Crappy title, lemme alone! Hahaha. Any suggestions for a better one? I frequenty write RE fanfics and I wanted to write a Walking Dead Fanfic. Sooooo. This is what happened. A RE/WD crossover. Enjoy and PLEASE leave a review! If people don't like this, I WILL NOT continue it. Okay? Okay.

Last notes. THIS WILL BE AS IN CHARACTER AS I CAN STAY. Meaning Daryl ain't getting with Carol (Norman Reedus gave any interview to Hollywood Reporter covering this. He says, "I never want Daryl to be suave and have game. I want him to be awkward as long as they'll let me. I don't want Daryl to hook up with Carol, I've been fighting it forever. I think it'd be more interesting that the glue that connects us is this damaged feeling that we both have. I find it more interesting and I never want to be that dude that throws someone up against a tree and the moonlight hits their glistening chest. F- that!" Just thought I'd share :) ) or anyone else. There will be only the romance that occurs in the series! No freaking OCs coming in and stealing the boys. Grr. I hate that! I will however be doing some...slight alterations. Meaning I'm keeping people around that I like. I LOVE ADVICE! So tell me what I'm doing wrong. Tell me what you like. I will need major help with this because I am never able to watch the marathon so I might forget some parts. On that note, since I am adding Wesker and the steroid Tyrants and the Nemesis...well, obviously it won't stay to the storyline.

I will also have some of my OCs for added flavor. And for anyone who has read my other RE stuff...Sherri is the same Sherri as is the others. Hehehe.

On that note.

Onward!

XxX

"He's not here, neither is Kari. Crazy bastard seems to have cut off his hand. It's not my fault! I figured he'd still be-"

Daryl burst through the door onto the roof, training his crossbow on a young woman wearing black. Her short blonde hair was soaked with blood on the left side and a bandage was on her right forearm, from her wrist to her elbow. She turned and raised her hands. One hand slipped to her right ear and she said, "Gotta go, might be in trouble."

Rick and the others glanced around and the girl sighed. "I'm alone, dumbasses. You're friend is gone, and I think he took my companion."

"We heard you talkin-" Glenn said and the girl rolled her eyes and tapped her ear.

"Radio, Chinaman."

"What the fuck did you do to Merle?" Daryl demanded, and saw the blood and the hand.

"I didn't do shit! I came to help, and poof! He's gone!" The girl snapped. She stayed silent as Daryl aimed his rage at T-Dog and Rick stopped the confrontation with his gun, aiming at Daryl's head. She rolled her eyes and said quietly, "Not a good group, are they?" Glenn noticed the comment, and she seemed to be looking slightly to her left with her head tilted just barely. No one was there, but she seemed to think there was. Glenn didn't say anything and looked away when her eyes met his.

Daryl wrapped up Merle's hand in a do-rag and put it in Glenn's backpack. Abruptly, the young woman spun around and ran to the edge of the roof, looking around. As she did this, Daryl noticed a blood trail. She spun back around and hissed, "We need to go, now!"

Everyone gave varying looks of distrust, confusion and/or concern before following the girl into the stairwell, where she slammed and locked the door.

"We have to go, lead the way, I need to find my friend." She said and Rick shook his head.

"We aren't moving until you tell us what's going on. Why was your friend here anyway? How do we know you didn't kill him?" Rick asked and the girl sighed and reached into her coat, pulling out a badge. "Sherri Jensen. Member of Dead Cell, a government anti-terrorism unit specializing in bio-terrorism. I've come to Atlantic, headed to the CDC, to determine what's happened."

"Dead Cell? Never heard of it." Rick said, examining her ID.

She smirked and took it back. "And you never will. Once I find my friend, you boys are gonna pretend you never saw us." Sherri pointed to each of them and Daryl narrowed his eyes.

"I seen you before..." He said suspiciously, "You were near my house with your partner. Saw ya in the woods, it was like you were tracking somethin'."

"Ah, right! I remember. You were very helpful. Now. Can we go, I really don't want to be here right now." A snarl reinforced her statement and she ran down the stairs. Glenn followed closely, leaving Daryl, Rick and T-Dog behind. They quickly caught up, Sherri looking nervous as she looked up the stairs past them. There was the sound of metal ripping and Sherri whimpered and grabbed Rick's forearm tightly.

"Please, we have to go now!" She whined desperately, tugging the man's arm. Daryl raised his crossbow and Sherri grabbed it, forcing it downward. "Don't threaten it! Please, we have to goooooo." She looked on the verge of tears.

"Lead the way, Daryl," Rick said and Daryl set off. Sherri followed him closely, seeming to urge him to move quickly, glancing behind all of them on occasion.

XxX

Earlier...

"Sherri? Is that you?" A voice called soflty as Merle thudded down the stairs. He came down the last few and a girl stood with a shotgun, looking shocked. "S-Sir? Did Sherri-is she-where...how did you get...oh God, please don't hurt me..." She crouched down fearfully, covering her head with her arms. She gasped when she saw blood and then stood up. "Sir! I need to fix your arm! Please let me help!" She grabbed his mangled wrist and he pushed her back with his remaining hand. He felt one of her nails or something poke him and growled slightly.

"Don't need yer help, Sugar Tits! I can-"

"Sir, the blood will draw in the zombies. At the very least, allow me to accompany you and defend you until you are...better." She said, standing upright with the gun pointed upward.

Merle examined her for a moment and then nodded slowly. "Alright, kid. Let's find the kitchen, I need to-"

"Cauterize the wound, yes sir. Let's hurry. My name is Kari." She saluted and nodded for Merle to follow her.

"Name's Merle-"

"Dixon, 5'10", 190 pounds. Frequently incarcerated in juvenile institutions. Dishonorable discharge from the military for punching a sargeant. Spent 16 months in prioson, and was court-martialed. Yes, we know." She marched forward and Merle caught up with her, grabbing her by the wrist with his left hand. She glanced down and then smirked and pulled away with more strength then he had expected from such a petite girl, who couldn't have been older then 19. "You shoulda cut off your left hand. You're not a Southpaw. Now come, Sherri was supposed to meet us here, but I don't know where she is. And...do remember who has the gun, okay? You're delirious from heat and blood loss, don't be stupid," She smiled at him and patted the shotgun before setting off.

Merle glared at the girl, well aware of the threat. He followed her quietly, waiting for the chance to overpower her. But she was right. His mouth felt like it was full of cotton and he was weak and certain he would pass out soon from the heat and blood loss combined. But wait...no, his thoughts were getting fuzzy, his vision going out. He wasn't dehydrated, even in the heat. He remembered the pinprick and then snarled.

"You tried to drug me!" He growled and lunged at the girl just as they entered the kitchen.

"Damn it! That wasn't yours!" She squeaked as he wrenched the shotgun from her grasp and struck her with it. The girl rolled away and stood just as Merle grabbed a wrench. She lunged and grabbed him around the waist in a football style tackle, managing to stand up straight and lift the big man off the ground several feet. Merle snarled again and slammed the wrench into her temple and she crumpled in a heap. The redneck kicked her and hurried over, hearing walkers approach, the the cooking area and searched for something to cauterize his wound.

XxX

I'm ending it here. Some notes. Some of the lines Sherri says will sound familiar. She loves movies and stuff and often quotes them. Her team name is a video game reference and she quotes a Sci-fi comedy, I suppose it is. Points to whoever can figure out what both are from. :) Also, Merle's height and weight (AKA Micheal Rooker's height and weight) is accurate, stated by Rooker himself. Some people think he rounded down, that he's taller, it's possible his boots make him taller? Who knows. I'll be damned if he is, as one person says, 5'9". That's how tall I am, and I know he's taller then me by at least a little. Anyway.

So Daryl and Merle's dialect is a bitch to do, guys. I would love some pointers on writing it, or let me know if I did good. PLEASE REVIEW! If you followed a link from my Twitter account, you can leave a guest review, just leave your Twitter name, okay?

Remember, if no one likes this idea, I will not continue it.

Bye!