Author's Note: Y'know, I never thought I'd finally be able to come back to writing anything based off of Living In A World of Fiction again, but here we are! I've been sitting on this idea since Episode 1 of The Final Season came out, and the new season just felt like the perfect place to pick back up the story I'd been telling in LIAWOF.

IMPORTANT NOTE: Now this story is acting as a sequel to Living In A World Of Fiction, but I'm hoping to make the story accessible enough that you don't have to read the original to get into it ('cause that story is a godawful mess of quality that I'm not that entirely proud of). For those of you that read this story instead of LIAWOF, I'll toss a few things here to get you up to speed on what the series is about. We follow an OC named Dominic, who had played The Walking Dead for the first time just prior to being thrown into the world, with the knowledge of what happens in it (through Season 2). Later on, there's a semi-crossover with Life is Strange, mainly in the fact there's time-travel-esque powers involved (because the story was written before LiS 2 came out, so Max's rewind powers were the only thing I had to base things off of from that universe), which'll still be included in this sequel, but will be a bit more subdued, to make things less over-the-top. Still, you should expect a Sci-Fi element to the story, 'cause yeah :P

Anyway, most everything else you'll need to know will be told through the characters' eyes, so let's get started, shall we?

Day 3040, Night

Darkened blood covered his hands as the blade ripped apart rotting flesh, twisting the knife in a circle until the walker's head detached from its body. Dominic threw it to the ground next to its corpse, wiping the clumps of deep crimson liquid onto whatever remnants of clothing the cadaver had left. He pushed himself to his feet, looking over towards his friend as he finished up his own kill, mimicking his own actions.

That was two more. The dead population seemed to be increasing the further they drew to their destination. Dom sighed, sheathing his blade. He ran a hand through his thin beard, coming back with even more blood on his hands. He flicked it off his fingers.

"That asshole better be alive after all this," he muttered, receiving a hasty nod in response. "We were meant to be at the target right now. Dealing with the kid."

"You're the one that picked him to go on this fucking thing," Steve replied as if it were obvious, his British accent only bristling at Dom's nerves further. He adjusted his glasses, blue eyes meeting Dom's in a bored glance. "He's a time-bomb, Dominic. What'd you expect?"

"To follow orders," Dom replied evenly, frowning.

It had been eight years since he found himself in this infernal place. A world filled with the dead, and only a miniscule amount of the living. Eight years since playing The Walking Dead for the first time and waking up here. That life he had before, it felt more like a dream. A fantasy his teenage self concocted to cope with the shit thrown at him in this new world. Except it wasn't a dream, and neither were the years he spent here. They were real, visceral, horrors that left him feeling somewhere between numb and terrified. Sometimes both. Yet today, he felt more irritated than anything else.

The road stretched on ahead, obscured from the moon by the canopies of trees overhead, while crickets chirped incessantly. The air was cool, near ready to turn into a metaphorical freezer in the coming weeks. Hopefully by then, they'll be back home, where the temperature wouldn't get colder than fifty. It was better than freezing up here, like they'd nearly done a dozen times since this whole thing began.

"I mean, he's a solid twenty years older than you." Steve said, clutching his rifle as they continued down the road. "You expect him to listen?"

"I'm in charge of the mission, aren't I?" Dom deadpanned, casting his friend a sour frown. They'd been with this crew for a few years now, yet it felt that what little respect he'd managed to get with them hardly amounted to anything. A couple years away from thirty, and still being treated like a kid. Guess some things never change.

"Look, just calm down. Jesus," was Steve's response, rolling his eyes. "Maybe he got caught up. Fuck knows. Now stop bitching for five minutes and let's just find him."

Begrudgingly, Dom let it go, holding his own rifle close to his chest. Steve was his oldest friend, the only one he still had left from before. Before his old group fell apart, and before they found themselves in this hellhole. With time, he learned how to handle Steve's assholeish ways, though maybe that was just because he was starting to become the same way. Life on the road'll do that to you.

The road grew quiet as they trudged onwards, eventually fading altogether, until another sound, as familiar as the crickets, began to fade in. Searching moans and guttural growls, a herd of decent size. Dom gestured for Steve to head for the woods, following him. The trees eventually stopped at the edge of a property, a place surrounded by overturned train cars and metal fences. The walkers were scattered throughout the train yard, wandering, while a few others were busy bashing their hands against the building placed in the middle. Dom narrowed his eyes, peering through the scope of his rifle.

"I count twenty. At least a dozen already dead."

"Manageable," Steve replied calmly, looking through his own scope. "Pick 'em off, or go in quiet?"

"We don't wanna alert others in the area," Dom stated, lowering his rifle. "Get the ones near the perimeter. We'll work our way in. Maybe that asshole got himself into a bit of a bind and locked himself in the train station." At least, it was the only leading theory he had at the moment. There wasn't anything else for miles, besides wherever the kid was from, and they were close enough to hear the gunshots if they had to fight their way out. They couldn't blow their cover.

Steve nodded, letting his rifle hang behind him while grabbing his knife. Dom followed suit, putting a few feet in between them as they approached the only entrance into the yard, between two overturned train cars.

It was easy enough dispatching the dead on the outskirts; the amount of times they'd done this before, it was like clockwork, systematic. Even the cold feeling of their blood felt familiar after this long. It took five minutes to clear the yard, leaving Dom panting while holding himself up by the railing on the stairs. His blue eyes found Steve as he approached, already climbing up to the porch.

"Should've brought swords for this," Dom said, chuckling breathlessly. "They have a blacksmith back home, don't they?"

That elicited a dry laugh from his friend, who glanced at him with a smirk. "You're living in a fantasy, man."

"Alright, guess I'll just… not put some distance between me and the dead," Dom replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "Always liked the fact I'm on a menu somewhere."

"They don't have a menu," Steve reminded him with a shake of his head, amusement in his voice. "They just eat everything."

"Except your ass," Dom threw in, laughing as Steve stared him down with an indignant look, though the moment wouldn't last long. They were here for a reason, after all.

Steve was the first to reach the door to the train station, trying the knob. It twisted just fine, but something on the other side kept the door from swinging inward. Further proof that someone was hiding out inside. Steve waved him over.

"Push on a count of three," he started, and Dom just nodded, placing his shoulder against the door. After reaching three, they slammed against the door, breathing a sigh of relief as whatever was on the other side fell to the ground with a resounding thud. The door inched open, just enough for them to slip through.

The interior was ransacked, useless shit strewn everywhere. A table was knocked over in the corner, broken plates and silverware littering the ground beside it. A click of a gun forced him to look away, though, towards the source of the noise. He was met with an unfortunately familiar face, old and grizzled, with stubble masking his unsavory features. What caught Dom's eye, though, was the stained red bandages covering what used to be his left arm, cut down to barely a stub. His mouth was contorted into an angry expression, though it lightened up the instant he recognized who the two men were.

"The fuck took you so long?" He asked, voice gruff yet weak. Guess losing a limb took it out of him.

Dom looked him over, lowering his knife. "You get bit?"

"No, I just cut my own arm off for fun," he growled, taking a few steps forward, into the waiting area. "Thought I'd have myself a feast."

Dom ignored the comment, instead examining the wound, then Abel's face. He definitely looked pale, but that could've been attributed to the amount of blood he probably lost. They'd need to cauterize the wound soon, just to make sure he wouldn't end up dead anyway. The least of their worries was if he'd turn if he bled out.

"What the hell happened?" That was the next question that he had, but it was Steve who asked it, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the wall. "You were supposed to be back at the boat hours ago."

Abel grabbed a chair, setting it in the middle of the room before plopping down in it. "Some of those kids were out here, makin' a lotta noise. Some bitch and her kid pushed me out the window back there, into a pack of walkers. Got away."

So, they were out here? Dom found himself thinking, frowning. That was a bold move, even for Marlon. Last time they were out here, they took the twins for the war effort, and hadn't seen him since. Probably kept his people confined to avoid another interaction, which was smart. Now they were making mistakes, showing their cards before they knew what they were up against. And, to top it all off, attacked one of his men.

He let out a sigh, pacing the room. This couldn't go unpunished. The mission still had to happen. If they came back to the Delta empty handed…

He opened his eyes, fists clenching. "Steve, get him back to the boat."

"Fuck that, we should-" Abel started, but Dom cut him off with a narrowed stare.

"You're not making it back if you go on a crusade against these kids tonight. Get back, get some rest. I'll track 'em down. Now get your ass in gear, or we'll just leave you here." Abel opened his mouth to retort, but the eye roll he received from Steve left him silent. Finally, he was doing something right.

Steve took in a deep breath, patting Dom's shoulder as he passed him. "Don't wear yourself out. We'll need you tomorrow, too."

"Yeah," he breathed. "Thanks."

Silently, the two men filed out of the room, back into the yard. Dom followed, eyes searching the area. It was obvious that there was a lot of stuff they could use here. Construction supplies, mostly. Stuff that'd help with making the Delta even safer, which made this mission even more worth the trouble. And with Abel losing a limb, maybe it'll finally get easier to keep him in line. After all, that put him at a disadvantage, one that Dom would be all to ready to take advantage of.

They left the train station without a word, leaving Dom alone inside the train yard. He examined the area, then looked towards the exit once more, where a crashed muscle car laid vacant down the road, overturned. Hardly salvageable, and not worth the time.

He headed back inside, sauntering towards the back room that Abel had come from earlier. Inside, he found the charred remains of a ticket booth, and evidence that someone had lived here before. A blackened mattress, empty cans strewn across desks and the floor. A trap door was left open in the middle of the room, and he bent down to peer into it. Broken glass and melted beans littered the dirt. Probably a stash that caught on fire – or blew up, based on the marks across the walls of the ticket booth. The window was shattered at the far end of the room, covered in a thin sheen of blood. He concentrated on that detail, hoping to be brought back to the moment it ended up there.

It'd been a while since he used his powers, and the feeling of a migraine coming on was all too difficult to endure. He was rusty at it, as if that part of his brain had been left to shrink from disuse, but given how exhausting the process was, he didn't have much of a choice but to use it sparingly.

Eventually, white silhouettes began to take shape around him, like ghosts appearing from some ethereal plane. They appeared like nothing more than wisps of fog shaped into humans, whatever detail that could've been deciphered muddled until they were unrecognizable.

A girl stood near the window, short in stature – about to his shoulders – and wearing what appeared to be a baseball hat. Inside the trap door was another kid, probably only tall enough to reach his waist, with a massive afro. 'The bitch and her kid', he recalled. His eyes then found who must've been Abel, being pulled out of the window by at least a dozen hands. His mouth was open in a scream.

"You piece of shit!"

He disappeared out the window, pulled down by the group of walkers that had attacked him. Dom swiveled around as footsteps tapped against the wooden floor behind him, finding another silhouette running through the open door. She was slightly taller than the other girl, panic evident in her tone.

"What the fuck?!"

"Just take a bag and fill it up!" The other girl replied in a calm voice, bending down to help the youngest kid gather some jar-like objects and stuff them into a bag. Her voice sounded familiar, like a long-lost memory jogging at the back of his brain, yet he couldn't quite place it.

He watched their panicked movements as they stuffed everything they could into the bags, rushing towards the door he'd just entered not too long ago. They kicked it open, rushing outside. Above, standing on top of a train car, was a taller boy, who appeared to be wearing a coat and sporting some dreadlocks. Guess that was the last kid out on this little 'expedition'. Hat Girl called out for him to run as walkers converged on their location, the same ones that he and Steve had killed not too long ago.

By the time they'd reached the exit, Dom was already there, watching as the boy asked about what had happened inside the train station, only for the second girl to cut him off. Seemed like Hat Girl was the leader of this outfit, the way both of them followed her. Definitely not Marlon, but someone just as respected. She was worth recruiting, far more than the twins had ever been.

They ran for the woods, dissipating as Dom let the memory fade, clenching his eyes shut as the migraine strengthened, threatening to bring him to his knees. But at least he knew which way they'd ran off to. It was a start.

So, with a pained sigh, he staggered forward, finally managing to smile. "Alright Marlon, time to see where you've been hiding all this time."