<span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="font-style: italic"><span style="text-decoration: underline"><div style="text-indent:1em;">Kanna &amp; OM, Ascot &amp; Dzel, XIII &amp; Helen</div></span></span></span><br/><br/>Dzel would let Ascot slip from her grip, flicking her wrist just a little to assure that he landed squarely on the flumph.<br/><br/>She answered the call of the second, traversing the rock face toward him. She lifted the alien by his arm and plucked him from the rock face. He would land squarely on the flumph a Ascot had. She did this quickly and wordlessly, without expression. The alien might realize that she was quite strong for her size.<br/><br/>Then she would jump down herself. Bouncing off the flumph and landing on her feet. The flumph made a pleasant little '<a class="postlink" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r1wJawdv-AE">hoo-hoo</a>' sound as each member of the company bounced off it’s squishy body.<br/><br/>She stepped aside, and waited for the company to make it’s next decision. Her green eyes wandered from face to face, taking notes of names. She saw that there was a doorway underneath the ledge that they had fallen from. It was dark, but there was a light somewhere inside. It glittered and flashed every so often. It was the same that XIII had almost investigated before he was distracted by those above.<br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="font-style: italic"><span style="text-decoration: underline"><div style="text-indent:1em;">Lilly, Morgan &amp; Damien, Kwatoko, Bodzil, Merin &amp; Kenman</div></span></span></span><br/>If they followed the stream of fresh air, they would travel down a narrow breach in the wall, then push through a thin veil of rubble. They would find themselves outside, by the collapsed dome on the north east corner of the ruin.<br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="font-style: italic"><span style="text-decoration: underline"><div style="text-indent:1em;">Cornelius &amp; Wolfe</div></span></span></span><br/><br/>Tho open the door will take some strength, but it will give easily. There are three steps down then into a small round chamber.<br/><br/>In the center there is a small pedestal. The pedestal is carved with old writings and glyphs. Atop the pedestal is…<br/><br/>A stick.<br/><br/>Slightly thinner and shorter than a standard number two pencil. Not quite straight, like a twig with it’s bark removed, and 13 tiny dark knots spotted around it.<br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="font-style: italic"><span style="text-decoration: underline"><div style="text-indent:1em;">Twain Hirsch and Cox</div></span></span></span><br/>Twain cuckled a bit in the dirt, but quickly turned that chuckle into coughing. “What? What’s going on?” The old main wiggled under the soldier’s boot. Blinded and choked by dust. “I-I can’t see! What?!” He made his very best old-man-face and spoke in his very best old-man-voice.<br/><br/>Once all the zombies were down, no more would rise. Twain continued to cough as if he had been taken by surprise, yet all the while he had been watching. These guys were easy to spook, but not dumb. They’d kept their guns on him, so they had good instincts and perhaps the one with the boot on his chest had an underdeveloped sixth sense. Internally he graded them like a school teacher, on things such as their accuracy (B), reflexes (B-), and their team-work (A+).<br/><br/>Knowledge of the Occult and magic. (F-)<br/><br/>They were also clearly uninvolved in this incident. These men had never seen a<span style="font-style: italic">simple </span>undead before, while Twain expected anyone involved to be cultured in the occult.<br/><br/>Not these guys. These were your standard issue American G.I. Joes.<br/><br/>“P.O.W.? No thanks. I’ll tell you what boys. You let me on my feet like<span style="font-style: italic">god-damned human being</span>, I’ll tell you my name, list my doctoral degrees and my Guinness world records. Then I'll go on and show you why I’m fiddling around with<span style="font-style: italic">this</span>.” Twain had not let go of the eye, and now held it up for the soldiers to see it. “I’m looking for answers just like you. I wasn’t here when all this crap happened, and neither were you. But you know who was? All these mother fuckers. She saw the whole thing.” He shook his fist a bit, so that there was no mistake about who ‘she’ was.<br/><br/>"Honestly, I'd like to skip to that last part. The longer we wait, and the more dust we get on this thing the harder it's gonna be."<br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold"><span style="font-style: italic"><span style="text-decoration: underline"><div style="text-indent:1em;">Heuly &amp; Zesiro</div></span></span></span><br/>Zesiro eyed the military man, he had the gun, and he wanted answers. He did, however, throw Zesiro a canteen of water. A sign of good faith. He wanted peace, but made it clear that he was willing to resort to violence if Zesiro made the wrong move. He took the canteen, and took a long swig before answering.<br/><br/>His blue eyes were wide and worried, sandy blond brows knitted.<br/><br/>“No no, I’m not Taliban. I’m ah… part of an investigation team, special operations… um… top-secret… sort of… thing.” He scratched his head, and kept his hands clear of his equipment. He was afraid that the soldier would mistake them for weapons.<br/><br/>He heard gunshots in the distance. “<span style="font-style: italic">Shit</span>.” of course this soldier was not alone, and the others not might be so kindly as this one.<br/><br/>Then again it might not be the soldiers provoking the fight. Some of Zesiro’s teammates were kinder than himself, others were… not inclined to compromise.<br/><br/>“Look, ah, my name is Zesiro. I’m ah… not sure what’s going on over there, but I’m second in command of my team, so, ah, maybe we can… check that out…”<br/><br/>“You know, we weren’t here very long before I got knocked out. We have no idea who did all this… There is your team, and mine… but we might not be the only ones here.” Zesiro added quickly.