Realistic or Modern 𝗙𝗜𝗥𝗦𝗧 𝗟𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧 — at the end of the world

[NanLia]

LINCOLN
The Pit​

As Nari was set on her feet she immediately searched behind them where they’d come from, hoping to find somewhere they could retreat away from the dead encroaching on them. She was already getting ready to run when Cabrera’s hand locked onto her wrist, stopping her from leaving. She turned to face him, to see what he was doing and why he’d be delaying now when her eyes fell onto the devouring happening just beyond the doors. Bile gurgled up in her throat, threatening to make her vomit, she forced herself to swallow it down.

She hissed as Cabrera tugged on her arm, dragging her along behind him, a sharp pain in her shoulder but she certainly would not complain. She trusted in the man, in the fact that he had some idea of where they could go to get away from the horde.

When she saw the cage she was stunned to silence; in any other circumstances, she would have begged him to take her anywhere else. She followed him up the steps then spun around as she spoke and closed the cage door behind her. “Wait!” She called after him. “Just come in here too, Ignacio!”

It was too late, before she could even finish what she was saying more dead were crowding around the door, reaching through the bar at her and forcing Cabrera away. She kept back, out of their reach, her hands shaking as she covered her mouth and sobbed. She was going to watch him die, get torn apart in front of her and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Nari turned away from the sight, hearing the wet thumps against the bars, feeling the warm splattering of gore on her legs. She couldn’t look, if she did she’d be paralyzed again and that helped no one. She searched around the cage, pointedly avoiding looking at the dark brown staining that had once been Buster’s blood, for anything that might help, anything that could be used.

Behind where they’d come, through the open doors she saw movement. Not the movement of the dead but of people, a person! “Hey!” She screamed, “Here! Help him! Please! We need help!”

Bullyboy Squad Safton ​

 

[NanLia]

THE SCAVENGERS
​

As much as Neveah wanted to give Denise more shit, she refrained. The woman, and alleged leader of this troupe, clearly wasn’t going to bite and now she was making a point of trying to protect the little girl. Annoying. She swore the second she was back at Lincoln she was going to do everything in her power to never leave again. Fuck scavenging. Fuck listening to Denise. Fuck. It. All.

She followed along the direction the other woman was headed, a sickening feeling of dread filling a pit in her stomach. There was nothing here. Nothing. While she’d heard plenty from the other scavengers about there being [I[nothing[/I] anywhere near them, they hadn’t mentioned the entire lack of dead, as well. Either this place was close to somewhere else that was drawing them or someone was keeping them clear…

The sound of an engine drove her to hurry behind the side of the building, trying - and failing - to figure out where the noise was coming from; they needed to avoid them, at all costs, so far as she was concerned. And that sentiment doubled when she heard screaming in the distance.

As Denise turned to look at her she shook her head, mouthing the words. Fuck. No.

Namazu ghostflowering ​

 

[ghostflowering]

THE SCAVENGERS


Initially, Jade bristled at the sound of Neveah's teasing, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment that she hoped would not be misconstrued as passion. No stranger to violence, she couldn't help the instinctive clenching of her fists, and she knew that she was being watched carefully, knew that the woman could see the white-knuckle grip she had on her pistol. Still, she had spent a long time learning to reign in her emotions, keep herself in check because what good can imploding from the inside do anyone anymore? Kicking a rock with an air of petulance to disguise her shaky breath, the corners of her lips turned up into a small smile. Perhaps it was the best idea to take the taunting as nothing more than a joke, and act like it was amusing. "I don't know about that," she said, her voice just as gentle and unassuming as her demeanour, "Doesn't sound nearly as exciting as listening to you." Despite the slight snark that crept its way through her tone, she remained still. Passive, docile, meek. These were the behaviours that had gotten her much further in her life than anger. Besides, even if she had wanted to retort, being granted permission to be on this trip was important to her, and she was determined not to let anything so inconsequential get in the way of that.

Turning her attention to Denise, she felt a twinge of gratefulness for her boatload of instructions. Once something Jade would have immediately complained about, she found, was a refreshing change of pace from the monotony of the thoughts in her head and the teasing from those who were even more bored. Nodding dutifully, she turned the weapon in her hands and inspected it, ensuring everything mentioned was set and in place. "Yep," she said, a hint of pride and something akin to youthful arrogance shining through, "All good. I've used one of these before, you know."

If she hadn't already started following Denise like a lost puppy, the act of coming to her defence was certainly helping that happen. She knew it was just to get them both to shut up and focus, but her eyes sparkled all the same. She was hanging on to every word that left her mouth when the sound rang out, and her entire body jolted, but she managed to still herself just in time so as not to draw attention. Looking between her companions with widened eyes, it was almost like her thoughts visibly came to a standstill as she kicked into survival.

​

Namazu NanLia
​

​

 

[Not Meat]

Lincoln
Prison corridor​

Hadley was bored. This new life, new world, was incredibly boring. Sure she had found things to do - people to do - but she still felt an incredible wave os discontent from day to day. Some days it made her crabby, angry, it made her want to snap at anyone that talked to her. It drove her insane the way that she didn't have the freedoms that she did before. It was clear that the prison ran like a tight ship. There was a ranking, a hierarchy, and somehow Hadley managed to wiggle her way in. She didn't have pull, that much she knew, but she knew that she had more permissions just based off of what she was able to say or do.

Of course, being Hadley, she didn't give a single shit about it. She was unapologetically herself. The way she saw it was that she had already lost everything she cared about. Rowan was gone. Casper was gone. There wasn't much keeping her away from a bullet aside from the pleasure she derived from pleasuring and torturing others. She saw Caspers face on every man she slept with and held onto that image as she moved through the motions of her new life.

Even then as she rambled on about the old world, rambled on about a trip she had made with him, Hadley felt that dull ache. She never spoke his name, the pain that followed any time she did was too much for her to bear. Instead she just called him 'the rich fucker' or her 'boytoy'. Not that he was those things. Yes, he had been rich. Yes, he was someone she had messed around with. There was more to it, though, and she hadn't realized it until she had fallen pregnant with and lost his child. The look in his eyes was different than the rest. His touch more tender. The fire between them had burned brighter than she had experienced before.

Then it was pulled away from her. Then she was left alone again.

Good riddance, she thought, who needs love anyway? Who needs a baby anyway?

It was getting to be too much, too overwhelming. She hated emotions, hated feeling the way she did over someone who didn't exist anymore, so she changed the conversation. Hadley pulled the first thing she could think of from her brain, looking over at Tanner and acting as though she really and truly cared about knowing what he had to say about Connor. Truthfully she didn't give a single shit. It had become a game for her, a challenge to see if she could get under the mans skin, get into the mans bed. It would be entertaining, at least, to be able to spend the night with someone new. Someone who she had suspicions would destroy her if she gave him the chance. A thrill. Something to take her mind off of the aching in her heart and fill the void that Casper had left for even a moment.

It didn't matter if it was five minutes or five hours. It didn't matter if it destroyed her, dehydrated her, and left her weeping - she wanted it.

Hadley's eyes flicked up as they approached the duo. She didn't care who was with him, her attention was only on Connor. Her eyes flicked about him, taking him in as she took in a breath. Time to put on a show.

"Connor." She spoke, her voice soft and whispery as she addressed him. Once again her eyes flicked about him, slowly dragging along his form before settling on his eyes. "What a pleasure."

Aegis Namazu Bullyboy Squad Tool Miaow Crono Safton BeyondDandy Good_Morels Togy Fluffy-Kat ​

 

[Aegis]

Lincoln
Outside the Medical Supply Closet​

Connor gave his left and right another quick glance before placing the cigarette in his mouth to let it hang burning from his lower lip. With nothing immediately obvious sticking out to him, he drew his rifle up and began to give it a lookover--his fingers searching the magazine eject button and dust cover in a mock presentation of interest. It was all just a nonchalant cover. Although, when he looked back up, the unmistakable sight of someone bearing down on him from the corner of his vision caused him to jolt. Connor kicked his foot down from the wall and steadied himself as the woman approached, but he couldn't recall who she was even as she seemed to have a vested intensity burning in her eyes that matched even the heat of his cigarette. Smoke trailed in front of his face as his jaw hung slack from the sheer thought that they would potentially be compromised so early that it was practically biblical. For a moment, The Enforcer even considered that The Good Doctor may have double-crossed him, yet that seemed unlikely given what he had to lose for keeping his identity hidden for as long as he had; maybe it made it all the more likely, though.

Connor's hand shot back and clicked the door shut with as much subtly as he could manage because they were WAY beyond the point of explaining this away so early on into the operation. Her eyes flicked upward from the floor with a predatory glare that could've sent chills up the spine of any man, but he was feeling much more like prey because of his circumstances than most other men would feel when confronted with the same look. Wordless, The Man clenched his jaw and stood up straight to recover from the stunning blow her appearance had been to his confidence in the operation.

Silence passed them by and she gave him the least subtle appraisal he had ever seen; the simple looks enough to make him feel guilty for Chole despite the fact that he had no intention of reciprocating. Then, her words--honeyed and soft like velvet clothes already pressed to his chest, filled the smoky space between them, "I'm him... in the flesh, and likewise. Pleasure--I mean. To meet you."

Connor's head was spinning from the utter whiplash of his emotions. At first, he thought they were caught, but now this was the direction things were going, and he hadn't drummed up a response to this yet.

"I can't say I know you, though. Now, to whom do I owe the pleasure," The Enforcer's brow shot up as he played along out of sheer desperation stemming from the lack of a planned reaction to this scenario, "I have to know."

As he studied her, Connor knew he the danger she posed staying here, but she seemed pretty single-mindedly focused on him. He could just draw her away as planned, "Say, this is NO place for us to get to know each other for the first time. I happen to know just the one, though."

It would have to be secluded. He didn't know how much she had seen and it would be easier to put a few hole through her torso away from prying eyes--he could always make up some excuse.

Namazu Bullyboy Squad Tool Miaow Crono Safton Fluffy-Kat BeyondDandy Good_Morels Togy ​

 

[Tool]

Lincoln
Infirmary​

"Best way to deal with th'dead is to take things methodical. Teamwork makes th' dream work, an that dream is keeping your meat where it belongs. Do yer jobs. Do not improvise. Stay in position. Be a good lil'meat machine and kill your enemies an' not yerselves or yer friends."

It wasn't the most detailed thing she could have said, but based on what she'd seen thus far, Madison figured it was probably a step up from 'send the people with guns out to fight the dead' as a battle strategy. That seemed to be these people's MO, and it sucked. As if to illustrate her point, Madison had to stop fiddling with the lock on her cuffs thanks to someone approaching in a hurry. A man hustled into the infirmary, along with.... Sneakers. Sneakers and Minnie, both. The knife got immediately palmed and slipped somewhere innocuous, and her regard twisted into one of anger. The girls were still alive. That meant neither had gotten bit.... But the spreading red across Sneakers' body meant one of them had gotten injured, and by a weapon from the look of it.

Madison scowled. It had perhaps less of an intimidating effect than it once might have, thanks to the spiderweb mess of her left cheek and, y'know, being cuffed to the bed.

If that man had anything to do with the blood spreading across that kid's front, Madison was going to make it her personal mission to get him alone and take her time. There was something familiar about his face, but she couldn't place it; doubtless, he was someone who'd nestled in the stuttering time-skips that were still all a-jumble in her mind.

She watched as Minnie said...... something...... to the man, before sinking into the nearest chair.

Madison ached to give the kid a hug, tell her everything would be alright, but how the Samaritan related to all this stilled her lips. There was no way to know how he'd react, and the Samaritans were not known for protecting those that should be protected. Quite the opposite, in fact.

Her gaze lingered on Minnie.

It had been just around the two year mark since the newscasters had warned there might not be a quick resolution to this crisis, in the biggest broadcast understatement of all of human history. Minnie's generation might very well be the last to know the internet. Cell phones. Minnie knew what it was like to look up and see an airplane streak across the sky and not just the vast, uncaring, wash of stars. Her generation had been able to follow mommies and daddies into the store and come out with a new pair of sneakers. Mangoes in winter. Birthday cakes. TV. Music piped in from every corner of the globe. A chocolate Frosty. Hell, even the vast, interconnected web of cooperation that comprised the post office, transporting packages across the globe in ships so gargantuan it might have driven ancient peoples mad.

Minnie's generation had been able to taste of the World Before, before it had been taken away.

How long would it be until the power grid that ran this place finally succumbed to disrepair or disuse? Would it make another Chernobyl? Another Fukushima? Would there only be the dead left to irradiate?

And the Samaritans were fussing around with KINGS.

Why weren't more people angry?

Worse, if people couldn't pry their heads out of their collective asses, if people...... if people were the self-serving assholes Cabrera insisted comprised the whole of humanity that remained, it wouldn't just be the living that perished. It would be Einstein. Buddha. Beethoven. Gandhi. Da Vinci. Cleopatra. Confucius. Innumerable unnamed ancestors that fought and bled and died and tried. Each human being that remained alive on the planet carried in their veins the history of a thousand thousand generations, moving human life forwards.

For Minnie. For Sneakers. For babies that were being born, somewhere, that very moment, all across the globe.

It wasn't too late.

As Madison looked at Sneakers, trying anew to survive an outbreak that should have been routine, and then at Minnie who carried the burdens that weren't hers to carry, Madison began to murmur to herself, barely more than a movement of her lips, an exhalation of a girl who'd been raised in the fatal rigidity of Catholicism and had left it in the dust the first time she'd realized if there WAS a God, they might be a sadist..... but in case there was someone listening, it was her absolute, bare minimum.

"De profundis clamavi ad te, Domine, exaudi vocem meam. Salvum liberi fac Domine. De profundis clamavi ad te, Domine, exaudi vocem meam. Salvum liberi fac Domine."

Namazu Miaow Safton​

 

[Safton]

LINCOLN
Outside The Fighting Pit

​

Xander pushed the cart of cleaning supplies down the corridor at a steady pace, resisting the urge to mutter a curse every time the front left wheel caught and made the whole cart jerk violently in his grip. Between Cabrera and the big burly Enforcer they all called “LT” – the one who had nearly beaten him to death (twice) – he knew he was being watched… closely. Font wasn't interested in giving the Samaritans any ammunition against him. Besides, it was a small miracle that he had even been permitted to work off the remainder of his indentured servitude to the Samaritans in the first place. He had half-expected his prize for “dethroning” their cage-fighting champion to be a bullet to the brain… but instead he had won, if not his freedom, something a step closer to it… and with it came the ability to spend time with his daughters. He just wished the price hadn't been so steep; he hadn't had a peaceful night's sleep ever since the cage match. It had nothing to do with the terrible state of the cot he was provided with and everything to do with the nightmares that plagued him, all of which ended with him killing Buster or vice versa.

But this was where he was now. And so he kept his head down and his mouth shut, serving as the Samaritans’ “Hall Man” – merely a fancy name for a janitor, in truth. Xander picked up their trash and mopped their floors and didn't so much as flinch when the Enforcers called him to their rooms to scrub their filthy toilets while they watched and laughed. Even now, with the sound of the rolling cart reverberating off the concrete walls hemming him in, Xander was en route to clean up some mess of indeterminate origin near what was once K Block. Now it held one of the prison’s many arcane “factions within a faction”.

It took Xander a moment to pick up on the noise over the din of the cart, but it had him freezing in his tracks right away as the stimulus bounced down the concrete walls toward his ears. A scream, one of pain, of terror… and it was soon joined by more, a whole chorus of panicked yells coming his way. But that wasn't what had the sweat suddenly running down his brow. The sound that sent a shiver down his spine – gripping his heart in a cool vice – was the steady, constant undercurrent beneath the screams. It was like a low drone, eerie and unnatural. Too guttural and unrelenting to be made by humans… at least humans that were still alive. By the time Xander saw the first crowd of people fleeing in his direction like panicked cattle, the droning had already overpowered their yells and now filled the corridor the sound of death incarnate.

Stumbling forms filled the end of the hall… and with blood-caked mouths and raspy gurgles, they shuffled toward him.

***​

Xander staggered, his white sneakers squeaking underfoot as he passed through the maintenance corridor and into the adjoining hall beyond. He clutched the broom in sweaty palms as he went, though the thin wooden handle provided scarce reassurance to him amidst the shouts and moans which filled his ears. He had given thought to trying to grab a weapon from one of the fallen Samaritans… or the creatures they had become. Minutes ago, during the initial confusion, he had seen a handful of Enforcers laying on the floor or shuffling about – disemboweled or throats shredded – with sidearms still strapped in their holsters.

But the risk had him shying away from the task, boldness giving way to the cold fear and the pragmatic voice in the back of his head. He had to survive, to stay whole – for more than his own sake, now more so than ever. Xander was wholly focused on getting back to the tiny remodeled dorm room he had been allotted, where he lived alongside Haewon and Minnie. Once he knew the girls were safe, he could focus on tracking down Nari. They had survived Cabrera’s invasion and occupation together. They had survived the Lincoln fire together. They’d survive this, too. They had to, because he couldn’t allow himself to believe otherwise and still find the strength to continue moving.

The form of the Pit appeared in front of him as he pushed on. He had been vaguely aware that his route back toward the dorm would take him past it and in the back of his mind he hardly relished the idea. He did all he could to avoid lingering near the arena while he was working his shifts; even brief proximity had a habit of bringing the memories of his fight with Buster flashing painfully to the forefront of his mind… but there was nothing to be done for that now. He hobbled his way across the hard, unforgiving floor, panting – eyes flitting for any sign of movement as the Pit grew in his vision… before halting. Movement and sound from the vicinity of the arena had drawn his eye immediately and his curiosity got the better of him, especially because the latter came in the form of not just the howls of the dead but a series of very human shouts… familiar ones.

Cautiously, Xander approached in a low crouch that his knees immediately protested – broom held out in front of him like a spear. As soon as he was close enough to squint at the scene unfolding near the Pit’s entrance, his eyes widened. Nari was locked inside… and she wasn’t alone. All around the fencing were ghouls, perhaps a dozen of them – clawing and scrabbling at the metal links with a single-minded focus on the prey inside. It took him a moment to realize that the movement outside the cage was more than that of the undead milling around and working themselves into a frenzy. It was a fight. Cabrera lashed out at the biters like a cornered animal, but he could only last so long.

Xander was moving before he knew it, acting on autopilot. He launched himself forward, adrenaline surging as he made his way toward the cage entrance, intent on reaching his wife. The first biter to take notice of his approach and step into his path was once a diminutive woman covered in caked-on makeup and mascara – probably one of “Temma’s girls” he had heard so much about from the idle gossip – lifting her arms to reveal the ugly black-and-red bite wound on her abdomen as she lurched toward him. Xander thrust the bristles of the broom forward into her neck and jaw and planted his weight forward, pushing the clumsy creature off-balance and to the side, allowing it to topple over before running past it.

No sooner than he had walked past her, he was confronted by the shambling form of an Enforcer, bloody riot gear and fatigues covering his body… except for his head and neck, where some biter had clearly found its mark. Xander attempted his “trick” again: sending the broom forward and trying to take the creature off its feet, to no avail. In life, the Enforcer had been an imposing pillar of muscle. Trying to unbalance him was not unlike trying to unbalance a brick wall. Xander backpedaled in a desperate attempt to create distance – having to yank his foot away from the scrabbling fingertips of the female biter who crawled across the floor toward him – before rearing the broom back and swinging it like a baseball bat at the skull of the colossus.

There was a snap and a crack, along with the sound of wood hitting the floor. Xander’s hands came back… with two-thirds of a now-jagged broomhandle, his opponent still lurching toward him unfazed by the blow. His back ran into the bleachers. No more room to run. He thrust his weapon out one last time.

There was a sickening, wet thud as his arms were jarred with the impact of a sudden collision. The giant had impaled itself upon his makeshift spear… through the neck, no less. It had slid down the handle several inches before the friction of dead tissue upon wood halted its momentum. Xander grunted, holding it in place as he watched the creature stare at him with blank, dead eyes – reaching out for its prey, heedless of the injury. Maintaining his grip on the handle with one hand, Fontdipped low and shot forward with his free hand to ensnare the back of its closest ankle, yanking it out from under the ghoul.

The lumbering creature toppled backwards, cracking its head upon the cement. Xander pounced immediately, stomping down on its face. Once, twice. Three times. More. Each impact sent reverberations – painful ones – up his leg and core, but he ignored them until finally the creature stopped moving. With movement in his peripherals, he saw that the petite woman had regained her footing and was shambling toward him. Xander looked down at the Enforcer’s duty belt – eyes scanning for anything useful. He unsnapped a pouch with shaky hands, pulling out the cylindrical item inside and swinging it outward. The metal baton extended with a resounding clack that might have been satisfying under any other circumstance. Instead, he simply focused on timing the swaying movements of the ghoul as she neared before swinging with a grunt – the tip of the bludgeon landing squarely on her temple. She crumpled and he quickly followed the strike with two more, adding to the growing pool of blood upon the barren floor.

Xander spared a quick glance over where Cabrera continued to hold the proverbial line and let out a puff of air. He had slain two of the biters and was already all but spent. They needed more than this – they needed a force multiplier. He gave the Enforcer’s body another perfunctory once-over – this time spotting something amongst the pouches on his chest. He practically whispered a prayer of thanks when he saw the familiar sight of a pistol-like grip and he was quick to rip the weapon from its holster… only for his heart to sink at the black-and-yellow paint scheme. This was not a firearm, but a Taser – likely scoured from the prison’s armory once upon a time. Who knew how many slaves it had been used to torture or “discipline” ever since?

But for now… he would take it. With the stun gun in one hand and the heavy metal baton in the other, Xander turned toward Cabrera and Nari… and the small horde of walking dead laying siege to their impromptu fortress. He moved forward, flicking the Taser’s safety off and lining up a shot on a ghoul as it moved toward Ignacio with voracious intent, dragging its foot behind it. A red dot appeared on the creature’s back and he fired before charging into the fray.

​

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Bullyboy Squad NanLia Namazu​

 

[Miaow]

Lincoln
Infirmary
​

"Help me roll her," Pandora spoke, jogging around to the opposite side of the bed. Sylvia took Haewon by the shoulder and the hip and the two rolled her onto her side while Pandora checked her back.
"3 entry wounds," She announced.
"3 exit wounds," Sylvia confirmed, the two turning her onto her back.
"Good, good..." Pandora murmured. That made things a little easier... through and through, she just had to stop the bleeding and sew her up, good as new.

Unlike Harry, she was sure Haewon wouldn't be wearing a dog tag or have her blood type written in her shoe. She wasn't some military vet, she was just a kid.
"Minnie, do you know her blood type?" She asked. They didn't exactly have a reserve of the stuff, but they'd gotten around that before. There were thousands of Samaritans in this place, at least one had to be her type... or even better, O-.
Minnie paused. With her mother the way she was, hospitals were the last place she wanted her kids to be. Too many questions, they always asked too many questions. So how DID she get this cracked rib? It's the third in the last year.
"No, no-- sorry," She answered, her speech a little slurred, her voice hoarse.

"Okay, it's okay," She began, "You know yours?"
"No," Minnie shook her head.
"Uhhh, alright-- You! You--" She pointed to another Samaritan, "Find me someone O-, quickly!"
Though she certainly wasn't as domineering as Sylvia, the woman did as she was told, scurrying off down the corridor.
Right, one step at a time... the abdominal wound was likely the most life-threatening.
"Sylvia, you work on the leg," She requested, using her gloved finger to check for any fragments in the wound. Haewon groaned, barely conscious enough to make her protests. No sharp metal shards, no organs hit, just lots of muscle and blood. That was a good sign...
"Yes, ma'am!" Sylvia responded as she cut away at Haewon's jeans, leaving a slit from the ankle to the hip.

As Minnie watched the carnage unfold before her, she heard words behind her, barely a whisper... She was surprised she could hear it at all over Pandora and Sylvia as they worked.
"Madison..?" She murmured, turning a little in her chair... In her panic, she'd forgotten she was in there, watching all of this happen... Had she heard what she'd said to Wesley? Had she seen the suspicious, gun shaped lump in her pocket? She wanted nothing more than for her to tell her everything would be fine, for her to kneel down like she had in the corridor at Northview and tell her how strong she was. She wanted her to work some sort of miracle and heal her sister with one touch, like a superhero or something.
"What are you doing..?"

Tool
​

 

[Namazu]

FLASHBACK
Lincoln - Before the Fire​

Minnie wasn't sure what she'd expected from a prison library, yet she was still disappointed by the range. Most of this stuff was self help books, 12 steps to sobriety, "My Life After Crime", how to return to society after however long you'd spent in prison... None of that was useful anymore. There wasn't much society to return to. There were at least a few books on trades, skills for soon to be ex-cons to learn before they were released and had to find a job.

She'd at least found a couple of books that could be useful in keeping Momo busy. Really, you were meant to keep rabbits in pairs, but being Momo was uncastrated, he'd pick a fight with any male and procreate with any female. He would only be useful to the Samaritans if he could make more Momos and she doubted any vet would have the tools to... well...

She yawned as she rounded the corner to do one final sweep of the shelves, a couple of generic animal-handling books held close to her chest. As she blinked her watery eyes clear, she was met with... Weston. Oh, that was awkward. Part of her wanted to duck her head down, hunch her shoulders, and scurry away before he could even notice she was there. For a moment, she simply froze.

Weston had a stack of books tucked in one arm, putting them back one at a time. He looked like he was actually trying to follow some kind of organizational pattern, looking at the stickers on the spines and the author's name, and putting them back mostly alphabetically. There were a few self-help books, but most of them were about dealing with grief and loss. They had all been read before, their spines broken in and full of creases. He took the time to unfold folded corners before putting them back, treating each book with more care than he'd probably shown anything else in front of anyone.

He looked tired and a little distant as he did this, occasionally pausing to stare at the cover of a book for a moment before sliding it on the shelf and moving on to the next. Done with this row and having two to put back, Weston turned - and realized Minnie was standing there, staring at him. He froze as well.

"Oh. Its you. Sorry, I doubt we have many kids books."

Minnie's eyes shot away from his as he met her gaze, adjusting her grip on her books.

"It's fine... I found some stuff," She responded, shrugging her shoulders as a way of gesturing to her books. Her eyes scanned the shelves they were stood between... the place wasn't exactly organised, there were much more important jobs than a librarian in this day and age, so why hire someone to organise books of all things when they could be feeding the hungry or healing the sick... Either way, they seemed to be surrounded by self help books, titles about overcoming anxiety, depression, grief... that sort of thing.

"What are you reading?" She asked, looking back at him.

“Uh, I…” Weston glanced down at the two books in his hands. The first one was specifically about dealing with grief surrounding the loss of a partner or spouse. The second book was autobiographical, and about the author’s experiences leaving a racist hate group. He considered her question a moment, then showed her the front covers.

“Just, y’know, some light reading about fixing your life and shit.” He smiled a little before giving her a shrug.

“Reading about animals is probably more entertaining. But, hey - recommendation for you -” Weston turned and walked a few paces down the shelf, scanning book spines for something in particular. When he found it, he pulled out the book and brought it over to Minnie, offering it out to her. It was a book about adjusting to changes to a family from a teenager’s point of view - like suddenly having a blended family or the addition of a new sibling. Probably something intended to help incarcerated parents understand their kids, if they were still even on speaking terms.

“Since your mom is pregnant and all. Maybe it’s useful. I dunno.”

Minnie offered him an awkward smile... fixing your life and shit. She thought maybe she could use one of them... but as Weston offered her a book, as if reading her mind, and she wasn't grateful. She stared at the cover, flipping it over to read the blurb... Changes to a family? The hell was that supposed to mean... Because her dad was about to die? Because her mom had moved on already and had found herself a better man? A richer man with status that she could use to her own advantage? Because she was about to have a baby that was going to look just like Cabrera?

As the man explained himself, her bubbling anger retreated...

"Thanks..." She murmured, adding it to her collection. Part of her wanted to put it back the moment he looked away. Changes to a family... She didn't want to adjust. She wanted it to go back to normal. She lifted her head, scanning the room and peeking between the books, checking for bystanders... Once she was sure the coast was clear, she looked back to Weston.

"I'm... I'm sorry for telling everyone... about you and..." She murmured, reluctant to say his name in case someone was lurking just outside of her view.

"I was mad at him. Not you," She added, "but... it was still stupid to do."

Weston was expecting to get kicked in the shins or have a book thrown at his head more than he was expecting an apology. The few times he’d ever seen Minnie, she was either crying or throwing a tantrum. He couldn’t really blame her, this was a lot for a kid to take in. Would he have done any better at his age? Probably not. He’d probably be acting like Tanner, or worse. Or just dead.

“It was a stupid thing to do, yeah. Maybe where you came from everyone was okay with that sort of thing, but it isn’t like that here. A lot of the guys here, they still hate people like that. That isn’t right, but that’s the way it’s been.” Weston adjusted his books from one arm to the other and shrugged a bit.

“Maybe it’ll get better, I dunno. I don’t think anyone believed what you said, but just… get better at thinking before you say things, ok? Especially about someone who was trying to help you. And hey, listen-”

Weston glanced around, making sure they were the only two people in the library. They were.

“One of the scav groups went out to find a crib, for your mom’s baby. They should be back any day. When they bring it back, do you want me to bring it to your mom and slip her any notes or messages or anything? And I can check on her, see how she’s doing, and let you know.”

Minnie wasn't particularly appreciative of his lecture. It was the same thing she'd heard hundreds of times in recent months. Think before you act. Did he think she hadn't heard that before? That he was some innovator in child psychology? Have you tried thinking more? She'd hoped to share a couple anecdotes. Yeah, my sister only came out to make my mom mad. My actual mom, not Nari. She was gonna keep it to herself but my mom annoyed them. Mom beat her real bad for that. Instead, she found herself wanting to get out of there as quick as possible.

She sighed as he offered her more help. All she'd done was be stupid, doing stupid things, hurting people for stupid reasons. The more help she got offered, the worst she felt.

"I see my mom every day, so..." She murmured.

It finally seemed to dawn on her. For Cabrera to be dating her mom, he had to have stopped dating Weston, right?

"I'm glad no one believed me," She added, continuing to avoid eye contact.

“Ah, okay. I wasn’t sure. So… that’s good.” Weston glanced at the bookshelf, not knowing where else to put his attention and keenly aware Minnie wasn’t looking at him either. What a stupid comment: That’s good. Yeah, dipshit, super helpful.

“I’m sorry about your school. About… everything that happened, from the moment we got there. I don’t think there’s a damn thing I can say that’d fix it.”

"It's not your fault," Minnie murmured, glancing up at him, "You weren't even there."

She paused. She knew what he meant. It wasn't an I'm sorry I took your mom away from you, destroyed your entire home and screwed up any chances you had of having a normal family. It was an I didn't do it, but I'm still sorry that it happened.

"It was your boyfriend's fault, if anything..." She murmured, a twinge of disdain in the way she said it. Though, she doubted they were together anymore... Unless Cabrera wasn't above cheating, either.

“No, I wasn’t there. You’re right. But while I didn’t know exactly how bad it was, I still generally knew what Cabrera was going out there to do, and I didn’t stop him. Couldn’t stop him. So we’re all guilty here, not just him. And I’m sorry if he’s been shitty to you.”

Weston considered for a moment telling Minnie who the real father of Nari’s baby was. It would help her, maybe, be at least slightly less angry if she knew the truth. But… Minnie already blurted out a secret that needed to be kept once. Nothing said she wouldn’t do it again, and it would be even worse next time.

So, Weston kept that secret to himself.

“Is there anything I could do to help make things easier for you and your sister? And don’t say killing Cabrera, because I’m not going to do that.”

Minnie breathed a sigh through her nose as the man spoke. It felt... empty. She knew he probably meant it, she didn't doubt he had good intensions, but it was coming from someone who, in her eyes, hadn't really done anything other than have a bad taste in men. She wanted this apology from someone else, and for that someone else to leave and never come back once they were done.

As he asked his question, she paused... Well, killing Cabrera was her first option, but Weston dismissed it before she could say it out loud. The cogs turned in her mind as she fidgeted with the pockets of her overalls.

"If you see my dad... can you tell him I miss him..?" She asked. It felt stupid, especially asking Weston of all people.

"I'm not allowed to see him anymore, so..." She murmured... It seemed to dawn on her in that moment. The next time she'd see him would be... in the pit, when she found out whether he'd live or die. Her hands felt clammy inside her pockets. She wasn't sure how to ask him to help Xander, he couldn't exactly slip him a knife before he went in the pit. A message would have to do.

"I can tell him that, yeah. Soon as I see him next. I'm not exactly sure when that'll be, but I can go down to the cells where he's being held if I need to. Nobody'll give me hassle if I want to pay him a visit. I'm... I'm sorry you're not allowed to visit him."

Minnie offered him an awkward smile.

"Thanks..." She murmured, adjusting her grip on the books in her arms. The least she could give him was a smile for what he was doing, especially after what she'd done to him.

Miaow NanLia Safton Bullyboy Squad ​

 

[Namazu]

The Scavengers​

“Fuck.” Denise hissed quietly. For once, it felt like she and Neveah agreed on something. It probably wouldn’t happen again, but she shared the sentiment. Whatever this was, it probably wasn’t worth it. She glanced back at Jade, noting how the younger girl looked like she was rooted to the spot and frozen in fear. Not good. At least Neveah looked ready to book it if they needed to.

The need to run didn’t materialize though. The laughter turned to indistinct shouts to get moving and get inside, which was then followed by vehicle doors slamming. It was a hell of a lot of noise that would have attracted the dead, if there were any dead around to attract… and this was apparently the reason for all the unusual silence. Whoever these people were, they’d already cleared the town.

They were damned lucky they were ducked down and close to cover, because moments later a large pickup truck, double-cab and with extra layers of sheet metal bolted onto the sides of the back bed, zoomed on by. The windows were dirty with dried blood and dust, but there was enough to make out figures inside. A full vehicle, with two more sitting in the back armed with hunting rifles. Interestingly enough, the back of the pickup truck was filled with toolboxes and long lengths of metal pipe. Not food. If these people were scavengers, they came here for supplies other than the kind you eat.

The truck slowed just enough to take a corner without tipping, then zipped on away. The two men in the back weren’t looking over their shoulders behind them, instead focused ahead in the direction they were going. That road went straight out into the fields and, if followed far enough, out of town and bending in the opposite direction the Samaritan crew had traveled. It was unlikely, unless the truck went off-road, that their vehicle would be discovered by the strangers.

Denise stayed put, feeling like she held her breath until she could no longer hear their vehicle. Dragging a hand down her face and exhaling, she shook her head.

“Since we’re here, and as long as we don’t hear or see anyone else… we keep going to the warehouse.” She glanced over at Neveah and Jade. Denise hadn’t planned on this being part of the test… but apparently it was now.

“If you don’t want to follow, wait here. But I’m going.” Without waiting for a response, Denise hurried around the back of the building, keeping low to the ground with her knees bent and weapon at the ready. Going up the street would be dangerous and stupid, so she was going to creep through town behind the buildings, one building at a time if needed.

The town was eerily silent again as Denise led whoever followed her through town. It was nothing but houses for a good block or three, but it quickly turned to little shops. Mostly the mom-and-pop places, non-chain stores, and then soon they were met with what looked like the center of town. City hall, a library, even a volunteer fire department with a rusting red pickup truck parked out front - crooked in the driveway, and with flat tires. The truck’s driver’s side door was open, and an unmoving body of a man in jeans and flannel was sprawled out on the cement nearby. Judging by the amount of blood soaked into the porous surface, he’d been attacked as soon as he stepped out of the vehicle. Unlucky fool.

Kiddie-corner from the library was their goal: the wholesaler, where there might stand a chance of there being some food left. Even if half of it was spoiled and the only thing left was whatever had the most preservatives in it but was stale anyway, it was better than nothing. She’d live off Twinkies if she had to. It wouldn’t be a long or pleasant life, though.

Ducking behind a dumpster that had been pushed out of an alleyway, Denise surveyed the area. Still nothing and nobody. No dead, no living, no birds, not even a wild dog or a raccoon. Nothing.

The brick wholesaler’s building looked surprisingly unmolested. No broken windows, the door was closed, nothing dragged out and spread around the sidewalk. It looked wonderfully untouched.

That was suspicious.

NanLia ghostflowering Bullyboy Squad ​

 

[NanLia]

FLASHBACK
The Day After the Fire​

Nari yawned and scrubbed at her eyes with the back of her hands. She was already exhausted only a couple of hours back in her workshop for the morning. It was truly no wonder; the fire the night before had left her and her daughters on edge, not to mention reuniting with Xander and Cabrera returning in the morning…

Despite all of this, and at the protests of Cabrera, she had waddled back to her workshop intent on helping where she could. However, her full intent hadn’t been entirely altruistic. She had unhinged the door leading to the broiler room and, while she doubted anyone would care (possibly not even notice until much later) she wanted to set it back into its home before it was noticed.

That had been a struggle, lifting the metal door up off the floor but with a few jacks and a rigged pulley system, it slipped back onto its hinges like it hadn’t ever moved. She hoped that the next time someone unlocked it and opened it correctly, it didn’t go awry.

Now, she stared bleary-eyed at an electrical panel that had been salvaged from the kitchen area; the hope had been to replace the wiring and fuses so that they could reattach it to the connections and be able to turn on lights and fans. Wishfull thinking, but they already had people working on stripping back the wires and replacing them.

She knew she didn’t have the focus to finish this without more sleep. Pushing herself would lead to mistakes and possibly another fire or someone getting hurt and she refused to be responsible. With a sigh she slid off the stool and removed her heavy leather apron, folding it neatly to sit atop her workbench.

Nari left the workshop and started back to Cabrera's apartment, knowing that going to see the girls, and Xander, wasn’t a possibility today … for now.


“Fucking thing.” Weston grumbled to himself. It wasn’t that the box was heavy - it was that it was weirdly shaped, and there was no place to get a good grip on it. The box was wide and flat, but just slightly too wide to grip the edge with his hand. There were no handles on it either, and to make it even worse, the whole thing was wrapped in slippery plastic. All he could do was tuck it under his arm, hold it against his hip, and carry-waddle-drag it down the hallway. If it wasn’t so important, he would have tossed it onto the ground and kicked it all the way there. It didn’t help that he was carrying a toolbox in the other hand.

Weston turned a corner, and nearly fumbled the box as he came to a quick awkward slow-down to a near stop. Nari was headed the opposite direction, and it looked like they were both going the same direction: Cabrera’s quarters.

A look of surprise was on his face for a moment, before he replaced it with that look of mild annoyance and serious focus he normally had towards everyone and everything. The slightly longer beard and hair didn’t do anything to make him look more friendly.

“Nari. Hold the door open. Got you something.” He turned a bit with his shoulder so she could see the side of the box:

One baby crib, suitable for newborns on up to toddlers, with adjustable and lockable railings on the sides and smooth safety padding on the bottom.

“Some assembly required.” He motioned with his toolbox, continuing towards Cabrera’s room. Or, he supposed, it was now Cabrera and Nari’s room.


Nari felt like she was hardly moving, her walk additionally slow due to exhaustion, so when she heard her name being called as she arrived at Cabrera's apartment she was surprised to find it had come from Weston. She stared at him and then at the box he was dragging/carrying before she fully understood what he was saying.

As the realization formed in her mind her eyes widened and she stammered. “Oh, yes. Sorry. Thank you!” She pushed the door open and stepped inside, holding it for Weston to join her. She glanced briefly around the room to make certain there wasn't anything incriminating from the night before; a promise to Cabrera.

Once the man was in, she let the door close and smiled. “You really didn't need to.” She said quietly, looking around the rather barren room. “Can I get you a drink? Ca-” She paused, clearing her throat. “Ignacio has some alcohol, or I can put on a kettle for tea or coffee?”


Of course he didn’t need to. Weston didn’t need to do a damn thing to help Nari, didn’t need to participate in this song and dance that Ignacio and Nari were putting on for fucking God-knows-why. And he sure as shit did not need to lift one damn finger to help the person that, for all intents and purposes, Ignacio had pretty much left him for without saying why or sticking around long enough for them to figure some shit out.

But, Weston conceded, there were times that his own anger, frustration, and other stupid feelings didn’t matter. One of those times was when a twig of a lady who had done nothing wrong was so pregnant she looked like she could hardly stand. He could hate the father of her child - the real one, not the pretend one - plenty for the shit he pulled, but that did not translate into hate for Nari.

“Nah, sit down. You look fit to pop at any second.” Weston let the box thunk to the floor with a sigh of relief, then leaned down to set the tool box on the floor nearby.

“Actually, on second thought, of course I’ll drink Ignacio’s booze.” He laughed. “Beer is fine. And then sit down.” He took a glance around the barren room - he’d always wondered why Ignacio didn’t have as much stuff squirreled away as he did in his own room - and nudged the box over with one boot, closer to a part of the room where it looked like maybe a good spot for the crib.

“Around here sound good? Ignacio can always help you move it around afterwards.”


Nari smiled and nodded as Weston went on to accept a beer from Cabrera's stash. Normally, if there was any such thing as normal, she wouldn't ever consider offering something of Cabrera's to anyone but this was Weston. And when she'd blurted out the falsehood of him being the father of her child, she hadn't considered anyone would be with him.

It was shallow and self-centered and sheer desperation on her part but she still mourned that she had destroyed something between them. She went to the mini fridge hidden in the bottom of the only wardrobe in the room and removed a beer. After opening it she held it out to Weston to take before moving to settle in her chair.

“There is perfect.” She said, truthfully it didn't matter. It would be the only thing in the room beyond the bed, wardrobe, nightstand and chair. There was plenty of room for the crib.

She watched as the tattooed man worked at removing the parts of the crib from the box and laying them out, then reviewing building instructions. She licked her lips nervously before speaking. “I want to apologize, for Minnie.” She said suddenly, truly blurted out. “For what she announced… publicly. She had no right.”


Weston accepted the beer with a nod, raising it a little in a silent toast to her before he took a swig. Setting it aside where it wouldn’t be bumped and spilled, he took out his leatherman and flipped out a short blade, cutting open the package’s plastic along the box’s seams, then opened the box itself. The pieces of the crib slid out easily, and among them, the instructions. There were several pages, most not in English, and he flipped the little booklet upside down and around until he found pictures. Pictures, he could handle, and luckily he had all the tools he needed to put this thing together.

He kept his attention firmly on his project as he sat on the floor, one leg stretched out, the other bent in front of him, and worked on lining up screws with screw-holes. It was nice to have a distraction, and this task made him think of Legos suddenly.

Nari’s apology made him raise an eyebrow. For a moment he didn’t look up at her, pressing his lips together as he rolled a thought around in his head until he had the right words for it.

“No, she didn’t have any right at all. We’re damn lucky nobody believed her, but she really needs to be more careful about what she says… and I told her that much. When she apologized to me.” He glanced up at Nari briefly, then back down to his project.

“She found me in the library the other day. I was… reshelving things. She found some books that looked interesting. Stuff about animals, I think. And I gave her one I thought might help her.” He paused for a moment to rub his forehead with the back of one hand.

“Y’know, for what it’s worth, I know the baby isn’t his. I get why you did it, even if it pissed me off, even if your husband killed someone I knew and didn’t actually dislike. And I’m sorry Ignacio is the way he is.” Weston shifted in his seat and got onto his hands and knees, laying out the frame of the base of the crib so he could start putting pieces together.


Nari blinked as Weston revealed that Minnie had apologized herself to him for what she’d done and she truly felt relieved to hear it. As much as Nari was going to broach the topic with her daughter and encourage her to do so, she didn’t want to trigger the, at times, volatile teen into acting out further in anger. It was a precarious position here, more so now that Nari had made her claim to Cabrera.

She felt a cold ball settle into her stomach as Weston announced he knew the truth of it, further guilt burned through her veins as he went on to discuss Xander and Dutchess and then even apologized for Cabrera’s behaviour.

“I’m sorry.” She said softly. “For all of it. It’s my fault. If I hadn’t confronted him when I did, he wouldn’t have sent me here. Xander wouldn’t have killed her. Minnie wouldn’t have known about you two and I’d never have lied about…” She carefully held her hands on her belly, emotions welling up within her, uncontrolled. Her vision clouded as tears filled her eyes and she swiftly wiped them away as they rolled down her cheeks; she hadn’t wanted to cry in front of him.

“You can still be with him,” She said quietly, between sniffs. “I … I won’t say anything. I didn’t want to come between you.”


Weston let out a dry, unamused laugh and shook his head, shoving two pieces of wood together with a little more force than what was necessary before reaching for a screwdriver and aligning it with the head of the screw.

“None of it is your fault, Nari. You don’t control other people’s actions - as frustrating as that probably is. You didn’t make Xander pull that trigger. You didn’t make Minnie call me a fuckin’ queer in front of a crowd of guys who have probably beat people for being one. And you definitely didn’t bring us to your school. So.” Weston quickly spun the screw into the wood, paused to check how well it was attached, then gave it another few more turns just to be safe.

“I appreciate what you’re saying. Don’t get me wrong. But whether he wants to be with me yet might be up to him at this point. I haven’t had a conversation with him since the school that doesn’t wind up with one of us angry or walking away and leaving things unsaid… and he made it pretty clear once he wasn’t interested in making things serious. So I’m not even sure what there is to come between.”

Weston sighed and let the frame of the crib fall back against the floor, dragging a hand down his face. The square frame of the base was in one piece now, with the legs and railings laid out to be added next.

“Sorry. I kind of just. Blurted that all out, and now I sound like a damn Jerry Springer episode. Tales of when fucking your subordinate goes sideways - part one, catching feels for a jackass that you don’t understand.”

Weston picked up the base again and steadied it against his shoulder as he leaned down to start screwing on the legs of the crib. It was a great way to avoid eye contact now that he just emotion-dumped on Nari.

“He doesn’t hit you or threaten you, does he? I saw bruises, so…”


Nari attempted to smile through her tears, wiping them away immediately as they fell; she shouldn’t be crying, not to Weston of all people. If anyone had a reason to truly dislike her and her family it would be him. And here he was comforting her. “Don’t apologize.” She said quietly, she could understand how he felt. Love, or catching feels as he said, meant that you never thought things through.

She rose from the chair and shuffled to the mini fridge, taking out a bottle of water. On the dresser, she filled a kettle and turned it on. As she opened a little packet of tea and dropped it in her cup she paused, turning to stare at him, uncertain how to answer.

Cabrera would want to own it, wouldn’t he? Give him that edge? The superiority he needed, the image. She considered saying that perhaps she’d earned it; she shouldn’t have spoken back to him. The kettle popped, jarring her from her thoughts and she blushed deeply and shook her head.

“No, he’s never touched me.” She purposely kept Weston’s gaze, hoping he knew she was telling him the truth. “He startled me the night he came back. We fell asleep in bed and I woke up and was scared of the man in bed with me. I’d forgotten he was there and when I tried to get out of bed I fell and hit my face on the edge of the nightstand.” She motioned to her side of the bed, said table sitting further away than the one on Cabrera’s side.

Nari turned back to her tea and poured the hot water into her cup, taking the warm liquid with her as she waddled back to her chair. “The only time Cabrera has threatened me is when I got in his face about something I didn’t like.”


“Good to hear it.” Weston murmured when Nari confirmed he’d never hit her. He took her explanation at face value - both that the bruise was an accident, and that he’d threaten her when she got in his face. That sounded like something Ignacio would do. He paused for a moment to look at the instructions again, studying the picture for a moment.

“He punched the wall next to my head once.” Weston offered, voice quiet, while he was leaning over the scattered parts of the crib and reaching for another bag of screws - longer ones, this time, for the legs.

“You told me once he might have forced himself on your husband. I confronted him about it. He didn’t like that I questioned him, that I believed you over him.” He counted out screws, making sure he had enough, before he started on the first leg.

“I don’t think it was so much that I believed you, but I just had to know. I had to. That’s got nothing to do with King’s rules either. I just could never be close with someone who did stuff like that. It ain’t right.”

The first leg screwed on easily, and Weston moved on to the second one.

“Even I got standards.”


Nari had heard of Cabrera’s violence before; plenty of people had told and warned her that he was prone to sudden, terrifying outbursts. That he was unpredictable. She had learned, the hard way, that he was very predictable. He had triggers that set him off but that rage, so far as she’d seen, had been bluster, not violence.

“I remember.” She said quietly, sipping her tea. “That’s how I ended up here. I’d heard, from Buster, that he’d threatened to assault Xander, expected it as the leader to submit. I had gone to speak with him, thought I could reason with him. Our community was elderly and children; we weren’t a threat to him or his people and we would do as he wanted.”

She sighed softly, “Then he asked if I would take Xander’s place, give myself instead.” She didn’t need to say anything more; she was here and that was the past.

“Why does it do it?” Nari asked suddenly. “Why does he intimidate and threaten people? You don’t, and you are respected and obeyed. Why does he need to use his power to make people afraid of him?”


The silence that followed Nari’s question stretched on for a few long seconds. Weston focused on finishing attaching the second leg, but he wasn’t really looking at it while he did it - his mind elsewhere, mulling over the question. When that step was finished, he sighed and let the square frame drop back onto the floor.

“I don’t really know, and it drives me up the goddamn wall that I can’t… help him. I knew plenty of guys like him on the outside, before all this.” He motioned vaguely over his shoulder at the prison in general.

“The guys that get all up in people’s faces with threats, intimidating people every time they open their mouth. And y’know what they all have in common? They’re goddamn terrified. Terrified of losing something, of being seen as weak, of being passed up, of being made to feel like they’re small. But it doesn’t make sense, because I can’t figure out what Ignacio is so damn afraid of.”

Weston rubbed a hand down his face and tugged at his beard, bending one leg so he could prop his arm against it as he looked up at Nari.

“The way I see it, he shouldn’t be afraid. He shouldn’t need to be an asshole. The guy was in the military. He had brothers in arms. Friends. Family. Hell, he should be a better person than I am.” He motioned to himself. “I’m the one with a swastika on my skin and behind bars serving a life sentence for murder, like a piece of shit. If he were just an asshole to me, I’d entirely understand it as something I earned and deserved.”

Weston reached forward and rotated the base of the crib around so he could work on the last two legs.

“If a guy like Ignacio can’t be a decent person, I don’t know what hope I have.” Weston let out a sad bit of a chuckle.

“But I’m the one putting together the crib, and I don’t see his ass around here doing it.”


Nari stared at Weston as he admitted what he’d been in prison for; though she’d heard that about a great deal of people, he hadn’t been on the list she’d assumed. Her mind was reeling with the new knowledge of Cabrera. He hadn’t been an inmate. He’d come to the prison afterwards. She supposed that made more sense as to why he was so aggressive and allegedly violent, but how had he become one of the higher-ranked Samaritans when the rest all seemed to be inmates, or at the very least guards that hadn’t fled in the early days?

She didn’t think asking that would be appropriate, and Wes was right. He was the one here putting together a crib for her. Cabrera had left first thing in the morning. “Thank you again.” She said softly. “I wasn’t sure how to go about getting things for the baby. It’s not like there is a nursery here, and I’m not even sure who to ask.” She paused, finishing her tea and settling the cup to rest on her belly, one hand over the top. “I guess I can ask Ignacio for more things; we won’t need much, but diapers are going to be a problem.”


“If there’s anything else you need, you can always ask me. I’m in good with some of the scavengers, so if I tell them to keep their eyes peeled for something specific, they can bring it straight to me - or to you. I can check the women’s wing too, see if there is anything still left that’d be useful. I remember they had a certain part of their wing that was for pregnant prisoners so that they were kept away from the rest of the women. Especially once they started looking like…” Weston trailed off and motioned at Nari’s belly.

“Don’t bother with disposable diapers unless that’s all we find. Washable will work better.” Weston shifted onto his knees with a grunt once he finished putting the last two legs of the crib on. The base could now stand upright, and it was time to add the railings, headboard, and footboard.

“Honestly, it’ll be just as gross as it sounds, but having to find somewhere to dump a mountain of dirty diapers will be even worse. I remember growing up a lot of our neighbors used ‘em. Government assistance only gets you so many diapers, and once you’re out for the month, you’re out.”


Nari smiled at Weston’s offer, one that she might truly take him up on just to avoid asking Cabrera. She didn’t want to ask him for anything, truthfully; it was painful to think about. The fact that she was here, Xander was imprisoned, and her girls were separated from her. This wasn’t how her pregnancy was supposed to happen. Not here and not without her family.

Before she could thank him for the assistance and the knowledge of the women’s ward he went on to discuss diapers as though he had plenty of experience with them. She listened, absorbing the information.

“Did you ever have kids?” She spoke without thinking and immediately regretted what she’d asked. “No, sorry. Please.” She shook her head, waving it off. “I shouldn’t have asked; you just know so much…” She sighed. “Sorry, I don’t often feel like I’m out of my depth, like I don’t understand, but all of this.” She waved at her belly, unable to describe just how overwhelmed she felt.


Weston shook his head, counting screws as he shook them out of a plastic bag and into his hand. After a brief glance at the instructional diagram again, he looked certain he had enough and started lining things up for the railing. It seemed like he was making extra effort to not look at Nari.

“It’s okay to ask. And nah, I didn’t, but my little sister was pregnant… before all this. We talked about it. How expensive and hard it was going to be. How she was scared and not sure how it was going to all work out, with the… the father not around. I told her I’d help. But that was before I got arrested, before she stopped talking to me.”

He paused a moment, shifting the railing a little to make sure it was still lined up correctly before he continued screwing it into the base.

“Neither of them made it.”



It was instinct for Nari to try and be optimistic, lips parted and she was about to argue that his family could still be alive but something about the tone he’d uttered the last phrase gave her pause. Certainly, he wouldn’t have given up on his family just because of what had happened in the world, right? Weston didn’t seem the type of person to give up on anyone until he’d seen proof that he should.

Nari didn’t ask, didn’t suggest he should continue to hope because she didn’t want to hear the truth behind the unspoken words. “I’m sorry.” The words were a poor substitute for how she felt. She had family, overseas, that she hadn’t seen in a decade and knew, without a doubt, she would never see again. She didn’t know if they survived still; she certainly hoped they had. Uncertainty was difficult to live with, she hoped, at least Weston had closure.



The way the crib was designed, by the time you had the base together, the rest of it all just sort of fell into place neatly. The railings were easy to screw on securely. With it all in one piece, Weston pushed himself back up to his feet with a grunt and tested out the railings, raising and lowering them a few times, then locking and unlocking them, to make sure everything moved okay. One of the locks on one side seemed a little stiff.

“WD-40’ll fix that.” He mumbled to himself, as guys puttering around in a workshop tend to do. He fiddled with it longer than he really needed to, eyes on the crib but also far away.

“Yeah, thanks. I’m sorry about it too.” He drummed his fingers on the top of the railing, mind momentarily elsewhere.

“Her name was Jolene. My sister. I used to tease her that she was named after that Dolly Parton song, because she can’t stand country. Loves the Beatles though.” Weston stepped away from the crib to lean down and grab his tools, shuffling them back into the toolbox.

“I never did find out what she named the baby, but I think it was a girl. I’ve been calling her Lucy in my head. Lucy in the sky with diamonds, y’know?” He abruptly cleared his throat, stopping himself from getting into territory that was any more emotional than it already was.

“Listen - I know that kid ain’t Ignacio’s. He’s protecting you, and the kid, because neither of you deserve what could happen out there. And honestly? That’s the best Goddamn thing he’s done the whole time he’s been here. So, am I kind of irritated he’s hanging on you acting like you’re his? Yeah. I guess. It’s complicated. But I’m going along with it, no matter how pissed I am at anyone or anything, ‘cause it’s right - or at least the most-right thing I can do. I couldn’t do shit for Lucy, so I’m doing what I can to make up for it.”

Shoving the rest of his tools into the toolbox, he offered Nari a grin. “Up to you if the kiddo someday calls me Uncle Weston. I gotta earn that first.”[/I]

Namazu ​

 

[Tool]

Lincoln
Infirmary​

Gods...... three entry and exit wounds. That meant Sneaks had gotten shot. Getting stabbed didn't come with that kind of terminology. Bullets carried their own language, wholly apart from the lingo of gun designations, the esoteric species of this gun, the genus of carbine or handgun, the phylum of semi-auto versus full..... bullets carried the language of an aftermath. Exit and entry wounds. Frangible bullets that left nothing but soup in their wake. Ballistic trajectories that would kill or spare. Staunch the bleeding. Get some pressure on that. Near miss.

Why a near miss? Why never a near hit? A comedian had said that, once. Which one...... frankly eluded her.

Madison perked up at the orders passed between medical folk and glanced at them, and then at Minnie. "Me. Hey. Hey, I'm O-neg."

Her gaze flickered to the Samaritan as she recognized saying something aloud might just have doomed what remained of her days to be the most convenient blood bag for a bunch of assholes. She had little doubt they'd suck her dry as a raisin without a second thought.........but it was too late to take it back now, and anyway, Sneakers needed help. What the hell else was Madison supposed to do but lay there like a lump on a log? Being useless was her modus operandi, at least until she got her coordination back and she was able to do something.

Fuck those guys. "Wheel me over'n hook me up."

She rattled the cuffs against the railing and pushed aside the gifts Weston had gotten her, dropping them back into the box and making sure her veins were readily available, elbow straight.

The woman glanced back at Minnie and she colored a little. "S'a prayer. Not much fer religion, n'ymore...... but I was raised Catholic. Can't do much else."

A keen eye raked over the kid's body, looking for fresh injuries and noticing the bulge but not drawing attention to it, just in case Samaritan over there hadn't noticed.

Miaow​

 

[Bullyboy Squad]

LINCOLN
Cabrera's room early morning after the fire

[TW: indicated SA]
Collab with Miaow Safton NanLia


Dull thud pierced the silence. Xander was on the ground, Cabrera’s hand entwined with his thick, long locks that grew out during his time in confinement—just right for Cabrera’s grip. He tore the man off sleep, tugging him fully off the bed and kicking him into stomach. His leather boot impacted the tensing muscles, knocking the air out of the surprised male.

“Think you can come here-” Ignacio growled, “Sleep in my fucking bed.” He swung his other hand at Xander’s face—the one holding the pistol by the barrel—and he struck Xander’s jaw with the butt of the magazine.

“Sleep with my woman?!”



Momo scurried from the bed, his feet slamming into Minnie's stomach as he launched himself. His nails scratching against the sheets as he launched himself from the bed and scrambled into the bathroom. Minnie shot upwards, her half-asleep brain taking a moment to process the two men on the floor.

"DAD!" She yelled, scrambling for the edge of the bed, but Haewon grabbed her. She snaked her arms around Minnie, pinning her arms to her side.
"He's got a fucking gun!" Haewon hissed, squeezing her firmly to her chest.
"STOP IT!" Minnie pleaded with Cabrera.



Nari hadn’t expected to fall asleep, not with the sheer amount of adrenaline, stress and the lack of space in the bed meant for two. Somehow she had found rest, so when the commotion started on the other side of the bed she was slow to react. At first sitting up, staring at what was happening, trying to make heads or tails of the noise.

It was Minnie’s screech, her calling for her father that cut through Nari’s sleepy haze. She threw herself out of bed, running - as fast as her oversized form would allow her. As Cabrera’s hand rose to strike at Xander a second time, she threw herself between them, wrapping her arms over Cabrera’s shoulders and pressing against him, trying to push him back, keep him off of Xander. “Stop. No more, please.” She begged. “He’s here for the girls, not me. Please stop. No one knows they are here. Just you and me.”



The pain flared in Xander's head, white-hot. His body felt weightless, even after he had been dragged from the bed and laid out like a slab of beef. He groaned a pathetic groan, eyes fluttering as they tried in vain to focus on the overbearing presence above him. The cacophony of screams and shouts didn't help, especially since his concussed brain struggled to filter the voices out into discernible individuals rather than one pained jumble.

Finally, Xander managed to make out the silhouetted man looming over him, filling his sight. His vision was blurry and one eye was completely obscured with blood, courtesy of a cut on his forehead opened up from whatever he'd just been hit with. Even so, Cabrera was hard to miss. His instincts kicked in and fists tightened at his side and he began to lift one, intent on doing something -- anything -- to fight back.

But then he saw Nari enter his view: interposing herself between himself and Ignacio. She was pleading, begging. Begging on his behalf. He heard their girls doing the same, their voices clear to him now as they shouted from the bed. Immediately his hand dropped and his muscles relaxed in silent, unspoken submission to Cabrera. Everything they had told Minnie and Haewon... it applied to him, too.



Ignacio’s blood coursed through his veins with his heart pumping fast. Tight expression straining with anger and pure frustration. But something flicked in his face, a muscle twitching his cheek, something akin to shock in his eyes. When Nari pushed her small stature in between them. She…. She hugged him.

Gritting his teeth, Cabrera let go of the man’s hair, straightening up. His heart throbbed in his chest, feeling her arms pulling them flush. For a moment there, he wasn't sure what to do. But finally he put his hand to the back of her neck to pull her away.

“Enough.” Once he could see Xander again he bared his teeth briefly. Like to show he was still angry. Then he glanced at her and back at the man. He let go of Nari.

“Calm down your kids before someone hears them.”

He holstered his pistol and grabbed Xander again. He pulled the man up and held him by the back of the neck like he used to hold Nari. Standing in Xander’s personal space, their faces were just inches apart. So he had a good look at the bruised, swollen flesh. His eyes fixed on Xander's. His words quiet. Designated for the other man only.

“Every night when I take her, she moans my name, not yours.” He searched the man’s face for reaction before demanding.

“Tell your children whose wife she is now. Who’s the father of the baby inside her.”



Minnie's rage only bubbled more violently as Nari stepped between the two, hugging the attacker. The unfairness of it all, the fact she and her sister seemed to keep getting the blame, for antagonising the man... but they were sleeping. She wondered what Cabrera had done to trick Nari into thinking he was somehow in the right, that he needed hugging. She scowled at him as he gave Xander his demands, unaware of the conversation they'd just had. He looked like an idiot, proclaiming Nari was his wife, that they were stupid for thinking otherwise.

Haewon squeezed her sister a little tighter, feeling her restlessness as she sat in the crevice made by her crossed legs. Minnie was more likely to act, to throw something and get herself shot... Haewon liked to use her words. She shared the anger her little sister did. They were the ones getting sat down and lectured about their behaviour, meanwhile their "victim" had just stormed in and beat their father.

"Don't worry, you won't have to worry about us. Either of you," She spoke up, looking between Nari and her new beau. She finally released her sister, getting up from the bed.
"Get Momo," She instructed, grabbing her own jacket as Minnie disappeared into the bathroom.
"You don't want us here? We'll leave, all of us." She murmured, glancing towards Xander. She wasn't sure he'd be allowed to accompany them, but it couldn't hurt to try.



Nari stiffened as Cabrera grasped her neck, turning her around to face the girls on the bed. She gritted her jaw as he ordered her to calm down the girls, clenched her fists as she was released but stepped towards the bed, prepared to do as she was told.

At least until she heard him speak to Xander, she stopped in her tracks, unable to hide her look of disgust as he ordered Xander to submit, again. She wanted to scream. Wanted to cry and fight and just be done with it all but if she did … they’d lose everything. Xander would be back in the pit until he died. Haewon and Minnie would end up separated and either scavengers or Temma’s girls. And her? Well, only elites had children, were privileged enough to have them…

She looked to Haewon pleadingly. They had just discussed this, the very need to be placated and behave. To stop fighting and wait. Every chance she’d had with the them since they’d been reunited she’d tried and tried to instill patience in them. They couldn’t fight an army, but eventually, they could outsmart them. But every time the girls tore off and caused problems set them further and further away from that end goal. It left her constantly struggling to make amends.

“Go, girls.” She said softly. “Quietly, straight back to your cell. Xander will leave later.”



There was a time when Cabrera's words would have provoked Xander to violence, would have had him clawing and scraping at the Samaritan with no care for the consequences. Instead, he simply stared blankly up at Ignacio -- remembering the conditions he had set for the girls moments earlier. Truth be told, in light of recent revelations, Cabrera's taunting fell flat for perhaps the first time. Xander knew the truth... and just as importantly, so did Minnie and Haewon. No amount of venom from the man could change that now.

Xander held Ignacio's gaze, looking up at him. Not challenging, not defiant. Simply... open. Passive, even. "They already know, Cabrera," he murmured under his breath. "They know it all... and so do I." His eyes flicked toward the girls who hovered toward the door, waiting for permission to leave. "Let them go," he requested softly. "Then do what you have to.”



Ignacio felt the rush of heat go through him and he grabbed Xander by the throat. “Motherfucker-” He shoved him towards the bed and pinned him down to the mattress next to the girls and Nari.

“I’ll do whatever the fuck I want!” He shouted in his face. Frustration shining in his eyes more than hate or anger. He let go, straightening up in front of the other man. Fire in his eyes, his teeth on edge.

“Tell them.” He hissed, kicking Xander’s legs apart. “Tell them what you are.” What Cabrera told Xander all those months ago, half a damn year by now, when they first met.



Minnie scurried back into the room with Momo in her arms, just in time to see Cabrera throwing her father onto the bed. Haewon quicky wrapped an arm around her chest, holding her tightly against her abdomen. She wasn't letting her act out again, especially when Cabrera was acting like this. Haewon had despised his behaviour since day one, but this was another level of crazy she hadn't encountered before.

As he kicked their father's legs open, she pulled Minnie behind her back.
"Don't watch," She murmured, turning her head to watch her from the corner of her eye. She could feel her trembling under her arm... but the presence of Momo seemed to make her think twice about acting out. Instead, she stood against Haewon's back, her head hidden behind her shoulder, concealing her view of the bed as she tried to soothe the rabbit.



Nari froze in place as Xander spoke, revealing to Cabrera that he knew the truth, that they'd told the girls. She had always been frightened of this place, of these people but she hadn't known true fear until that very second. She was dead, Xander had killed her. He'd given Cabrera a reason to drop the charade and release her back into the general population. She'd be dragged back to the medical ward and her child taken from her. She might survive, physically but she was certain she wouldn't. Her self. Her soul.

She flinched as Minnie returned from fetching her bunny. Cabrera dragged Xander to the bed. She heard Haewon speaking but it sounded under water. A vice formed around her heart and it started to feel hard to breathe.

Nari backed away from the bed, backed into Haewon and continued to push the girls back away from the bed until she had them behind her in the corner of the room.



Xander moved slowly, as one would in front of a feral dog or an angry bear -- not wanting to upset Cabrera further with the wrong signal that the man might take as one of defiance. He was used to Ignacio being... unpredictable at the best of times. Unorthodox, certainly. But the man had never truly come across as unstable. Indeed, he'd always had a certain sort of cool pragmatism under the surface that Xander had been able to acknowledge at the school once initial hostilities had died down. But this?This was something else.

Xander had fallen on the bed like little more than a limp fish, wincing once at the suddenness of the toss and again when Ignacio forced his legs apart. The Samaritan's words registered immediately, grim recognition flashing through Xander's mind. He knew what Cabrera wanted him to say, what visceral acknowledgement would satiate him. The thought of resisting, of clamming up came and went just as fast -- the speech he and Nari had given to the girls was still fresh in his mind and it applied to him just as much as it did to their daughters.

Compliance was the way they would survive. Compliance was how they would stay together. "I'm your bitch, Ignacio," Xander said, slowly meeting Cabrera's eyes -- gauging how the man would respond for all their sakes. "Just like you wanted everyone to know way back when. Your boy fucked me up. I couldn't fight you then, I can't fight you now. My life's in your hands." Xander wondered -- for a moment -- if he was overdoing it. But what he was saying were hardly idle remarks intended to butter the man up... they were the cold truth of the matter given the present circumstances.



Ignacio interrupted the declaration of submission and kicked the man’s foot with his boot to keep his legs spread. “Louder. Tell your family what you are.” Only once the man repeated loud and clear enough was he satisfied.

“That’s right. You are my bitch. But I see I need to remind you again.”

Ignacio looked at the girls and opened his hand towards Nari, waiting for her to come over. “Come here.” He encouraged, his voice less hostile. Once she did he guided her to sit next to her ex-husband, letting go of her palm. He touched the side of her face and grabbed her chin to make her look up at him. His gaze was hard but calm. “Strip him.”

He let go and turned to the girls. “And undress yourself after.” He instructed the woman and briskly walked in the direction of her kids.

“I own your parents, which means I own you too. Both of you better know your place or I’ll have to show it to you too.” He barked and was about to open the door for them but he paused, zeroing in on the animal. Muttering curses under breath, Cabrera strode at the closet and retrieved his jacket from the inside. He came over to Minnie and put it around her shoulders before coming in front of her and zipping it up so the bunny in her arms was covered.

“Next time I see it in my room,” He warned, holding the younger teen’s gaze, “I’m going to skin it and eat it.“ He turned to the door and swung it open for them. “Leave. Make sure nobody catches you. If they do, tell them I summoned you and then told you to go back.”



As her father spoke, Minnie's eyes welled with tears.
"Stop-- Make him stop it," She pleaded with Nari, keeping her voice down. Nari knew Cabrera, she was supposed to be his wife, surely she could do something to make him stop it... but he just kept talking.

The way he touched her mother, leading her gently by the hand, then grabbing her by the jaw to force her to look him in the eye... she felt sick.
"Nari--" She whimpered, but Haewon held her arm across her chest before she could do anything she'd regret. She didn't want any of this. She wanted to kill him, kill him right where he stood, scream profanities and bash his skull in with that engineering textbook... but her feet were cemented to the floor and no sound could get past her throat.

Haewon took a step in front of her as Cabrera approached in the most non-threatening way she could. She didn't want to fight him... but she didn't want him touching her sister. Minnie tightened her grip on Momo, watching Cabrera's eyes scan from their faces to the rabbit in her arms... She swallowed, glancing to the door. She could run... but that ran the risk of angering Cabrera and she couldn't bring herself to imagine what he'd do to her parents then. She watched him turn his back, edging a little closer to her older sister...

Her whole torso tensed as he wrapped the jacket around her shoulders, her cheeks wet with a constant stream of tears. Despite his threats, she had nothing left to say. She could only stare. Not quite a glare, nor a look of pure terror. She almost appeared numb.

"C'mon," Haewon murmured, ushering her out of the room. Minnie's eyes lingered on her parents until the door was shut behind her.


​

 

[Miaow]

Lincoln
Infirmary
​

Pandora's eyes shot up as Madison spoke out.
"Someone get her over here!" She called out, gesturing to whatever Samaritan was around and not doing anything useful.
Minnie watched as the man walked around her, taking the brakes off of Madison's bed and wheeling it closer to Haewon, not too close so she was in the way, but close enough for Pandora to work. The doctor huffed as she scanned the room. She was working on the abdomen, Sylvia on the leg... she needed an extra pair of hands... or three.
"Where the hell is Victor..." She murmured as she worked.
"I got it," Sylvia announced, finishing off the tight bandage around Haewon's thigh as she rounded the gurney. She changed her gloves, grabbed a fresh needle, and swabbed the crook of Madison's elbow.
"Sharp scratch," She warned her, two words she must have said a million times in her life, as she pierced her skin with the needle. Before she knew it, she was hooked up in a similar way to Xander and Harry all those months ago, not that Madison or Sylvia had been there to see it.
"Unfortunately, we're all outta cookies," She patted Madison on the shoulder, "but I'll write you an I.O.U."

Minnie winced as she shuffled the office chair back to Madison's side, holding her side. It would've been hard to spot with the untrained eye, her entire front was soaked in blood, now beginning to dry a putrid brown... but there was a patch which stayed wet, just above her left hip, which she clutched with her palm.
"My, uhh-- Well, H-Haewon's dad was Catholic," She murmured. Her eyes were glazed over as she stared at Haewon... It was easier to talk to Madison about religion than focus on what was really going on.
"We had her, uhh-- Her baptism pictures on the wall, i-in this big white dress," She described, her gaze unwavering as she tripped and fumbled over her own words, "They kept it so they could use it for me, too, but, but... but he wasn't there anymore... when-- when I was born, anyway..."

She swallowed the lump in her throat as she watched Pandora and Sylvia work, stitching away at Haewon's wounds, sharing the occasional medical jargon with eachother which she didn't understand. She leaned back in her chair, her face pale and clammy.
"Do... do you think she'll be okay?"

Tool
​

 

[Bullyboy Squad]

LINCOLN
Around the fighting cage


Ignacio used a momentary break when more undead approached from distance and he tore his shirt off his back. He hastily wrapped dark silk, one of nature's strongest materials, around his left forearm—just in case he had to block the infected teeth with it at any point.

Then he spotted it. A glint of a chain that one of the punching bags was hanging from. It would take a moment to get it down, a moment he wasn’t sure he had to spare… Fuck it. Nari was safe for now and he needed a weapon. He lowered his stance again, panting softly, and when he was about to move, he heard her shouting. He didn’t see the man that appeared soon after but the undead instantly diverted their attention from Cabrera and headed in the direction of the girl. Those already by the side of the cage reached in, trying to grab their next meal.

That was his chance.

Making a beeline for the thing, Ignacio’s boots turned near-silent as he sprinted across the padded floor around the training section of the large room. Shoving the boxing dummy at the closest biter to slow it down, he ran straight at the wall covered with metal stall bars. He jumped at the thing and grasped at the pull up bar overhead, arms flexed hard.

He manoeuvred himself to be propped with his legs and to be able to reach for the chain of the closest punching bag and unhook it. His half naked body strained and he growled through clenched jaw, having to pull the thing’s heavy weight with both arms outstretched. Another zombie was approaching when he finally managed and the bag dropped to the floor, grazing the undead and making it stumble. Now thinking about it, he could have just taken the bag off of the chain first. Fucking shrunken brain on booze and night of dancing. Or was he just not as sharp as he used to be…

He looked around quick and grabbed the bars. He yanked and ejected his body, sending it airborne, his boot flying at the head of another infected. It impacted the face, painting it red, and both of them dropped to the mat. Ignacio grunted, hitting his elbow. He reoriented himself on the floor and hurried to get the chain off the bag. He almost had it when he had to thrust his left arm up. To block the teeth of another zombie that just lunged at him. They were slow as a rule but some fresh ones could have gotten pretty damn swift when you least expected it. The teeth sunk into the fabric but before Cabrera got a chance to check if it would hold, he already had the chain in the other hand. He got a good grip and crashed the metal-wrapped fist at the thing, striking until the temple burst open.

He heard the sound of the foot dragged on the mat behind him and his gaze snapped to another monster right when its body went rigid with current spearing through it. Momentarily dropped, it gave Ignacio a chance to rush back to his feet and check the situation. His eyes met with Xander’s. There was no time to be surprised to see him, though.

“Behind you!” He yelled, hoping the man handled it himself as Cabrera had to fight off another one that charged at him.


​

Safton NanLia
​

​

 

[Namazu]

FLASHBACK - AFTERNOON AFTER THE FIRE
Lincoln - Surveillance and Security Room​

Not many people had access to the video surveillance room. Most didn’t even know it was still working. True, some of the cameras had malfunctioned since the dead started to walk and hadn’t been fixed. But, the place was powered, many cameras were still rolling, and the tape system was still functioning. For now.

Weston sat in front of an array of screens, focused primarily on the one in front of him. He tapped the right arrow key on the keyboard periodically, cycling through different cameras. He was looking for something specific and, judging by the way he sighed and leaned back in the chair, wasn’t finding it.

Motion and light in another monitor caught his eye, which made him look upwards and do a double-take.

It was Ignacio’s room. He only ever turned that camera on when he was outside of the room, but it looked like the man hadn’t bothered to turn it off after barreling into the small sleeping quarters. The screen had previously been dim, suggesting the light was off, but now it was on and there were people moving and looking like they were arguing. Weston had missed whatever happened initially, and by the time he looked up Xander was already on the ground and the girls were hugging each other.

Immediately forgetting about what he came here to find in the first place, Weston leaned forward, focusing fully on the screen to Cabrera’s room. A line of static occasionally flickered through the screen. He hit the backup button, to make sure all of this was recorded to more than just the main tapes.

Weston saw plenty. The way Cabrera grabbed Nari by the neck. The way he grabbed Xander by the throat and shoved him into the mattress.

The way Cabrera kicked Xander’s legs apart while the other man was pinned to the mattress. The way Nari approached Xander, hesitant and fearful, and began to undress him.

Weston’s stomach flipped, and he held his breath.

It was more than just plenty. It was damn near everything, and Weston saw all of it. At least, almost all of it. The camera was still rolling after Haewon and Minnie fled the room. Only then did Cabrera seem to remember that camera was on. Weston watched as Cabrera turned to the camera, pulling a chair over to the wall and stepping up onto it. Cabrera reached up towards the camera, doing something to it on his end, a look of concentration on his face, and some other emotion Weston couldn’t really read. Concern? Anger? Weston flinched when Cabrera briefly looked into the camera before the screen went dark. It felt too much like staring into his eyes again, which he had been avoiding.

Did anyone ever tell Cabrera where all these cameras fed into, and how to get into the surveillance room?

Weston rested an elbow on the table as he leaned forward, hand over his mouth and eyes transfixed to the black screen. He mashed a few keys, cycling through camera angles, but he knew already that was the only camera in Cabrera’s room. The door was closed, so even if there was one in the hallway that happened to be pointed the right way, he’d never see inside.

As the minutes ticked by and the screen remained blank, Weston’s worries, fears, and imagination ran wild with what he’d just seen. He couldn’t be one hundred percent sure he knew what was going on in that room, but it didn’t look good.

The worst part? Weston checked the time stamps. This happened hours ago. There was no way to stop it even if he wanted to, even if he bolted from this room right this second. He grabbed a nearby empty glass with a shaking hand, whipping it at the far wall and letting it shatter as he cussed.

It was a mercy that Weston was alone in the room with the door locked behind him from the inside. He did not want anyone to see this kind of reaction from him.

Feeling sick and shaky, Weston sat back down in the chair, averting his eyes from all of the screens, and ran a hand down his face.

Bullyboy Squad NanLia Safton Miaow ​

 

[Aegis]

Lincoln
Medical Supply Closet​

Tanner smirked as Hadley devoured his bait along with the hook as Connor carried his disturbance off to god-knows-where. Finally, the constant screaming pressure in the back of his mind seemed to sooth beneath the silence he had so crookedly earned, and he breathed out the breath that had dammed up his lungs for the entirety of the last half hour. The young enforcer started down the hallway with a rejuvenated stride as he hummed a toon that popped into his head from some cartoon that had been buried beneath the years of madness that made up his formative years.

Yet, his patrol was once again stopped as he drew near the door Connor had been stationed beside. Jostling around like someone searching through luggage, plastic containers scraping and moving, and muffled footsteps. Adrenaline sparked a fire through his veins and drew hooks through his lips as his face curled into a manic grin that he just as quickly wiped from his mouth. He couldn't let himself get too excited, yet. Not yet. Tanner's fingers jumped as his right hand inched down to the holster where his pistol resided. The Boy's free hand shot forward and ripped the knob sideways as he threw open the door without so much as a moment of fanfare.

Victor was wrist-deep in the cookie jar so to say. It wasn't entirely unnatural for the doctor to be in the place medical supplies were kept, and the brief realization of who it was killed the excitement he had been muzzling up until that point. The now-distant sensation of his attempt at bashing in the burned man's skull was something he could barely recall in his fingertips, and his mind had run wild in that instant with the thought of leaving someone spread across the floor in their own blood. What would that feel like? Powerful. Exhilarating, he imagined.

"Mmm," Tanner grave a defeated groan as he looked the doctor up and down, "Doctor."

Nothing seemed to be suspicious at an immediate glance, but as his eyes lingered he saw Victor had a handful of items and seemed to be putting it into a smaller box he was carrying. A good amount of stuff. A very good amount considering his singular, mostly healthy patient. Tanner's eyes seemed to have life crawl into them once more as something sinister pulled his cheeks up into a giddy smile, "Whatcha... whatcha doing in here?"

Tanner's hand fell down to his sidearm, but a part of him wanted to lunge at him with the knife in his boot. Make it personal. Make it slow.

No.

The Boy shook his head for a moment. This was suspicious, but it wasn't anything kill-worthy, yet. He didn't want to make anybody above him mad. After all, the Doctor wasn't just some NOBODY.

Namazu Bullyboy Squad Safton NanLia​

 

[Namazu]

LINCOLN
Hallway & Fighting Cage​

Madison was, once again, correct. Like usual. They needed teamwork and a plan to get through this, especially if this breach was of any size. Going off half-cocked and swinging blindly would just create more corpses - moving or otherwise. Unfortunately, half-cocked and swinging blindly was often what Samaritans did best.

Departing from the infirmary - but not before pointing at Madison and ordering her to not die, as if that protected her from anything - Weston took off out of the room. Had he been a moment faster he would probably have collided with Wesley, who was hurrying in with… Goddamn, was that one of the kids? Nari’s kids? He didn’t get a good look at the carried girl’s face, but Minnie was following him. No wonder Wesley looked like he’d just taken a big bite of a shit sandwich.

Imagine taking care of the kids of the guy who shot your… whatever Dutchess was to him. Girlfriend, lover, fuckbuddy, whatever. He didn’t know if he could do it, but Wesley was a damn sight better for doing it in spite of what happened. Skirting around the trio and not stopping to ask what the hell happened to them, Weston took off down the hallway.

This was not the first time he had run down these halls with some kind of emergency on his heels. Dead, living, fire… all sorts of things had lit a fire under his ass and got him moving. He half expected wild animals, flooding, and outside raiders next. But he tried not to think about it too hard - no sense in taunting God with creative ideas.

The sound of a woman shouting echoed down the hallway, and it took him a moment to figure out what direction it was coming from. Voices tended to echo weird in some of these spaces, and the sound of people running this way and that and calling out to each other created a background din that was hard to ignore sometimes. But he swore after a moment of listening it was coming from… the pit? For some reason. Definitely the pit.

Weston picked up his pace, running full sprint - though he skidded to a brief stop when he saw one room’s door open with someone sitting on the floor. Wondering first if it was someone freshly bit, Weston grabbed onto the doorframe and peeked inside, eyes going wide momentarily when he saw Wren struggling to stand, injured but he didn’t look bit. No sign of that Marx asshole that was always grabbing at him. Maybe the fucker was dead, that’d be a good start.

“Wren!” Weston called, already grabbing for the door. “You don’t look good - stay here. I’m closing this door - don’t let anything dead come in. I’m coming back for you - I promise.” He slid one of his extra knives out and slid it across the floor at Wren, just to make sure he had something. He waited until Wren made eye contact with him to make sure the man understood he was serious about his promise, then pulled the door shut and continued down the hallway.

The smell and sound of the dead was impossible to miss as he approached the pit, which was already his least favorite room in this whole damn place. Now, as Weston ducked near the open doors to peer inside, the room was even worse than usual. Dead were crawling all over each other to get towards the center cage.

Weston spotted Xander and Cabrera first, by the training area, bringing a dead one down - working together, even. That was a hell of a sight. He narrowed his eyes, watching as Cabrera called out that one was behind Xander.

For a moment, he really, truthfully considered leaving them both there and going back for Wren. It wasn’t just that the room was dangerously full. He didn’t want to deal with Cabrera.

But, it was the sound of Nari calling out that snapped him back to his senses, and only then did he see her inside the cage. It was quickly apparent to him those damn fools locked her inside the pit, and stayed outside to play hero. Idiots.

Slipping inside the room and moving fast before any of the dead could sense him, Weston moved towards the training area. There was a bench press there, with a set of long bars intended to have heavy weights attached to each end. Someone had actually followed instructions and put their weights back after their workout, for once in a damn blue moon. This worked out perfectly - there was no way Weston had enough ammo to deal with everything in this room.

Weston grabbed one of the lighter bars, the fifteen-pound one, and swung it at the head of the biter that was getting too close to Xander’s back. The bar connected with a heavy thud, crushing its skull inward. He used the forward momentum to take a step forward and sweep another biter off its feet before it could get to Cabrera.

“Why the fuck is it always you three?!” Weston growled, irritated as hell and now ready to cave in some skulls. He shoved the bar downwards, forcing it through the skull of the biter on the floor.

Safton NanLia Bullyboy Squad Good_Morels Tool Miaow ​

 

[NanLia]

THE SCAVENGERS
​

Neveah strained to listen to what was happening out of sight. Several people, men, were having the time of their lives torturing another being somewhere nearby, then turned to shouts of moving out. She inhaled deeply through her nose, willing her heart to stop thumping in her chest as she prepared for the worst. Maybe she was going to get the violence she was more accustomed to after all. However, she liked it better when she knew who she was up against.

She eyed the truck as it tore down the street by them, the men they’d heard distracted with their destination and not paying attention to anything else around them—complacency: the death of many.

Like Denise, she kept herself hidden, though now finally took the time to slide her pistol out from the waist of her jeans and flip off the safety. She pulled back the slide to chamber a round from the clip, then lowered it to her side, waiting in deafening silence for their cover to be blown.

When it didn’t happen, and Denise stuck her head out first to check, Nev finally started breathing normally again. She pushed herself up from where she’d squatted down beside the house and looked back to where the truck had come from for any sign of either the dead filing in or the person the truck had been torturing.

It was creepily quiet again and the fact that they heard nothing set Neveah’s teeth on edge. She glanced at Denise as the woman announced she was going to continue, despite the fact this was an occupied territory. A quick assessment of Jade and their immediate surroundings told her she didn’t want to stick around here with the rookie if the owners of said territory returned.

Neveah let Denise lead the way, watching where she walked and letting her get a few dozen feet ahead before following behind, keeping an eye on their rear and the distance between them. It would be foolish to travel all together, people grouped would be far more noticeable than one person moving through cover.

Namazu ghostflowering ​

 

[Good_Morels]

LINCOLN

Marx's Quarters​

Back before Creator made man and man made the world into concrete and smoke, he created two brothers, Crow and Vulture. Crow and Vulture were similar in many ways, both ate carrion, both could fly quite high, but Vulture was much larger and Crow much smarter than vulture. As a result, when Crow's smart mouth got him into trouble, Vulture would come to his rescue. One day, when many animals were quite tired of him, Crow was singing about how proud he was of his rainbow plumage when Snapping Turtle hopped along and threw him into the fire to punish his pride. Crow cried out as his pretty plumage was scorched to black. This is why crows are black, but shine rainbow in the light.

Vulture came to the rescue as he always did, but Snapping Turtle was faster. He led Vulture to a tree then leaped out of the way with his great speed. Vulture smashed into the tree so hard that he bent his beak all out of sorts. This is why Vultures have crooked beaks. Vulture was not one to be bested, however, and hit Snapping Turtle with his wings so hard that his ribcage flew out of his back. Snapping Turtle was so hurt and frightened that he climbed into a pot to protect his squishy chest, but it was so heavy that he had to hide inside until Vulture and Crow had left. In fact, he stayed there so long that Snapping turtles have shells to this day, but still no ribs.

Vulture told Crow that he would rather have a crooked beak than no ribs, because ribs could not be set back into place when broken and hurt much, much more.


Of course, none of it happened like this. Crow was a native kid that didn't do anything except exist as himself, and Snapping Turtle was the bastard that cut his braid off with a pair of safety scissors. Vulture was a troubled twelve year old with an interest in baseball who threw a punch at the bully and in return got his face smashed into the lockers. Unfortunately for that bully, Vulture’s locker wasn't far and that was where he kept his bat. The ending was right, however. Broken noses could be set back into place and stuffed full of cotton by the cheapest doctor money could buy and would heal a good bit while Vulture and Crow were suspended. A fractured rib, however, didn't have much you could do about it except pray it healed fast. Vulture barely avoided prison for that one, and only did because his mom was more willing to spend cash on lawyers to push the whole thing under the rug than she was on her child's broken nose. Vulture sacrificed a lot to keep Crow safe, but he wasn't around anymore.


Wren thought about this as he listened to the wailing of the siren and waited for the reaper to come for him. He wouldn't come today, if Marx had scheduled it for today he wouldn't have gotten a nurse to check on him, but Wren knew his timer was running out. Marx had never broken a bone before. He bruised, sure, cut and humiliated him, but he had never broken bone like he broke skin beneath his ugly hands. It was only a matter of months or maybe days before Marx got tired of him and let off steam for the last time, destroying Wren’s hopes to protect the reserve the same way he’d destroy his body.


The rebellion needed to work. Before his timer ran short, he had to make sure it worked and they remembered the reserve.


Fuck did his ribs hurt though. Every breath felt like shifting in an iron maiden. He hoped death came faster than healing did. He hoped Vick would be there when it came, that he’d laugh and joke about how little doomsday prepping had been worth and he’d explain why he’d never shown up. He’d say that he’d never abandoned Wren, that he had died before suffering much at all.


Not yet though. He still had shit to do.


He was pulled from his thoughts when the door creaked open. The nurse had apparently not shut it hard enough, which was bad, because he could hear gunfire and the groans of the dead in the distance. He managed to force himself to his feet, flinching and clutching his injured side as he did. He made it about halfway to the door before black spots flooded his vision and he dropped to his knees. He couldn't afford to faint, not now. He felt his heart racing as he steadied himself with his free hand, tears welling up in his eyes.


*not yet. Not yet not yet-*


*”Wren-”*


That was his name. He looked up and didn't quite recognize the figure in the doorway past all of the spots, but it was a voice he knew well enough. He managed to mumble a near silent “weston?” before a knife skidded across the floor towards him and the door slammed shut.


Thank God.


He clutched the weapon like a lifeline, closing his eyes and forcing himself to breathe through the pain.


Somebody had seen him, somebody Marx couldn't control. Maybe, just maybe, he could prolong that timer a little longer.

 

[Safton]

LINCOLN
Outside The Fighting Pit

​

“Behind you!”

The warning rang out loud and clear. Xander spun around on his heel, nearly toppling over as he struggled to regain his balance. The Biter was already lunging: all pale flesh and gnashing teeth, milky eyes locked on their next target: him. He reacted on instinct, dropping the Taser on the ground and thrusting out with the baton held horizontally in both palms. The metal bludgeon collided with the neck and collarbones of the creature as Xander drove forward, framing against the ghoul's mass with a grunt of effort before shucking it off to the side.

The Biter oriented itself and came lumbering back. Xander was ready this time, loading up and snapping off with a heavy swing of the baton. The tip of the club clattered against the creature's forehead... only to glance off, barely disorienting the revenant before it ultimately continued on, pouncing on its attacker. Xander was still off-balance from the swing and only barely managed to repeat his defense from moments before: backpedaling -- sneakers squeaking on bloody linoleum -- as he wormed the baton in between his own torso and that of the Biter, bracing it against the creature's chest. His back slammed into unforgiving link of the fighting cage and he was vaguely aware of the sound of Nari's sobs behind him. His own grunts intermingled with the single-minded hisses and fetid, coppery breath emanating from the snapping jaws of the ghoul inches from him, its nails scrabbling at his shoulders.

​

​

​

Bullyboy Squad NanLia Namazu​

 

[Bullyboy Squad]

LINCOLN
Hallways around the fighting cage


Things were tense between them these days, but the moment Ignacio heard those words and his gaze caught Weston’s tall frame, a jolt of relief cut through him. Xander’s grunts and the sound of body hitting the cage snapped his attention and he instantly moved, releasing the chain from his fist so it hanged. With a loud growl he swung it over the creature’s neck like a whip and jerked the zombie back.

“Weston!” The monster stumbled back and Cabrera guided it with momentum to position it for the Second in command and his weapon. He held it still enough that Weston aimed at eye with ease and punched through the eye socket, penetrating the dead thing’s brain and dropping it for good.

“Give me your gun, man!” Ignacio demanded and once the pistol was in his hand, the familiar weight and shape spiked him with another dose of confidence. His aim was good, but his short-range aim was killer. Even a little intoxicated, Ignacio caught first swaying head in his sights and drove a bullet straight through it. Locked in his zone, he snapped between one head and another with short splits, only once missing and grazing the ear before he sent another round home. The pistol jolted in his hand with a final, empty click. Weston and Xander were just finishing more of the undead on the side. They were about to be in the clear.

But it wasn’t time to rest. They had to check the whole damn prison now and count the losses once the threat was gone. Everybody would have to be double checked for bites. And the questions remained… How did this happen?

​

Safton NanLia Namazu
​

​

 

[Namazu]

THE SCAVENGERS​

Refusing to return home empty-handed, Denise was committed to pushing onwards into the wholesaler building. There was no sign of anyone around, so it felt like turning around now would just be cowardice. Was this a risk? Hell yes, of course. But was it one she was expected to take? Also yes. That was the life of a scavenger. Maybe Neveah and Jade didn’t get that part yet, but that was the truth. It didn’t matter to her if they followed her as long as they weren’t in the way.

Denise crept forward towards the front door, ducking low to avoid the windows. It was dark inside, so it was unlikely she’d be able to see inside - but if anything was in there, they would certainly see her. Once she reached the front door, she reached up to test the handle.

Unlocked - and open. The door had been pulled closed but hadn’t quite latched all the way. Denise pushed it open slowly with one hand, back pressed against the brick exterior as she listened.

The door creaked open slowly, letting more light flood into the room. At first she heard nothing, but then she heard it - the rasp, growl, and gurgle of something that should be dead, but wasn’t. Looking over her shoulder, Denise motioned for Jade to stay put out here, then curled a finger towards Neveah. She pointed at the door, then pointed at her ear, and then held up one finger.

Either Neveah would get it, or she’d bitch about using hand signals. Either way, Denise was going in.

Pushing herself up to a standing and ready position as she slunk into the building, she narrowed her eyes and waited a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim light. The place looked partially untouched - some shelves were cleared, others only lightly picked through, but the back of the building looked completely untouched from here. In all, it looked like whoever had been making all the racket earlier hadn’t really bothered with this store. Those cleaned shelves were probably from residents, before they all died.

Weapon raised and at the ready, Denise circled around the exterior of the building, glancing down rows of shelves as she passed them. First goal was to find the source of the biter-noises and put it down. Then they could clear the rest of the building, bring the truck around, and load up.

It didn’t take long to find the source: Along one side of the building were cash registers. Metal posts at the end of each held a light-up register number at the top. They were dark now, of course, but those posts were sturdy.

Sturdy enough to tie people to them, without much fear of them getting away.

Denise saw the corpse first. It was writhing against the post, tied up with thick rope, and very freshly dead. It looked like it had just re-awoken from its death slumber recently, already hungry. The corpse was a middle-aged man, a little shaggy looking with his long hair and prickly beard. It was clear now who had been screaming and where that gunshot came from: the man’s ears were missing, cut off and nowhere in sight. His hands looked broken, like they’d been beaten with something, and his knees were bent at odd unnatural angles, suggesting they were beaten too. The killshot was a single gunshot to his chest. The corpse swung its head towards Denise and snapped his jaw at her. Its ropes were starting to come loose.

But that was not the thing that really caught her attention.

“Jesus Christ. Come here!” She hissed at Neveah, beckoning her over. Tied to the next pole over was a young man, easily in his early twenties. Bloodied and beaten, but nowhere near as bad as the older man. Denise and the young man stared at each other for a second.

“Oh, shit.” Denise murmured, realing the young man was alive and breathing.

“Oh, fuck.” Theo blurted out through a heavy exhale, now realizing he had another gun aimed at him.

“A little help here? Before he gets free?" Theo's hands were bound behind him by rope, and he was tied far more securely to the post than his dead neighbor was. Since he couldn't point, all he could do was motion with his chin towards the growling dead. That motion alone made him close his eyes a moment as a dizzy spell hit him. The blood trickling down his face from his nose and forehead was still wet, still fresh, but he couldn't tell if he was still bleeding freely. He had been thinking he was going to be the unluckiest shmuck ever - dying tied to a pole while a biter eats his face off. He'd been struggling to get the ropes off, but making no headway.

The last thing he expected was for anyone to find him here. Anyone alive and friendly, that is, though he wasn't yet convinced this lady was friendly.

NanLia Bullyboy Squad ​

 

[Bullyboy Squad]

LINCOLN
Medical Supply Closet
collab by: Namazu Aegis and small part from Bullyboy Squad


Victor jumped as the supply closet door was flung open. He didn't expect it at all - if anything, Connor might knock, or crack it open a bit to peer in and talk to him. But sure as hell he wouldn't be trying to yank it off its hinges. Startled, Victor fumbled the container he was holding, almost dropping it before he got a grip. His surprised quick inhale of breath didn't help.

God, and it was Connor's kid, of all people. The one with the creepy smile. Somewhere along the line this kid had gone from shellshocked to shithead and it only reminded him why he never went into pediatrics.

"Hey, Tanner. Sneaking up on people, huh?" Victor forced a smile on his face that didn't reach his eyes, hand moving towards the shelf in front of him and pushing around a few boxes - pretending to be looking for a place to slide in the one he was holding.

"Checking inventory. I haven't done it since after the fire. You doing ok?" Victor tried to make conversation as nonchalantly as possible, but there was a bit of fear in his voice - a little waiver in his words.


"You can only sneak up on people if they're doing something they want to hide from you."

Tanner's logic wasn't exactly entirely sound, but there was a certain heat to his eyes as he maintained the smile that filled Victor's lungs with a joking dread. He took a few steps deeper into the room and eyed the door as if contemplating whether or not he could shut it from where he was standing. The shock of his sudden entry was certainly something to be interested in, and the switch between having a fistful or things only to be trying to put the box back brought a spike of dopamine to the forefront of Tanner's mind. Maybe, there WAS something here after all.

"I'm doing great, Doctor. Weird time to be doing inventory-- shouldn't you be at The Pit?"



Victor sighed - the last thing he wanted to do was get into an argument about logic with this little shit after being caught. So, he had to put on his best 'adult who will be patient with your foolishness' face and talk to Tanner until he went away.

"Why would I bet at the Pit? I need to stick close to the infirmary in case anyone needs me here." He found a spot on the shelf for the box, and slid it back in - making a little show of stepping back and silently counting things.

"Shouldn't *you* be at the Pit? Or with the other children? Or did you need something?"



Tanner was unphased by Victor's cool-headed rebuttals and simply stood in the doorway, "Well, orders are to investigate any suspicious activities near storage rooms. Tell me, what EXACTLY were you doing in here?"


If this were anyone's child other than Connor's, Victor would be more seriously contemplating whether he could get away with killing Tanner here, and where he'd hide the body. Fortunately for Tanner's sake, that didn't look like a viable option.

"I told you already. Inventory. Listen, I'm a busy person here, and what I do is important, so why don't you go find someone else to pester?"



Raul stopped just outside the storage room when he heard the boy’s raised tone. Listening for a few good moments, he already had a decent understanding of the situation. He didn't need more. King’s orders were clear. No cutting corners, no leniency, no exceptions. When something looked like it was against the rules or aimed to harm King, it was being investigated or straight up punished. Victor was lucky, this time it would be the former.

Raul barged into the tight space with a hasty stride. “Victor Braaten.” He knew that doctor, the man put his arm back together in the past after a terrible fall left it shattered. But he didn't *like* the man. He could tell Victor looked at them all like they were a worse breed. Like he was fucking *better* than them. So there was a hint of satisfaction in his tone.

“You’re being detained and taken in for questioning.” He grabbed Victor’s arm and twisted it without hesitation like cops and correctional officers did a million times to men like Raul within the walls of the prison. He shoved the man face first into the medical racks. “Don’t resist.”

He tensed up when the alarm went off and after a quick consideration he told Tanner. “Go check what's happening. I'm taking him to the infirmary. Something tells me we might need him there.”

​

​

​

 

[NanLia]

Collab w/ Safton
A Different Kind of Reunion...​

Wesley’s room was exactly as she remembered, nothing had changed in the least and she found it incredibly comforting. She turned on a light next to his bed, not wanting to draw too much attention to her being there when he was out dealing with the biters.

Dutchess paused as she spotted something different. Her bag. The one she’d had on her way back from her last run, the one she’d brought to the High School. It was here! She shuffled across the room to retrieve it from the dresser where it sat, almost like an altar. She pulled it open to find everything was right where she’d left it; a change of clothes, her smokes, the booze she was ‘smuggling’ in for Wesley. Nothing had been removed.

Except…

The envelope with Wesley’s name on the front was torn and she plucked it from the bag to see that it had been opened. He’d read it, the letter she was going to stash in his room on her next run with the hope he’d join her.

It answered the only question she’d cared to find an answer to: Did Wesely know where she was?

Dutchess collected her clothing and made her way to the bathroom. After months of nothing more than the cold water of a cell sink to bathe in, she felt like she had layers of filth on her. She showered in the hottest water the pipes could provide her, washing herself over and over again until standing was too much and she wanted nothing more than to lay down.

Stepping out of the shower she dried herself with a towel and then wiped the condensation off the mirror. She looked nothing like her former self - she doubted anyone would know who she was without convincing. Save for her tattoos, everything else had changed. Her brown chopped hair had grown a little since Silver had cut off her bleach blond lengths. She’d always been thin but now she was skeletal, her bones threatening to poke through thin flesh.

The bullet wound had healed over, but the skin had never returned to a healthy colour, the purple and pink scarred flesh looked jarring against her otherwise ultra-white complexion. She ran the pads of her fingers over the rough flesh, anger flaring in her chest again. Xander.
She didn’t know what had happened after he’d shot her; the trio of idiots that held her captive had been very good at keeping that information from her. If that fucker lived she was going to make sure that it would be a very short and painful existence.

But first. Toni. Neveah. They’d done this - they’d kept her chained in that cell for months for a purpose. She had plenty of time to think about it. Toni had always been power-hungry; not a surprise for a gang leader, that was part of the MO. She had control over what was brought in from the outside, the scavengers answered to her and she had the first pick of what they brought it. And if he knew anything about her relationship with Wesley … Toni could have two in his pocket and control what, and who comes in and out of the prison.

Dutchess rubbed at her face, exhaustion creeping up on her. She gathered her fresh clothes but didn’t bother to dress. Instead, she left her stolen clothing on the bathroom floor and shuffled out into the main room, her chain dragging on the floor behind her.

She tossed her fresh clothes on the bottom of Wesley’s bed then crawled into the sheets to pass out.


Wesley froze in his tracks as he arrived at his room to see the cell door ajar. He never left it open. Ever. The exhaustion that had seeped into every fibre of his body instantly evaporated, chased away by a surge of adrenaline as he reached down to draw the handgun from its holster on his thigh. He raised the weapon as he stalked inside slowly, scanning for threats. As he did so, he subconsciously assessed who could be waiting for him within.

A Biter who had wandered off from the horde and found its way into his room before going dormant, waiting to pounce? One of those pricks from the High School trying to avenge their beloved leader… or even Xander himself, assuming he’d managed to survive the fire? The thought filled him with a dark and dangerous excitement, an anger burning deep in his belly.

Wes moved quickly into his sleeping area, sweeping it with his pistol raised – expecting to see a human silhouette waiting for him… but there was nothing. Nothing except the exposed threshold of the bathroom and a telltale lump beneath the covers of his bed, not to mention the clothes laying at the foot of it. His clothes. His grip tightened around the pistol, jaw clenching tightly. Definitely not a Biter. He had half-a-mind to shoot whoever this was and make this little nap of theirs a permanent one… but then he would need a new bed.

Instead, the enforcer kept the pistol leveled at them as he spoke in a low growl: “Wake the fuck up. Get up, now. Or I put you down.”


Dutchess woke, with a start, at the voice in the dimly lit room next to the bed; she sat up with a gasp as she stared up at Wesley and the barrel of his gun aimed at her.

“You going to finish what Xander fucked up doing, Officer?” It was no surprise that he hadn't recognized her, she could hardly recognize herself in the mirror.

If he was going to end her, so be it. She'd done what she could to survive. She pushed herself to sit back at the head of his bed, sheets settling around her waist, keeping her scared flesh covered.

“You got keys for cuffs?” She asked suddenly, sliding the still chained foot out from beneath the sheet, the long chain rattling as it slid to the floor.


Wesley froze. He almost – almost – didn't recognize the woman in front of him even when she sat up and looked him dead in the eye, the sheets no longer obscuring her form. Her hair – once long and gold like the sun – was now sheared messily short and revealed a natural chestnut brown hue beneath. And for fuck's sake was she skinny, like one of those starving African orphans you’d see in the sappy commercials before the outbreak. “Skin & bones” didn’t even begin to describe it.

But the voice… He could be convinced that the woman he was seeing was someone else; maybe a refugee with a passing resemblance and that his mind was seeing what it wanted to see. But her teasing tone and choice of words were unmistakable. Wesley was shaken from his reverie as he realized she had asked something of him. Dumbfounded, he patted his pockets and found a set of cuff keys before walking forward to kneel down beside the bed and unshackle her.

Tossing the chain aside, Wes took a long moment to look her over. He started to reach a hand out toward her, but hesitated… maybe he really had lost it. Weston had treated him like a fucking loon back in the Pit. What if this was a hallucination?


Dutchess watched, in silence, as Wesley came to terms with seeing her again. He didn't know. She watched and waited as he moved, lowering his gun and then taking keys from his pocket. His calloused hands were warm on her ankle but that warmth was soon gone.

After a moment of silence, she tossed the sheets back, sliding her legs off the edge of the bed so she was seated facing him where he knelt. She took his outstretched hand and brought it to her cheek, bringing the warmth back to her flesh. “I'm still not your baby.” She said quietly.


Wesley winced at the words that came from Dutchess's mouth. He allowed her to take his hand, to move it to her cheek… and allowed himself to mold his palm around her cheek – shallow as it now was – to feel the warmth of her skin. He let himself believe that this was her. This was real.

Which left just one question.

“...how?” He asked in little more than a throaty whisper.


Dutchess frowned, her nose wrinkling in distaste at the very thought of answering the question. “Toni and his fuckwads and that I'm uncultured he fucks.” Her chest burned with rage as she spoke, looking away from Wes, searching the small table at his bedside.

Spotting an open pack of smokes she reached for them and the lighter that sat atop of them. She pulled one out and put it between her teeth. “I blacked out, after I killed what's his fuck, the one who was but. Then that piece of shit Xander shot me.” She lit the cigarette, drawing in deep.

“I woke up later, I have no idea how long. But I was stitched up and chained to a bed in the MS13 cellblock.” She shook her head. “I guess it's been longer than I thought.”

She sighed heavily, “You got something strong to drink?”

Wesley stared at Dutchess for a long while after she relayed her story to him. All this time… all this time she had been alive while he had given up on her, resigned her to nothing more than a corpse. She was trapped, held captive by Toni and his little gang of assholes. Wes's jaw tightened at the thought. The man had pull here at the prison, yes… but suddenly that seemed to matter less now than ever. Besides, with all the chaos, bodies were dropping (and walking) left and right. What's a few more?

He was shaken from his reverie by Dutchess's request and nodded, standing up quickly and moving over to remove a bottle of cheap vodka from beneath his crude cabinet. He carried it to her, knowing she neither wanted nor needed a glass. “I'll kill ‘em,” Wes remarked flatly – as coolly as if he was stating his intent to take out the trash or mow the lawn. “All of ‘em.”


Wesley has always been easy to read. She could see the rage and fury building inside of him as she related some of what had transpired. She gratefully took the bottle, frowning at the label before twisting the lid off. As the brute of a man paced she drank deeply, moving to lean back against the head of the bed

Dutchess wiped the liquid from her lips with the back of her hand, settling the bottle between her thighs to prevent it from tipping and spilling. It might be swill but she was still going to drink it. “Yes.” She agreed, taking a long drag of her smoke and blowing rings at the ceiling. “We will. I've already started tonight.” She paused, letting the information settle.

“We can't just shoot him out in public.” She went on when it was clear Wesley was listening again. “They'll just fucking kill us, or we'll end up in that pit and King is fucked up enough to make us fight each other.” She raised an eyebrow at him, taking the last draw of her smoke before stubbing it out in the ashtray.

“And I'd hate to have to kill you.” She teased, lifting the bottle again to drink. “So,” she continued with a sigh. “We’ll have to get to him quietly, make it look like someone else or an accident. Toni’s vicious and power-hungry, but he didn't think shit through keeping me alive, letting me know it was him and his men. When he figures out I'm gone he'll come to find me, he'll want to kill me, but I don't think he's ballsy enough to come here.

“He can't tell King or his men that I'm the reason for the dead inside; he'll just be outing himself for keeping me captive. I say we fuck with him. Tomorrow, early, you take me to Weston, Daddy Nacho and King, if we can get near him, and sing Toni’s praises.

“He rescued me!” She sighed dramatically. “One of his people knew I was still breathing so they rushed me back here to fix me up and keep me alive. Of course, he couldn't tell anyone where I was! With the people from the high school here, one of them might try and finish the job!” She shrugged, then patted the bed beside her. “But that's a tomorrow problem. Come to bed, Officer.”

Wesley’s mind had been spinning as Dutchess laid out her plan. He listened to what she had to say: assessing risk, formulating a path towards what they both wanted. But all of that went out the window as soon as she called him to bed.

He said nothing: simply standing up and stripping his gear from his body before slowly removing his clothing: feeling Dutchess’s gaze on him all the while. He was covered in a thin layer of sweat, but she didn’t seem to notice or care. Wes moved to lay in the bed behind her, wrapping a possessive arm around her waist and pulling her down so that she was laying on her side again before spooning her.

“You don’t get to leave again,” he commanded, half-teasing and half-serious.

Dutchess smirked as Welsey stripped wordlessly. She took a final long swig of the vodka before setting the bottle aside. She sighed as he crawled onto the bed, easily manhandling her into position. She closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth of his body pressed to hers, something she had thought of often, alone in her cell.

She chuckled softly. “Is that so, Officer?” She asked, teasing. It was the most sentimental he'd ever been.

“Yeah,” Wes answered simply. He ran a hand through her hair. He wasn’t used to seeing this color – at least not so much of it beneath all that platinum-blonde – and the cut itself was messy… but he had to admit he didn’t hate it.

He let his fingers stroke through the chestnut strands a few times before moving on to Dutchess’s neck and shoulder: his calloused fingers tracing the curves and lines of them, intent on becoming reacquainted with the feel of her body.

She had half expected some snarky remark to her questioning him but his simple confirmation resounded within her. They had always shared few words before, but still felt a deep bond. She closed her eyes as his rough finger scraped along her scalp, over her neck and shoulder, her breathing slowing as a calm comfort grew within her.

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