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</div><div style="position: relative; margin: 0px auto -15px auto; max-width: 582px; background: #352f2c; border: 1px solid #655f5b; font-size: 14px; font-family: arial, sans-serif; letter-spacing: 5px; line-height: 30px; color: #ccc; text-align: center; z-index: 1"><span style="font-family: 'Book Antiqua'">Andriette  Volkov</span></div><div style="margin: auto; max-width: 582px; max-height: 300px; overflow: auto; background: #1a1a1a; border: 1px solid #655f5b; padding: 10px; font-family: arial, sans-serif; color: #ccc; font-size: 12px; text-align: justify"><br/>
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As Montana had begun his instructing, Andriette's disposition changed from slightly amused, to keen and sharp. She straightened her back and squared her shoulders, moving closer to Montana's side when he'd began to explain the mission, only showing a smirk when he'd practically spat the word 'dead'. As her brain began processing information, her dark eyes roaming over the faces of her new crew, she narrowed her eyes in contemplation. Her mind never bothered to wonder why this Leonard Hill had done what he'd done, for a soldier never asked questions. Of course, Andriette was use to calling the shots, but that was a long time ago and now, she found herself in a position once more where she was being given orders, given tasks to follow through with. It was funny to her, strangely, that she didn't recoil at the thought of Montana giving her orders like she normally would with anyone else. It occurred to her that it would take a very dominant, commanding source for her to submit to and it was almost easy to fall in line behind Montana, which also seemed to puzzle Andriette, her internal struggle clear on her face. Nonetheless, she moved past it, her mind focusing on strategy.<br/>
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The pistol strapped to her slender hip, her favorite .357 SIG, would only take her so far. Typically the gun would hold 15 rounds, plus one in the chamber, but of course in the middle of a fucking apocalypse it was hard to find ammo. Though she had a stockpile hidden among the outskirts of The Spire, along with other emergency supplies, she'd only chambered one bullet, then added 8 to the magazine. 9 shots, that's all she'd have if her bat failed her. Turning on her heel, she jerked the bat out of the ground and returned to her spot next to Montana and Murphy. As Montana passed her a walkie talkie and expressed his concerns with the amount of batteries it had, she clipped it to her belt that held her pistol and nodded curtly. "Understood." The only word she offered, focusing her full attention on the man then. As he'd explained that she'd take the front line with Jamison, she nodded her head towards Jamison in acknowledgement, even going as far to offer him a supportive half smile. "If I may, I believe that finding higher ground could be a benefit. Once we get past the horde, if we could get two bodies on the rooftop of the structure before we enter from the ground, then we'd spare ourselves a good five minutes of searching. With a horde in the equation, time is going to be our biggest obstacle." It dawned on her then, that this was the most human interaction she'd had since the outbreak, even among her time at The Spire and she found herself oddly at ease with the group surrounding. "I think it would be to our benefit, as well, if Jamison or myself hold the entrance while the others search, in the event that the horde tries to breach the structure once we've made contact."<br/>
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