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    Born: 27 February 1986
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    Custom Title: Asian Sherlock
    Played By:: Soren
    Gender: Male
    Former Occupation: Interpol Detective
    Primary Weapon: Words
    Secondary Weapon: Machete
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    Kenji Fujinawa


    My Content
    Nov 6 2015, 01:53 PM
    Never did Kenji expect to see so many people in one place. Not after the end of the world. Months of planning, preparation and overall hard work led up to this moment. The Festival. Their allied community of Kershaw was designated to be the location. Their host group consisted of two hundred people, and Kenji brought along one hundred of his own. Two other of their allied communities brought the total number almost to four hundred. So many people together in one place was like putting all their eggs together in one basket. But it didn’t matter. This three day event was meant to allow the survivors to take a break and really take the time to interact and coexist with one another in a way that hadn’t been possible since the days before the turn.

    And in all honesty, it unnerved him. Seeing people who had gone through the same horrors make the futile attempt to have a party felt almost selfish, even though he’d been on the committee of people designated to plan this whole thing. It really was important to keep up morale though, so against his better judgement Kenji did make an attempt to socialize. The party started in the early morning.

    The streets of the large farming community were lined with trade kiosks offering all sorts of things. Some people were demonstrating talents, and food of all sorts was available due to the large amount of livestock and cattle that they’d gathered and raised. It was truly a treat to be able to enjoy a chicken leg with a side of corn and all the curry he could ever want. There was so much food available with so many choices that by mid day his belly was stuffed and he had to force himself to take a break from this self-imposed gluttony. During his time alone in the wastes he stuck to a strict diet as to make sure his body weight never reached a point where he was truly starving, but this opportunity was quite possibly a once in a lifetime thing so he didn’t hesitate to indulge himself in the luxuries that Kershaw had to offer. Fully functioning hot showers was something he’d never take for granted.

    The Asian man strolled through the crowded streets, eyes watching the numerous sentries walking the massive walls. Kershaw originally didn’t have weapons when they’d first crossed paths. They’d had to offer all their firearms to The Society, as a method of payment as well as a preventative measure to keep them from fighting back. The one thing all the allied groups had in common was that they were all under Norman Cage’s rule, so they truly were united. It was amazing to see what all of them could do when they put their minds to it. Fujinawa sipped from a cup of ice cold homemade orange soda in his right hand, an unopened unmarked bottle of freshly brewed beer in his left. His eyes landed on a two story brick house to his right. This house, like every other one in the community was boarded up and fortified with the interior stairs retractable in case of breach. What caught his attention was that unlike everybody else at this fair, the man standing on the front porch was armed and standing at attention. Like he was guarding something.

    Curious but also intuitive, the man stepped up the porch and greeted the man.

    ”Hey mate. Want a beer?”

    The guard looked humbled by this simple act of kindness and nodded in appreciation, propping his rifle on a chair. ”Yeah man. I appreciate it. And I should be thanking you for more than this beer.”

    ”Why’s that then?”

    ”You’re the main reason we’re all together. I mean it wasn’t just you, but if you hadn’t came in to help us when you did, The Society would have hit us harder than before.”

    Recalling that gruesome day, his fists clenched. ”You weren’t hit. We were.”

    ”Oh, shit. That’s right. Fuck man I didn’t mean it like that.” The reason Norman originally approached Nunez was because of their involvement with Kershaw that led to the death of almost forty of Norman’s men over a one week period. Norman believed in peace and understood the usefulness of combined forces, so he’d agreed to spare everybody as long as they’d submit to him.

    But still, he’d never forgive the man for killing his friends. And sometimes the revenge seemed worth it.

    ”Look it’s fine. What’s in this house?” He saw no reason to hold up the conversation, getting to his original intent.

    ”Oh. This is where we keep our prisoners. There’s two in there right now. Both of them were people who tried ambushing one of our supply convoys. The other three we hung last night, you might have seen them when you guys crossed the bridge checkpoint.”

    ”Yeah…” Kenji detected a lie in the man’s voice, but couldn’t quite determine what it was. As if it wasn’t a full truth. ”You might if I see them? I used to talk to criminals for a living and I have a psychology degree, this shouldn’t be much different.”

    The guard shook his head at this. ”It’s not my place to say so. You have to ask Sullivan.”

    Kenji nodded. ”Fair enough. What’s your name?”


    Kenji parted ways with the guard and continued down the streets. He passed through the trade market and chuckled under his breath at the sight of Rudy and Reuben selling drugs from their kiosk to a large line of customers. A large number of animals roamed freely throughout the community. Kenji exchanged waves and briefly chatted with people here and there, and eventually found himself on a small hill overlooking a row of houses surrounded with fences with a barn to the other side. A few of his fellow group members were just hanging around, socializing. Elvis sat on the ground with an acoustic guitar in his lap, and occasionally he played riffs from various rock songs.

    ”Is it bad that I don’t really want to be here?” He asked all of them bluntly. After all what was the reason in masking his true opinion. He’d never been one to sugar coat things anyways. It was just hard to think to himself a good deal of people here have murdered somebody and act like they were all supposed to go back to the way things were.

    ”I mean I trust that the people holding the fort back home are okay. I just don’t like crowds. Not anymore.”
    Aug 3 2015, 10:33 AM
    The large number of survivors within their community left a lot of information open in the air. They’d managed to survive together for so long by pooling their skills and resources together to become as productive as possible. As a result, they had it pretty well off compared to other groups. When Nunez had first started opening their doors to outsiders there was always the paranoid suspicion that one would try and infiltrate their group for an outside source. It was one of the reasons that Fujinawa liked conducting these interviews with new arrivals. It allowed him to patiently listen to their story and how they’d survived so long while still managing to find a placement and job for them within his community. Nunez worked like a well oiled machine and in order for them to function as a whole everybody had to contribute and play their part. Without their sense of community, they were certain to fail.

    He’d spent most of that morning organizing his paperwork and finishing up a review of a report from his scavengers. They’d recently discovered an abandoned orchard with an abundance of fruit and vegetables growing wildly in an exposed greenhouse, but the undead concentration had been too intense for his scouts to approach it. It was an objective in his mind to send somebody out later that day to clear the place out, but it also wasn’t his top priority. As leader of his group he found himself lacking the time to indulge in the little things. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d sat down and read a book and he’d spent so much time working daily that when he did have some off time -- however rare that may be -- he felt almost guilty for doing it. There was always something that needed to be done around his community. They were always making improvements, ways to make the fragile life they were living easier.

    His stomach was full from a light breakfast consisting of scrambled eggs with a side salad. The great thing about having a community cafeteria was that there was always several options to choose from from the meals that the people he had working the kitchens were able to concoct. It was a big step up compared to all the processed shit they’d been eating when they still lived at the church. Kenji could still remember the brilliant idea they’d had to break up granola bars and toss it into powdered milk which barely passed for cereal. The fact that they had good chefs was a luxury he did not take for granted. Once he’d accomplished a majority of his work that he’d set out to do, Fujinawa sent somebody to find their newest arrival: James Stone.

    Kenji had allowed the battle-weary Marine to take several days to recover from his dehydration. He’d set him up with a visit with one of their physicians, and afterwards had allowed him to take the time to recover, eat, bathe and build up his strength up the point that he was no longer at the brink of death. He hadn’t yet decided where to place this man, but he did have a strong sense of respect for him. The way he’d presented himself when Kenji had first approached him on the outskirts had said that he was a skilled fighter unwilling to face death without a fight and that was the kind of person Fujinawa felt that he could use within his community. He had a leather journal sprawled out on his desk, with a list of every member of his community along with their profession and position within the group going down a list on one of the pages. At the very bottom of the list was James’ name, with his position left blank for the time being.

    There was an armchair placed in front of his desk facing where Kenji was sitting. He’d expressed an interest in interviewing James on his arrival and had told the man that he would find him when he was ready so he didn’t think the man would have a problem with it. He conducted these interviews much like a Pre-Apocalypse employer would. He liked to know the details behind the people in his group. It wasn’t to be taken as breaching ones privacy. Fujinawa was just a very intuitive person and he liked to grasp the concept of what made people the way they were today. It did wonders when trying to evaluate a person’s psyche and mental health.

    There was a knock at his office door, and Fujinawa momentarily looked up from his journal. ”Come in.” It still felt so foreign having something as simple as a knock on your door. It wasn’t something he’d ever envisioned himself doing. But then again, he never would have pictured himself as leader of a group in the middle of the Apocalypse either.

    James entered, and Kenji’s straightened his posture up from its naturally hunched state. ”You look a lot better, mate.” He’d say good afternoon but something like that felt almost alien as an introduction. Compared to how exhausted and drained James had first been, this was the first time Kenji had been able to see him in a position where he wasn’t clinging onto dear life. James had a rather imposing physique and muscular upper body that Kenji was fully able to take note of. James didn’t come across as threatening to Kenji, but there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that he was capable of it.

    Fujinawa gestured for James to sit. ”Would you like something to drink? Whiskey? Water?” He offered, before folding his hands together. He carried himself with a calm demeanor and spoke in a way that implied he had done this sort of thing countless times before. ”So this interview is conducted similar to how an employer would. There isn’t a pass/fail criteria or anything. Like I told you when we first met, we just like to know about the people that pass through our area when we can.” He explained, rubbing his chin with his thumb in thought.

    ”For what it’s worth I feel it prudent to mention that anything you say stays strictly between us. All of us have had to endure some of the worst this world has to offer, and for some people it isn’t always easy to talk about.” He had a feeling that James had seen his share of horrors before the Apocalypse. ”Let’s start with the simple things and work our way through this one at a time, yeah? You said you’re a Marine. What was your MOS?” He asked, writing down the information in his journal. ”We have a lot of jobs available here. Be it simple patrolling, or providing overwatch in the tower. Not all of our positions necessarily have to be in the field. Where do you think you would best fit in given your skillset?” It was something that Kenji always took into consideration. As long as there was no bullshitting most of the time he was able to place people in jobs that fit what they were comfortable with doing.

    ”Let’s start at the beginning. Fujinawa explained, conducting the interview in an unbiased and completely understanding manner.

    ”Where were you when the outbreak hit? Explain to me, how many people have you come across? How many have you survived with? And how many have you killed?"
    May 25 2015, 05:59 PM
    Kenji didn’t know where to start. Sure, a group of this size meant that there was going to be the occasional squabble or dispute, but never had they come across an incident of this tragic proportion. He was under a great deal of stress, and word around the Warehouse of the incident spread like wildfire. He’d done what he could, isolating the two families from each other and taking the necessary measures to keep things from getting out of hand. But the damage was done, and Kenji was starting to realize that if he didn’t come up with a solution soon a lot of people were going to be upset.

    Two fourteen year olds in his group thought it would be funny to sneak some peanuts into some food and offer it to another one of the kids who they knew had a severe peanut allergy. Alec Henderson was only eight years old and died of anaphylactic shock while the two brothers watched and did nothing about it. It made his blood boil with anger. Mark Henderson worked on the agriculture team and ever since arriving in Nunez with his two children had done everything possible to help expand their horizons with his extensive farming knowledge. It was his oldest son Parker who had discovered his reanimated younger brother shuffling around in their storage unit. His calls for help were answered almost immediately and if it wasn’t for the quick intervention of the nearby survivors he too would have died. Kenji worked quick to find out the cause of the problem and it didn’t take long for members of his group to point out that they’d saw the two Lawrence brothers luring the young boy back to his unit under the false pretense of wanting to play Pokemon cards over a snack. Fujinawa handled the situation diplomatically, not allowing his personal emotions on the matter to keep him from doing his job. After conducting interviews with both families, it become apparent to Kenji that the two brothers had absolutely no remorse over the matter.

    His first thought was to exile them. Give them a week’s worth of ration and send them on their way with the parents. Others among his group were suggesting relocation as a more merciful alternative. It was one of those situations that Kenji didn’t feel like he could handle on his own so he’d called a group meeting and decided to take a vote. But before doing so, he wanted to hear what everybody had to say on the matter. They called a meeting in the assembly area and one by one anybody who wanted their vote to matter started trickling their way into the construction hall that doubled as a community cafeteria.

    ”By now, everybody knows why we’re here. What Cody and Mason Lawrence did is unacceptable. I know some of you are in favor of leniency because they’re just kids, but let me make something clear: The twins are sociopaths. I don’t know how nobody caught onto this sooner.” Both families were excluded from the meeting and isolated to different parts of the Warehouse until they could come to a solution on the matter.

    ”Elvis and I spoke to them. They showed absolutely no remorse for what they did, and don’t even understand why they’re currently in confinement.” He could tell that this particular incident was weighing down Elvis. The normally reserved and hardened head of security stood up from where he was standing and ran his hand through his hair, speaking fast under stress.

    ”My blood is fucking boiling right now. I need some air. I can’t be here right now, I’m sorry Kenji.” He excused himself and hurried out of the assembly area. Kenji figured it had to do with him once having a kid of his own and the truth was he couldn’t blame him. A lot of people were upset on the matter and that was the reason they called this meeting.

    ”We’ve come to two options. Exile, or relocation.” There was a third option, but none of them were willing to say it although it was very clear that it was implied. He figured if the kids were just a couple of years older than it would be more of a possibility, but the fact that the two kids had living parents who were active members of the community was the only factor keeping them from suggesting it.

    ”There’s always another option.” He heard a female voice say from the crowd.

    Kenji’s eyes scanned the room and landed on Moira. She was always one to speak her mind, and ever since she and James Pratt had adopted the late Scott Wainwright’s kid as their own had become a lot more of a motherly figure. Rory Wainwright sat with them, and while the kid was roughly ten years old he still had the same opinion and agreed with his surrogate mother.

    ”Alec was my friend.” Rory, despite being just a child had the maturity and intelligence of an adult. He had the same right to state his opinion as everybody else, even more so because of the maturity the current state of the world had forced upon him. ”When my dad died, he was there for me. I know a lot of you might think just because I’m a kid, that my voice shouldn’t matter. But listen to me. He was murdered, and I for one think the punishment should fit the crime.” He sat back down, letting his two cents sink in. He didn’t see why nobody else was willing to admit the truth. He knew that a lot of people here were still cross with him over the incident with The Society, but he was willing to see the bigger picture even if the rest of the adults couldn’t.

    Kenji was impressed with Rory. He knew he had some issues, though, because according to Norman he’d gunned down nine of The Society’s men in cold blood. Regardless, his opinion was taken into consideration.

    ”Okay. All..three options are on the table. I want to hear what everybody has to say before we make a decision. I want this choice to be something we make as a community, that way we all have our share of weight.” While it was still in the air, Kenji couldn’t help but wonder who among them would be able to swing the sword if it came to door number three. He still didn’t feel comfortable with that option, but it was something that they’d all have equal share of blame for deciding if it came to that option.

    ”I’ve said my share. The floor is open for whoever wants to state their opinion..”
    Apr 11 2015, 10:48 AM
    ”Chigau! Sore wa dokodarou ka? Where is it?”

    Agile hands quickly rummaged through the drawers and cabinets that made up the space in Kenji’s office. He tossed and turned papers around, even though he knew he wouldn’t find what he was looking for. The Asian paced around the room before coming to a sudden halt. Panicking wouldn’t do anything here. He took several deep breaths to regain his composure and rationally began to list the possible candidates. Kenji had spent so long living with these people that he had began to believe that he could trust again.

    What a horrible mistake.

    The Society’s visit the day before had already caused a great deal of emotional stress on the fragile leader, and pointing fingers to them seemed like a viable choice. Norman’s followers hadn’t really travelled freely around the Warehouse, except for the few that accompanied Norman during yesterday’s tour of the compound. He’d been sure to post a guard outside his office then, and he’d kept his office out of the tour.

    Logically, it seemed to make sense to blame them. They were the most likely candidates as the intel he’d lost would be very valuable to The Society. His journal also contained important details on the activities of Nunez as well as his own personal thoughts. He couldn’t exactly rule them out of the equation, but he suspected that somebody would have noticed a member of Norman’s group breaking in. He came to the conclusion that it had to have happened during the hours following The Lord Protector’s visit. Despite his sore and still bruised body, he navigated around the office at a surprising speed. The skilled Detective scanned the doorway for any signs of forced entry, but it was hopeless: The door and his drawer had been locked when he’d first entered, so he came to the conclusion that whoever had broke into his office had enough skills to pick both locks, as well as the ability to lock them once they found what they were looking for.

    The man paced the room a couple more times before stepping outside of the office. Apparently all the noise he made hadn’t gone unheard, because several glances of concern from various residents down the hall forced Kenji to wipe any concern from his face. It was important that he handle this very carefully, and being in control of his emotions was an important factor. He started reading everybody’s expressions with a neutral stare. If he started treating everybody like a suspect then it would only cause panic. He quickly came to the conclusion that he wasn’t going to reveal the thievery to the whole group.

    First, he’d start with the newer members. The bar for earning Kenji’s complete trust was very high, and was reserved for the long-term members. He couldn’t exactly rule out those who had been with them just a couple months either, but the chances of having a mole in his group seemed unlikely but not impossible.

    ”Morning, everyone.” The leader politely greeted, giving a calm wave.
    The thought of initiating an entire search of the compound felt like a breach of the resident’s privacy, so he reserved that idea as a last resort. Right now he needed to get his bearings together. He stepped back into the office and used his walkie to inform the people manning the gate that nobody but essential personnel and people that had Kenji’s permission were able to leave the Warehouse for the time being.

    He decided to inform a few of his trusted companions of the incident as well, being sure not to give specifics over the radio. Once informing them of the details in person, Fujinawa returned to his office and simply sat back in his chair with his head resting in his hands.

    A knock on the door jarred him from his moment of silence.

    The Asian stood up with a tired groan and sorely made his way back to the door to see Maricruz outside. Apparently the noise he made hadn’t gone unnoticed by her either. He assumed she came to him with concern, but before she could even open her mouth the leader quickly stopped her.

    ”Not now.”

    It wasn’t anything personal. It came across as surprisingly blunt, but he felt she didn’t deserve it.

    ”Sorry..it’s just...actually…” He was very paranoid. It wasn’t as bad as it used to be, but incidents like this always caused it to resurface. He opened the door the rest of the way, beckoning for her to enter. ”I want to talk to you about something.” He didn’t see Marie as a suspect, but he couldn’t exactly rule her out of the equation just yet.

    He hated this. Whoever stole his things was most likely somebody still within the building, and one of the few things that Kenji had to his advantage was that he knew how to read a person. Whoever did this wasn’t going to be able to feign deniability unless they were really, really good at masking their emotions like Kenji. He wasn’t going to give the culprit the satisfaction of getting away with this.

    He silently waited for her to enter before shutting the door behind her and locking it. He didn’t want anybody else intruding yet.

    He took a deep breath and after a pausing for a moment to watch the door the man returned to his seat.

    Hands folded on the table in front of him, the leader gestured to the pulled out and empty drawers as well as the papers sprawled out on the floor behind his desk.

    He didn’t sugar coat it. He didn’t exactly hide that he was watching her to see how she reacted, either. It wasn’t anything personal but he just had to be sure.

    ”Somebody stole all my shit.” He didn’t usually swear unless it was under situations of pressure or if he was joking. In this case it was the former.

    He leaned a bit forward in his seat, curious but not exactly accusational.

    ”My Journal is gone. So are all the maps. I can’t find my road Atlas either.” It wouldn’t seem like a big deal to the regular person, except that the information within these notes was enough to have the upper hand against the entirety of Nunez as a whole.

    ”All our safe houses, all our hidden caches, all our trade routes and regularly travelled roads are marked down on there.” He sighed, a sudden realization hitting him like a brick. ”Fuck. There’s information on other groups we work with, too.” He’d known better than to put his plans for his resistance down on paper, but there was still other information on it that might have subtly implied a revolution in the works. He muttered something in Japanese under his breath and cracked his sore neck.

    ”If I don’t find this, everything is compromised.” He vented with a deep sigh. It wasn’t easy to confide in somebody he’d known for a little over a month, but he felt it was important to display trust as well as natural suspicion.

    ”You ran a group before this. Did you get any thieves? What did you do to people that betrayed you like this?” It was incredibly miraculous that they’d gone so long with a group of this proportionate size without having any incidents of burglary. It would be easier if the group was significantly smaller, but ever since their numbers reached triple-digits it had become harder and harder to deal with situations like this.

    ”I know this sounds contradictory coming from a Detective, but I could have gone the rest of my life without another investigation and I would have been perfectly happy.” His gaze slid up and down her form, purely to watch her body language.

    ”I really hate to ask this because it sounds so cliche, but where were you between the hours The Society visited and this morning?” Norman’s charade had finally come to a conclusion around six yesterday afternoon, and chances were she’d have a solid alibi.

    And if she was the culprit?

    Well, he’d reach that bridge when they got there.
    Nov 11 2014, 06:18 PM
    Post-Apocalypse Year Six

    After so long I never would have thought that the dead would turn out to be the least of our worries…

    If I started off by explaining all that has happened since I last wrote in this Journal than it would take up this entire book and most likely a good portion of another equally sized notebook. A simple brief explanation of whatever first fills my mind will have to suffice and I’ll add more details later on if I see fit. The challenges we’ve faced as a group are not unlike what one would expect from any other group. We’ve seen more losses, dealt with unspeakable horrors and in the aftermath of the unthinkable we’ve persevered. The enemies from our darkest nightmare reemerged as our strongest ally. Together we’ve built a network of communities allied together all throughout our little fraction of territory built under The Society’s rule. I don’t want to try and explain the amount of horror and unintentional self-inflicted trauma that we’ve endured because I fear that once I start I will not be able to stop. I’m going to choose a topic at random and try to narrate the details and collect my thoughts in the hope that it will provide solace and maybe entertainment to the individual who comes across this Journal in the time of my passing. Maybe Norman is right in his belief of establishing a written detail of History so a future generation can look back on our hardships and learn from our mistakes.

    I doubt it..but with each passing day the possibility of reestablishing Society under this tyrannical but awfully fair man’s rule is becoming more and more likely. I am now going to begin to explain the biggest trouble weighing down my mind which keeps me from functioning at full capacity.

    We’re at war. A war against other living beings, all vying for a chance at power and territory risking our lives to hold strength in the shattered remnants of what we’ve claimed as ours. As I sit here in this dimly lit storage unit trying to write my thoughts on paper, my eyes land on Robin. Her slim and weathered figure lays delicately on the bed to my side. In the five years since the dead started to rise I have never came across a more optimistic and caring individual like her. She serves as my beacon in the darkness, the light that draws me in and burns passionately like a fire that fuels me forward. One day I wish to move the residents of this town into The Society’s Kingdom. But doing so would declare a sign of submission to Norman’s rule and therefore make me acknowledge our gift of life from him. That would shatter the hearts of my followers and break the spirits of those under my leadership. I can’t afford to do that. Nunez remains neutral but there is a possibility for my refuge being targeted by those who wish nothing more than to torture, slave and endure chaos onto all that is holy in this godforsaken land.

    We need to be ready for that. Swallowing my self-pride would only destroy the fragrance of false humanity that we are so desperately trying to maintain. Holding our fortress here will inspire the many allies loyal to me to stand together.

    In a world burning with despair and hopelessness, breaking this spirit is as good as killing them.

    My thoughts wander to the skirmish we fought last month when our multi-settlement coalition of survivors saw fit to strike an advancement of Chaos followers who tried establishing a base just twenty miles from our Outpost in Gainesville. It didn’t even occur to me just before the assault that our combined Army of Militia-Palace-Kershaw-Jericho-Nunez forces were striking an ally of our enemies who had done nothing to us personally except be loyal to the our mutual enemy. I feel that in situations like this, the moral choices need to be left at the door. When we reigned hellfire on that group of nomadic horror enthusiasts there was not a single look of regret or sympathy to be shared among those under my leadership.

    We lose four of our own in the assault. One of them was a guy from my group. I didn’t know him that well aside from the talk we shared when he joined but I feel like his death wasn’t needed. His name was Roger, before the Apocalypse he’d been a computer analyst for some weather tracking system in a small-town News Station in Kansas. Today people from all walks of life stand together side by side weapon in hand against their enemies. I remember the confident look on his face after the speech I’d given. We went over the plans several times before the actual assault, and when we launched the attack one of the snipers perched over the ridge took a clear shot at him when I gave the order to advance. Our Snipers took care of any resisting forces very quickly so I find it absurd yet not unlikely how this surprise assault suffered any casualties at all. When Roger’s head popped with a sudden spray of pink blood and brain matter it hadn’t even occurred to me that I’d never see him again. How could it affect me? Death was so common at this point that it didn’t even stop the others in their tracks from advancing. I remember stepping over his body and leading a team to take out any retreating stragglers on the outside once we’d taken care of most of the resistance. Everything happened so fast and ended in an instant that by the time we were done burning the bodies and doing headcounts we’d realized we lost four of our own. The shock that we lost anybody was what surprised us, not the fact that four of our friends were killed in action.

    Though..all in all. Four wasn’t bad compared to the sixty-two insurgents we had to snuff the life out of. I hate calling them Insurgents, but one of the Military guys mentioned it and the term stuck. I guess it’s better than referencing them by their name, not that it matters to us.

    When Norman gives the order to strike somebody if they come into our territory, we have to follow it because the alternative pits us against an enemy far stronger than anything we’d be capable of dealing with. This agreement for peace Norman has with our people isn’t liked by any of us. But, it keeps us alive.

    We either have to go kill for Norman, or Norman and his Society kill us.

    With this option, we’re at least safe from the undead and have a slight semblance of peace and freedom to move throughout our shared territory without fear of raiders or undead alike.

    This life is horrible. But the belief that we’re working towards something better is enough to keep us going...though sometimes I’m questioning if there’s any point in it. I wouldn’t end it on my own because of the endless list of others I’d inadvertently take down with me.

    I still don’t understand why they see me as a leader to follow. But if I’m the one they see leading them into this glorious new world, then there’s no harm in at least trying. Somebody has to milk the cows and bring home dinner, right? I guess some things never change.

    My mind is trailing off big time and as a result my writings are becoming scattered and often lose topic. I blame attention deficit disorder and general truth that nothing seems to pass my mind clearly anymore. But I suppose sleep helps...now that the Insomnia is gone the only thing burdening me is the fact that I still don’t know if I’ll wake up in the morning.

    Tomorrow we’re discussing heading out to Alejandro’s massive traders settlement. There’s a few things we need to pick up like some parts for the emergency generator. I don’t fancy burrowing in the cold when a fuse busts in the gennie come mid-november otherwise this place might start snowing on the inside.

    Whatever. I’m gonna hit the pillow and hope that I get the chance to live through tomorrow. Rinse and repeat.


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