<div class="floatleft">(http://i.imgur.com/HRRY4My.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Captain Bianka Saint<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Train Station<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Chief Frederick Hagerstorm, Marcus<strong>Mentioned:</strong>All Others<br/><hr/><hr/><br/>Well, seemed everyone was here.  What an interesting bunch.  Bianka certainly wasn't about to be bored, and it seemed she had her first (optional) duty: build them a range for keeping up their firearms!<br/><br/>"I can get a range up and running ASAP, a CQB course might take longer unless there's a building I can re-purpose," she informed her superior happily. "And a small shop.  Gunsmithing is a hobby of mine."<br/><br/>It was getting hot though, and they were getting moving.  Wasn't too hot, but she was a big dog, and not exactly short-haired.  At least she had sweat glands; she felt nothing but pity for those canimorphs whom didn't.  Hauling her heavy load of gear, her eyes kept sweeping back and forth as they went, a well-rewarded force-of-habit.  She'd feel better if she didn't have her guns in her gear, personally, but so far didn't seem they had much threat, more... curiosity.  Curiosity was a good word for it.<br/><br/>Oh, but speak of the devil (whatever that was) and he shall appear.  Her eyes immediately locked on, watching, waiting to see-<br/><br/>"Knife!" she grunted, dropping her gear with a heavy thump, and was about to move forward to intervene when the sheriff did so, spectacularly in her opinion.  Still left one more. "Got him!"<br/><br/>She was big, certainly not built like some greyhound for speed; she was a powerhouse, a working dog, after all.  As the man closed in however, Bianka was granted the opportunity to demonstrate she certainly wasn't slow, not by a long shot.  Drunks were slow and slower to react, made it easy to simply get in his way, grab his clothes, lift, spin, get him off his feet, and send him bodily into the ground.  It would hurt.  It would hurt alot, but not to the drunk nearly as much as when she'd make sure to put her knee into his back with a firm grasp on his arm to restrain him.  Made sure to growl a bit, to get the point across that he should<em>behave</em>.<br/><br/>"Marcus, right?" she glanced up towards the other human of their little posse. "Got anymore prophecies for us?  Or duct tape?  Cuffs aren't exactly what I'm used to carrying."