He'd run into Negan's people, very unexpectedly. Actually, they were more like defectives.
The Archer had just experienced a nasty run-in with a lank outcast and his lady, who'd stolen his motorcycle, crossbow, and biker jacket, after helping them locate their sickly friend Tina, who'd later gotten attacked unexpectedly by random walkers, after they'd foolishly returned to the battered remains of their former homestead.
He'd tried to warn those damned kids but they wouldn't listen.
He'd assumed he was doing them a civil good deed. After all the sick girl, Tina, was a hidden diabetic: gone into shock after witnessing walkers attack what was left of their old caravan. The place littered with only sad remains of what formerly were family.
The old Daryl would have told them all "To hell with you. Figure it out yourselves!" But this older matured Archer had come to accept good people as family, and had developed some level of humanity for others.
Even those who turned out to be stupid pricks.
But somehow he figured, even that conclusion was as brain-dead as a moth-eaten corpse.
To hell with it all now.
He'd tried helping them all. But the damned girl had died. Her own damned foolishness...
Her friend-or proclaimed sister-had administered the insulin, but moments after, the girl went into shock. She'd barely made it back out again … and yet insisted on rejoining them, despite barely being able to walk.
She just had to nose around that after- shell of their homestead upon arrival. Hell, anyone with half a brain knew, curiosity killed the cat.
After being on the road for so long, those damned kids should have known better about the random walkers. It just made no damned sense.
They'd go about alone, even defenseless, unarmed. That was just asking to get bit.
Dumb fuckers.
One just didn't let their guard down.
Any apocalyptic fool knew that.
But she'd lost her life, and then ... her friends suddenly blindsided him.
The young prick, Dwight, pulled a pistol on him, and cocked it. At his head. And normally the Archer'd 've knocked the weapon from the prick's hand easily, but he was too stunned after helping them out to react.
He'd now realized he'd been too fuckin' trusting with these dumb kids … let his damned guard down too good-naturedly.
They'd F*n blindsided him. And his redneck blood boiled.
No way forward, was he chancing anything more, with that prick Dwight-or the whore girlfriend.
Seemed at first, the lame scraggly-haired blonde dude was just kidding around. Hell, he'd waved that stupid pistol around several times.
But with Tina now gone it was just he and that other chick. What was her name? Shelly? Sheila? Sherrie? Who the fuck really cared?
They'd reached the open road, and he was mounting his bike, wishing them both well. Then BLAM.
Normally one charading as a lousy shot or a rookie usually was a facade. Hell, Carol had succeeded that with the Alexandrians when they'd arrived weeks back.
But that was the final straw in this charade. The scraggly blonde prick yanking his beloved biker jacket, right from his damned body.
The Archer had seethed and cursed under his breath, but did not defend. Not with the girlfriend now aiming that pistol at his forehead. Then proudly mounting the back of HIS bike-and boldly shoved her pelvis up against her prick boyfriend's ass, while he then brashly aimed his own crossbow at him-rather insultingly.
"Don't bother trying to follow us, and don't bother trying to track us down. We know people. We're not alone-and you'll be dead."
Then they pulled away-on his damned, friggen bike. And then threw him a grisly smile, as they rode off. "Sorry 'bout this, man."
"You will be." The Archer barely uttered back in his low gurbel, fighting off every inch of his being to just bust loose after those two pricks and take them down off his bike, then wail the shit out of the blonde prick, and barely spare the whore girlfriend.
They'd pulled off down the road while proudly waving HIS stolen crossbow in the air, like it was a damned trophy.
He was forced to watch them ride away, wishing to god he'd had a militant rifle airblaster at his disposal.
How happily he'd blow those two to Jesus, with absolutely no repentance.
Luckily he'd been standing mere yards from a huge pile of brush.
A place of curiousness noticed from earlier on.
Now clearing away the large branches and debris, he uncovered a 1976 Chevy C60 S/A fuel truck, presumably loaded with militant style weapons.
His fortune had landed!
Climbing inside, he saw the keys happily still in the ignition and peeled the hell out of there, off down the road.
No time to think about those young pricks, who'd falsely befriended him and then blindsided him.
He had to pick up Abe and Sasha, and then get them all back to Alexandria. HOME.
They'd been gone nearly three days now, with little to no radio contact from Rick.
Fuck knows ... the very last thing they needed right now was a search party out looking for them.
And… he'd been gone too long, from her …
God, how he longed to see her pretty face again. Hear her gentle voice and watch her move ... her signature Carol moves.
How great he thought she looked in that white blouse and cardigan, a newer 'style' she'd adopted, as matron 'mom' role, she'd adopted with Alexandria over time. Though he could never truly say so. Damned coward.
He'd be forever cursed in his lameness … never speaking out his feelings for her.
Now reaching the dry-post, abandoned Army station, Abe had waited inside with Sasha. The Archer yanked the truck up along the side, wasting no time.
In a flash, Abe and Sasha were on board, and the Chevy was now flying down the road again. No words spoken among them nor needed.
Then hours, it seemed, instead of only minutes-traveling that long, desolate road, back to Alexandria.
Abe finally spoke up. "Think we did pretty well. We make a good team."
Sasha and Daryl said nothing in return, as the Archer was never one for talk. Except for one person, naturally. And much less right now, he also wasn't in the mood.
His human dignity had been stolen from him.
The young, smug pricks that'd openly stolen his bike, his crossbow ... his prized jacket.
Somehow, some way, somewhere, he would findthe little bastards and retrieve his property: them alive or dead.
And ... the relief of finally get back to Alexandria.
To the one person he needed to get back to-get back home to, talk to … privately … about…. things.
The best friend who'd long become his whole universe. And had taught him patiently about LOVE.