author's note;

This story is basically a post-Terminus Season 5 AU. Gareth lives, and two main OCs are introduced; Catherine the serial killer and Teryx the genetic experiment. Overall plot will follow events of the ongoing season.

Eventual OC/Gareth, but romance isn't the main focus of the story.

Very heavy trigger warnings for gore, vore/cannibalism, sadism, vulgarity, etc. Shit gets dark.

RiOT of ROT!
Chapter 1: Never Shall We Die

"We can never be gods, after all— but we can become
something less than human with frightening ease."

N.K. Jemisin, The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms

The soft humming of a slow and solemn tune fluttered through the otherwise eerily quiet forest. Groans and growls and slowly shuffling footsteps quickly followed, but somehow did not deter the air of unsettling serenity.

"The king and his men stole the queen from her bed," a female's airy voice sang out, her fingers tightening around a rope, "and bound her in her bones~" Digging the heel of her boots into the rough surface of the tree's thick branch, she gave the rope another hard tug and inched backwards as she pulled. "The seas be ours and by the powers," she continued as she reached the farthest she could go, then steadily crouched down to tie the rope around the branch in a strong knot, "where we will, we'll roam~"

Standing back up, the young blonde reached up to wipe her bandaged hand against her forehead, her lips spreading into a dark grin as she looked ahead to her finished work. Quickly but carefully climbing down, she jumped back to the ground and looked out at the handful of walkers around her, all growling and clanking their rotted teeth together. Their legs had all been chopped off and their crawl towards her was too slow to pose any immediate threat. "Yo ho, haul together..." Turning her head, her eyes settled upon the large pile of rope gathered at the base of the tree; bits of rotted flesh and muscle plopped to the ground from above. "Hoist the colors high~"

"That's your last chance, right now, to tell us you're coming out."

Two of the Terminus survivors waited at either side of the door, guns drawn, fingers calm yet eager to pull the trigger. Gareth and Martin stood behind them, their own firearms at the ready. Martin's gun began to lower as he looked over and sighed impatiently. "Are we done?"

Everyone silently turned to Gareth for the next order. He seemed more willing to wait it out, but the others were growing anxious. Although he didn't dare show it, he was anxious, too - his prey had always come to him, to Terminus, ignorant of the community's true intentions. They were blind-sided, outnumbered, out-gunned; it was always easy, always routine. But this... this was different. Gareth couldn't hide behind a charismatic smile and a friendly facade, he was going after people who knew what he was. Instead of drawing his victims in with false hope, he had to hunt them down, and it made him extremely uncomfortable. But they had no choice, and they all looked to him for direction.

He took a deep breath, glancing from Martin to the door. "We'll hit the hinges."

The others nodded, raising their guns - then one's head exploded against the wall. Before they could react, the other doorman's head showered the wall with brain matter and their bodies hit the ground simultaneously. Gareth immediately turned around to squint down the rows of pews, gazing into the darkness.

"Put your guns on the floor," instructed the familiar voice, in a calm but deathly serious tone.

Gareth pointed his automatic towards the door with one hand as he faced Rick's direction, even though he still couldn't see the other man through the abyss. His free hand raised to gesture at the door. "Rick, we'll fire right into that office so you lower your gu-"

A silenced gunshot cut through the shadows and a sudden, intense pain shook throughout his body as he yelped and doubled over, dropping his weapon. Trembling, he slowly straightened to gaze in horror at the bleeding stumps on his hand, where his fingers had been blown off. With another yell, he clasped his other hand over the open wounds in futile attempt to dull the searing pain and slowly dropped to his knees.

Gun drawn, Rick Grimes stepped forward into the dim illumination. "Put your guns on the floor, and kneel."

Martin pursed his lips together, glaring towards Rick as he made it a point to hold fast to his gun.

"D-Do what he says!" Gareth hissed between clenched teeth, writhing in pain as he turned to kneel in compliance. The other Terminus cannibals reluctantly lowered their guns to the floor before getting down on their knees, and the other members of Rick's group crept out from the shadows to surround them. Martin however, remained standing beside his injured leader. "Martin, there's no choice here."

"Yeah there is," he replied with a smirk, but it quickly faded when the red-headed sergeant rushed up from the side with his gun aimed and ready.

"Wanna bet?"

Staring down the barrel of his gun, Martin was still hesitant to submit, but finally dropped his firearm and lowered himself to the ground. Once all of Gareth's crew were covered, Rick walked down the aisle, his aim never leaving the younger male's head. Sasha followed behind him, stopping while Rick rounded the injured murderer. With a great deal of effort, Gareth shuffled around on his knees to face Rick, tightly holding his bleeding hand in his lap.

The Ring Leader, as he had branded him back at Terminus, towered over the wounded male with an intense and focused glare. He shifted and pursed his lips together to muffle a whimper from the pain. "No point in begging, right?" he finally pushed out between quick shallow breaths.

Rick stared down into his eyes for a moment, his expression unchanging. "No."

Gareth was in too much pain to be disappointed in the other's complete lack of sympathy. "Still, you could'a killed us when you came in, there had to be a reason for that."

"We didn't wanna waste the bullets," Rick replied matter-of-factly with a casual shrug.

He could feel the growing tension in the air, and he was slowly losing confidence in his ability to talk his way out of this. But still, he had to try... what else was there to lose? "We used to help people, we saved people... th-things changed, they came in, and..." His voice quivered with pain as he leaned forward, a whimper escaping as he forced more pressure against his dismembered hand, but he forced himself to straighten, to continue. There had to be something he could say. "After that..." he began, but found himself unable to finish that thought as well. Taking a few more breaths, he strained himself to keep going. "I know that you've been out there, but I can see it," he spoke with a low growl, "you don't know what it is to be hungry." He searched for any sign of humanity in the other's expression, but the only twitch of movement was at the corner of his mouth; the bastard smirked. He needed a different approach. "Y-You don't have to do this, we can walk away... and we will never cross paths, I promise you."

Rick watched as Gareth waited for a response, letting him get his hopes up for a moment that he might actually walk away from this. "But you'll cross someone's path," he finally spoke, raising his gun up to Gareth's head for a moment before lowering it again. "You'd do this to anyone. Right?" Holstering his gun, his now free hand slowly rested on the red handle of the machete at his waist.

Gareth's hazel eyes widened and flickered between Rick and his hand on that handle, suddenly remembering the promise Rick had made to kill him with that very weapon. A paralyzing fear shot through his body and he knew what was going to happen and he was completely helpless.

"Besides, I made you a promise..." The ex-deputy's fingers traced the length of the handle for a moment, and he turned away, looking to the members of his group positioned over the submissive Terminants. "But not yet." He suddenly said, his hand leaving the machete's grip. "Not like this." Returning his gaze to the ruthless cannibal leader before him, he shook his head. "You don't get to die a butcher."

As if on cue, the rest of Rick's group simultaneously attacked their prisoners, bashing them in the head with the butt of their gun or hacking them with axes or stabbing them with daggers. Their gargled screams and gasps and the sound of their blood spurting against the church's wooden floor saturated his ears and he didn't dare look around, his wide and fearful eyes glued to that machete handle. His heart pounded and he could barely seem to breath, shoving his burning hand between his knees in feeble attempt to numb the pain, unable to do a single thing as he listened to every last one of his friends get slaughtered in the darkness. It happened again, his mind reminded him as his gaze slowly fell to the ground. They were the cattle once more. And this time, there was no fighting back, no revolution, no turning the tables. This was it.

It was soon ghostly silent, with no sound but Gareth's occasional whimper and Rick's people catching their breath. His entire body trembled, afraid of what would come next, and having to wait for it only made things worse. He'd lost his home, his family, his friends... Now he was alone. Broken and weak and shaking like a lamb in the slaughterhouse. There was sudden movement in front of him and he flinched, only to look again and see Rick pointing his gun once more.

"Get up. We're gonna take a walk."

"A-Afraid to make a mess?" he asked with a quivering, hollow voice, and winced as Rick shoved an arm up under his and forcefully pulled him up to his feet.

"I said, we're taking a walk."

He had no choice but to comply, with no will left to resist. His head lowered as he shuffled down the church aisle, tightly holding his bleeding hand as Rick forced him at gunpoint to leave through the double doors and step out into the cool night air. "Wh-where are we going?"

"Won't matter."

With a shove, Rick forced him down the steps and through the cemetery, into the woods. Gareth hadn't even noticed until they were deeper in the trees that the red-haired sergeant had followed them out. Everything was a dull blur to him at that point, and Rick was right. Nothing mattered, not anymore. They walked further and further away from the church, and he wasn't sure why but all he wanted was for it to happen and be over with. But perhaps that was the reason why - Rick didn't want him to die as a predator. He was being put in his place one last time.

They suddenly heard a groan and the two men behind him raised their guns and looked around, but couldn't see anything. They heard it again, this time a more aggressive snarl, and searched through the darkness to try and spot any sign of walker movement. Something warm and wet plopped onto Gareth's shoulder, and he slowly looked up into the trees above him. "... well that's... new."

Rick and Abraham looked to him for a moment, before following his line of sight up to the branches above. Their brows furrowed in confusion, their eyes widening slightly as they exchanged glances. A living corpse was strung up high in the air, a noose around its neck and rope tying its arms outstretched between the branches of neighboring trees, its legs chopped off and dripping with chunky dark blood and rotted flesh.

"What in the hell...?"

"Someone did this?"

The younger male glanced over his shoulder with a weak smile. "L-Looks like you aren't the... only survivors around."

"Shut up," Abraham spat, nudging him with the tip of his gun to get him walking again, "just keep going."

They continued to walk for another minute or so, until Gareth heard a soft click under his footstep. The pain took a moment to register, and suddenly his leg was searing - he didn't even realize he was yelling until he hit the leafy ground and writhed about. The metal jaws of a bear trap clamped tight over his calf, ripping into his flesh and muscle, and he wailed and howled as he tried to sit up and reach for the device to somehow try and free himself.

The other two froze in their tracks and looked at each other before their eyes darted along the ground around them, searching for more traps. They exchanged frantic comments and instructions but he couldn't hear them, he was miles away in his own world of physical agony. It was only when he let himself fall back against the ground that he realized they were gone. The trap had done their work for them, and now he was defenseless and bleeding out. Ensnared like an animal, he would die as such... just as Rick had wanted.

Hungry. Hungry. Hungry.

A feminine figure, darkened by the shadows of the alleyway, stopped and stood over a motionless body, lying on the ground in a bloody mess. She slowly leaned over the corpse and sniffed lightly, drawing the putrid scent of decay into her lungs.

Too dead.

She straightened up with a dissatisfied growl - not the usual moan of a biter, no, it was more animalistic, like the aggressive purr of an angered crocodile. There didn't seem to be any more living creatures on this street, and she was growing quite irate with her dwelling hunger. Glancing up, she decided to check out the rest of the backstreets and moved on, not with the awkward stagger of the average undead but with graceful, agile, precise movements.

As she prowled down the cold, dark, damp alley, she suddenly stopped, sniffing the air. There it was; life. It wasn't a normal kind of scent, it was powerful and spicy and shot through your nose and struck deep in your brain like a jolt of electricity. Silently, she followed the scent, keeping a calculating watch out for any signs of movement, and tracked it to an old rundown store. Perhaps there was a slight curiosity residing in her to know what kind of place this used to be, but she couldn't read the sign even if it wasn't smeared with blood and dirt.

The fresh smell stung her brain like a strong whiff of wasabi, and she knew she was close. Her body lowered, her footsteps careful and calculated as she entered the building. She couldn't risk the human seeing her first, for they surely had weapons and all it took was a blow to the head and whatever was left of her was gone forever. Sometimes she wasn't sure if there was anything left, but the thought of ultimate death frightened her and that was enough.

Hungry jaws parted to draw in breath and push out stale air, her chest gently rising and falling under tattered and bloodied clothes. She was really close. Rounding the corner of the next aisle, she spotted him; an adult male, who stooped down to reach a few dusty, fallen cans. He was hunting for his food, and she was hunting for hers. What she thought might have been a remnant of empathy began to swell up inside her. But she was hungry, and just as he thought nothing of grabbing his food, she would think nothing of grabbing hers.

This was how the world worked now. No room for sympathy or humanity. You were either the predator or the prey; the butcher or the cattle.

Reaching up to some metal tool on the shelf beside her, she knocked it onto the floor with a loud clank before slipping back around the corner. The man froze, then turned and raised his gun, his eyes darting around and his ears listening for the groans and shuffles of the undead - but there was nothing. He waited and waited, but his vigilance garnered no answers and so his gun lowered. Suddenly, another thing clattered to the floor behind him and he spun around with his finger at the trigger, only to see his gathered cans knocked over. One was slowly rolling back under the shelf, but otherwise the store was still. This time, he couldn't bring himself to dismiss the growing knot in his stomach and inched forward, searching for this invisible threat that seemed to taunt him. Stepping over the small pile of cans, he continued on until he reached the end of the aisle. Gun still drawn and held out in front of him, he slowly crept forward and stood, waiting for another sound - another clue that would reveal the danger.

To his right, reptilian green eyes gleamed in the broken, dusty rays of light - before he realized what had happened, her body slammed against his, strong jaws crushing down on his wrist. The gun fell to the floor as blood gushed from his arm, and he was thrown against the shelves behind him. Teeth were suddenly at his throat, and he was dead before he could even scream. Thick, messy crimson gurgled from his opened neck as his body crumpled to the floor, and she fell to all fours over him like a rabid animal, biting and gnawing and ripping the carcass apart.

Several hours must have passed, and the night was at its coldest. Gareth's vision faded in and out, his lips pale and trembling, an overall numbness taking over his body as his heart worked at half-pace, his chest rising ever so slowly with the occasional breath. He'd long since lost the ability to maintain a coherent string of thoughts, and whenever he tried, they scrambled themselves and dissolved into white noise. He felt himself twitch here or there, but otherwise didn't move; he wasn't even sure if he still could.

Leaves began to shuffle nearby, and he could hear the throaty growl of a biter as it stumbled through the trees. Maybe he looked dead enough already, he hoped, but he heard its growl evolve into an excited snarl and the pace of its shuffles quickened and grew closer. He felt it towering over him, dropping itself over him, its decaying skin as cold as his - and then he watched its head hit the ground in front of his and gently roll away. Its body was slow to follow but soon fell to the ground with a thud.

His brow furrowed and he forced his head to lift, even if only slightly. A new form stood over him, a female with a long bloody cape-like cowl over her shoulders. She reached up and pulled down the hood, her bright blue eyes gleaming even through the darkness, her shoulder-length wavy blonde hair bouncing as she chuckled.

"My my my! Isn't this quite the surprise!" Her glossy lips spread into a grin as she plopped to her knees beside him, gently turning his face towards her so she could get a better look at him, and more importantly see if he was alive or undead. "I never expected you to end up in one of my traps!"

He couldn't feel much of anything at that point, but there was a strong knot of dread that quickly filled his gut, and he found himself wishing the walker had gotten to him just a little quicker. His dry lips parted as he attempted to speak. "C-Catherine..."

"Shhh~ don't waste your breath, you'll just die sooner." Her grin widened as she bared her teeth, her eyes narrowing as she watched him with morbid delight. "Karma's quite a bitch, isn't it?"