Daryl Dixon lays on the floor of a filthy abandoned convenience shop, littered with decaying old corpses. "When will this be over."
He had been on the run for days now and had been staying low until finding the filthy shop.
Upon finding the shop he had been looking for a bottle of whiskey throughout his stay, most of the good stuff had already been looted out anyways. He would be lucky to find something even with 1% alcohol in it. Anything to get his mind off of things. Anything.
"Score!" Daryl almost said too loudly as he discovers a secret compartment underneath a worn out cash register at the counter. In it was a box filled with presumably pictures of somebody's family, a collection of questionable magazines, but most importantly, liquor.
He thanked whoever was up there watching over him, if there was anyone. And proceeded to take a chug of the not really good stuff, but stuff anyways.
He blissfully allowed for the alcohol to swim through his body; in the process, he had forgotten to secure his surroundings, although he wasn't expecting company, all the walkers around him had been dead for some time anyways. He proceeded to take a seat on the ground next to a walker who had his head chopped off up to the jaw bone. "You want some?" Daryl chuckled to himself and took another chug.
"I'll take some," the voice resonating off the cheap walls of the place. Daryl would have simply thought he was talking to himself again if it wasn't for the rather strong looking woman poking out of the corner of a shelf, pointing a shotgun at him.
Finding survivors by themselves out here is a rare occurrence these days, but Daryl didn't as much flinch at the voice. He took another chug of the liquor and lifted the bottle offering the remaining liquid in it to the female.
"Be my guest," a smile appearing ever so slightly.
Daryl remained calm but vigilant during the encounter, he still held the bottle up towards the female, ready to attack if he so chooses to.
"What brings you here ma'am? Are you looking for trouble?"
"I'm not interested, I have other problems to worry about."
Inspecting the female, Daryl notices that behind her back she is carrying what seems to be a katana, an army knife around her waist, and the shotgun still aimed at him in her hands. There is not a lot of light in the small shop but he could still see that she is dark-skinned and has messy hair locks; she wears military pants, a short-sleeved biker jacket, a shirt that reads "Keep calm and carry on," and long boots.
"What's your name missy? I'm Daryl, Daryl Dixon." Although hostile looking, he could see in her clear brown eyes that she did not want to kill him.
"Michonne," she lets out a breath she was holding, "My name is Michonne." There was sincerity in her voice, yet caution, in which Daryl assumed she was telling the truth
"You an alcoholic?" She says as she looks down at the bottle that Daryl still has raised towards her.
"No ma'am, I'm just looking to forget some things." She of course doesn't know but one of his friends, which he has come to consider family was killed by a maniac and his spiked bat. The kid was going to be a father.
"I got separated from my friends so I'm staying low while I look for them," Daryl slightly bends the truth.
Michonne seems to understand and lowers her shotgun
"Mind if I join you?"
"After you," Daryl says as he kicks the dead walker away from him to make room for Michonne. "I'm sorry for the mess," a toothed grin escaping his mouth.
Michonne sits next to him and takes the bottle from his hand and takes a sip. They had just met but there seems to be a connection between them, as if by saying nothing at all they understand each other completely.
"My camp was over-runned by walkers 'bout a week ago, I've been moving away from them ever since."
"I'm sorry to hear that, but that isn't anything new these days." Daryl could be cold-hearted at times but that doesn't mean he doesn't understand. He's had it happen to him more times than he would like. It's a miracle that he's still up and running today.
"Yeah, well I'm just waiting for the day that all this ends, if it ends," she corrects herself.
Daryl and Michonne continued to talk for what seems to be hours, to the point that both of them lost track of time. Both were sharing their stories of how they survived, the people they've met, the people they've killed, and those who've been killed, but surprisingly, there were laughs and smiles during their conversation that was suddenly interrupted by a loud knock outside the shop, followed by the sounds of multiple foot-steps.
"Shit, I think they're here." Michonne picks up her shotgun only to opt it out with the katana behind her back. Daryl reveals the crossbow that was also behind his back which Michonne had just noticed regardless of its large size.
Suddenly, as if out of nowhere, groans of the dead fill up the filthy shop and Daryl runs to a small window by the counter to see how many there are and Michonne dashes to the door to try to secure it before the walkers can get in, she sets an empty shelf in front of the door which she knows will not hold but will have to do for now. While looking out the window, Daryl could see what seems to be dozens of walkers making their way towards the shop.
From what they've talked about, Daryl knew the walkers had trailed Michonne in his direction but he didn't care, he had been aching for some action for days now.
"You ready?" Daryl reveals another toothed grin while he aims his crossbow at the door
The door begins rocking back and forth from the pressure of all the bodies on it and finally snaps open.
"Only if you are," she says as she runs in and drills her katana in the head of her first victim.