws the Lost Boys a sarcastic two fingered salute before turning to head inside "you. inside. now" he growls at the boy as he passed. It was time they had a little chat with their guest and found out exactly how much they knew about them and how they had come by the information.
Sliding the sword back into its scabbard Dominic managed to calmly walk into the living room before lashing out; sending an end table crashing into the wall with a well placed kick and a torrent of French expletives. Why was this happening to him? Surely it hadn’t been this bad when Cookie had been in charge? All he wanted was a day or two in order to get them back on their feet and figure out what their next move should be “I should have looked harder for that fucking bike!” he quietly cursed just under his breath. He could have been down the road and a free man by now but instead he was having to negotiate for the release of a hostage whose identity he didn’t even know. It was just as he was wondering how things could get any worse that he finally caught sight of Cauldershore sitting on the floor in front of the puddle of blood stained vomit oh…well that’s just fantastic…

Watching NM realize what he was doing Tom felt a pang of sympathy. While not at imminent as the older teen's experience had been the threat of what could have, almost had, happened with the hicks still haunted him. Though it mostly stayed in his dreams. Turning as the others came out and gave a quick outline of the plan he couldn't help but think of the shooter games he used to play before the dead rose. Nodding as the others went around he let out a small sigh.

When they were alone again he reached out and placed a gentle hand on NM's arm, giving him a look of understanding. Watching the exchange he was surprised Lorenzo fought against the idea of two hostages. That they'd even need one was slightly troubling. Though, maybe it would give him time to make a new friend.

Watching the other kids leave and with no sign to stop them he gave a small smile. Come on. Gently giving NM's arm a tug he started toward the door. He paused about halfway to the door however, running what just happened through his head. Turning around NM... he hesitated for just a moment unsure of what to say. Not finding the words he just reached out and embraced the taller teen, something he'd only ever done with Hank. It'll be ok. He had to against the armor, but ignored the spots not fully dry. Giving it a moment he pulled back, his voice returning to it's usual tone. Now, let's go say hi to our guest. By the time he walked in on Dom's destruction and Cauldershore's condition the only sign of what happened was some fresh blood smudges on his shirt and smudged stains on NM's gear.

Karen rose slowly and unsteadily as the collision of the two groups was over. With two of three teens disappearing into the distance and Dominic heading inside with this "Wyoming" boy following close behind it was time to talk strategy with the boss. "Dom! Can we talk a second?" Karen stopped a few laboured steps short of the front door, stopping Wyoming and Lorenzo before entering. The former Atlanta police officer reached behind her back and pulled her handcuffs from their little pouch on her duty belt. "Put your hands up on your head." She requested calmly but firmly of the lost boy. With his compliance Karen proceeded to give the kid a pat down search, finding nothing harmful concealed on his person. Karen then reached up and cuffed the boy's hands behind his back with practiced efficiency. "Lorenzo, can you take him inside and find a nice quiet spot to put him please?"

Upon entering the house and finding Cauldershore heaped on the floor looking like he was just about ready to depart this world, Karen couldn't help but worry about her own fate. When she got to this point, would Dominic have what he needed to save her? Did he have what he needed to save him? These were grim circumstances.

Normally Karen would be eager to rush in and help but today she had not the fortitude to address this crisis, both due to her state of health, and because of how Cauldershore's predicted her future. "So what are you wanting to do with this kid, Dom?" She understood that with the doc's attentions on the old guy he would't relish discussing this issue right at this moment. But there was no more than three hours before sunset, and they needed a plan.

Wyoming kept silent but the teen was clearly worried about his lot as he was quickly swept up by Lorenzo but ostensibly left unharmed, for now. Looking sharply to Kentucky when the other boy agreed to the terms of a trade, his gaze would remain mostly fixed to the immediate area around his feet and that of those around him. A wrong look could get him killed, he'd lived under the boot heel of such people before, and encountered them several times since the end of the world and knew the basics to getting by. Unfortunately here he could tell he was being eyeballed by many strangers.

Dirty shoes carried the youth towards the house, his movement hastened by Lorenzo's foreboding presence, and Dominic's sharp demand. Before he could enter, a very sick looking lady with dirty blonde hair stopped him short of the door, and patted him down and cuffed him like a criminal. His throat was dry and he gulped, immediately testing the metal of the cuffs keeping his hands behind his back as he waited for his initial captor to put him somewhere..

As he waited he finally rose his eyes to glance between the various parties moving about, and like everyone else he heard the leader of the Caravan smashing things inside the house. That he felt overexposed and vulnerable standing there in front of the house among people his group had just threatened was palpable and he was indicatively pale. Stay calm, stay calm..

Waiting behind the house as events escalated towards some sort of temporary resolution, NM tried to keep his head straight, closing his eyes briefly to contend. His companion's calming hand on his arm, steadying him where just shortly before he'd subtly been trembling without really registering it. Eye's opening, NM shared a moment with Tom, feeling that the other boy had some idea of what he was going through from the look that he received. It did help to know his struggles weren't singular to himself.

His breathing was slow and steady by the time the negotiations concluded, some relief revealing itself as NM smiled a little, finding Tom's own expression infectious. They'd avoided violence for the time being. "Kay." Mexeeco replied softly as he went along with Tom towards the house, only for the younger boy to stop and then try to say something.

Dumbly NM stood there, even angling his head slightly like a dog would when confused or intrigued, "Tom, wh-" NM began to question until Tom threw his arms around the taller boy's hungry form. The shaggy haired teen's eyes widened at first, such physical affection rarer by the moment in Zombieland. Softening in disposition, he drew his arms tightly around Tom in return, his core tensing as he managed to keep himself from letting go of emotions that risked being made too visible at this time. Tom would be able to detect a stifling of grief from New Mexico. Hiding his face in his crook of Tom's shoulder he hid himself from the world and his own problems in those moments, accepting Tom's reassurance, hiss armor shifting in place slightly, blood spatter smearing.

"R-Right. You're right." It was what he needed to hear, and to feel. With it came reminders of Abbie and Molly, the tough kiddo's he'd became road companions with before the Caravan. They hadn't made it, like his sisters. But that was then, this was now.

How the other kid had such wisdom in such dark times, with no end in sight, baffled New Mexico, but also gave him something to go on, truly. Collecting himself best he could after their embrace eventually gave way. NM rubbed dirty hand over his face as if to rearrange his features into something chill and suitably aloof for the trials the group was facing. He had to keep it together. Tom and Hank were here for him too.

His face lit up as he looked up to Tom, cranking out a, until lately at least, characteristic New Mexico smile, accompanied by two thumbs solidly upturned. "Lets do it." He spoke up in a pretty spot on impression of Arnold Schwarzenegger.

A brief movement and he'd slipped on his sunglasses on the way to the house with Tom, the sunglasses he'd gotten from the late Blind Lime Jefferson when they stayed at Fort Dixie months ago. It was hip and would take pressure off of him to look on the up and up.

Before entering the house, he looked down the road to try and spot Hank, Mahmoud and Luke, giving them a wave that the coast was clear on their end, and that they could return.

Once inside the house, NM was soon moving towards Cauldershore, past Dominic's troubled self, though not ignoring the medic, whom he felt strongly for as a long traveling companion. "Shit, Dominic he's going down hard. Someone help me take him to one of the bedrooms." Dominic needed space to think, clearly, and they needed Cauldershore somewhere more comfortable than the floor. NM was prepared to get messy as he was already in need of a wash.

Lorenzo was apparently the official babysitter until the group's defacto leaders got their pants on properly. He smiled as Karen cuffed the kid. It wasn't really a friendly one. He looked baffled while he watched. The kid was probably too much of a chickenshit to do anything, even if he had a gun in his hands. Lorenzo would like to see him try.

"Nice and quiet," he repeated after Karen, with a nod and a mock salute. He scoffed. He could hear crashing around from inside the house. There wasn't going to be anywhere in there that was nice or quiet.

He watched her walk away for a second, seeming to be thinking about what to do. He looked over to Culero and his gaze became much more scrutinizing. The kid still looked like he was about two seconds away from fainting, and was staring quite decidedly at nothing in particular. He was all alone now. His buddies had all taken off, and they honestly didn't seem too torn up about it. Sucked to be him.

Lorenzo raised his eyebrows when the kid finally looked up, as if to say what are you looking at? He didn't have the best sense of humour. Now that the others were gone and some of the tension was drained, he couldn't help but find the kid's tense air a bit funny. Maybe he was a bit of a bully. He smirked.

"Okay, Culero," he announced, urging the boy forward with a light slap to the back of the head. "Off we go."

He led, or more accurately steered, the kid inside, but away from the others. Lorenzo bypassed where everyone else was through the hall, and brought the kid to one of the side-bedrooms to shut him off from all the noise. He waited until Culero was in, then closed the door.

"You going to piss yourself?" Lorenzo asked lightly. He made a tsking sound and shook his head gravely. "I don't recommend it."

He yawned and and rested his back lazily against the wall, wincing slightly. He watched the kid and the silence stretched on for a few more seconds than what could be considered comfortable- even under normal circumstances.

"I wonder if Joto and his girlfriend will actually be back for you," he mused. "They didn't look too worried. Maybe they're planning something? I pray they're not. You probably should too, huh."

He grinned like he had just told a really funny joke, then glanced to the door for a second. He probably shouldn't tease when the kid was already scared. It was hard not to. He shrugged.

"Oh well," he sighed. He looked back at Culero and grinned again, though he looked teasing still. "Do you have a name? It's better than Paris, I hope."

In reply to Lorenzo (msg # 138):

Wyoming's shoulder's winced as he took an urging smack to the back of his head, it didn't hurt but he was praying silently that would be the worst of what would happen to him. He knew his leader well enough that he wasn't one hundred percent sure that he'd make it out of this alright. Herded through the doorway, he tripped up a little as his foot caught a slight elevation, but luckily kept himself upright without the use of his arms.

The teen looked to a wounded older man on the ground, and noticed a couple of teens like himself (Tom & New Mexico) and tried to search their eyes for empathy and support. The window of opportunity closed quickly however, as he was angled into a side room away from everyone else, locked up with the intimidating guy who kept calling him what he assumed was a disparaging word.

The door closed, Wy backed up to the furthest point away from Lorenzo, the others in the house a muffled noise through the walls. Asked brusquely if he was going to wet himself, Wyoming simply shook his head side to side once. He looked into the eyes of his jailer, but wasn't able to keep his gaze there very long each time.

Wyoming noticed the wince as Lorenzo leaned back, brown eyes gauging the state of one of the man's arms. It would seem they only had one arm between the two of them. As silence dragged on Wyoming uncomfortably averted his attention to whatever was in the room, frames photos, boxes, a dusty desk, a bed that was still eerily made up. There was a small window as well, which interested him greatly, though it was currently latched shut.

Lorenzo's foreboding words almost drew something from Wyoming, a clarification of sorts, but he wasn't about to push his luck, yet. The mention of prayer was something that caught on Wy, however, as he still considered himself faithful. In fact his metal crucifix still hung from his slender neck to rest just beneath his shirt.

A real question this time, and at least it was less predatory in tone, compelling him to finally speak up. "They call me Wyoming, or, um, Wy. B-Because I'm from there." He replied, finding his voice though his throat was parched. Outside he'd pretty much sweated out alot of his water.

"What's yours?" Wy considered he might be pushing it even with this, but if this was his guard he wanted to have some sort of rapport. Hopefully this man didn't just see him as a bargaining tool but a human being. In truth he already knew Lorenzo's name, which he prayed would not show in his eyes. "What happened to your arm?"
This message was last edited by the player at 17:28, Tue 22 Mar 2016.

With his attention on what appeared to be a dying Cauldershore, it took several moments for Karen's question to register within the former paramedic's brain as he desperately tried to figure out what was wrong with him. He'd known the guy was sick and after spending a night in the middle of a storm he would be shocked if people hadn't been coming down with the flu. But one glance at that bloodstained vomit told him that this was no mere cold he was dealing with.
Forcing himself to drag his attention away from Cauldershore and the screaming voices within his head he fixes Karen with a world weary look; giving the question a few moments thought before then replying "just talk to him and find out what he knows...in the mood I am in I'm liable to kill him, I want to know who the hostage is, who the Lost Boys are, how many, where and what sort of kit they've got" in short anything that would even things a little more in their favour and allow him or anybody else to come up with some kind of a plan as to how to deal with them.
It wasn't long after this that NM arrived, with the teen quickly moving to the dying man's aid; asking for somebody to come and help him get the guy into bed. Deciding that Cauldershore was in far greater need of his attention than their guest Dominic quickly began to wrap things up with Karen; trusting that she could handle the situation and wouldn't be needing any assistance from him "Karen I want you to do whatever it takes short of cutting pieces off of him to get him to talk, I need that information...oh and these are for you..." Dominic said fishing the Oxy tablets he'd found earlier that day out of his jacket and tossing them to injured blonde "...I'll trust you not to take them all at once, oh and give one to Lorenzo for being such a good little boy" he said in a voice that betrayed how much effort it took him not to make the guy go without.
With his rather vague instructions given Dominic moved to help NM get the seriously ill Brit up and onto his feet "come on mon ami, lets get you into bed" he said, hoping that he sounded far more confident than he felt about the whole situation. With any luck once they'd gotten him into bed, and Dom had had a good look at him he'd be able to figure out what was actually wrong with him and set about treating it. Assuming of course that he could actually figure out what was wrong him.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:34, Tue 22 Mar 2016.

In reply to Wyoming (msg # 139):

Wyoming. Minutely better than Paris, but not by much. Then again, back home Lorenzo knew guys with way weirder street names than that. Still, his face twisted a bit, like he wasn't satisfied with Wyoming's answer.

"Lorenzo," he replied to the kid's first query. His brow furrowed a bit and he locked eyes with Wyoming, still not looking very pleased. "But you already knew that. Joto said it right in front of you. So you can drop the wide-eyed and stupid act now, yeah?"

Feeling rather smug about calling the kid out, Lorenzo's aggravated expression was replaced by a self-satisfied grin. The smirk widened when the kid asked about his arm, and something in his eyes seemed bright and mischievous. Almost playful. Though more in the way a cat might play with a mouse before eating it.

"Oh yeah!" he exclaimed, as if he'd forgotten his arm was broken. He rocked back and forth on his heels for a second, still grinning. "I got in a fight. You should see the other guy..."

Lorenzo watched Wyoming, and realization seemed to flood over his features. Quickly he pulled the mean, bone-handled knife from the sheath at his hip and held it up, waggling it a bit dramatically.

"Hm, actually I think you can," he mused. He laughed loudly and examined the blade in the light, turning it about. "Right by the hilt here. That's probably all that's left of the old bastard too."

Having cleaned the knife quite thoroughly, there was of course nothing. He stuck it back in the sheath and laughed again, studying the kid's face. He didn't really care about getting information from the kid. He was sure Dominic would be in here soon enough, puffing his feathers.

"It's funny," he insisted. "You can relax, right? I don't give a shit about you. I don't even care what you know. All's I care about is getting whatever guy of ours you and your chickenshit buddies got a hold of. Coming up to us like you could be hard. Please. I bet you never even stuck no one before, huh."

In reply to Lorenzo (msg # 141):

Not getting any clear grief about his name, Wyoming took it as a small victory. It was short lived however as Lorenzo simply pointed out that Wy wasn't being particularly straightforward about not knowing names. It was an oversight on his part, and called out, it wasn't a great way to build trust. A look of recognition on Wyoming was followed by some silence so he wouldn't put his foot in his mouth.

The way Lorenzo behaved next kept Wyoming wondering whether the man was a brute or simply putting on a show, maybe both. He tended to err on the side of caution, having seen this behavior before. In a way he did prefer it to the calculating way his own leader behaved, often seeming friendly only to pounce.

Lorenzo's arm looked rough, Wyoming didn't need to fake the look on his face as he checked the wing out a second time from his place across the room. When that bone handle knife came out, Wyoming's eye widened a little, but otherwise he kept himself in check, his peepers following that gleaming steel as if it were right in front of his face.

The blade then went away and Lorenzo laughed, resulting in a half-relieved sigh from the young Lost Boy. This guy was having fun with him, until something else happened. At least it wasn't outright hostility, but surely Lorenzo would be complicit in anything harmful to happen to him.

Wyoming listened captively to Lorenzo go on again, his countenance changing when Lorenzo doubted he'd made a kill yet. "I.. I have. I'm not proud of it, I had no other choice." He remembered the times he'd had to defend himself and the times his leader had forced his hand as an order, a threat, or a manipulation. Wy had always tried to justify himself afterwards but knew there was nothing for it.

He wanted to change the subject for himself, annoyed that he even responded, as if he had something to prove. "I don't know anything about the person, okay? As you've pretty much pointed out, I'm not that important." It wasn't likely to go anywhere, but he had to at least make a try of it before these Caravaner's became desperate and came to him for real answers with a tougher line of questioning.

Glancing out the window, he shifted his gaze back to Lorenzo, even taking a small step forward, his voice lowering. "Look, you don't seem like you fit in well here, I'm sure if you helped me, we could work something out. Just let me out of these cuffs, turn a blind eye, and I'll arrange everything. No one needs to die over pills and bullets. You could come with us, or go lone wolf, there's plenty of supplies for you and us. No one else needs to get hurt." He kept an ear for anyone else who might soon approach the door from the hallway. C'mon..
This message was last edited by the player at 21:40, Tue 22 Mar 2016.

Seeing no immediate need for the three hiding behind the car Hank turned back to the others. Well, looks like we avoided a fight. He sighed, For now at least. Gazing toward the woods he searched for Benson, unsure if the man would get the cue to let the kids go. Could you guys go get Benson, we don't want him doing anything stupid. Like try for another hostage. The unspoken thought had him look back through the car's windows, catching NM's wave as everybody went back into the house.

Looking toward the other two walking back toward them he realized they wouldn't be able to hop the fence without being seen. Well, looks like we'll need to find another place to hide if we have to do this again. Murmuring mostly to himself he got up and started back toward the house, a couple feet from the road with crowbar held loosely. Giving the kids a quick nod as he passed them he went for the front door.

In reply to Dominic Dubreton (msg # 140):

Karen caught the little bottle of pills with an open hand. As Dominic turned his attentions away her focus too shifted. She couldn't tell who was in the room with her at the time, everything went fuzzy around the edges as her eyes met with the little round pills. She held them there in her hand, tenderly almost. "Okay, yeah..." Her reply to Dominic came late, after he'd already gone. The pills in her hand felt heavy, like a burden. Like they needed her as much as she needed them. She was in a lot of pain right? Just a couple pills wouldn't hurt. It wasn't like before. Like after Iraq when she spent months in the hospital hooked up to IVs and a couple years after swallowing down narcotics like they were plain water. The pills got her through it alive... And now they could help her again. But it wasn't like before. There were no more after this. So she couldn't go down that road again. So it would okay, wouldn't it? She stopped herself for a moment. She couldn't do this to herself again. She had worked so hard to kick the pills and get her life back. She got her family back, her boy, her career... But then Kaidan's dad hung himself and the dead rose and she lost her boy all over again.

So fuck it.

Karen swallowed two pills.

In reply to Wyoming (msg # 142):

Lorenzo was surprised to hear the kid had actually killed someone before. Maybe he was lying. Probably not. From Lorenzo's experience, when guys bragged about the notches on their figurative guns they tended not to get all weepy and morose. Anything resembling being impressed melted away due to the kid's apparent conscience. Boo hoo, Lorenzo wanted to say. Instead he laughed in the back of his throat, though it didn't appear as enthusiastic as before.

He listened to the kid continue to talk. He didn't look as nervous as before. He even took a step toward Lorenzo, causing the stocky man to raise his eyebrows, like the disbelieving look on his face could warn Wyoming he was treading some dangerous waters. Then again, it wasn't like he could really attack him. Short of headbutting.

He took in the kid's proposal. His entire air seemed to change, the sardonic grin dropping off his face. His dark eyes followed the kid's to the door and he clenched his jaw, the muscle in his cheek working like he was grinding his teeth.

It must be pretty obvious the Caravan were not Lorenzo's people. Most of them were pussy footers. Too indecisive, too proper, and too up their own asses. He was with them for lack of somewhere better to go, and he knew well enough that going solo was usually worse than sticking with people he didn't like. He'd learned that the hard way, when he'd shown up half-starved and half-delirious at the industrial park.

He seemed to be considering the offer. There was only one problem.

"People'll still get hurt. Don't matter if it needs to happen," he muttered. He studied Wyoming, and for a second it seemed like a thinly veiled threat. "I help you? Then what, huh? You get to keep our- their guy? You just said you weren't important. I'm dumb but I ain't stupid. I don't like my odds heading off alone with you, if you don't got the push to sweet talk your bossman. 'Specially since it was my wise idea to take you in the first place."

He clicked his tongue and shook his head.

"No can do, no can do. We gotta wait for the trade. Gotta get their guy back. Besides, I don't got the key for those cuffs anyway."

He leaned his head back against the wall. He looked troubled and frustrated now. He ran a hand down his face, then tapped on his nose, thinking.

"Tell you what I can do, though," he began. All the bravado from before was gone, and when he looked over at Wyoming he wasn't leering. He wasn't a thug, or dumb muscle. Just a beaten looking guy talking to some poor handcuffed kid, in some shitty room neither of them had been in before. "I'll make sure Doc and them aren't too rough on you, alright? I figure they're out there talking about what fingernails they're gonna yank for info. I'll make sure you get back in one piece. I can promise that. If Dominic feels like puffing his chest out at some kid, so he feels like he got something between his legs, he can go the fuck through me."

He glowered at nothing in particular then waved a hand, as though to shoo the thought away.

"But, I must know. To help keep this exchange clean. What are your guys like, Wyoming? They gonna turn nasty when they show up? You seem okay, but maybe your guys aren't. Maybe you're the one who doesn't fit in with his people. Not me."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:52, Wed 23 Mar 2016.

In reply to Benson Bohannon (msg # 128):

A pack of zombies moved through the bushes towards the street where the two groups were parting ways. They were five strong and shambling eagerly towards the sweet smell of live flesh. Bohannon hoped to pick up the teen's trail but these walkers were in his way. Desperately, he picked up a sturdy fallen branch and lunged out. His body was already stained with the mud and blood from the night of the storm, both that of his brother and the girl he loved. As his branch struck down at his foe he considered this. Did he really love Karen? He knew he felt something for her, but was it love? Or did she just conveniently fill the emptiness he felt ever since Nashville? It didn't really matter did it..?

He came to this conclusion as he smashed another zombie. But as Bohannon turned to attack the next he was grabbed from behind and tugged backwards off his feet. He was expecting jaws to clamp down upon his shoulder but instead it was a black cloth that came down over his head. The cowboy was wrestled to the ground as he swung out, first with his branch and then with his fists as he went for his gun. His fingers clasped around the handle and his thumb jerked back the hammer. Somebody grabbed at his arm and fought him for the pistol, slamming his hand against a rock trying to free the gun from his grip. The gun went off only an inch away from the cowboy's face.

The sound reverberated off every wall in the little town of Slaughter.

In reply to Dominic Dubreton (msg # 140):

Cauldershore was in and out. He was in a feverish haze, sweat beading off his forehead, soaking his hair and his already blood-stained beard. He was mumbling incomprehensibly something about someone his fever-striken brain was focused on. Every laboured breath came in and out with a heavy, crackling wheeze, and more often than not followed by another fit of coughing and yet again more blood with it. His companions brought the sick man to the room adjacent to Wyoming's holding cell. It was a modest room with simple adornments. In momentary bouts of lucidity Cauldershore prayed to his God for strength and for wisdom for Dominic, the closest thing he had to a fighting chance now. If the medic didn't diagnose and somehow find a way to treat him, Cauldershore would surely die a slow, miserable death.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:32, Sat 26 Mar 2016.

Looking down at the former barkeep as he lay babbling and delirious within the bed they'd placed him in, Dominic tried his best to figure out what was actually wrong with him. Diagnosing illnesses wasn't his strong suit but with no other doctors within the vicinity it was down to him to treat him as best he could. You couldn't have just gotten shot could you? Dominic thought to himself; pinching the bridge of his nose as he slowly worked his way through the problem in the hope that he’d find the illness through trial and error.
The cause was simply; the storm so that nicely ruled out cancer and a multitude of other illnesses that he couldn't cure. Pneumonia? Bronchitis? Maybe...but they didn't make you cough up blood or at least not to the best of his knowledge; Influenza, hypothermia, Tuberculosis... "oh Merde" Dominic quietly swore under his breath as he hit a potential candidate; one that would prove very difficult to treat in Zombieland and was very infectious which made things even worse as it could spread through the weakened group of survivors like wildfire.
Adopting his very best bedside manner Dominic gives Cauldershore a reassuring smile before then turning to talk to NM "come, we'd better let him rest" he said wanting to get the teen out of the room so as to minimise any further exposure to the dying man, though the sudden gunshot provided a far better excuse for them both to leave the room than he ever could.
Ducking his head in an automatic response to the shot Dominic reached for his own gun; however with no further gunshots or cries for help he released his grip before cautiously straightening himself up again.
Leaving the sickroom, Dominic wasted little time in descending the steps and shouting to the others "where the hell did that shot come from!?" hoping for their sake that whoever pulled that trigger had better have a damn good reason.

In reply to Lorenzo (msg # 145):

Wyoming had nothing to combat Lorenzo's essentially accurate assertion that people would get hurt no matter what. That dead air on his part may have been an issue judging by the body language from the adult, who seemed to swivel between the options of devouring or assisting him.

Lorenzo's assessment of what might happen, questioning the odds of a positive outcome, drew some quiet consideration from the teen. The mention of 'sweet talk' was something that made him think. Whether or not he'd wanted the attention, he'd garnered a certain.. attention from the leader of the Lost Boys, with some mixed feelings as a result. Endeavoring not to reveal any weak points he had unless wanted to, he attempted to remain as neutral as possible under these circumstances.

The Caravaner clicked his tongue, apparently unconvinced, and unfortunately without the keys to the cuffs. Then again, Lorenzo swung back to considering options that, despite the risks and implications, might open some doors for them both.

Wy studied the change in disposition noting that the swagger had faded from his jailer. Either this was a show, or maybe he was starting to get through to the guy. The absurdity of the situation seemed to dawn on the both of them, precipitated by leaders out of their control, though Wyoming wouldn't forget that Lorenzo was the one to suggest that he be taken hostage, as a collateral. In a fucked up way, he almost felt safer with the Caravan, for now..

"I appreciate that, Lorenzo, thank you." And he was sincere too, as long as Lorenzo was truthful in his promise to stop any interrogation before it went too far. Cautiously optimistic. Wy wasn't a soldier, and while that meant he likely would break under torture techniques, it could have also meant he wasn't privy to vital information. Deep down he questioned if this was the good cop of the good cop/bad cop routine. His leader tended to play both roles.

"Well.." He tried to find the right wording, his gaze drifting to a brief, thousand mile stare, not wanting to sound threatening or seem like he was downplaying the fact of the matter. Lorenzo's comment that Wy was the one who seemed out of step with his people was true enough but tough to address. "Like you said.. People will still get hurt, doesn't matter if it's needed or not." He didn't want to recall all the deeds that the Lost Boys' had committed in the name of 'survival'.

"You might be right, that I don't fit with my people. That's why I don't know what they'll do when it comes down to it, but I know it'll be bad. The boss doesn't let things go. He won't let m-, he won't let anything go." Again he looked to the window, his cuffs making a slight sound as he shifted his weight where he stood.

FLASHBACK - A few years before the Fall

Karen stood in front of the stove in her kitchen, a frying pan steaming and sizzling upon it. She was dressed in her Atlanta police uniform, and it was first thing in the morning. "Kaidan! Breakfast!" She yelled. Kaidan came down the stairs, a confused look on his face. "What do you mean "breakfast?"" He stopped and stared, the image of his mom in her uniform cooking was a bizarre sight. "Dad's still in Wyoming, you're not cooking breakfast, are you?" Karen smiled and took a sip of her coffee, setting the cup down on the granite island. "Hey, just because your Dad's away on business doesn't mean I can't make you breakfast. I made hash browns!" She took the pan off the stove, showing Kaidan its contents before scooping some into a bowl. "Yes it does Mom. You can't cook!" Kaidan looked hesitantly down at the bowl. "I'm not eating this. It's probably poison." "Shut up! it's good." Karen replied shoving a big bite into her mouth and slowly, disappointedly chewing. She spit the potatoes into the trash. "Okay, no it's not, don't eat that. We'll get breakfast on the way."

Present Day - Zombieland

The sound of the gunshot snapped Karen out of her drug induced haze with a sharp, audible inhale. She rubbed her eyes for a moment, pulled back her hair and marched to the back bedroom where Wyoming was being held. Ignoring Dominic shouts, she paused at Wyoming's door, trying to make out the muffled voices inside, but ultimately failing to do so, so she just opened the door abruptly.

"Lorenzo, a word?" She requested sternly, inviting him into the hallway. She walked a few paces down the hall. "What do we know about him?" She asked Lorenzo, like her supervisors had asked her on many occasions after she'd made an arrest. "I wan't to know what he's told you and I want to know if you think he'll respond to a... polite... line of questioning."

With her fever and pain numbed by the Oxycontin, she made no mention of its availability to Lorenzo. She only had four pills left.

Walking back into the house Cauldershore barely conscious in a pile of his own puke wasn't exactly the sight Tom expected to see. Looking up as the others came into the room and started dealing with the sick man he was able to lock eyes briefly with their new guest before being taken upstairs. Handcuffs, really? What did they think a scared kid with Lorenzo as a guard would do. Even one armed he didn't doubt the man would be more then capable of subduing him. Though, if their positions were switched...no shaking his head he couldn't see any good of trying to escape.

Looking around after the gunshot interrupted the scenario running through his head he noticed Karen disappearing up to the second floor. Crap. Dodging the puke and Dom he hurried after Karen, stopping at the top of the stairs. If it was only the one shot it was most likely someone outside ran into a zombie unexpectedly, and there were more then enough people out there to handle a couple random roamers. Watching her and Lorenzo talk he slowly started making his way forward, trying to see into the room.

Lorenzo shrugged of Wyoming's thanks, falling back into his usual prickly demeanour. He felt bad for the kid. But this certainly didn't make them friendly. He didn't want to give the wrong idea. It just seemed like common sense to not lay into some weak little teenager- especially if it wasn't necessary. The way he was talking about his boss made Lorenzo pull a face. Sounded like Wyoming was afraid of the guy, or at least leery, but maybe he was like that with most people. The kid didn't exactly strike Lorenzo as medal of honour material or anything.

"Well, let's just hope he keeps his metaphorical dick in his pants," was all Lorenzo could think to say. "No need for this to get any uglier."

It looked like he was going to say something else, but then Karen popped into the room. Lorenzo pointed at his eyes, then at Wyoming, in the universal I'm watching you gesticulation, and slunk into the hall, closing the door behind him. Though he doubted Wyoming would manage to get the window open with those cuffs on, he didn't want their "captive" to even entertain it as an option.

He turned to address Karen.

"Sounds like it. The kid's scared right now," he answered with a shrug. "All I really got out of him is his name's Wyoming. Part of some bigger group. Run by one dude, from what I can glean. Seems like he's pretty scared of the big bad bossman. I'd use that against him, 'stead of knocking his teeth loose if he's not forthcoming. Probably will be better for appearances if we give him back in one piece, anyway."

He paused, seeming distracted. Karen looked fuzzy and out of it. He assumed it was from whatever infection she was nursing.

"Honestly Karen? I don't think the kid knows a whole lot," Lorenzo continued. "He seems worried his people will get nasty when they show up. They sound like mean little bitches. I'd set some people up in the houses and get ready for a shitstorm. Fuck if I know."

In reply to Lorenzo (msg # 152):

The former cop nodded along with Lorenzo's assessment and suggestions. It all sounded pretty good to her. "Okay," she said as he came to a pause in his words. "It sounds like you've got him talking at least. That's the first step." Karen crossed her arms and placed a pensive hand on her chin. "So, you'll be the "good cop" then. You're his friend now. You have a connection. That connection is gonna seem to him like the only lifeline he has left, like you are the grace by which he gets to live. I'm going to try to break him. We'll start with finding out his real name. If the other kid is "Kentucky" and he's "Wyoming," clearly they're using code-names or something. If we can find out his real name, it'll mean he's willing to cooperate with us." Karen was talking pretty fast, she seemed wired. "Once we have that, we'll press him on this "leader" character and try to get him to open up about that. Which will then lead into finding out about the structure of his "lost boys" organization and what they're planning. Even if he thinks he doesn't know anything, he does. He could reveal a lot with out even realizing it." This was the first pause in a long, quick stream of unbroken speech. Her heart was racing a little bit. Her eyes were buggy. She was clearly excited by this. Karen looked to Lorenzo for protest, or input, or acceptance, but then cut him off as another thought popped into her head. "Oh, and Lorenzo... If he becomes difficult, or isn't forthcoming or just won't cooperate, I'm gonna have to take things down a dark road. I have no problem going there, but if you do... I need to know that now." Karen stopped and tried to slow and steady her breathing.

Lorenzo looked more or less unbothered by the frantic speech he was barraged by. He'd heard more nonsensical things pour out of tweakers, though that wasn't to say Karen was making perfect sense to him. It wasn't that he was opposed to going down a "dark road." It was that in this particular instance, it seemed pointless. He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly through his nose.

"Karen," he began. He fixed her with a sincere, probing look, like he was about to say something very meaningful. "Quit acting like a crazy bitch."

"That little culero ain't some intel rich POW. All he is, is a means to an end. The end being getting our guy back. Without having guns pulled on us. We give him back toothless and or nutless we're gonna be looking down barrels. His boss sounds very possessive."

He rubbed his eye tiredly, practically grinding the heel of his palm into it. There was about two days worth of uneven stubble on his face, and he looked pale and clammy. What he needed was a nap. Preferably an alcohol induced one. He sighed in resignation, deciding he would at least play along. A little rough stuff wasn't too bad, at least not from Lorenzo's experience. But he wasn't going to allow the kid to be maimed.

"I can play ball though. Don't get that twisted. Let's see what you can scare out of him, Jefa."

He adjusted his jacket and waited to follow Karen's lead. Glancing down the hall he noticed Tom creeping around for the first time. He whistled sharply, like he was trying to spook a stray cat away and not some kid, then looked back to Karen.

Tom frowned as Lorenzo closed the door. Should have been faster. Watching the two talk he stopped trying to go full sneaky. Speeding up a fraction he paused at the whistle, it being one of the last responses he'd expect. Maybe with a nod or wave over, but not by itself. Frown turning neutral he took up a normal pace toward the pair. Stopping next to them he looked between them, ignoring any looks Lorenzo's ignored hiss may have elicited.

So... a slight hesitation as he tried to figure the best way to word his question. Can I see him? He looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but here outside. Maybe... he shrugged, the idea of someone closer to his age a door away starting to sink in. If only it were under other circumstances. I'm closer to his age. was the best he could come up with, giving a slight shrug.

In reply to Dominic Dubreton (msg # 148):

Mahmoud and Luke had staked out positions on the street after arriving back with Hank after their little detour when the Lost Boys had been snaking about. Benson, playing rambo as he was want to do, had failed to follow up with the group after events 'settled down'.

When the gunshot bounced into the air, Mahmoud was quick to pull his rifle from its slung position on his shoulder, his posture stooping as he lowered his center of gravity to a knee. Leveling his rifle in what he thought was the direction of the shot, he saw no immediate action, but instantly worried that the noise would draw lurkers from the woods.

"It's gotta be Benson. C'mon Luke, lets move!" Normally defensive and cautious as a rule, Mahmoud was still cognizant of the fact that one of their own, and Benson was assuredly that, had been cornered by walkers. If he was in that situation, he'd want his friends to move to help him fast-like.

Mahmoud rose up, racing down the road, Luke presumably in tow, the former looking like a SWAT officer about to raid a house judging from his scavenged clothing.

Before anyone could say anything to stop the two, they were dodging around the corner of a nearby house, moving to the treeline surrounding the town, to the woods, where Mahmoud had thought he'd seen birds fly off en mass when the shot hammered out.

In reply to Dominic Dubreton (msg # 148):

Izzy had stood on the porch outside the house on guard duty, feeling nominally more dangerous with a handgun as opposed to hours before when she'd had only her walking staff. The shot that rang out a relative distance away drew her attention much like the rest of the group. She exchanged a look with Mahmoud, likewise drawing her weapon and then like the other man scanning the immediate area for danger.

Just as Dominic had been calling down to them about the noise, Mahmoud was already taking off, enlisting the callow Luke with him as they moved out. She hadn't gotten along with Benson recently, but they were stronger in numbers and if he was going to betray them he'd have done it by now. As much as the cowboy pissed her off with his selfish behavior, he'd proven himself enough.

Unable to hurry off with Mahmoud and Luke but also thinking better of that strategy, Izzy moved to the front doorway to address Dom. "We think its Benson, he hasn't come back yet. Mahmoud took Luke and went to check it out." Her expression was calm and neutral, but she was just as worried about recent events as their put-upon new leader, and her romantic interest.

"He just ran off, didn't wait. Should we go after them?"
This message was last edited by the player at 23:25, Thu 14 Apr 2016.

"What, Benson in trouble or Benson being stupid?" Dominic asked as he approached Izzy at the front door, after hearing that she thought it was the Cowboy who had fired the shot, though to be honest when he thought about it, one pretty much led to the other. As Izzy filled him in on the details that Mahmoud and Luke had gone to investigate, Dom turned to look in the direction that the shot had come from as if hoping to catch a glimpse of what was going on "sure...lets take a walk, if Benson's in trouble then Mahmoud's going to need the extra fire power" he said drawing his freshly loaded pistol and heading in the same direction that Mahmoud and Luke had gone; setting a manageable pace for Izzy to follow him.
It was as the pair of them were crossing the street and heading towards the first of the gardens that he started speaking to Izzy in a low voice "we have another problem...Cauldershore is sick, very sick...I think it may be TB" he said, clearly worried about what it would mean for the group "Izzy, if it is TB then I...I can’t treat him even worse…I…I think I'll have to put him down, I can't risk the rest of the group being infected or it could kill us all" he wasn't sure why he was telling her all this. There wasn't anything she could do to change the situation and nor was he angling for sympathy but he needed to tell somebody and he trusted Izzy more than most.
Cutting through an overgrown garden Dom crouches down by the picket fence lining the rear of the property and stares out into the trees; looking for any sign of Benson or the trouble he was in. Upon seeing nothing untoward he hops the fence an after helping Izzy to cross the obstacle carries on into the trees quietly hoping that things would be a lot better than the last time he and Izzy had taken a walk in the woods.

In reply to Tom (msg # 155):

Karen stopped in her tracks. It was an unorthodox idea, but these were unusual times. "Alright, you wanna take a crack at him first? You and Lorenzo will go in without me. You heard the plan, right Kai... Tom?" Karen almost called the boy the wrong name. "The two of you need to press him on those points. Tom, be his friend, just get him talking. Lorenzo, you try to keep things on topic. You both play the nice guys, like he's got nothing to worry about. Okay?" With a nod Karen pushed open the bedroom door.

Hank turned at the sound of the shot, hand tensing on his crowbar. Given it was just the one shot and with four people going after Benson he decided to stay behind. Cauldershore... he sighed, spotting the puke puddle. The man hadn't been looking in the best shape, and had crawled back to the house during the meeting. Hopefully it was just the trauma of escaping. Not seeing the man he guessed Dom moved him upstairs. Strange kids knowing their names, storms, "guests"...when did the zombie apocalypse become so complicated. Shaking his head he headed to the kitchen and sat down, taking the moment for himself.

Play? If they were supposed to be the "nice guys" what did that make Karen. He didn't want to play any part, he just wanted to talk and maybe make a friend. Though he had heard enough to know Karen going in was the last thing he wanted. It was understandable that the leaders would want information especially since the other group apparently had one of their own, but the question was how far would they go? Stopping before the door he held out his hand to Karen. Key. He looked up at her, locking her eyes, He's a scared kid, not some dangerous criminal. He didn't know how committed Lorenzo was to keeping the kid in one piece, though given he was the main reason they only had one person in cuffs Tom had to think there was some interest. But for now he had to assume he was the only one on the kid's side, all of his 100 odd pounds against almost everyone else.

In reply to Tom (msg # 161):

Karen thought back to some of the more dicey experiences she'd had on the police force, those that might act as a cautionary tale in this instance, where one's first impressions of a person might turn out to be very wrong, and that that misjudgment could prove  to be very dangerous. But Karen was not in a frame of mind to talk out all the things that could go wrong if she took the handcuffs off the boy called Wyoming. "No," she said simply when asked for the key. "He is not your friend, Tom. He and his people mean to do us harm. Don't forget that."

Tom's open hand slowly closed at Karen's words. What did she think the other kid would do? To take them on two against one would be just stupid, especially with others in the house. Suppressing a frustrated sigh he turned and walked into the room. Taking the other teen in he couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if their roles were reversed. If he and Hank had landed with the Lost Boys instead of the Caravan.

Hi. He managed after a moment. Releasing the sigh he leaned against the wall. What's your name? Without the key it was the best first line he could come up with.

In reply to Dominic Dubreton (msg # 158):

The cowboy's boot-prints in the mud made for an easy enough trail to follow for the would-be rescuers. Bohannon knew he'd be easily tracked, so took every precaution to hide his steps towards his true destination, and to keep secret his buried stash. Bohannon was a man practiced at the art of concealing his valuables in the era of the undead. His trail wound back and forth, zig-zagged aimlessly, often times stopped abruptly revealing itself as a dummy trail.

The direction of the sound of the gunshot ruled out some off-shoots of Bohannon's trail however, and those following it would soon enough come to find a violent scene played out on the forest floor. The bodies of the twice dead were strewn about in a clear sign of a victory for the living. One body lay amongst the others that just didn't belong. It was the body of a teenager, with a fatal gunshot wound to the head. In the chaos of a small herd of zombies coming in, any tracks revealing the number of living humans that had been present here were obscured. The amount of blood seeping across the water-saturated soil obscured any sign whether or not Bohannon or someone else may be wounded. The whole scene was a mess and it would take a careful eye to notice the drag marks that led away from here.

Lorenzo shrugged. He wasn't sure what to make of Karen's sudden change of mind, but all he knew it would save him a headache. So he didn't question it. He followed Tom back into the room and shut the door softly behind them.

Questioning the kid was low on his list of priorities. Lorenzo didn't exactly have a tactical mind and he didn't see the point in it. He'd already told Karen the little information he had, and he figured his job was done. He glanced around the room for a second, looking for somewhere to sit, then just moved off to the side and sunk down against the wall.

He placed the riot helmet on the floor beside him and sat cross legged. He rolled up his sleeves. There were full sleeves of tattoos visible on the arm that wasn't in a sling, the biggest being some sort of intricate sugar skull, but there was a cross and what looked to be little birds visible too. It felt hot in the room. Then again, it could be because his arm was bugging the shit out of him.

"Don't think he wants to be your friend, Tom," he grumbled. He started to dig around in his bag, looking for his flask. "God help me, his buddies can't get here soon enough. Say, did'ja see if the Cauldershore's still all fucked up?"

In reply to Dominic Dubreton (msg # 158):

"Gotcha." One hand rested on her holstered pistol. Confident that the group would be okay in the house for the time being, and glad to be alone with Dominic, even briefly, to get his thoughts, and perversely, face-time with a man she was interested in, they left, Izzy keeping up for the most part.

Dominic made little pretense in hiding his conflicted emotions as they walked, Izzy feeling for the man as he explained the situation as it was. It was so easy to make choices when you didn't have the end responsibility, and that role had landed in Dominic's lap without the guy's consent, really. Obligation put him there, and she wished she could take it from him but fate had put him where he was. "I understand. We all saw what's happening to him. There's no clean way out of it. Cauldershore likely knows it too."

After cutting through some brush and reaching the fence, Izzy watched Dom's back as he surveyed the woodline. The proximity to it reminding them both of history that now bound them together. Before they clammored over the obstacle, Izzy would take a firm but easy hold on Dominic's sleeve, tugging his attention back to her.

"Everything's going to be okay, okay?" She told him, knowing her words might seem hopelessly hopeful, but she did believe they would survive if they didn't fall apart at the core of the group left standing. "It is okay to share the burden. Remember that. Cookie kept too much to herself and she cracked. Just keep talking to me, to the others. Don't be a burden to yourself." She told him, surprising herself by how sure she felt when speaking to him. "I'll handle Cauldershore later. Don't argue with me, just let me do it, okay?"

Her eyes searched his, looking for spark of some sort, before leaning in to kiss him, feeling his stubble against her, her body pressing into Dominic's alittle.

After traversing over the fence thereafter, her gaze sought Mahmoud, Luke and Benson, only finding the first two as they entered a ghastly sight that they were all clearly, troublingly desensitized to.

"Do you think Wyoming knows this kid? Perhaps some of his people ran into Benson doing god knows what, and took off with him?" She didn't like seeing youth dead or suffering, and was ashamed of how she couldn't recoil like she used to to the sight of the corpse, surrounded by former-somebody's.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:35, Mon 16 May 2016.

In reply to Dominic Dubreton (msg # 158):
In reply to Isabelle (msg # 166):

When Dominic and Izzy approached Mahmoud was lowered in a squat, fingers wrapped around the barrel of his rifle, the butt of the gun rooted in the forest floor as he assessed the messy leftover's of a life and death struggle that recently occurred. The tracks mystified him except for the drag marks leading ominously into the woods. Like a detective Mahmoud's brow was furrowed in thought as he deduced what might have happened, welcoming Izzy's suggestions though he wasn't as quick to assume what might have transpired.

"Poor kid." Mahmoud shook his head as he looked into the face of the deceased teenager, hopefully not a prescient image of what the near future would look like once the exchange of prisoner's took place. "What do you think Dom?"

After having glanced back to Dominic, Mahmoud eyed the scene again, spotting a shimmer amongst the mud and blood. Shuffling forward a little, the dark skinned Caravaner reached out with his free hand and delicately pulled free Bohannon's colt, his pointer finger dangling the gun by the trigger loop. It would be clear to the team who's it was, they knew it well.

Slinging his rifle, and standing, Mahmoud inspected the Colt further with both hands, noting that a shot had recently been fired from it. "Looks like he got a shot off before he was taken." Mahmoud assessed, looking to Dominic and holding the gun out for the medic and leader to take a look at it if he wanted. Mahmoud's gaze drifted back to the dead kid. "Someone got interrupted, whoever took him or Benson, by the lurkers. They dealt with the interruption but weren't on the same team."
This message was last edited by the player at 00:34, Tue 17 May 2016.

In reply to Dominic Dubreton (msg # 158):
In reply to Isabelle (msg # 166):

Luke covered his mouth and nose with one hand while Mahmoud observed the range of bodies, the stench and the sight both offending his sensibilities. Unlike the Caravan, Fort dwellers like himself hadn't been in the 'wild' as long as the roaming group he now found himself absorbed into, and sights, sounds and smells that were common in the new world order were to him obscure and wrong.

"Shit dude, if those Children of the Corn freaks have Bohannon, what are they going to want to give him back? This is so screwed up. Why did they leave their guy behind.." Luke was all over the place with his thoughts, luckily the others were there to piece this together. Zombieland's stark conditions ensured that some adapted while others, well, others like Luke were late bloomers of sorts.

Wyoming could hear some of the conversation occuring outside the room as the Caravan deliberated what to do next, though details in their words were scant, he could imagine what might happen to him. He did know that time was scarce in the lead up to the exchange, and that whatever was going to happen had to happen soon. Looking out the window in his cell-of-sorts, hands cuffed behind him, he couldn't stop himself worrying about what would inevitably occur. As usual he was stuck in the middle, whether he liked it or not, maybe that position was somehow useful to the boss.

The boy he'd seen earlier entered the room then, and Wy turned from the window to get a good look at a kid that could have been in his own group considering the age similarity. "Hey there.." He'd picked up the boy's name; Tom, from conversations between the others. He seemed nice, which was good in a grand sense, but unfortunate for 'Tom' much like it was unfortunate for 'Wyoming'. The thin prisoner surveyed Tom for any information that was non-verbal, but could only tell so far that the boy meant him no harm, maybe felt sorry for him. Though he was calmer than he had been shortly before, Wyoming was still on edge.

"I'm.. I'm Wyoming." Perhaps Tom meant his 'real' name, the name he wasn't supposed to use anymore. "And you are.. Tom, right?"

Was this the interrogation? Using the other boy to get information? It seemed to mismatch with the mumbling he heard through the door and walls. Then Lorenzo came back in, who had surprised Wy by how he wasn't quite the bulldog he had portrayed himself as, but could easily surprise him again.

Neither seemed good cop or bad cop, perhaps he'd escaped the darker aspects of prisoner Q and A. It lifted his spirit briefly, as he was well aware of the bloodshed likely to come. Observantly Wyoming took in the sight of Lorenzo's tattoos, intrigued, immediately wondering if Lorenzo had been in a gang or prison, though he knew that was a stereotype.

Lorenzo's comment about not being friends garnered a disquieted look from Wyoming; this was all way more complicated than that. "Don't suppose they'll let you unlock me, huh?"

"I just thought it was flu" Dom replied in a weary voice as Izzy pointed out that they'd all seen what had been happening to Cauldershore with even the guy in question probably realising that he was circling the drain "I don't like being unable to fix people Izzy...though I should have known this would happen eventually, we've been very lucky so far" he continued with a defeated shrug that said the situation was out of his hands as much as he hated to admit it. Even with a hospital it would be touch and go whether the aging Brit survived but out here he had no chance.
With Izzy offering to deal with Cauldershore Dom opened his mouth to protest only to be cut down by the determined look in her eyes. He didn't want her to do that, that wasn't why he'd told her about Cauldershore's sickness. He hadn't been after sympathy and he sure as hell wasn't after passing on the dirty work to someone else.
It was as he was still trying to find the words to dissuade her from taking this course of action that she kissed him; the medic's arms moving around her body as he returned the gesture.
With the girl's body held close against his own it was easy to forget where they were and what had brought them out here or even the fact that there was a gun in his hand. For those few brief moments he was just a regular guy kissing the pretty girl that he'd had a teenage crush on for past couple of weeks, and it was more than a little tempting to forget about the Cowboy and go and find them a quiet little corner.
Sadly however like most good things in Zombieland the moment was soon over and after muttering in her ear how beautiful he thought she was in French, like some love struck idiot he would reluctantly break away and set about getting them both across the fence and into the woods beyond.

Arriving a few minutes after Mahmoud and Luke, Dominic studied the scene with a cold detachment that came from having seen death up close far too often. A detachment that only Luke seemed not to possess "I think it means that they definitely have a hostage now...and we have one less fighter" Dominic grimly answered Mahmoud's question, silently cursing the Cowby for putting them in this mess "As for the body…they probably realised that we would be coming so didn't want to slow themselves down any further by carrying a corpse with them" he spoke indifferently as if the merits of dragging a corpse was a normal topic of discussion, though perhaps it was for them all things considered. Dragging an unconscious Bohannon would be problematic enough for them let alone a dead body that would no doubt attract every Zed in these woods.
With the Lost Boy's now in possession of yet another of their members Dominic feared that they were now well and truly over a barrel; wishing that he'd ignored Lorenzo and had insisted on taking that second hostage when he’d had the chance. On the plus side at least Bohannon had managed to take one of them out before being taken though it wasn’t much of a silver lining.
Turning the Colt around in his hands Dom quickly ran through his options before speaking to Mahmoud "can you follow their trail?" he asked hoping that they would all understand where he was headed with that line of questioning and remove the need for him to explain.
If they could follow the trail then they might just be able to catch up with them. Even if they weren't able to rescue the Cowboy it might at least give them a better idea of what they were dealing with. Assuming of course that they didn't blunder into a trap of their own that is.

Tom shot Lorenzo a look at the other's words. Dom and NM took him to another room after we came in. But ya, he didn't look too good. That was a bit of an understatement, if the man would had been an outsider they'd have probably put him out of his misery. At the very least tie him up for the safety of everyone else.

Turning back to Wyoming he nodded, Ya, nice to meet you. Just ah, not like this. He wondered if the storm had hit the teen's group like it did theirs. It might explain why things had escalated so quickly. At the mention of the cuffs his gaze shifted slightly, No...they think you're like the rest of your group. And given that introduction... He shrugged, hoping there would be some way he could convince them to let him uncuff Wyoming.

In reply to Dominic Dubreton (msg # 170):

Mahmoud surveyed their surroundings as Dominic investigated himself and read the scene in what Mahmoud felt was an accurate understanding of how events could have culminated in Benson's disappearance and the appearance of the young corpse. The dark skinned Caravaner could sense that Dominic was stressed but the leader also seemed able to hone his focus when it was needed. He kept silent until addressed, he knew they'd be okay if they just all stayed as calm as possible in the group.

When Dominic asked if he could follow the trail, Mahmoud looked back down at the tracks, pondering. It wasn't about whether or he could or not, but if they should or not right then. Either way, he'd do as Dominic asked, they had no time for argument, and Mahmoud was a team player.

"I think I can track them. Yes. It's a real mess though.." There was always the off chance he'd just get them lost. The struggle amongst the footprints could also be the active employment of misleading tactics. But it was also likely that in the rush of the zombie attack and the ensuing scuffle with Bohannon that the tracks would point true. Maybe it was a bit of both. "They might be aware we can track them. They could lead us in a circle, but it seems like they left in a hurry, so we might have a shot."

In reply to Tom (msg # 171):

Wyoming was of course glad for what seemed to be genuine empathy from the other boy, even if there was little Tom could do to get him out of the cuffs. He was sure given some time he could improvise escape, but not with them watching him like this. Escape..He considered he'd almost rather be with these people, who seemed to be decent on the whole, compared to his own. His wish to get to his own group was increasingly predicated on the motivation to convince his people to drop this whole matter and work it out peacefully.

"Look you guys.. I'm not like the others in my group, and not all of my group are that bad either, its just been hard on all of us." He knew this was like beating a dead horse but maybe if they heeded his words it would countenance how trigger happy this side of the factions would be.

"We're all just kids, just trying to get by. Kentucky..He's going to try to get you to snap, to lose patience and start a fight so there won't have to be a deal, you can't let him do it, you can't let him manipulate you like that." He knew his own people well, even if he didn't want to think of what would happen, he'd seen this play out similarly before.

"We have two of your people, not just one. An older guy, and a younger one. They didn't let me talk to them, but I've seen them. Whatever they demand in the trade, just give them whatever they want, we need your supplies badly, I guarantee it." Maybe some information would help percolate the idea of somehow working this out peacefully, even if battle seemed to be expected no matter what.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:17, Tue 14 June 2016.

Izzy listened to the others discuss the next step but also kept an eye on their surroundings, knowing that what had happened just recently to the last survivors right where they stood, could easily happen again.

"Dominic." She spoke up, catching Dom's attention, though also meaning to catch Mahmoud's and Luke's.

"Let Mahmoud see if he can follow the tracks. You, Luke and I should go back and tell the others, tell Karen, what happened." She offered up as a course of action, her features resolute except when she looked to Dominic there was a private softness to her eyes that said 'let me take some of the burden from you, lighten the load, please'. She had but one leg to stand on, but she'd proven it wasn't about to slow her down, she'd outlasted most of the others even on a bad day.

Apart from the logic of her suggestion, she also wanted Dominic close to her, oddly enough, so she could keep him safe like he watched over her.

"Also.. Maybe Karen can find Bohannon faster than Mahmoud can.." She was clearly, or not so clearly, meaning that Karen, who had a history in the military and police as a combined 'good cop bad cop' could elicit some information from Wyoming, their hostage, with some 'convincing'.

It wasn't noble, and she knew it, but they were being pushed to the edge, and now had at least two of their own likely held prisoner by the enemy. A group of kids, but still the enemy.

"You know this makes sense, Dom."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:36, Tue 14 June 2016.

Luke ran his hands through his long, wavy dark hair, as he stood on the edge of the group, eyes closed, stressed out at where they found themselves, wishing himself uselessly that they were still in the Fortress Dixie, even if it had fallen to siege. It hadn't been a safe space, no safer than outside, but the semblance of safety had at least been there. Here he had to rely on himself, to rely on the others. All for one, one for all, and they were being picked off one by one, first by nature, and then by other people. It was fucked.

"Wait." Luke answered Izzy, interrupting at the end, his slim form spinning on a dime, eyes opening, hands falling but held aloft as if grasping the air, "You aren't going to let Karen hurt the kid are you? You can't do that, he's just a pimply teenager for fucks sakes." He was incredulous, having grasped what Izzy meant but not understanding the stakes at play, or perhaps understanding what was required of them as a group, but unwilling to just accept it blindly. He wasn't a soldier, but that didn't mean he didn't get a say..right?

Mahmoud listened to the Izzy's suggestions with quiet and respect for her opinion. He lived for the Caravan, and would do what the consensus bid, just as Norm, just as Christopher had done before he inherited the position of essentially Logistical Head of the group, and Group Uncle. He loved his people, and would do anything to protect them, even lay down his life, or someone else's. That didn't mean he liked it, but he could sleep on it, sure. But maybe that was just because he was always exhausted like the others.

As if taking the hard decision out of Dominic's hand as a point of sympathy and affection for the medic-turned-leader, Mahmoud cut in before Dom could.

"She's right, Doc." His eyes held a certainty, with an earnestness and compassion that betrayed what he was seemingly willing to allow to happen to help find Benson, and maybe their other supposedly captured friends. "Luke."
Mahmoud stated hard, catching the mustached man's attention as he threatened to break down in moral objection. "Luke, go with Izzy and Dom to the house and wait there. Protect the bag of rice, we'll need it later. No one's making you do anything you don't want to do, but this isn't about you, this is about the group."

He rarely spoke so sternly to anyone in the group, much less Luke. Focus turned back to Dom, and Mahmoud gently clapped a hand on the leather jacketed shoulder of the Frenchman. "I'll follow the tracks, Doc. I'll find Benson, if I can, or at least the treehouse these people hole up in." Smiling subtly, not out of poor taste but out of comradery, Mahmoud had a sureness in his voice and disposition that said he would not let Dominic down.

"Take care of our people, I will return just when you need me. We'll get through this. I know it."

He would wait just briefly to hear Dominic's reply before turning and moving to the foliage canvas of the deeper treeline, looking back once and giving a nod to all three of the his companions before disappearing through the bushes, and out of sight, rifle in hand.

With a little thought on his part Mahmoud confirmed that he could in fact follow the trail, though not before pointing out that he was just as liable to get them lost or walk them into an ambush than find Bohannon. With these possibilities running through his mind Dominic considered whether or not he really wanted to do this. After all if he walked the four of them into an ambush then the caravan would be as good as dead if they were captured or killed. Nor did he want to put anyone and Izzy especially into any unnecessary danger even if it meant potentially sacrificing Bohannon in doing so.
As if sensing this dilemma running through Dom’s mind, or perhaps  just as easily the fact that he was taking too long on this decision. Izzy made a suggestion of her own, eliciting a response from the rest of the group in the process and a protest from Luke over the prospect of torturing the teenager they currently had in their possession.

Dom had to admit it did make sense as Mahmoud would probably stand a better chance of following the trail without being detected without the rest of them following him, but all the same he wasn't keen on the idea of sending him out alone "Well...if you're ok with it Mahmoud, we'll head back and let you follow the trail, but no heroics, if you find them then get your ass back to Slaughter and tell us" He cautiously replied;  the last thing they needed was for them to hand over yet another hostage to the Lost Boys as their bargaining position was weak enough already "...same goes if you run into trouble or lose the trail, I don't want you taking any more risks than you have to" Dom finished, hoping that he was doing the right thing by letting Mahmoud do this. If he could track he'd do it himself but sadly Dom was a city boy, so it was down to Mahmoud to take all of the risks.

With a plan of action now decided upon, all that was left to do was to carry it out though not before he took care of final piece of business "oh and Luke...I will do whatever it takes for us all to survive...being nice is a good way of getting yourself killed out here" he said in an icy voice; fixing Luke with a look reminiscent of the one he'd given him the last time they were in Slaughter together "ok, lets get moving, best of luck mon ami and remember no heroics"
This message was last edited by the player at 18:52, Tue 14 June 2016.

A whole group of kids? Lord of the Flies, Children of the Corn? The two stereotypical scenarios flashed through Tom's mind, causing him to suppress a grin. He wasn't going to be the one dealing with the negotiations but doubted it'd take much to push Dom over the edge. Especially if Kentucky was doing it on purpose. Sounds like we've both got some convincing to do. he murmured, wondering what two kids could do to stop this from escalating.

At the mention of an older hostage Tom's head snapped up from his gaze at the cuffs. The older one...what did he look like? Maybe Joe had gotten out in time. After all even torn up he'd still be more then a match for most of the others. Of course "older" could be subjective, but if there was a chance... He tried to keep the hope to a minimum, in case it wasn't.

Lorenzo was glad to not be doing the brunt of the talking anymore. He made a quiet little "aha!" and procured his flask from his ratty, damp bag. The alcohol was lukewarm and burned his throat but he took a long pull, then settled his back further against the wall. His limbs felt heavy and his eyes were half-lidded.

He listened idly to the kids talking. A whole group of children were playing them like this? An angry look flinched across his face, but he didn't move or even bother opening his eyes. How annoying. It was disgraceful. He imagined, not for the first time, taking that Kentucky by his scrawny little rat neck. He was still miffed from, how he perceived it, the haughty way the kid had addressed them all.

Hearing they needed supplies didn't stir any sort of feeling in him other than annoyance. When he was with his old people, they robbed people. That was it. They didn't bother with all the games or jerking people around... Too much, anyway.

"We need the supplies too. More than we need the two hungry mouths returned," Lorenzo rasped to himself. He huffed. "Finders keepers. Tough shit."

He fell silent again, breathing shallowly. He was trying very hard to focus. After a second he opened his eyes to look at Tom. He offered the flask to the kid and gave it a little shake, glancing briefly to Wyoming as though to indicate the offer was open to him too.

Admonished by his people, Luke still appeared agitated but surprisingly kept himself from verbally protesting further. He was dissillusioned, but not the sort, at least not yet, to continue to rise up against the directives of the leader and the group overall. Though he could not fathom proceeding like they were, he knew deep down that he was not one to hold answers to these problems. It distressed him, and all he could do was shake his head slightly in disbelief, nonplussed and disgruntled. He would follow Mahmoud's order to keep an eye on the food they'd discovered, but he wasn't about to just roll over and give the OK to the other's missives.

Turning away from Izzy and Dom after Mahmoud departed, he ran a hand through his dark hair again, just wanting to be back at the house where there was a semblance of safety. He waited for the others to lead back. What more could he do but go along?

Izzy was glad that Dominic had not objected to her and Mahmoud's taking things in hand. Being leader did not mean that the man she'd grown so fond of had to take every decision without input from the inner circle, the people that had had his back for so long. In Zombieland a long time was ever longer.

Ever maintaining that stern solidness outwardly, there were always moments when Izzy's softness was visible, betraying the facade she endeavored to put on. Certain people she held close, her new family, could always bring out the tenderest vulnerabilities in her. Vulnerabilities the Lost Boy's were exploiting. She wasn't going to let that leverage be used against them anymore. Like Dominic told Luke matter of factly, being nice was a good way to get killed.

As they departed Izzy put Mahmoud's fate as far out of thought as she could. She believed he would return. She had to. He always had, so he always would.. It couldn't be any other way..

Luke walked slightly ahead and to the side of Dominic and herself as they walked what seemed like miles back to the house after getting over the fence once again. Taking these precious moments when she could, Izzy kept close to Dominic, seemingly keeping pace but really wanting to be close him. She'd raise a hand to gently hold onto the medic's shoulder, if Luke turned around it would seem she was just taking advantage of Dominic for leverage in moving in pace given her handicap. More to the truth, and they all surely knew this, was they she wanted to touch him as long as allowably. Who knew how things would turn out.

--

When they entered the house again, Isabelle wasted little time in engaging with Karen, whom she found near the prisoner's quarters.

"Karen." Izzy fully intended to precipitate events that had been discussed not far way with Dom, Luke and Mahmoud. She trusted Luke to keep his mouth shut and lope off to the kitchen to retrieve and guard the bag of rice they'd found earlier. If he said anything betraying the plan she would have to reprimand him. The fate of Benson and the group hung jointly in the balance.

"Bohannon is missing. Mahmoud and Luke found what looked to be a struggle. Walkers but people too, all in a scrap. Lost Boy's left one of their own behind, dead in the fight.." She filled the woman in, her disposition neutral and focused, unblinkingly trying to detect the emotions that would next flood through Karen, who was in a physical state that made her desperate, and soon a mental state that would make her even more so.

Holding out a hand, Izzy gestured for Dominic to pass her the bloody gun that was clearly and characteristically Bohannon's.

Once he handed it to her, Izzy would deliver it gently into Karen's hands. "Looks like he put up a good struggle. Mahmoud is tracking them, but these Lost Boy's have Bohannon. This Wyoming kid.. Maybe he knows something. We probably don't have much time though, they'll be coming to us soon. But.. maybe we can find Benson before then.." A keen, sharp, well nourished mind would likely have detected what Izzy and her co-conspirators were pulling here, but she was sure that Karen wasn't in a way to judge what was being told. And really, Izzy could well have been right, but regardless, events required Karen to use that particular skill set before she was too wounded, too immobile to do what they needed her to do..
This message was last edited by the player at 05:09, Tue 21 June 2016.

Quietly praying that he'd made the right decision in letting Mahmoud go out by himself, Dominic slowly made his way back to the house being sure to stay close to Izzy as he did so. Kidding himself that it was only so that he could help her if she stumbled on the rough ground they were crossing and not because he liked having her near to him.
Feeling her hand gently resting upon his shoulder, he offers her a quick smile before slipping an arm about her waist with the gesture allowing him to hold the attractive brunette walking beside him whilst maintaining the illusion of him simply offering her support. Not that there was anyone around to see them as Luke seemed to be doing his best to ignore them as he walked on ahead.
It was clear that he hadn't approved of the methods that they were planning on using against their guest and there was a time when Dominic would have felt exactly the same way. But that was before all of the deaths. Before Sierra had been killed because he hadn't pulled the trigger first; his act of kindness resulting in her death. Before NM was nearly murdered because he hadn't dealt with Sam like he should have done months ago. Before two of his people had been kidnapped by a group of homicidal teenagers who were holding them all to ransom. No, he couldn't afford to be nice; he had to make the hard choices, the unpleasant choices so that Luke and the others didn't have to.

Dominic would let his arm casually drop away from Izzy’s waist shortly before they came into view of the house; wanting to keep what the pair of them had a secret if only for a little while longer.
Once inside they would find Karen near where Wyoming was being kept with the medic watching with quiet admiration as Izzy set about manipulating the former cop into doing what they needed her to do before adding his own voice to the mix "before I may have been able to talk our way out of this, but now..." he let the rest of the statement hang; letting Karen fill the blanks in herself and reach her own conclusion as to what needed to be done. It wasn’t admirable but if it got his people back alive, then so be it.

Karen was pacing impatiently, frantically almost, back and forth past the door to Wyoming's room. She whipped her head up when Dominic and Izzy returned, wondering what they figured out about that gunshot. When Isabelle started speaking the wheels in Karens head started turning.

"Bohannon is missing." Son of a bitch left! "Walkers" Dammit, he's been eaten. "put up a good struggle... but they have Bohannon." No. Karen visibly sank. She took Boh's gun from Izzy, turning it over in her hands a few times, absorbing the weight of the moment. They all knew what was about to happen, and by the looks on their faces, Dominic and Isabelle wanted it to happen. Karen tightened her grip on the cowboy pistol. She took a slow, deep breath, like an athlete psyching herself up to compete. "Don't let anyone interfere. Got it?" she added abruptly before turning to burst through the door.


Karen levelled Bohannon's gun at Wyoming's head and stormed towards him. "We killed one of yours you rotten little shit!" She screamed at Wyoming as she shoved past Tom, knocking the poor boy over as she went. Lorenzo's position on the other side of the room kept him out of the way, so long as he didn't spring up in defence of the helpless captive. "He was trying to take a friend of mine. Where did they take him!? Where are your people hiding?! Where's Bohannon!?!" Karen grabbed Wyoming by the throat and jammed him up against the wall next to the door. She buried Boh's gun so far into the side of the boy's head it was hard to tell where the barrel ended and the skull began. "I'm only going to ask you so many times." There was nothing in Karen's eyes.

Without breaking eye contact with Wy, Karen addressed Lorenzo. "Lorenzo, take Hank and whoever else you can find, set up a firing position on the street. I want all angles covered, I wanna know the second this little prick's friends come back. We're gonna be ready for them... Prick and I are gonna talk."

When had things become so complicated? When it was just him and Tom the only thing he had to worry about was food, shelter, and running when they couldn't tip the odds. The winter would have been near impossible without the others, at the very least he could have seen them going stir crazy being on their own. Would they have been in the area during storm if they hadn't joined the Caravan? What if they had found the other group first? Now...he shook his head in frustration as the others returned.

Glancing over he watched Dom and Lizzy head upstairs. Leaning on the chair's back legs he raised an eyebrow as Luke completed the trio of returning group members, fully expecting Mahmoud and Benson to be in tow. Or at least Mahmoud, at the gunshot a part of Hank had hoped the cowboy had ran into a group of zombies and only gotten one shot off. Sighing he dropped back down to all four chair legs before standing, seeing if Luke would follow the others upstairs or stay on the ground level.

Any hope of a debriefing was shattered at the sounds of a commotion upstairs. Shit. Grabbing his crowbar out of habit he rushed upstairs, an uneasy feeling settling in. What the hell's going on in there? He asked, looking between Lizzy, Dom, and the open door.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:03, Thu 23 June 2016.

As the look of realisation of what had happened to Bohannon out in the woods slowly dawned on Karen's face, Dom had to question whether they really were doing the right thing in making the wounded cop do their dirty work for them. However she quickly managed to get herself under control before bursting into the room and holding Wyoming at gunpoint. He hoped for the kid’s sake that he would cave quickly and tell them everything they needed to know as Dominic doubted whether he could stop Karen now that she had started down the dark path that they had set her on. He just hoped that what they learnt would be worth the effort.
With the noise attracting Hank, Dom placed an arm upon the door frame to block any further progress into the room as he proceeded to explain the situation "They've taken Bohannon; needless to say Karen is less than impressed" he replied to Hank's question in a low voice "...I suggest you get your brother out of there, he's not going to want to see this" he continued; removing his arm so that Hank could carry out his suggestion before speaking to the rest of those currently gathered around the door into Wyoming’s "cell" "right, lets get this place barricaded before the shit hits the fan" today was not turning out how he’d hoped it would at all.

If anyone could make it, it'd be Joe. While the fact more of the group had escaped was miraculous a small part of him, a selfish part, wouldn't of minded if Joe was the only other one to make it besides the others in the house. Do you know how they're being treated? Stepping closer Tom could feel his heart speeding up. Any other questions or responses were cut short as Karen burst in like a bat out of hell.

What the... was all he got out before being brushed aside like an overgrown weed. Stumbling backwards he let out a small yelp as his elbow banged into the vanity, the shooting pain of a "funny bone" hit spreading through his arm. Throwing out his other arm he landed with a thud, head bouncing off the wall. What the fuck? Surprise and his arm took the force out of the question, making him sound more childish then he intended. Someone killed? Missing Bohannon? Shaking his head he felt his blood run cold at the sight of Karen practically strangling Wyoming and jamming a gun into the kid's head.

Stop! Getting to his feet he felt a brief wave of nausea and had to sit on the vanity, holding his arm till. He was going to have one hell of a headache later. Hurting him isn't going to make things better. He hated how childish he sounded. After all, he didn't know the full details, in the grand scheme of things his voice didn't have much sway in the group as a whole, sometimes he wasn't even sure what skills he brought to the group. But if there was some this thing with the Lost Boys could be settled somewhat peacefully, this wasn't it. Please. He didn't say anything to help Brady, and froze when Sam attacked NM; he wasn't about to let Karen hurt an unarmed, restrained kid who if there was any justice in the universe, he might someday call a friend.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:27, Mon 27 June 2016.

Having one of his guards be a boy roundabout his own age was cold comfort as trouble slowly edged forward, the light outside giving some indication as shadows cast over the floor of the room through the window.

Lorenzo's retort about the supplies wasn't entirely a surprise, but Wy was coming around to the notion that the guy was someone he could reason with, after all the man had promised to keep him from abuse at the hands of the others. "I understand, I do. I didn't want any of this to happen. you know how it is, having the leaders pull you into trouble.." Tom's question brought his attention back to the other boy, with Wyoming pondering just briefly as he considered the details.

"Well, y'know, grizzled and such. Wrinkles. I think he had.. green eyes, but I can't be sure. He wasn't a big talker either. Taller guy, too, I noticed." He answered, wishing to be accurate but he hadn't been privy to seeing the prisoner's that much. Wyoming often served the purpose of softening other groups or visitors/prisoner's up with his demeanor, but was then hastily withdrawn off the chess board.

When the flask was offered up Wyoming wasn't one to deny the gesture. He was, or used to be, a devout Christian, but circumstances had changed, and he could use the edge off honestly. "Really? Um, thanks man."

Another question from Tom, who seemed to have some connection with this guy that his people might be holding. Wyoming was about to answer the other boy again, but interruption came at an intense velocity he was not prepared for.

The blonde haired, wounded woman that was part of this other group burst into the room with maddened eyes. Instantly Wyoming recoiled, his hands tensing against his cuffs behind his back as he tried to step backwards, his brown eyes focusing like a laser on the barrel of the gun leveled at his face. "Don't shoot!" He cried out, the whites of his eyes quite visible as they widened in surprise and terror.

Tom was shoved aside, and she came right for him. There was little Wyoming could do as he was seized about the throat, the rage of the woman acosting him and his slim, diminished form assisting the dramatic hauling up against the wall next to the door. An audible thump emanated throughout the echelons of the house in the process, Wyoming gasping and gagging from the grip at his scrawny neck.

Such was the speed of the accusations and demands for answers that the Lost Boy had little time to process the assault. He certainly could grasp the sensation of the cold barrel jamming into the side of his head which caused him to struggle in his position, only to still when they locked stares and he realized she was likely serious and clearly unstable.

"Please don't do this!" But he knew that she probably would, and he groped the recesses of his food deprived mind for answers. "T-The woods, if it was my people, they took him into the woods!" It wasn't a specific answer, but there was little time for specifics and technically he was correct. Quickly this was becoming about buying precious seconds for someone to do something. He knew that even if he told her what she wanted to hear, if he had the information she wanted, she might still pull the trigger.

"Tom, Lorenzo, please!" He looked over to the others, his head kept in place by Karen's military grip but his young eyes pleading for some intervention.

Izzy was silently proud of Dominic for sticking to the plan, and well, the charade that was required to rally the group and get the answers they needed both, even if she wasn't proud of what they had to do overall. She'd anticipated Karen's response ahead of time, having come to know her quite well as one would in a group like theirs.

The other woman was injured both physically and mentally and even though it was dangerous, unleashing a Karen temporarily devoid of humanity was the best interrogation they could incite in a pinch. Though perhaps if they had had longer, Lorenzo's brand of intimidation would have sufficed.

Air moving quickly by Karen's stormy departure to the cell-room caused Izzy's hair to blow gently, and she brushed the bangs coolly and detached from her face, neutral and determined. Underneath the facade, she was crestfallen, but wouldn't let it show if she had a say, not right now.

She heard Tom be knocked aside, and the ensuing scuffle and yelling, and kept herself on the other side of the door opposing Dominic's, leaning against the wall for balance. Her gun remained holstered at her hip, not wanting to even contemplate having to threaten anyone to stay out of the way, though it could be conceived of considering the tensions as of late.

Observing Hank's presence, she listened to Dominic explain and allow Hank entry if only to retrieve his brother. Unspoken, she begged him not to intervene.

"This is the way it has to be, Hank."

New Mexico had been playing nurse to a clearly struggling Cauldershore, making little progress of course but not leaving the man to choke on his own blood with no one there. It had given him reprieve from his own demons, the focus on the wounded giving him a positive sort of way of dealing with his own trauma.

He'd been hearing through the house well enough however, and could no longer stay aside when a commotion erupted in the hallway nearby.

"I'll be right back, okay buddy? Hang in there. Alright??" New Mexico tried to reassure an increasingly unresponsive, debilitated comrade. He patted the man's chest, and with a bloodied fabric tried to dab Cauldershore's mouth of some blood still oozing forth. The teen couldn't hide the worry in his eyes, but he had to see what was going on.

Machete sheathed to his thigh, he quickly donned the kevlar they had taken from the DEA van, just in case walkers had broken inside, or worse; people.

Arriving at the end of the hallway as Dominic was explaining to Hank the situation that was arising, NM's gaze narrowed in scrutiny and disbelief. "Letting Karen hurt the guy isn't going to stop his people showing up here, do you think they are going to trade our people back to us if we do anything to their own? And he's just a kid, we don't hurt kids, dude." He shook his head, morally objecting but also on a point of logic.

These were his own people though and he wasn't about to get into a physical altercation with them unless he absolutely had to.

"Cauldershore is fucking dying back here, and we're beating the shit out of a kid?"

After arriving a visibly despondent Luke had moved to the kitchen to check on the bag of rice that Mahmoud ordered him to safeguard. It was still as they left it, underneath one of the counters, lodged deep in a cupboard, precious more than ever. It was a temporary distraction only, though, as footsteps stomped the floor above him, and shouts muffled through the likely once-happy home.

Running a hand through his wavy dark hair, Luke tried to keep his breathing even and stay calm, the effect of being alone where he was without Mahmoud or Dominic nearby in addition the angst unfolding was riddling his already tepid confidence.

Feeling insecure, he withdrew his pistol from its holster, and, after closing up the bag of rice in its place, moved to the front living room of the house, keeping a lookout through the window because it seemed no one else currently was. "Fuck fuck fuck. Come on, people.." He wasn't okay with what they were doing upstairs, but he more than anything wanted to be safe. The mustachioed millennial felt utterly powerless, but nonetheless he kept his hand on his weapon, and his eyes peeled on the street outside. It was sick to think, but the arrival of those Children of the Corn would be a welcome distraction, and maybe just what they needed to stop what was unfolding upstairs.

Immediately Lorenzo sprang up. In about a split second he went from fighting off sleep to being completely enraged. For better or worse he could often go from one emotion to the polar opposite almost instantly- usually it was for the worse.

He was too mad to think hard on the situation. A crazy woman with a gun was bad. A crazy Karen with a gun was really bad. Why or how on earth she'd gotten past Dominic in this state was beyond Lorenzo. He was honestly not sure if she was bluffing anymore or if she'd totally lost it. This kind of pointless shit was something he learned to expect of gang bangers, not the Caravan.

He brushed past Tom, whatever he was saying fell on deaf ears. Lorenzo stormed up to Karen. For him this was less about Wyoming's life, and more about a skewed sense of honour and wanting to uphold his end of a deal. Couldn't do that if they gave a corpse back to Wyoming's people. His fist was clenched and it looked like he had half a mind to deck Karen flat on her ass. If it wasn't for the gun pressed into the kid's head he might have.

"Fuck off Karen!" he shouted. He wasn't really known for defusing situations. "Drop that shit! Perra estás jodidamente loco!"

He made his approach obvious so as not to startle her into shooting, and lunged to pin her armed hand by her side. With one of his own arms out of commission, there wasn't much he could do to stop her from twisting around and shooting him if she was so inclined.

Hopefully the small window of opportunity would give Wyoming time to do something to free himself from her other hand rather than whining and bitching. All the while a steady string of Spanish cursing came out of his mouth. It could probably be heard all through the house. While the others couldn't understand it, it at least made him feel good to cuss the situation out.

Lorenzo bursting into action gave Tom a start. Just like last night with NM and Sam. No... not like last night. He wasn't going to just sit back and watch others step up this time. Seeing the gun taken off Wyoming's head he made his move. Getting up he ignored the dull throb of his arm and reached out, aiming to pull the kid away from Karen and out of the room. Come on. While leaving the house was out of the question he could try and get him to another room, away from Karen.

Leading the way he sideswiped Hank, the second it took to realize who it was bringing him (and hopefully Wyoming) behind the older Lucion. She's gone crazy.

Things were getting out of hand. No sooner had Karen started interrogating the kid, that Dom found himself being confronted by NM, with the teenager laying into him about how Cauldershore was dying and how letting Karen beat the crap out of Wyoming wasn't going to help matters. Like Dominic didn’t have enough problems to deal with right now without having to worry about Cauldershore’s rapidly deteriorating health as well.  However before he was even able to try and explain the situation to him, Lorenzo launched himself at Karen in an attempt to wrest the gun from her control whilst spouting a string of Spanish that Dom was glad he couldn't understand.
Deciding that he'd better do something before the gun in Karen's hand went off and killed somebody, Dominic quickly moved to intervene "Back the fuck off Lorenzo! Karen we need him alive, I can fix holes but I can't bring back the fucking dead!" Dominic shouted; looping an arm about Lorenzo in an attempt to haul him off of the weakened blonde before one of them did something really stupid. The last thing he wanted was to have to perform some kind of makeshift surgery moments before having to meet up with the Lost Boys "The Lost Boys have Bohannon, and the only way we're going to get him and our other guy back without losing everything we own is if we take them back" Dominic explained irritably, hoping that the others would have some idea of how precarious the situation was becoming "...and the only way we're going to be able to do that is if he tells us where his friends are...so I suggest you start talking kid" he said directing the final part at Wyoming, casting the kid an extremely hostile look.
With any luck the prospect of being left with Karen would encourage him to spill the beans and tell them where they could find their friends. If not then Karen would just have to carry on encouraging him.

Didn't want him to see... Had they even bothered to see what had been found out before sending the big guns in? Moving toward the door Hank was pushed back a step at Tom's jail break. Putting out his free arm to catch the kid he looked between the two. Tom looked more angry then scared, and the other kid was going to have a nice little mark on his temple for a couple days. Making a mental note to stay on Karen's good side he gave them a quick smile before turning back to others, keeping the younger ones behind him. Or we could try and talk directly to their leader. If we go in guns blazing, more people die, and unless you plan on slaughtering a camp of kids we'll be watching our backs till we're out of the state. He sighed, I want our people back also, but there's got to be a way we can if not work together with them then at least be neighbors who wave to each other every now and then. Besides, assuming they haven't lasted this long by being pure bandits we'd be better off combining our skills.

The hand that had been on Wyoming's throat came around in a fist and connected with Lorenzo's broken arm. If he was gonna fight like a cop, she'd fight like a thug. As Dominic pulled Lorenzo off, Karen tossed Bohannon's six shooter on the bed. "His friends are gonna be here soon and we have jack shit! What the fuck were you doing in here? Jerking each other off?" Karen was overheated. She pulled off her jacket and tossed it on the bed too before running both hands through her hair. Words were flying around the room faster than Karen could follow. "No." She shook her head. "This is happening. Stay the fuck out of my way!" Karen darted for the door and left Lorenzo and Hank for Dominic to deal with.

"Tom!" She shouted to the boy at the end of the hallway. Tom and Wyoming had nowhere to go. "Wyoming's coming with me, don't you get involved! I told you, he's not your friend." Karen moved slowly down the hall towards them with a menacing demeanour.

Mr. Cauldershore was on the brink of death. A nasty fungal infection coursed through his body and was taking up residence in his lungs. Even if Dominic was able to treat him with antibiotics, it wouldn't have helped. He was dead the moment he took in a breath of that unpleasant water last night. Had he perhaps been in better heath to begin with, maybe he could have fought it, even just for a little bit longer. But since the winter, the Caravan had practically been living on scraps. At the industrial complex, they were almost out of food. Then when the storm came... Well, it was a miracle anybody made it out safely. Cauldershore sat in his bed, coughing up blood everywhere, suffering. After all the hell in the world, all the poor man could think was "I don't want to die."

Then suddenly, the doorbell rang.

Kentucky and about a dozen or so teenage boys and girls stood out in the street. They were all dressed similarly to the first three the Caravan met, with pieces of scavenged, jerry-built armour crudely cobbled together over their bodies. They were like a junkyard war party. Lots of leather... A cluster of kids were in the centre congregating around the "hostages"; two men, on their knees with cloths over their heads (concealing their identities.) Kentucky walked up the little sidewalk, climbed the front steps and rang the doorbell. The chime could be heard throughout the house, along with Luke's frightened cussing... Kentucky walked back to stand with his people, all of whom were armed with either regular guns or makeshift sharps. Someone handed Kentucky a very familiar longbow and set of hand-made arrows. The Boys' leader stood tall just behind 'Tucky's left shoulder.

Tom kept Wyoming behind him, hand shaking slightly as he wondered if Hank would be able to hold the crazed Karen back. Only part of the shake was fear. Did you even ask? He clenched his fist and looked up past Hank's arm to meet Karen's eyes. They had two hostages, two guys. Kentucky doesn't sound too interested in any deals, if they took Benson this is probably what he wanted. If they had more time he might have had more, but it was better then nothing.

Karen's last comment struck a cord, fists tightening. YOU CAN'T TELL ME WHO MY FRIENDS ARE! He shouted. YOU'RE NOT MY MOTHER! Shaking with rage he took a deep breath. He wasn't just some kid, she might have been able to tell Kaiden who he could or couldn't hang out with, but only Hank could do that with him. Even then only to a certain extent. He was only vaguely aware of the doorbell, keeping his focus on Karen.

With Karen and Lorenzo separated, if only for the time being and Bohannon's gun now safely lying on the bed, Dominic cautiously released his grip on Lorenzo, not putting it past the guy to lump him one in retaliation for his intervention. Meanwhile Tom had made a break for freedom with Wyoming, closely followed by an irate though a now thankfully unarmed Karen "I should have looked harder for that fucking bike" Dominic growled irritably as he came to the conclusion that he'd lost any semblance of control over the entire situation. On the plus side at least Hank wasn't laying into him with the guy trying to be the voice of reason; suggesting that they worked with the Lost Boy's instead of slaughtering them "Its a nice idea mon ami but I can't see it happening...we have nothing to offer them and they can take what we do have by force, in short they hold all the high cards" he said in a weary voice as he gently rubbed his temples in an attempt to fend off the looming headache. As raised voices continued to come from the corridor behind them signalling that Tom was still resisting Karen's efforts to gain control of their hostage and resume her interrogation.

It was at this point that the doorbell rang causing Dominic to mutter a string of French profanities under his breath in response Times up, they’re here. It was bad enough that they were here, after all who else could it be? But why had nobody warned him that they were coming so that they could have made some kind of preparations instead of catching them completely flat footed.
Stepping into the corridor he'd take a single glance at the exchange going on between Tom and Karen before speaking to them "They're here, It's over...Karen take the cuffs off of him, Tom go and make yourself useful and watch the back door in case your new friends decide to sneak around the back" Dominic growled at the pair of them before heading for the stairs.
He wasn't looking forward to this. He felt like a man walking to the gallows, but he had no other option but to speak with them and seeing no way in which they could walk out of this unscathed and fully expecting to catch a bullet for his troubles.
It was as he was about to pass Isabelle on his way to the stairs that the medic hesitated for several moments before throwing caution to the wind and passionately kissing her, breaking off the kiss long to quietly whisper to her "if things go south, and they probably will I want you to get the hell out of here...oh and just so you know, I think you're amazing and I love you" Dominic whispered into her ear; kissing her one final time before leaving her to face the Lost Boys.

Upon reaching the door he'd take a few deep breaths to steady his nerves before opening it and stepping out onto the front step with a broad smile on his face as he spoke "oh so its you Kentucky, and here I was thinking it was someone wanting to talk to me about God"
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 10:27, Sun 03 July 2016.

Kentucky and the rest of the Lost Boys smiled at Dominic's greeting as the artist formerly known as Kaidan emerged from the crowd. It was clear from the way he moved through the group, and how they beheld him, that he was in fact their leader. He had grown a couple of inches since the Caravan last saw him, and his hair was much longer now too. He approached Dominic, stopping about half way up the lawn, a couple of his henchmen accompanying him, namely Dakota and Kentucky. Atlanta's smile faded as his slow gait came to a halt. "Dominic. You didn't play by the rules." Atlanta's tone was calm level and matter of fact. "These continued transgressions against my people must stop. First you rob us, then you arrest one of my people, and now you've killed one of my boys and left him out in the woods to rot." Kaidan clearly had a different perspective on what happened in the woods than the Caravan did. "The rules were simple Dominic; The stuff you stole for the people we found. Wyoming is MINE! He was never part of the deal and I want him back." Atlanta crossed his arms stubbornly and stared coldly back at Dominic as other faces of the Caravan began to appear behind him.

Lorenzo didn't need more encouragement to let go of Karen than the mean punch she aimed at his arm. There were spots in his vision and he felt a little queasy after that. He didn't even have his bearings well enough to feel smug about Tom getting the kid away, or to even say anything rude to Dominic. If that didn't speak wonders to how much the hit pained nothing would.

He only stopped cursing when the doorbell rang. Well shit. With all the stupid dramatics they were caught with their pants down. He took a sort of stunned looking glance around the now empty room then headed out, the pain from his snapped arm not helping with the angry rhetoric going through his head. "Wyoming," he said, brushing past Tom and Karen. He took his pistol out from his waistband, whistled, then patted the piece against his leg, like he was trying to get a dog to follow him. Not the politest way to go about it, but it at least gave Wyoming an out from Karen acting as his hostage taker.

In an irritated grumble he directed Hank, New Mexico, Izzy- anyone who was even semi-capable and in his immediate way- to cover the windows and whatever exits they could. Dominic was off to meet whoever was at the door, so Lorenzo figured he should just leave that to him.

He went into the living room to peek outside alongside Luke, tapping a finger against his pistol impatiently. When he saw the kids all done up in leather scrap he snorted. He only recognized the people they'd met earlier in the day. "They look like gay bar security," he scoffed. "Even a twenty-two would tear clean through those little shits."

Dominic did his best to try and hide his surprise at finding Kaidan in charge of the group; his smile faltering for perhaps half a second as he factored Karen's son into the black maths running through his mind.
 He waited until Kaidan's petulant demands were delivered before speaking in a voice that held all the warmth of a glacier "well there's your first mistake...you thought there were rules, the guns are ours, Wyoming is ours and you kidnapped our people long before we set eyes on that truck, and as for your boy well if he was stupid enough to try and bushwhack Bohannon then he deserved what he got…oh and we want him back too" the very fact that they'd managed to take him alive meaning that there had been more than one of them involved in that scuffle to begin with leading him to believe that they’d started it.
Having ran through the numbers, so to speak, and not liking what they told him Dominic decided to make an attempt at ending things peacefully if only for the sake of the hostages "Ok Kaidan this is what's going to happen, you're going to release our people, all of our people and we'll let you have Wyoming back, and then what we're going to do is we're going to take a seat on this front step and come to some kind of an arrangement like a pair of fucking adults and after that we all walk out of here alive" alternately we can sit and shoot at each other and then let the Zeds kill the survivors Dom grimly added hoping that the kid wasn't so high on power that he refused to see the logic of the situation and that a gun fight would most likely destroy them both regardless of which side won. Hell the two of them would probably be the first ones to die anyway, closely followed by the hostages giving them all the more reason not to start shooting at one another. Dominic just had to hope that he wasn’t making a mistake in treating him like an adult.

Atlanta flicked the long hair out of his face and shifted his weight from one foot to the other impatiently. "Okay Dominic, we can work this out like gentlemen. Fair is fair. Send Wyoming over and I'll send..." Atlanta walked back as he spoke, grabbing the taller, skinnier man, getting him to his feet and brining him up front. He pulled the bag off the man's head revealing the first hostage to be old man Joe. "...Mr. Joe here back to you. Then we'll work out a deal for the rest. Does that sound agreeable?" Atlanta held Joe firmly by one of his bound arms, keeping the man slightly in front of his own body.

It's worth a shot. Hank shrugged, keeping an eye out in case Karen tried anything. In a way he could almost get her reaction, if it had been Tom out there he would probably feel the same way she did. He, however, liked to think he'd give the kid a chance to answer before flipping shit. Turning his head at Tom's outburst he sighed. While it was healthy for him to release whatever tension had been building he doubted it would do the current situation any good.

Tom. Once he was sure Lorenzo was in as much control as the situation allowed he tried to gently pull his brother to the side for a moment. Receiving a shake off he watched the kid stomp away, muttering something as he went down to the back. Damn it. Running a hand through his razor cut hair he turned to NM. Can you do me a favor? Hank paused, trying to ignore what the implications his request would mean. Lowering his voice  If things go south...get Tom and yourself away. I don't care if you have to knock him out. He won't like it, might say he hates you, but he'll get over it. I'll catch up with you guys when I can. Ok? He knew he was asking a lot from NM, basically to ignore everyone else to their fate, but the teen was the only one here who Tom would likely listen to.

Following the others downstairs he looked out another window, laughing slightly at Lorenzo's comment. Think he'll be ok out there on his own? From what Tom said this whole Benson thing might be a set up by Kentucky. Watching the exchange out front he felt his heart skip a beat. Shit, Joe.

Karen backed down when Dominic called out his orders. She lingered in the hallway for a moment and called after Tom "Wyoming's coming out when he's called for, do you understand? Don't do anything stupid and childish or I swear even your brother won't be able to save you." With her threat delivered Karen moved up to the front of the house to asses the situation. There was a brief moment when she was alone in the stairwell and she used that time to pop another pill into her mouth.

Karen squeezed Luke out of the way and joined Lorenzo at the window. "What do we have?" she asked as she parted the blinds to look out. Then she saw her son. Kaidan was standing on the lawn, holding a hostage. The child she thought was dead was the one putting them in this awful situation. "No. No no no no." She said with a scared panic. It was not the feeling she'd dreamed of feeling when she imagined reuniting with her boy. Karen walked around the old plaid La-z-boy and through the front door to stand beside Dominic. She wanted to run right up to her son and hold him but in the present situation she couldn't will herself to go any closer.

"Kaidan? Kaidan, what  are you doing? You don't need to do this okay? You don't need to hurt anybody." Karen held her hands out non-threateningly, feeling suddenly terrified. Terrified not only of what the Caravan might do to her boy, but of what her boy might do to the Caravan. It was a low, gnawing terror deep down she'd always felt, but never acknowledged. "Kaidan let him go. You don't need him. Take me instead. Take me as your prisoner and let them go." Any semblance of a motherly quality had left Karen's voice and it had turned cold and flat.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:34, Sun 03 July 2016.

Atlanta looked at Karen and screwed up his face like he'd just taken a sip of yesterday's coffee. "I don't want you. You're not my mother, Karen. You never were, you never wanted to be. You took every single opportunity you had to run away from us. To leave... You never wanted me."

Karen shook her head, speechlessly trying to find the words to counter Kaidan's.

"Dad killed himself because of you Karen! He was all sad and alone because you loved your war and your pills and your badge more than you ever loved us. You broke his heart Karen." Atlanta's voice was level. He wasn't angry, he wasn't yelling. His words were calculated and his cadence metered deliberately to hurt her.

In reply to Atlanta (msg # 207):

Karen was no longer speechless. She was screaming.

"Fuck you Kaidan! Your father hung himself because he was terrified of you! He was scared of what we both knew you were! What you'd become! And look at you now! He was fucking right!!"

Her heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was going to beat right out of her chest. She was angry. But her anger was a defence against the heartbreak she felt. The son she thought was dead, the boy she fought so hard for so long to protect, had stabbed a verbal stake through her heart. Karen had been all mixed up for a long time, trying to get past his dissaperance, accept that he was probably dead, but now he came back. And he was evil. And it hurt her like nothing had ever hurt her before, or ever would again. The Kaidan she used to know was gone and in his place was "Atlanta" and the only difference between them was now she knew it. Karen felt like she was gone too.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:38, Mon 04 July 2016.

Tom was hot, the only thing keeping him from snapping at Lorenzo was the guy seemed to not be out for Wyoming's blood. Brushing off Hank Make my self usefull...not just some kid... mumbling he stalked away, the only thing missing from the post-argument stomping a slammed door following a final "I hate you". It was easy for them, they were all adults, they didn't have to worry about teenage issues. The only one who could possibly relate to him was NM, and even then most of it would probably be from memory. Grabbing his bag he headed to the kitchen, taking the tire iron out before throwing the bag against the wall. Taking a deep breath he shoved a chair against the door then sat in another. He could feel the headache starting to form. Watching the windows and door he just wanted to curl up somewhere and wait all this out.

In reply to Hank Lucion (msg # 205):

"'Shit Joe' is right."

Lorenzo looked at the old man to see if he was any worse for wear, but his dark eyes flitted back to the hostage takers with a steady, even glare. However his expression quickly turned to confusion. Having joined the Caravan mid-winter and hungry, he had no idea what he was bearing witness to.

From the heated argument that ensued between Karen and the kid he could piece it together well enough, but he still was not sure if this reunion was good or bad. He passed a very perplexed look to Hank and Luke.

"Okaaay? And I thought my family was fucked. This a bad thing?"

From the way he gripped his pistol and pushed tighter against the wall, he was clearly expecting bad. This certainly put a damper on negotiations.

So hostage number one was Joe, personally Dom barely knew the guy but he did know that Joe had skills that they were going to need if they were going to survive out here so that at least was a bonus.
It'd be nice to think that he would be able to convince Kaidan to release both hostages for Wyoming but he couldn't see it happening somehow. Kaidan wasn't that stupid and Dominic wasn’t that good of a talker "how are you doing Joe?" Dominic asked the old hunter in an attempt to gauge his condition and treatment under the Lost Boy's care, assuming of course that Kaidan would let him speak.
However before any of them had much chance to speak Karen had emerged from the house leaving Dominic speechless as he bore witness to the family feud that took place in front of him Mon Dieu! This is not happening! Dominic silently exclaimed in frustration. Here he was trying to prevent a fire fight from breaking out and she was causing unnecessary tension by dragging their personal lives into an already tense situation "Enough of this Jerry Springer shit! Karen, get the fuck back in the house!" Dominic shouted; jabbing a finger at the still open door and not caring what the woman had to say about it. He was not going to have her derail the situation any further and would physically drag her back into the house if he had to. Without waiting to see if Karen would comply he turned his attention back to Kaidan and the task at hand "D'accord, I accept the exchange; Joe for Wyoming, but first I want to know who the other hostage is, and take that damn bag off his head will you, we ain't in a Tarrantino movie"</Goldenrod> Dominic spoke irritably; the Karen situation doing more to get on his nerves than anything else had "...I'd also like to point out that the only reason that Blondie is stood there instead of in here with us was because I was led to believe that there was only one hostage and pulling this stunt is doing little to make me trust you or your people" Dominic finished; offering Kentucky a withering glare. Oh if only looks could kill!

Karen stared down her son as he smiled maliciously at her, knowing he had hurt her. She knew there was nothing she could do to talk him down from this and that it needed to play its course. Kaidan wasn't a tantruming child that you could spank and put to bed, nor was he a criminal you could cuff and lock up. He was a fully fledged sociopath with a small army at his disposal, and Karen knew him well enough to know he was fucking dangerous.

Karen broke eye contact and turned and stopped, leaning in and whispering in Dominic's ear. "I don't care what happens... You don't get to kill him." Karen swatted Dominic on the shoulder and left back up to the house.

She walked in the door and passed Lorenzo and the others observing, frustratedly kicking the large screen TV off of its stand at the edge of the room. It landed on the floor with an audible crash. Karen disappeared up to the bedroom Wyoming had been in, sitting on the bed holding Bohannon's gun in one hand and her last two Oxycodones in the other.

So that's Kaidan... Not the meeting he'd imagined but at least they found the kid. When Karen had first mentioned she had a son close to Tom's age things had spun too quickly out of control to get beyond that.  Though any hope of a quick resolution drained as mother and son sparred. The only thing I know about Kaidan is he's about Tom's age. He shrugged, just as confused as Lorenzo.

In reply to Dominic Dubreton (msg # 211):

Atlanta stared at his mom like he just won. He knew he hurt her, and he knew it would buy him distance from her to conduct his business freely. Atlanta permitted Joe to nod that he was doing fine, but nothing more. "Saskatchewan, bring him here." He directed behind him, seeing no harm in revealing the second hostage now instead of later. Dominic was going to bargain for both lives no matter what, even if neither of them were Bohannon... Saskatchewan herded the other person forward to stand beside Joe. "You all remember Ricky right?" Atlanta asked, pulling the bag off Ricky's head. Ricky looked around stunned, the gag still in his mouth. He never thought he'd see these people again. But he was glad it was them he saw.

Atlanta shooed Ricky to go back to stand with the others. "Okay Dom. Send Wyoming out to me and I'll send Joe. We can even do that whole meet in the middle - pass on the way thing you see in the movies."

Wyoming felt like a piece of meat being torn apart as events escalated violently in the house. He appreciated Lorenzo and Tom's attempts to keep him separated from Karen, all the while his wrists pulling at the cuffs binding his hands behind his back, leaving, red, bloody rings around his flesh. In the heat of the moments that followed, he couldn't concentrated on the, by comparison, minute pain.

His heart felt like it would burst from his chest when Karen came stalking out after him, his sense of security not helped by the cold stare that Dominic, the leader, had fired his way. But there seemed to be a good bit of this group that didn't agree with the course of action, but they weren't in charge, yet.

The doorbell.

His blood likely turned as cold as the Caravan's, for he knew his own people's, Atlanta's..reputation the best of many.

Events precipitated his movement downstairs, not without Wyoming casting a look of sympathetic solidarity to Hank, Tom, Lorenzo, NM, any who had stuck up for him. Even if he was a piece of the trade to happen, he was not confident of his survival chances and was as much a member of the gallows as many of them were likely doomed to be, especially locked up as he was.

Downstairs he awaited being moved outside as the pawn he was, managing not to tremble, feeling an eerie calm pervade his slender form, surprising himself.

"I'm sorry for all of this." He said to everyone and anyone, his head drooping slightly, feeling worse for the Caravan than for himself, truthfully. If he'd been a leader type he would have done things differently, more kindly, but he wasn't cut from that cloth.

Izzy wasn't in the right shape to get physically involved in the scuffles that threatened to turn into downright civil strife between the group as a result of the events that had been set into motion. Though she'd considered bringing her glock into the mix, she knew herself well enough that she couldn't bring it to bear, as it would be a step too far against people she cared for.

Quickly falling into the background as the most colorful reactions took precedence over the dire matters at hand, Izzy felt at a momentary loss, but remained at hand should anyone turn against Dominic in a serious sense. That was something she would not abide.

When the doorbell rang, they all knew the stakes had changed. As Dominic had clearly pointed out, they were out of time, and anything they had tried to affect was over with.



The nimble, lithe woman hesitated like Dominic had as they locked eyes, unsure of what was to come. A breath of heavy relief escaped her lips just before Dominic kissed her deep and vigorous, carrying all the potential that might not come to pass should the evening go awry. It did make the moment sweet in a sad way, but really she'd never felt more alive or in love.

Her tenderness was amplified as she embraced her man, letting the emotion wash out together, certainty and uncertainty mixing and concocting some sensation that was new and potent and just as unpredictable.

" I will.." She promised softly, lying to her love. She wasn't about to go anywhere, but he didn't need to know that. "You're my hero. I love you too." She returned, telling the truth.

A supple kiss parted them, her heart both tearing and strengthening at the same time, like the building of muscle when tested against adversity of condition.

--

With the group coalescing downstairs for the most part, Izzy moved to Cauldershore's room..

She'd promised Dominic she would 'handle' the poor man's situation, and as she entered the room, she closed the door the for most part behind her. Her hand that had rested on the hilt of her glock now unbuttoned the holster and withdrew the weapon, holding it firmly in her right hand, the other grasping her walking staff, keeping steady as she stood in front of the bloodied, suffering member of their entourage.

"Cauldershore, I'm sorry." She told him, gently and genuinely, eyes empathetic. There was little she could do for him and they both knew that.

Her gun wielding hand rose up.

And then she turned the gun swiftly around, so she held the barrel end, and, shuffling forward a tad, bent down some. She leaned her staff against the bed briefly, her free hand taking Cauldershore's bloodied, wrinkled hand whereupon she pressed her handgun into his grip, closing his fingers around the weapon.

"I know you need to rest, but you are needed, one last time, 'Shore." She smiled, tears budding in the corners of her eyes, pressing her forehead against his, for she did truly care for each of her people and them all as a group.

As negotiations continued outside, Isabelle sought about assisting Cauldershore to the next room that would give a vantage point above the front of the house, the one legged survivor relying on the tall, ailing man for leverage in moving just as he did her..
Feeling for the dying man's comfort, but requiring this last duty of him, she positioned Cauldershore against the wall next to the window. She slowly and quietly pulled the frame up, freeing the barrier so he could shoot outside when and if required.

"Just a little longer, stay with us, with me." She encouraged Cauldershore, knowing she was asking alot, but needing him all the same, even in spirit.

It took her a moment longer to retrieve a second handgun from those they had taken from the DEA van, and soon she was at a second window in the same room as Cauldershore, a bag with a few extra clips of ammo on the floor between them now. Here she could see Joe come into view, and then Ricky as the hostages. Her heart sank further.

"If they do anything to any of our people, you open up on them with everything you have. I'll keep reloading for you." She cocked her pistol.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:15, Wed 06 July 2016.

When Joe stood up he appeared to be slightly injured at least, the tall, sinewy older man hunched slightly from some damage yet to be generally perceived. When the bag was removed from his head his salt and pepper beard came into view, scragglier than it had been. His sharp green eyes were as daring as ever though, even though one eye was blackened and somewhat puffed from recent abuse.

He had been gagged with some cloth and when permitted to nod by Atlanta he responded by managing to spit out the wad of fabric, followed by spitting some concoction of saliva and blood out at the Lost Kiddo that held his bow and quiver of arrows.

Having a notion regarding his self perservation he managed to keep from cussing his captors out, and instead satiated himself by looking over the Caravan, his people. He had no idea who had survived from when he last saw them, and while he was disapointed not to see more of his companions, the ones that he did spot gave him some reason to plot out to himself how he was going to get out of this snap and be of use. He gave a nod to Dominic to confirm he alright, and a quick wink to Hank when he spotted him, through his unpunched eye.

When the Lost Boys showed up the the doorstep there was no more time for the conflict rattling their rag tag group. The prospect of getting a couple more of their people back plus Bohannon was enough to rally them together no matter their differences at the moment that door had rung.

Hank took him aside as 'discussions' began between the groups. NM was clad in his gear, and was ready for action in spite of the emotional shakiness that had recently developed as a result of his near murder at the hands of Sam. Though times had been hard, they all needed to be closer than ever at this critical junction, even he could see.



It was quite clear from the look on New Mexico's features that he wanted to reject this request, decline it outright, but there was no time to argue. He shook his head, but didn't reject Hank's plea. The teen ran a hand through his thick, shaggy hair, looking up to Hank then to gauge how serious the man was. It was quite a position to be put in. He cared about Tom, and Hank, but also the others, who he'd known in some cases for even longer. What Hank was asking was for NM to save his and Tom's skins and leave the others to a known or unknown fate.

It was a situation that NM had been in for every single group or companion he'd hooked up with since the ending of the world.. Abbie, Molly, Kail, Cookie, on and on, more and more. It continually haunted him.

But would could he do. Mexico was almost at that point he did not want to survive any longer like he had been, but his nature being as it was, he might very well be doomed to make it out each time, but live with the trauma of his loved ones falling like dominoes. Survivor's Guilt to the utmost.

"Hank. I.." He tried to argue, he really did, but there was no time, and there was no argument he could make when Tom was in the mix. For himself, he could decide not to leave, to stay with the group in this Alamo. But Tom.. He couldn't leave his brother of a companion to that fate as well. It was almost cruel how Hank and tied them together in the request. For of course NM could not object.

"Okay. I'll do it."

He meant it, as much as it pained him.

Turmoil arising more and more, but so far no bullets flying, NM went downstairs, seeing Izzy move to check on Cauldershore before he descended to the main floor. Poor guy. Poor all of them.

Entering the kitchen at the back of the house, NM found Tom had already ad-hoc secured the back door, though it wouldn't put up much resistance if they were stormed at this end.

"Tom." He spoke up, resting a hand on the seated boy's shoulder from behind. "You and I are gonna stick together, kay? Anyone comes in through here, we don't let them get to Hank and our people. And if we need to, if we can, we pop this sucker open and get the hell out of here, with the others." He thumbed at the door, already assessing how much time they'd have to bust out of there and get to the forest should they lose the battle.

"Joe is outside. Those asshole's have him. Dominic's going to get him back." He'd caught sight of the champion of the group as he'd made his way to Tom. It had lightened his spirit even if this was far from a done deal yet. "We should probably stay behind the Island counter for cover." He indicated the large, long counter in the middle of the kitchen. They couldn't put it past the Lost Boys to send a volley of bullets through the walls and windows of the kitchen. And he'd rather have the drop on them than the other way around.

Taking hold of the handle of his machete sheathed to his thigh, NM pulled the sharpened blade free from its scabbard, arousing a rasping sound from the metal. He kept his gun at his hip for time being.

Luke felt safer amongst his group as most of them filed downstairs to the front of the house, but he never lost the heeby-jeeby's that all the Mad Max Brats were giving him. Hopefully they assumed he was a good shot with his gun though in fact he was far from confident.

One hand twiddled his styled mustache as a nervous reflex while his other, sweaty hand, waffled with his pistol.

He was not prepared to step out onto the deck, but he did make his presence known at the porch window from the living room, pushing the glass up so he could, much as he didn't want to have to do it, shoot uninhibited. These freaks were close enough they he could do some damage even if uncoordinated, but wasn't going to be the first to do anything unless Dominic said so or someone else shot first, and he didn't want to risk hitting Ricky or Joe.

Ricky moved back when ordered to his by captor, one of the lens of his glasses cracked noticeably but overall he was unharmed but in great need of a meal. Doc, Izzy, Lorenzo, Hank.. Surely their captivity was at an end, and they could be with their own people once these kids got their own guy back. He tried to say something through his gag but it was muffled entirely.

Looking between everyone he wished he was the first to be traded, selfishly enough, but was glad that his friend Joe was going to be on the Caravan side of this standoff. He was a good man, skilled, and was quietly ecstatic that they'd all be together soon as a team an family once again. They'd been through worse, and always pulled through no matter what. Even though this whole thing was tense, Ricky seemed to almost smile in spite of his gag at Dominic.

 

Interesting...is Karen hoping to save the boy, or does she merely want the honour of gunning him down herself? Dominic quietly mused to himself as he heard the blonde’s whispered request; an amused smile briefly quirking his lips followed by a near imperceptible nod. Though whether that was in agreement or simply to show that he'd heard her wasn't clear.

With Ricky being revealed as the final hostage Dominic gave the pair of them a quick glance; noting that although they both seemed pretty banged up that they were all things considered in pretty good shape.
On being called upon to release Wyoming in exchange for Joe, with the teen even going so far as to suggest doing a movie style exchange Dominic simply shrugged his shoulders as he casually spoke "Sure...whatever floats your boat" he said before cautiously backing towards the door. With his eyes never leaving the Lost Boys and his hand floating near to his gun Dom would call through the door to the others "Ok send him out" he said hoping that somebody would have enough sense to remove the cuffs he'd been wearing. It was bad enough that he was marked up without the boy coming out in chains too.

Once Wyoming was at the door Dominic would take a firm hold on the back of the boy’s neck and would slowly walk him down the steps to the edge of the path; releasing him once Joe had also started moving towards them.
Assuming of course that nobody decided to start shooting at this early stage of the negotiations Dom would offer Kaidan a relieved smile as he spoke "well...that's the easy bit, now tell me what it is that I can do for the Lost Boys?"

She just burst in. Didn't even take a second to ask what we'd learn. Most of the anger was gone, settling into what most would consider "grumpy". Reaching back he felt the spot where his head had hit the wall It's like she never heard of not shooting the messenger. If Lorenzo wasn't there, I...I don't know if I could have stopped her. The admission chilled him, how close he was to seeing Wyoming shot in front of him.

At the mention of Joe he jumped up and spun around. Really? Looking past NM any signs of his earlier mood disappeared, replaced with the excitement of a kid seeing a big present under the Christmas tree. So his guess had been right. Go and make yourself useful. Dom's words came back like a slap. I mean, I knew it'd take more then a storm to beat Joe. There'd be time to celebrate later, now he had to show the other's he wasn't just some kid. Reigning in his emotions he followed NM behind the island. Don't worry, I'm sure Dom and the others can show the Lost Boys we're stronger together. Glancing briefly to the machete he gripped his own weapon tightly. We should be fighting the zombies, not each other.

Wyoming and Joe passed each other at the curb without incident. Wyoming's now free wrists were raw, and Joe's face was bruised, but otherwise the two of them were returning to their people unscathed. Now was time to get to the real business. Atlanta took note of Dominic's nonchalantness and filed it in the back of his mind. Atlanta spent his life learning how to emulate emotions and apply them in different situations when they were contextually useful. If that was the game Dominic wanted to play Atlanta was all for it.

Atlanta patted Wy on the back friendlily as he made his return to the Lost Boys. "Alrighty Dominic, the purchase price for Ricky here is one easy payment of all the items and materials you removed from the van. That means the guns, the drugs, the armour. Everything." He put it to Dominic as straight as he could. Atlanna crossed his arms and and waited for the Doc to come up with some bullshit, tough-guy counter offer.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:19, Fri 08 July 2016.

Hank smiled and gave a small nod at Joe's wink, glad the old timer didn't seem any worse the wear given the circumstances. Not taking his gaze off the scene in front of him he gave a small, humorless chuckle. Not you're fault. Kaiden's the one who kept this up even after finding out who we were. How far is he willing to go? Karen said something about being a psychopath. If he truly is clinical... Shaking his head he sighed If we make it out of this, I hope we can meet again under better circumstances.

When Dom called for Wyoming to come out Hank stood by the door waiting for Joe, ready to dive aside if things went south. You... He tried and failed to find the words, holding out a hand. Taking the man inside he gave the former captive a quick briefing about who had made it this far. Tom and NM are in the kitchen; Karen, Izzy, and Cauldershore are upstairs. Benson is missing and I think Mahmoud is trying to find him. Glancing back as Kaiden demanded the truck cache for Ricky he bit his lip. We need to  work together. Tom will be glad to see you. Leaving Joe to either prepare for an assault or greet the two teens he moved back to the door way, glancing at the mailbox number trying to figure out how this could be worked out peacefully.

Wyoming observed the prisoner's he was to be traded for as he rubbed his freshly freed and quite raw wrists. In those moments he relished what little time he had in another group as he could. Sure the Caravan had their misfits, but they didn't seem to be led by one like his own people, though he'd never dare voice that sentiment among his own for the most part.

Wy hadn't known that Atlanta was familiar with these people, but he was quick enough to piece it all together especially after observing the meltdown that Karen exhibited against her son. Hank's words were of comfort, even if they were little. Before the teen was shuttled outside, he smiled gravely to the elder Lucion. "Thank you for trying to help me earlier. I hope we can be friends eventually." It was a sad moment, almost like he was just going back to his usual captivity.

Playing his poor part, he would pass by 'Joe' on his way to the other side of the exchange, making eye contact with the tall, bearded Caravaner, whom he'd not really been allowed near while they'd held him and the other guy, Ricky, at their base.

Not looking as cheerful as he should have, he stood to the side and behind Atlanta, sullen and uncertain as to how this was going to work out.

Joe kept his head held high as he moved in long strides towards the Caravan house as befitted his tall stature. It wasn't the first time and it likely was not going to be the last that he'd be beaten purple though it smarted like hell.

His bindings had been cut before he'd been sent forth, and passing Dominic he clasped a hand on the Doc's shoulder before moving inside with Hank's assistance.

He'd considered asking Dom to make Joe's arrows and bow part of the deal, but if need be he'd just make another set with his hands as needed.

Green eyes looked Hank over, friendly. Joe managed a surly but heartfelt smile, his lips dry, "Yea, me." The grizzled archer listened to the quick rundown, his expression undisturbed though he might have felt some pangs of hurt deep down over their lost people, he showed outwardly no shift in composure that wasn't helpful.

"Thanks Hank. Good to see you all, truly." He nodded soundly, then glancing about the group immediately assembled, "Someone hand me one of them new fancy guns of yours." Joe didn't like using guns, but he intended to help in whatever occured, getting the feeling they were not about to disarm themselves to this gang of reprobates unless it was in the form of giving them just the bullets back, and at that at a high velocity.

Wanting to greet the boys in the kitchen, but his instinct telling him to be at the ready, he called out to them, "Hey kiddos! I'm back! Ya hold fast now, got it? We'll have a proper reunion once we get this sorted out rightfast, alright?!"
This message was last edited by the player at 04:35, Wed 13 July 2016.

Flashback - St. Louis - Hours before meeting the Caravan

Karen was dragged, limp and bloodied, into a dark room in an office tower and dropped at her son's feet. Unlike his mother, Kaidan's hands were unbound. Karen rose to her knees, looking up at her boy, eyes filled with sorrow. "They want me to do this thing... They want me to help them... and... and then they'll let us go." Karen fought to get her words out. "Kaidan, baby I'm scared. I don't want to do it. I don't want to..." "...hurt those people" was the end of that sentence, but Karen knew she wasn't allowed to tell Kaidan what had been asked of her.

Kaidan knelt down to his mother's level, meeting her sorrowful eyes with his own blank, cold stare and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Whatever it is they want you to do, do it. Don't think about it. Do it, and we can move on. Like it never happened. Okay? All that matters is that we leave here, it doesn't matter how we get there. We do what we have to, and we move on."

"It's time to go." The man called Vega cut the boy off there and yanked Karen up by one arm. She yelped. "Kaidan! I'll come back for you! I promise!" The door slammed shut.

Present day - Slaughter LA

Karen crept slowly down the stairs back into the living room where the others were. She dragged her arm against the wall, steadying herself as the room spun painfully slow in front of her. "What's ... happening?" She asked slowly, stoned on oxycodone. She peered through one of the windows, staring at her boy longingly.

"Non...that's not going to work for us" Dominic replied in a weary voice upon receiving Kaidan's rather predictable demand and things had been going so well... Dominic internally sighed already sensing the approaching bloodshed.
He was glad that they'd managed to save Joe and the last thing he wanted was for them to lose Ricky but losing everything in return wasn't an option "you can have the drugs, the body armour and a portion of the ammunition but the rest is ours" Dominic stated firmly; his lips quirking up into a smile as he continued to speak "...you know the rules, finders keepers, and we're the ones that killed all of the Zed's in that truck" he doubted his argument would hold much water but he had to draw the line somewhere. He just hoped that Izzy and the others were ready to start shooting if or rather when Kaidan didn't play ball.

In reply to Dominic Dubreton (msg # 228):

Suddenly Atlanta clapped his hands together, excitedly holding them out in front of himself. "Yes! See, now we're negotiating. That's perfect!" He paused for a moment, making contemplative faces at Dominic before issuing his counter offer. "Okay, how 'bout we split it down the middle and you give me half the guns and ammo and the drugs, and I'll give you half of Ricky. Do you want light meat or dark?" Atlanta lingered on the proposition of cutting Ricky in half before letting out a laugh. "I'm just kidding Dominic. I'm not going to cut him in half! You're right. You did kill those zombies, and I guess there should be a shipping fee..." The boy acted like he was calculating the math in his head. "...Divide by two, carry the heroine. Yes, half the guns and ammo. All the drugs? You don't want those anyways right? That's a fair price for a whole Ricky."

Wyoming listened to the negotiations with a growing feeling of dread, rubbing his raw wrists as he silently prayed that they could put their differences aside. Atlanta didn't like him praying openly anymore, so he kept it to himself. The boy who'd come and seized their group from Washington, who was also a domineering sort of leader, was arguing over weapons and drugs when his mother was just across the road.

For his own part, Wyoming missed his mother and would have done anything to see her again if it were possible..

"Atlanta, please, leave them be, we don't need all that stuff, we just need to work together.." Wyoming knew he was perhaps crossing a very fine line with the leading boy, bit nonetheless he reached out from where he stood behind Atlanta, with some of the other kids, to try to rest a hand on Atlanta's shoulder. As if the physical contact might jolt his volatile commander, a boy he thought was his friend, from upping the ante.

Standing in front of the teenage, former caravan member Dominic started to understand how and why Kaidan had come to be in charge of his little band of men. Dominic had taken the job out of necessity; to fill the vacuum left by Cookie's departure, and because nobody else had wanted the job and the shit that came with it. Kaidan meanwhile had gotten his job because he was a psychopath; grade A serial killer material that had no doubt seized control through bloody insurrection and ruled through fear. How hard would they fight for him if it came to a fight? Then again how hard would the caravan fight for him?
He silently watched as Wyoming tried to reach his psychotic leader and get him to back down. A fruitless and possibly dangerous endeavour in Dom's opinion but he had to admire the sentiment. He liked the idea of working together to build something worthwhile out here in Zombieland. Something a little more permanent than the collection of ragtag survivor groups that roamed the land, scavenging what they could from their past glory. But like he'd said to Hank he couldn't see it happening and especially not with Kaidan as a partner.

With no prospect of the deal getting any better and with any further negotiations being a risk to Ricky’s health Dominic reluctantly accepted the offer he was given "Fine...but its going to take us a little while to get it all together, so why don't you boys go an take a seat on the curb over there and we'll bring it all out to you when its ready, ok?"  Dominic said, nodding his head at the opposite side of the street, not wanting them to be too close whilst he set about making this deal happen. Assuming of course that he could actually sell it to the others that is.

With Wyoming's hand upon his shoulder, Atlanta turned his gaze to meet the boy's tentative eyes. Atlanta's soft hand joined Wyoming's and he gave the boy a gentle smile. The way the late afternoon light hit Atlanta's face, and the breeze lifted his hair, in that moment, Atlanta's face was the most reassuring thing in Wyoming's world. One simple look told the boy "it's going to be fine, trust me." Atlanta turned back to the Caravan. It was almost like his super power, giving people exactly what they needed, when they needed it. Whether it was a hug, a soft glance, a stern word, or an ass kicking, Atlanta had a knack for reading into what a person needed to be convinced, and being able to give them exactly that. He had after all had to learn every human emotion by studying it in others so he could mimic it.

"I'll give you twenty minutes Dominic. You better work fast. I really don't want to spend any more time here than I have to." Atlanta shot Ricky a quick nod, just to remind Dominic of the cost of failure.

The Lost Boys dispersed somewhat, corralling Ricky to join them as they took up positions on the lawn and porch of the house across the street. Ricky was sat down on a rocking chair on the porch, a few guards  on either side of him. The Boys with guns took cover behind the two parked cars in front of the house, and on the porch, flipping over benches and tables, creating as many dug-in positions as they could find. Atlanta stood in the centre of the street, eyes focused almost unblinkingly on the other side. Kentucky stood at his right hand, Joe's bow at the ready, an arrow resting slack on the string, raising a little every couple of minutes to check the time on a would-be expensive gold watch.

Maybe they were just being careful or maybe they were preparing for a Slaughter.

In reply to Joe (msg # 226):

Tom instantly perked up as Joe called out them. Turning again he smiled, resisting the urge to leave his spot. That would be something a kid did, and if Dom was able to get Joe back then they wouldn't need to fight. Though there was still the other hostage the fact Joe had been released was a good sign. Relaxing his grip he looked over to NM, Who do you think the other person is? Wyoming said it was a younger guy...

"Yeah, yeah don't get your knickers in a twist" Dominic replied absently as he backed away from the Lost Boy's Peter Pan; his hand gripping the hilt of his sword as he did so with his eyes never leaving the group of teenagers.
Once inside and away from the watchful eyes of Kaidan and the others Dom would drop the tough guy routine like a stone as he found himself having to take a moment or so to compose himself; the medic taking several deep breaths as he waited for the hand that had been previously gripping his sword, to stop trembling, merde...I'm not cut out for this! his mind said in a panicked whisper I'm a medic...not a hostage negotiator! and yet that was exactly what he was doing. All he could do was hope that Kaidan would actually hold up his end of the bargain, though he may as well be hoping for Scarlett Johansson and a group of Navy Seals to come strolling into town with the way things were going.
Moving into the living room he'd glance around those that had gathered around the window before speaking in a weary voice "D'accord...you heard him, get the drugs, the spare guns and some of the ammo, try and pick calibre's that won't fit the guns we're giving them if you can" just because he had to hand over part of their score didn't mean he had to make it a fair split "...oh and while we're at it, Karen you used to strip weapons right? See if you can pull the firing pins or something from those guns" he asked, not really knowing if what he was asking was even possible. He'd never had much to do with guns before Zombieland so his knowledge was somewhat hazy, but if they could render the weapons they handed over inoperable then all the better.
Kaidan would no doubt be pissed when he found out, though by that point Dominic hoped to have Ricky back and for Mahmoud to return with news about the Lost Boy's camp and the opportunity to get even.

The stoned Iraq War veteran arched an impressed eyebrow at Dominic. "Good thinking! Unless they're planning a bloodbath, they won't notice until we're a safe distance away." Karen ignored the fact that she had replaced "my deranged child" with "they." She was trying not to think about it.

If they were giving the Boys half of what they took from the van, then there would only be four guns to pull apart, lose parts from, and put back together. Karen started with her own volunteered spare handgun, attempting to pull it apart, dropping it, picking it back up, snapping a couple parts apart, flinging a couple little greeblies over her shoulder and then fitting it back together. "I need three more." she proposed to the room, waiting for someone to volunteer their new gun for disposal... Karen moved to stand next to Dom.

"We have a problem." She turned to address Dominic in some degree of privacy. "Boh took the drugs. They're not in the house, I looked..." She realized that she'd just admitted to searching upstairs for pills instead of watching what was going on outside with her own son. But maybe Dominic wouldn't be thinking about the timeline.

Giving a sigh of relief as deal was finally made Hank ducked back into the house. Maybe not the cooperation he was imagining but it was a start. At least it would bring them back to a more even standing, all things considered. That changed as Dom ordered the sabotaging of the guns and Karen's field stripping. Um...what if he wants to give them a test fire. Like through a pillow or something. Glancing in the general direction Karen had thrown the spare parts he ran a hand through his hair. There still might be a chance to set up some sort of working relationship with them. Something beneficial to both groups. This... Shrugging he leaned against the wall. We don't know what a safe distance is, and I don't know about you but I'm happy enough just worrying about zombies and random people when I go out to take a piss, let alone a group who may be actively searching for us.

Lorenzo begrudgingly let Karen take his newfound pistol to strip. He hadn't even got to use it. The SKS was too unwieldy with one arm out of commission, and trying to knife any sort of sentient opponent would no doubt send him reeling once they went for the very obvious sling. He at least didn't argue the matter. Instead he unpacked the bricks of drugs he'd taken impatiently, without even acknowleding why he had some in the first place.

Frustration was building. It only took a moment of quiet seething for it to turn to anger. His chest felt tight, his face too warm, and his heart pounded in his ears like a drum. God, what he wouldn't give to put a bullet in that little shit's stomach. Give him a few weeks to really rot. He watched where Atlanta had gone off contemplatively, jaw working, a lot of nasty thoughts going through his head.

He snorted at Hank. He almost felt bad for how naive the guy sounded. "People like this don't want a 'working relationship,'" he said, mimicking his voice in a nasally whine. "They want to strong arm and take advantage. We already gave the inch. Let's not give the whole mile so easily. I don't give a shit if that kid's Jesus Christ and Karen's the Virgin Mary, if I see him after today he won't be smirking."

Lorenzo glared toward the window again and shifted the stacked bags against his chest.

Well Hank said after a moment, turning his head to look over at Lorenzo. What would you do in his place? If someone did this to you, that wouldn't paint a target on them? Would you take the time to figure out who was responsible and who wasn't, or just lump everyone together? It's not like they don't already have guns, and a firefight would just be a waste for everyone involved.

He sighed and leaned his back against the wall. Fine then, maybe not a "working relationship". At least something where if we run across them again they won't shoot on sight.

"What do you mean Boh took the...you know what, never mind we'll just have to hand over the stuff Mahmoud dragged out of the truck and hope they won't notice" Dom replied in a low voice as he silently cursed the Cowboy. If the point got raised he'd either have to play dumb or point out that they had the guy that knew where the drugs were stashed and let them take it from there.
It was as people were reluctantly turning over the drugs and firearms they had recently acquired that Hank questioned whether or not it was a bad idea to try and screw them over by tampering with the guns. However Dominic hadn't even had chance to open his mouth before Lorenzo pointed out what felt like the obvious to the medic "He's right Hank, if they had any intention in being our friends they wouldn't be holding our people hostage and I can't see any future meetings between us and them ending well" Dominic said as he quickly worked his way through the boxes of ammunition; trying his best to keep as much of the usable stuff on the caravan's pile as possible. He didn’t exactly like the idea of having to watch his back for however long it took for the caravan to get away from the other group but he’d be damned if he was going to help arm a group that was liable to attack them anyway.

Once they'd finished sorting the ransom into one of the large SWAT hold all's, he and a volunteer would pick up the rather heavy canvas bag and carry it towards the door "By the way guys, if you see any of them going for their weapons I want you to blow em' away" he casually called over his shoulder to the rest of the group, hoping that it wouldn't come to that but wanting them to be prepared all the same. With Dominic knowing full well that any gunfight that took place probably result in him being shot even if he did intend to go down fighting.
Leaving the relative safety of the house he'd call across to Kaidan and the other Lost Boy's who were currently hunkering down on the opposite side of the street "Ok Kaidan, we have your stuff...let’s get this over with!"

A panicked expression worked its way across Karen's face. "What? Hey! No! That's my son out there!" Karen looked to those in the living room with her, watching the windows, armed and ready for a fight. "This isn't right! They haven't done anything yet! By my count, we've killed more of them then they have of us!" The anxious mother paced back and forth. "If something happens, let me try to save my son... Please?"

This whole horrible event could go off without a hitch, but Karen had a nagging feeling that it would all fall apart if someone on either side made the wrong face in the wrong direction.

In reply to Dominic Dubreton (msg # 239):

Atlanta signaled for his boys to stay put in their sheltered firing positions, meeting Dominic with only Kentucky at his side. Atlanta's eyes met with Dominic's. "Why are you doing this? I'm just curious. Why is Ricky worth it to you?" His eyes never left Dominic's.

Kentucky stood vigilantly beside his leader and his friend and his lover, his eyes scanning the windows of the tall house. He counted the faces in the glass, all of them likely armed, ready to reign hellfire down on the Boys if anything went wrong. His people were at his back, dug in, ready to return the bullets as they came. But Atlanta... He was dangerously exposed. If the worst happened, It'd be Kentucky, Atlanta and Dominic that took it.

Atlanta extended out his open hand, ready to receive the bag of goodies from the DEA van.

Lorenzo volunteered to help Dominic carry the supplies out. He wouldn't be much good upstairs with the longrifle, short of setting up some sort of stand. Which he definitely did not have time for.

Worst case scenario he could at least knife one of them. He hoped it wouldn't come down to that, since his own odds didn't look favourable. Still, there was an angry edge to his features while he approached that said he was more than ready for a fight. If he had to die stupidly he'd do his best to take one of them too.

He waited for Dominic's queue to hand his share of the supplies over.

He didn't mouth off for once, though he would have liked to. Ah, the quiet, pissed off muscle. A role he used to be very accustomed to. You're here for one reason, Lencho, and it's not to talk. He barely even looked at Ricky. He focused on the kids calculatingly and with no small amount of hostility.

In reply to Karen (msg # 240):

Hank slowly tilted his head at Karen's sudden concern, confusion obvious. You just sabotaged any chance of something not starting. As soon as they're out of sight we're going to haul ass to the "safe distance" before they realize you fucked up the guns. Shaking his head he made his way to the stairs. I just hope four guns were worth it. All those houses... It was a shame, based on the rice and pills he would have guessed either the Lost Boys hadn't hit the town yet or were very at sloppy salvaging.

Making his way to the twin's room he pulled the pillows out of their cases and started going through the closet and dressers for anything that would fit Tom.

Joe shook his head in a foreboding way as Dominic set the group on a risky course, though of course this was a tense situation no matter what.
If he hadn't had to give up his handgun, he'd have his finger on the trigger ready to go, his long sinewy frame behind the front doorframe of the house, with some semblance of cover, ready to pop out to shoot at a moments notice as the exchange got underway.

"They aren't going to let this go peaceably. These shits aren't just kids anymore." Joe commented, eyes fierce if a bit punched up. He wasn't going to hesitate.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:00, Sun 14 Aug 2016.

He really didn't get it did he? Human drives and emotions truly were as alien to him as those of ants. Dominic gave a weary sigh, he couldn't be arsed to try and explain it all to him, he just wanted to get this whole damn mess sorted and out of the way so that he could set about getting him and his people out of here "Because he's one of ours and we look out for each other" Dominic replied to the youth, using the same tone of voice a parent fed up of answering stupid questions would use "...and no doubt if our positions were reversed you'd be doing the same for ol' Kentucky here" he finished, throwing that little thought out there more for Kentucky's benefit that Kaidan's let him think on that for a little while.
With his piece said Dom drops the heavy bag of guns, bullets and assorted narcotics onto the ground by Kaidan's feet before then taking a step back "Send him over, you can pick the bags up once the three of us are on our merry way" Dominic instructed, his muscles tensed ready to reach for his gun or his sword at the slightest provocation. They were on the home stretch now, with any luck they wouldn't stuff it up.

Atlanta signaled for Saskatchewan to send Ricky forward. The small man was relieved to have his bindings off and to finally be heading home to his friends. Since the hurricane Ricky felt like he had lost so much. Cass... The Caravan... And then to be scooped up by these awful kids and viciously interrogated by Kaidan, whom he had met in a strikingly similar position back in St. Louis, when Kaidan had pretended to be a prisoner locked in a conference room with the Caravan, trying to gather information. Now Ricky had discovered that Kaidan, now "Atlanta" was the ruthless leader of The Lost Boys. A position he had gained by force during the hurricane in an elaborate coup d'etat, backed by his lieutenants Kentucky and Dakota.

Atlanta's Lieutenants had made themselves loyal to him in the last days of Washington's reign over the Lost Boys. Washington has always been a fierce commander but in the weeks before the storm he had become cautious, scared of the decline in available resources in the costal New Orleans region. Atlanta convinced a few key players that Washington had grown weak and that it was time for new leadership. Kentucky was in love with Atlanta, Dakota agreed with his sales pitch, and Wyoming was intimidated into following. Then the night of the storm, the four of them overthrew Washington and saw to his death during the evacuation from their Neverland theme park. They set out to hit the road the same time the Caravan did, encountering first Ricky, who had headed south from the industrial complex, and second Joe, who was close on the heels of the Caravan. Once Atlanta discovered that his former group (and his mother) was in the area he ordered his Lost Boys to follow. They watched the Caravan loot the DEA van (which they were then seeing for the first time) and hatched a plan to acquire its contents, following them to Slaughter.

Now, at the climax of this plan, Atlanta was seconds away from getting what he wanted, and without too much trouble. As Ricky passed the bag of goodies Atlanta scooped it up in his hand and gave it to the boy that had sent Ricky forward. The deal was done and everyone was going to go on their "merry way," as Dominic had put it. But then a funny thought crossed Atlanta's head. Dominic hadn't played by the rules. He took Wyoming and held him ransom for the ransom Atlanta was using Ricky for and the whole thing was against the rules. And Atlanta didn't like it when people didn't follow his rules.

Dominic welcomed Ricky back into the fold, quickly ushering him away to the front door of the house. Both the Lost Boys and the Caravan held their positions as Saskatchewan brought the guns back to their house and Dominic brought Ricky back to his. Still standing in the middle of the street with Kentucky, Atlanta snatched Joe's bow from him and strung an arrow, releasing it in one swift movement. Everything happened in slow motion...

Kentucky's face turned to shock and horror. This deal was done and everybody was fine. He never expected this. Atlanta's eyes locked on Dominic's back, watching the arrow fly closer to its target. Ricky smiled as he was welcomed home, one last nice feeling before the arrow crashed through his chest. The broad head of the arrow pierced Ricky's lung, tore him up and burst through the front of his chest, spraying warm blood that felt like hot oil all over Dominic and spurted through the open front door.

It was unclear where the first gunshot came from. It was certainly from the Caravan's side. The Lost Boys were so damn frightened by what they saw Atlanta do, and since the first "act of war" came from their side, they didn't fire first. No the first shot came from the Caravan. Maybe it was Lorenzo, maybe it was Dominic, maybe it was Hank or Karen or Luke in the front windows, or maybe it was Isabelle upstairs. Where it came from didn't matter really so much as where it ended up. Kentucky was smart enough to know that when thet bow left his hand any chance of avoiding a war was over. As the arrow hit Ricky Kentucky grabbed Atlanta by the shoulders and pulled him down, toppled him over and landed his own body on top to protect him from what happened next.

The boy now known as Kentucky grew up on a farm near Paris, Kentucky. His ultra conservative father grew cereal crops and was very, very upset when he found "Kentucky" kissing another boy. In the years that followed 'Tucky was forbidden from being himself and was miserable. But when the world collapsed and the oppressive culture he lived in died he was finally allowed to be free. He met Atlanta last fall and it lit up his life like he never thought possible. He was in love and for the first time in his life, that felt okay.

So when it was time to give up his life to save Atlanta's, he gave no hesitation. Kentucky landed on top of Atlanta as the bullets ripped holes in his back and arms and legs. Kentucky's blood poured all over Atlanta, leaving a soaked puddle on the pavement. The sound of the gunfire was tremendous. It was like thunder and fireworks all at once. As the boys went down in the street, the Lost Boys returned fire at the Caravan. Bullets clapped against the wood of both houses, sending splinters into the air in every direction. The car that was parked in front of the Lost Boys' house lost a tire first, and then another, and then the back window launched tiny glass sparkles into the air that danced in the light as they trickled across the pavement.

Only a couple brief pauses could be felt as each side took a second to reload. Karen watched through the window as her son made a completely illogical decision and started a gun battle. The mother looked on in horror as the boys went down and the boy protecting hers was ripped to pieces. All senses faded away. There was only a defening ringing in her ears as she collapsed onto the floor at the window. She was oblivious to what was happening now. Karen  missed the others dragging Dominic and a wounded Ricky inside barely clinging on to life, she missed what happened to Lorenzo and she missed everything that was happening outside. Broken glass, splinters of wood and clouds of drywall dust landed in her hair, but she didn't care. She felt like her heart was ripped out of her all over again seeing Kaidan senselessly try to murder Ricky.

The gun battle raged on for what seemed like forever but might have only been a few minutes until both sides began running low on ammo.

...

Mahmoud had moved swiftly to pick up Benson's trail after departing from the others. Time was of the essence, but the trail was haphazard, and truly his state of hurry hampered his efforts to objectively and calmly pick out the tracks that would reveal the location of their companion.

If it had been some time before Zombieland, he certainly wouldn't have had the stamina to do what he had to. Since that fateful day that the world ended, though, he'd sharpened his skills and honed his body into that of a fighter, a scout, a survivor.

Establishing a trail, Mahmoud was still unable to complete his task, given the mob of Mad Max style youth's that passed him by on their way to his own group. He'd had to dodge down into the muck to avoid detection, which was thankfully easy enough to accomplish given it was just he, opposed to the great number of hostiles, albeit little ones. He kept his rifle up out of the mud so as not to clog the parts, sacrificing his already tenuously dry clothing.

He had to make a call, to continue on or to rejoin his own people while he still could. Luckily there were plenty of new tracks to follow the Lost Boy's home should they get through the exchange..

Mahmoud had trailed the Lost Boys as they marched to Slaughter, but to do war or business, he could not tell. On their heels he met up with a rattled and slightly wounded Bohannon. When the gun went off an inch from his head, the bullet had grazed and bounced off of his skull, rendering him unconscious as the one who had survived the encounter dragged him away, trying to get him back to his people. But Bohannon came to, got up and tried to whoop the boy who was only just strong enough to drag the full grown man through the mud. But, having suffered a head wound, he could not keep up to the boy as he ran off to report back to Atlanta.

Wandering through the woods, in the general yet somewhat disoriented direction of the Lost Boys, Bohannon bumped into Mahmoud and together they devised their own plan to intervene in the whole mess of a situation. They figured that any group that would claim to have hostages, and try to capture more like they had could certainly be up to no good and had to be stopped. They had to get their people out of there...

...

Phase one of the plan was rushed as Bohannon heard the gunfight erupt from his position on the outskirts of town. He couldn't wait for Mahmoud any longer, he'd have to improvise. The men had found a farm yard not too far from Slaughter that happened to have a pickup truck with a slip-tank in the back and enough gas to do what they needed. So Bohannon started the engine of his new found fuel truck and sped it into town, careening around the corner at the end of the street and slamming it head-on into the car parked in front of the Lost Boys' house. Both vehicles skidded about ten, fifteen feet and ended up mangled together on the lawn. As he had hoped, he ended up with the drivers door pointing towards the Caravan's house. Dizzy and a little shaken from the crash, Bohannon wrestled the door open, fell out onto the ground and took shelter behind the rear wheel. The gunfire resumed from the Lost Boy's side, with the Caravan now providing cover for their cowboy. Bohannon dug deep into his pocket and produced his lighter and a rag. Bohannon shoved the rag into the truck's fuel tank and lit it. He counted down a few seconds before taking a deep breath and sprinting like mad towards the front door of the Caravan's house, waiving his arms like a crazy person. Somewhere between the truck and the house the gas caught fire and the whole thing went up. First the truck's gas tank went up in flames with a whud, a moment later the slip tank exploded in a magnificent fireball, shards of metal raining down on the Lost Boy's house.

Now for phase two of the guy's plan. Mahmoud sweated profusely as he moved swift and as quietly as possible through the woods that backed up the town of Slaughter. The approach would place him facing the front of the house his people had set up inside, and behind the Lost Boys' that he could see amassed on one side of the street once Mahmoud had delved behind the houses after clearing the treeline.

It would be suicide but a heroic distraction for his people if he were to attack the Lost Boy's from behind. Thankfully he was not alone, he'd brought reinforcements, of a sort.

What had caused Mahmoud to keep such a brisk pace was a crowd of followers, namely a twenty or so thick herd of walkers, biters, lurkers, creepy-crawlers. They were as motley as ever, in various states of decay, undress, injury, and demographics. Mahmoud was sure they could smell him acutely, and he made sure that they saw plenty of his backside to keep the lot of them interested enough to give staggered chase.

Knowing that his 'relief force' would spot the backs of the Lost Boys' if not detect the commotion that ensued between the two groups, Mahmoud clammored up the back steps of a residence. On the back porch, he kicked away the rotting steps he'd used in a couple sound, forceful kicks to make it difficult for any walkers to follow him up.

The groans and undead grieving continued as the monsters tried to give chase, losing site of Mahmoud as he moved into the house, closing the back door behind him, barricading it with an upturned table. Outside, the creatures that lost interest or could not clamor up onto the back porch of the house would stream past the home, to the streets where the Lost Boys and Caravan met, to attack, to tear, to rip, to eat.

Like a soldier fighting house to house, he rushed through the home, taking up to the top floor, kicking open the door to a little girl's room. Rushing past stuffed animals and varieties of pink shades, he moved to the window, yanking it open before taking a knee on the floor. Raising his rifle up to a sniper form, the dark skinned Caravaneer leveled his sights on the Lost Boys and watched as the truck exploded in flames, welcoming the horde of zombies to the BBQ.

...

The Zombies went after whoever they could find, so many possible meals laid out in front of them in every direction. The Lost Boys turned their fire from the Caravan and tried to fight off the evil dead with their dwindling ammo reserves. Somewhere in the commotion of the explosion and the arrival of the walkers a small contingent went out to collect Atlanta. One of his saviours was picked off from a distance by Mahmoud but the smoke from the fire obscured any further shots.

As Bohannon was running to the house a bullet jumped up and bit him in the thigh, passing clean trough from back to front. The smoke from the explosion and the distraction of Mahmoud's hungry cavalry gave him the cover he needed to limp and hop his was back to the house.

Isabelle laid down fire like an old pro, albeit a rusty old pro. In the shock and confusion of everything that was happening, she never noticed that Mr. Cauldershore hadn't fired a single shot. The poor man succumbed to his illness moments before Ricky went down. He slumped down, still clutching the pistol Izzy had given him. Isabelle took responsibility for letting Cauldershore off the hook from Dominic, but ultimately it was too much for her to handle. She gave him the gun and asked him to hang of because she couldn't accept that he was going to die, and that she had to help him. She chose to ignore it and maybe he would hang on just a little longer. But he couldn't.

Atlanta accepted defeat and signalled the retreat of his greatly reduced force. The Lost Boys fled first into their house and then out the back, quietly fighting their way through the lighter load of Zombies behind the house and disappearing into the woods. The horde on the street prevented the Caravan from making chase, but provided them a reprieve from fighting a prolonged battle of extermination against the Lost Boys.

Today's battle was over, tomorrow's battle was just beginning.
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:04, Mon 15 Aug 2016.