[Telltale] The Walking Dead [Inactive]

Matthew turned around at the sudden voice, and looked towards the man asking the question. "Uh, well I'm Matthew, and apparently I'm the new prefect of the town. Or cop, whichever. It's, uh, nice to meet you Jon." Matthew smiled, as he awkwardly looked around the room in which they were standing.


"Please. Take a seat." A skinny black man in the front of the room sat behind a desk, looking like he was annoyed about something. "Is this all of the newcomers?" Matthew shook his head, and then looked at the rows of chairs that had been set up. Right in front of what looked to be a projector screen. Matthew looked at Jon. "You guys have power in this place?"
 
Normally, Sam would've strayed away from settlements like this but he desperately needed water and shelter. He had run out almost 15 hours ago. Inside was a hallway with plain walls, except for the occasional blemish and wear of time. He walked down it, thinking about the woman.


Who was the woman? Where was she going? What is this place? were some of the many questions that raced through his head. He heard quiet conversation at the end of the hallway. Nearing the corner, he tightened his grip on his knife and slipped his thumb under the rifle sling. If the situation required self-defense, he would be ready.


Sam turned left and saw a room with several people-men and women- standing around. There were no weapons or threats in sight. Chairs were set up and a projector shined onto a portable board. What the?


Sam heard a man ask to another, "You guys have power in this place?"


Sam hesitated before emerging into the room. He said, "They definitely don't have guards." Sam examined them carefully.
 
A man in a black hoodie passed by Xobic the man has his hood up but Xobic saw his face the man went inside Xobic went after him
 
Lia raised an eyebrow at Dex then went to look for somewhere quiet. She wandered down the street and saw a tree she could climb. So she did and she hummed quietly to herself.
 
Jon opened his mouth to speak, but as the hooded man trailed in Jon's hand went to his hip. The action was one of those things the apocalypse drove into the skulls of the survivors. Seeing the newcomer as friendly, considering he had talked, Jon's hand trailed down his leg, trying to blow the action off as nothing.


Processing what the man actually said, he responded casually and monotonous, hoping the man behind the desk would take no notice. "Oh man, I was hoping they posted someone. Its really unsettling not having anyone someone on watch." His tone wouldn't say it, but his words echoed fear and worry.


Trying to sneak in the answer to Matthew's question, he changed his tone to a more casual one and continued on, "Matthew, from what I've seen, there's power. I don't know where the hell they're getting it from but I've seen some people using radios and talking back and forth with people."
 
Aylaela couldn't help but agree with the Jon man, fear worming it's way into her mind. This stranger had just walked into a supposed safe town, though possibly they let him walk in?


Before she made up her mind and bolted, the girl decided to stay and hear out what these Crawford people had to say. Though Aylaela had to admit that she missed the company of living people and being able to walk without looking over her shoulder with every step was more appealing than the open road again.


Aylaela shifted from the crowd to get a look at this new addition, peering over a shoulder or two to get a good look. With the hood she couldn't get an apt judge, but if he turned out to be dangerous, Aylaela would keep her distance for now.
 
"There's no guards?" Matthew asked worriedly, wondering if he had made the right choice coming here. It was a bit strange not to have anybody on the walls, at f**king 8:00 at night. "And you didn't see anybody but you get in?"


Matthew scratched his head, and saw James walking inside. He waved him down and approached. "Did you know that they didn't have guards?" He looked back to the hooded man, his face hidden behind the gray cloth.
 
"Yeah.. Someone should get on that soon." Sam agreed and then paused.


"The name's Sam." He extended his hand slowly. Any sudden movement could make him appear hostile, especially now.


Survivors were just as able to backstab each other as the fierce jaw of a zombie could bite through flesh.
 
Jon blew out a breath of hot air. Hopefully things wouldn't go straight to hell immediately, he wanted to get to know these people. In the event that the walkers or a group of bandits decide to just walk in, he'd have some allies or at least someone to shoot the theoretical walker that grabbed his leg.


Now the hooded newcomer was introducing himself as Sam. Not yet having formed an opinion on the majority of the newcomers, he grasps Sam's hand firmly, but with casual speed. "I'm Jon, that's Matthew and the lady over there is Aylaela. I'm guessing that kid over there is named James. There's also an old man named Logan... There's a couple and another guy. The couple is kinda reclusive and I haven't talked to the other guy."


Jon takes a breath, "Sorry, I didn't let you talk at all there, but now you don't need to go and ask everyone's names, plus I'm guessing we should sit down and see this PowerPoint before that guy up there starts yelling at us."


(I'll just pump you full of character names if you don't mind.)
 
Lia sat in the tree near the top. She kept humming and looked at her back pack. She took out a chocolate bar and ate some pieces


Sent from my LG-E617G using Tapatalk
 
Sam looked around as Jon motioned to each person in the room. He was glad Jon told him their names. It saved him the awkward conversational tango that accompanied post-apocalyptic introductions some survivors would encounter. Still, they all didn't know his own name. Sam figured, for the mean time, that he would observe them and decide later who he could trust.


Sam replied, "Thanks." and let go of Jon's hand. From way they were talking, Sam had a guess that they were all survivors who came here recently. Similar to him, it seemed. Sam wouldn't let himself believe it, but for a second he thought he felt comfortable for once. The outbreak conditioned him to be fierce, a hunter or the hunted but here, here was where Sam felt calm, at ease, even safe.


"What is the place?" Another questions escaped his mouth, his curiosity got the best of him.
 
Torn between her ingrained need to keep separate and the survival instinct that told her to speak up, Aylaela quietly peered at the man. Though if these past few months devoid of human interaction had taught her anything, it was that having a single ally could make the difference between life and death now.


Even if she didn't gain this new stranger as an ally, speaking up could possibly gain another with the slight attraction of attention. "Crawford," Aylaela says from behind Jon, leaning against one of the folding chairs. "A supposed safe haven for the living. I suppose we'll see if that's true or not, won't we?"


With her question, Aylaela keeps her place against the chair back, not offering a hand or moving any closer. Though she may have spoken to him, she most definitely would not go out of her way to put her closer to a potential threat.
 
The girl had approached but carefully. Sam didn't blame her. To them perhaps, he was to be trusted like a deer would a hungry wolf. The girl had a T-shirt with text he couldn't decipher.


"Safe haven?" He wondered, with an aching heart, where the rest of his family was. He ignored it. He grabbed a folding chair from a stack that was leaning against a wall. He unfolded it and sat. "Sounds like a bad idea." He joked.


He instantly regretted it however when he realized not all folk appreciated humor, especially in times as dark as these.
 
Aylaela watched the movements of the man, Sam, as he sat himself. She wondered what this looked like to him, heck, she wondered what it looked like to her.


"You're telling me," she mumbled, half in response. Aylaela wondered when this presentation would begin so she could finally sleep in a bed that evening.


"I wonder how they assign rooming," Aylaela let out a huff of air, the first semblance of a laugh in a few months. "It's like what you would expect college to be like." The thought was a peculiar one, since schooling had no place in this world anymore. But with all the new faces, assignments, and hopeful rooms, it was a sick parallel to a life Aylaela half had wanted for herself before zombies roamed.
 
Sam looked at his watch. 8:30 PM





"Aylaela, is it? Guess we're in the same boat." Sam said with a grin. He was a senior in high school, looking for schools that would accept him, before the outbreak happened. He was excited and scared about the idea of college.. the independent lifestyle, the pursuit of happiness, the bustle of his peers in the hours of the day and night. He got something just as terrifying... well, minus his peers being alive, functioning human beings.


"I could use a nice rest, as well." Sam agreed.
 
These kids were talking about college and the old world, the old world.


God, his mother, where was she. Jon took a breath in, closing his eyes to calm himself. Opening them slowly he went to pull a chair from the already set up rows and set it beside Sam before taking a seat himself. With both hands he covered his mouth, letting his breath warm them up. He'd just breathe for a little bit then he could listen to this presentation or whatever and get some sleep, maybe he'd bring a girl.


That's what he needed, he smiled, retaining his previously cheery mood. Hands moved, he returns to the conversation at hand. "All of us could use some sleep, especially Matthew over there. He looks stressed as hell." Jon adjusted his view to the man behind the desk. Was Crawford going to walk up there and start talking or was he just waiting for us all to shut up?
 
Aylaela threw a glance over at Matthew, an imposing man in presence, having given off a leader-like air to him when she had first met the guy. With Jon's comment, it seemed to confirm her suspicions of Matthew's role in the other group.


"I just hope they have beds and I'll be content," The girl says with a light smile. "Anyone would need a good nights rest now." Aylaela says, returning to a more somber mood.


Discreetly she looks over her shoulder at the man with an annoyed expression. The girl hoped that the look wasn't due to their actions, since they were waiting on the citizens of Crawford to get this thing running.
 
(Who's in charge of the man about to give a presentation? Lol, I just wanna know)


Sam scooted a little to offer Jon space to sit. He also glanced at Aylaela, inviting her to join them, if she wished.


"So what's your story?" Sam asked openly. He put his hood down, took off his backpack, balanced his rifle between his legs, and grabbed a half eaten granola bar from a side pocket.


He took a bite, rewrapped the package, and stuffed it back in the pocket he got it from.
 
Aylaela took a breath, noticing the movement and glance that offered her a seat. She decided to trust these strangers, atleast minimally, with some of herself since Sam had asked so vaguely.


"Lived outside of Macon on my family's farm, I was going to wait a year before I went off to college. Glad I did," Aylaela offers shortly, not sure how much to say to a perfect stranger.


Eyeing the gun on his lap, the girl watched as Sam snacked, glancing to the front and wondering when they would get fed. For her stomachs sake she hoped soon.
 
Sam raised his eyebrows. It made sense. A girl that made it this far was probably a strong one. Her background fit that theory. Sam nodded.


"You were homeschooled, I take it?" Sam asked.


He took out the granola bar again, reminding himself not to devour the whole thing. He had a rule, a personl one, in which he agreed that when he ate, he would take a bite and then put it away, making sure he consumed everything before he took it out again.


Sam saw Aylaela observe him eat when suddenly it occured to him that maybe she was hungry as well. He decided he could probably bend his own rule. Sam held out the wrapped bar and said, "Here. You must be hungry. It's not a lot but its the least I could do for not chasing me out the village." Sam chuckled.
 
James had finally got his first job. Some of the town's scavengers had trucks, and one of them had broken down. James was excited to finally be able to do some proper engineering work. Maybe he could last out a little while longer before he would kill someone again.


He had gone round the town before, collecting tools, spare parts, things like that. The truck itself wasn't that badly damaged, just it needed a few things replaced. The oil was pretty low as well.


He did all the repairs, replaced it, and there, it was done. He looked proudly upon his work. This was better than killing people, if not just as good.
 
Aylaela looked baffled at the outstretched bar. She understood that to live in this society they needed a plethora of people to keep it going, but she had not expected small things such as this that were purely acts of kindness.


Taking it with a half smile, Aylaela finally responds to his question, "Thank you. And it was great for the educational aspect, slightly lacking in social interaction though." She says with a joking tone.


Looking over at Sam and a side glance at Jon she offers openly, "What was it like for you?"
 
Sam grinned and relaxed a little bit. She trusted him enough to accept his offer and that was a good sign. One ally was better than no allies.


"Used to live in Nashville with my family, but.." Sam trailed off before getting continuing, "we got seperated. Most of my family are in our summer home near Savannah. I've been looking for them since the outbreak." Outside, it was already dark and crickets began singing their nighttime tunes.
 
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The sound of boots. Plopping towards them. That was the sound Matthew heard when he saw Oberson Crawford walk through the doors smiling. "I'm afraid that it's getting late and your friends are taking too long. You'll just have to fill them up on the rules tomorrow." Oberson began walking up towards the man behind the desk, said a few mutterings towards him, then watched as the man left. Oberson sat down on the seat that was left, and motioned for them all to sit down. Matthew did rightfully so, and propped his feet up against the chair in front of him.


"Now then, Crawford's rules." Oberson Crawford smiled almost devilishly, and looked at the group in front of him. "Our first rule is be friendly to people. Don't be a dick. Second rule, nothing that would've been deemed illegal before this world was destroyed. We are not savages. Third rule. No weak links in our chain. That is all." And with that, he left. Just like that. Gone.


"That was it?" Matthew replied from his seat on the metal chair. The man from before had returned to his seat at the desk, looking at them. He pointed towards Matthew and motioned for him to come up. Matthew did so suspiciously. No guards, the creepy meeting with Mr. Crawford, and now this super short rule book. Matthew began walking towards the man, who simply put out his hand. "I am Emile Grant, and I'm going to tell you where you're staying, and give you your equipment for your job. Name please?"


Matthew reluctantly shook Emile's hand, and responded to his question. "Matthew."


"Last name please."


"Why do you need my last name?"


"Last name please."


"Seriously, why d-"


"Last name. Thank you."


Matthew paused and looked at the man, but finally have up his name. "Andrews."


"Matthew Andrews. You are meant to be a prefect, correct?"


"Yes, but why did you need my last name?"


"There are so many Matthew's that come in here."


"That doesn't really explain how you knew my last name."


"W-what?"


"You didn't know who I was until I said my last name. Where'd you get my last name?"


"Mr. Crawford."


"I didn't tell him my last name."


"Crawford has his ways. Now don't go investigating any further or Crawford won't exactly welcome you anymore. Anything else you'd like to say."


"**** you."


"Good. You will be residing in the Evergreens Hotel, Room 203. Here is your uniform and your pistol. Have a nice night."


Matthew stood up and looked at Emile. Asshole. Matthew began walking towards the door, and headed out. He didn't know what was going on. How did Crawford know his last name?
 
Weak links, how hypocritical of yourself Mr. Crawford, can't even get enough guards to watch the bloody gate.





What was first a joke, turned to nervous fear. It sounded of Facist idealism, and that scared him. The thing was though, he had a position of moderate power; a midway point between the 'prefect' assignment given to Matthew and the assignment of guard.


Crawford had not called it that though, most likely waiting for them to clear out of his office. He made a vow at that moment; if things went to hell, he'd get these people out of here, they deserved that much.


Standing up, he went next, walking up to the desk.


The man at the desk didn't even look up at him, staring at pages. "Full name."


"Jonathan Taylor."


"General Security, room two-oh-nine, Evergreens Hotel," he padded the piles of clothes beside him, "uniform, pistol. Good day."


Without another word, Jon took the clothes and gun in his arms and set off to follow Matthew.


Might as well meet the prefect, I don't know how much power he has but if he reports straight to Crawford...





With that, the day was set up for him.


"Hey Matthew, wait up!"
 
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