The Governor looked out into the night sky.
He had to admit: Mother Nature could provide an amazing spectacle when it wanted to. The stars, the moon, and all the rest seemed to shine themselves onto him. He took a moment to close the one good eye and reflect on the past month.
Things had started going to shit when the army just... refused to fight on the side of a road. He had to be honest with himself, he may have lost his cool killing all those pathetic people from Woodbury. But it was something that needed to be done. They were cowards and fools who had somehow broken the hold he once had over them all for an entire winter. Only Martinez, Shumpert, and Allen were allowed to live. The first two were in the Governor's car with him fleeing the prison, but Allen was the only person out of the rest to voice an opinion to go back and take out Rick's group. After an uneasy standoff with the man, the Governor convinced Allen that the others deserved to die and that Allen would be allowed vengeance against his son's killers. Besides, the man's anger could be turned into a useful weapon later, when good people were now hard to find in the world they lived in. After he was cracked, the Governor finished up the job and they left the scene of the crime.
Afterwards, the four drove for miles and miles throughout Georgia, looking for another group to submit to their authority. There was no point in going back to Woodbury, all that remained of the place consisted of women, children, and old folks - hardly the people to fight and die. Over the next few weeks, the four encountered about twenty or so survivors - some in pairs, some alone, and one group of seven. All of these people were scared and desperate, but armed and survivalists. What they needed, and what they got, was a forceful leader who could restore hope. That leader could only be the Governor. Now, in a supermarket cleared out of walkers, the Governor and his new found allies could rest for now. But there would be no endless reprisal.
Rick, Michonne, and all the others in that prison needed to die. Espically that bitch who killed his daughter and stabbed out his eye. Even if it took weeks, they would burn. And burn. And burn.
For now though, they would go and gather more weapons, supplies, and warm bodies needed for the assault. After sending Shumpert and two others to collect walkers for another herd, the Governor went into a private room that appeared to once have been the manager's office. The room still smelled of walker blood and pure shit. Martinez was waiting for him, reclining in a chair.
"Well, what do you have to report back to me?" the Governor asked his second in command and the closest thing he had to a friend after killing Milton. Martinez had just got back from investigating a fortified town run by military personal near the Georgia/Alabama border
Martinez gave the biggest grin that Phillip had ever seen. Phillip wondered if Satan had ever emerged from Hell just to show the man how to smile.
"We hit the jackpot, baby!"
"Explain. How do you know they won't back-stab us one day?" asked the Governor, distrustfully.
Well, you're one to talk about backstabbing, thought Martinez. You killed all your own troops because they didn't want to follow your orders exactly to the tiniest detail. Shumpert, Allen and I only stayed with your ass because any other option meant likely death for us. But there was no need to tell that to the Governor, who was, Martinez had figured, the coldest bastard to walk the planet. Instead, he told about the golden discovery.
"The commander of the fort turned out to be an old high school friend. Name's Jeremy Hanson. He'll work something out with us, as long as he gets to meet and negotiate with you. You're the actual leader here, after all."
"What about his arsenal and troops?"
"They number over a hundred. Most were former Marines, but a few are friends and family. Had at least one armored personal carrier, and some RPGs. Already have rifles and submachine guns. Well trained and well fed. They'll make an excellent new army for us."
The Governor got up and patted Martinez on the back. This was indeed the jackpot.
"The two of us leave tomorrow. I think fate is in our hands now, buddy."
Having finished speaking those words, the Governor went back outside to enjoy the nighttime sky. With him he brought a sense of what he was planning and a desire to watch the prison and it's inhabitants rot away, crushed by the expansive dream he was putting the gears in place in in his mind.
AN:
This story takes place a month after the Season 3 finale, "Welcome to the Tombs". Only difference from the show as of now is that Allen is not killed.
The main POV will be Daryl's, with other characters such as Rick and the Governor having occasional POVs.
I know this prologue is short, but trust me, I've got more cooking. I promise you it will be longer and better.
I have some OCs in mind. If you want to appear in a cameo, leave the following in a review:
Name:
Age:
Weapons:
Appearance: