Abel got walking, headed for the chain-link and steel gates to the squat little settlement. His pace was measured and cautious, making sure to stay just a constant step behind the guard with the big mouth who had just relented and decided to allow him in. He didn't wish to appear over-eager to these men, or to give off any sense of desperation despite just how empty his stomach really was. Besides, it could only behoove him to keep all of these wretched souls where he could see them. He'd been in far too many situations where the villains of the wastelands had thought they had the jump on him, and this time he'd play it careful and try to avoid any situations like that. He'd give them the ammunition, of which he had plenty, he'd get his food, and he'd share words with this vaunted 'Colonel', whoever that may be.

Then, he'd be on his way, God willing.

But, as he came to stand before the rusted gates barring his entry, the situation complicated itself. He'd heard it before his criminal hosts had. The guttural chugging of an engine; a rare and distinctive sound out here in these miserable wastes. A vehicle had made its approach, unseen to the lot of the bandits as they stared at their newest guest. It made its stop, not so far from what Alexander had thought was a respectful distance when he approached the settlement, and three men stepped out in unison, all uniformed alike, and all with a trio of rusty, neglected criminal guns trained on them each. Abel took a single glance over his shoulder, and that was all he needed. He turned back to face the gate, a cursory glance telling him more than the guards of the settlements had probably discerned in maybe a minute or so of fearful staring and aiming. He turned to face the gates once more, loathe to give the men in black a good look at his face. If he was lucky, he supposed, their business would not be with him.

He'd seen these types before. They weren't unlike the lawless men he was just now dealing with. Behind those uniforms, and their technology, and their supposed 'society' they were still thugs. They were, just like the mangy bandits: a perversion of humanity and a squandering of potential. They were just a more organized and well-trained perversion, or at least that's what Alexander believed. Their concerns were not for the welfare of humanity. Their concerns were their leader's, and ultimately it was all about power.

A 'Captain Stanton' made his presence known to the settlement's sentries as the gate guardsman hurriedly shepherded Abel inside with plenty of profanity and wild gesticulating. Then, the man, in knit-cap, with tattered leather jacket, and Chinese assault rifle, started forwards. There was fear in his eyes and in his steps. He knew exactly who these men were. Their 'civilization' was notorious amongst the less fortunate denizens of the metropolis. Black humvees, black coats, black hats, and, according to word of mouth, black hearts. The fact that he had maybe ten or so friends on the roofs of the settlement and on the walls with guns at the ready was hardly comforting, because the gate guard knew that if they gunned these three men down, more would come, with weaponry and strategy that even the wily 'Colonel' couldn't stand up to.

He came to a stop maybe twenty paces from the three soldiers and their vehicle, held his open hand up, and waved in an awkward greeting. He called out to them, "What do you want? This isn't your King's territory, got it?! You need to .. uh .. respect the sovereignty of the Colonel and .. move on!" He gestured with his thumb over his shoulder, towards the settlement, "I won't ask a second time! My boys will mow you down if you don't get in your damn truck and go!"