;;B E R S E R K E R

Cheyenne Country Club was notorious for it's size. That much was a given, Lucas thought to himself as he stood at the beginning of the property, what was once an entrance kiosk. His arms were crossed over his chest and there was a look of determination dark over his features. The tall, dark haired man seemed to be staring off into the horizon. Only, he wasn't, he was taking in as much of the expanse of land as he could.  He knew it would be foolish to try to block off the entirety of the property. The size alone promised that there was already un-dead wandering it, which would prove a danger to even trained professionals, much less the citizens that resided here. But he also knew that he needed to do something to provide more security for those citizens. More security for the crops and animals they could potentially farm here. This substantial landscape had to be good for something, after all. They'd need wood, a damned lot of wood. Any kind of fencing they could find with their meager status of a handful of people. Lucas would even settle for barbed wire.

He was so lost in his thoughts, his planning, that it took him a moment to register what the person approaching him was saying. With a sharp exhale, the man was brought back to the present, arms still crossed, his head turned slightly. "...What was that?" Though his tone was brusque, there was no malice or hostility in it, simply the practiced, straightforward demeanor of a well-seasoned soldier.

They'd come out of nowhere, the barrage of undead that were headed his way along the small backroad he'd been scouting. He could only guess there had been a small unseen hoard that had been attracted by the shots that he fired only a few minutes ago at the two zombies that had taken him by surprise. There weren't that many of them, but they were spread so far apart that any attempt to move between them was a small threat. Something that in this world, was as good as a one hit kill.

"Shit." He groused, holstering his pistol and glancing around, trying to see through the sting in his eyes from the sweat and haze. Though he'd been looking for a way around the wide stretch of the zombies scattered along the horizon, instead his eyes landed on something. No, someone. Moving with more speed and purpose than being dead would allow. "Hey!" He shouted, voice sharp and commanding as he gave a sharp wave in an attempt to get whoever it was further away. "Don't come closer!" His voice barked, echoing in the air like a crack of thunder as he gripped the buckshot rifle from it's own holster on his back. "There are more of them this way!"

Lucas hadn't been in Cheyenne for a week before he'd found himself once more established as leader of one of the camps here. Though this place was different entirely.. and far more of a challenge to keep guarded and protected. The camp itself was compact, closer quarters than his last camp and considerably fewer people, but the land itself stretched out for acres and acres. Though it provided a hell of a difficulty to defend, Lucas could already see the possibility there. Not only with the land. But with at least one member.

On his way in, Lucas had barely caught sight of the young man with his thatch of lighter curly hair and friendly smile, but what he had caught was the greenery that surrounded him. Lush and vibrant and healthy, and Lucas had been raised around enough farmers to know when someone had talent.

As he got himself situated in the room he'd claimed, he heard the slight scuff of footprints coming from the doorway and glanced up. ".. Topher, right?" He spoke. Something about his voice was sharp and commanding as the marine straightened and sat down the pack he'd been sorting through. "Got a minute?"