Note: So, this is the second installment, which will cover the second season of TWD and a bit of in between 2 and 3. As I've said in the prequel, I will be combining the comics with the TV show. So I suggest you read the comics if you don't want to be confused. And if you've already read them, kudos to you.
Also, I urge you to read the prequel 'I Walk the Line' otherwise you won't understand some things.
I won't be covering the show and comics panel by panel; I will only focus on the parts where Samara is in. If I wrote everything, I would be writing Bible length stories which will not be good for my typing fingers.
Enjoy the second story!
All characters (except for my OC's) belong to AMC's TWD and to Robert Kirkman.
Rick sighed tiredly.
He and the others had been driving the whole day with nothing in sight. This is all they had been doing for over a week since the CDC exploded—driving around the Atlanta outskirts, trying to find a place to settle. There had been a small museum a few days ago, but it turned out to be unlivable after two days.
They had decided to try their luck east after spotting a state park on the map used for hiking, golf and swimming. It would be perfect. There was shelter, fauna and a lake.
Rick really hoped that this would work out, because he didn't know how long the others would last if it didn't. They had become accustomed to living in one place with accessible water a few feet from them and supplies just a few miles away while he was used to always being on the move, foraging like a vagabond for food and such.
Shane kept egging him on what they should do, and while Lori didn't verbalize it, her eyes told him everything. She was starting to doubt.
People were tired and they were losing hope. After what happened at the CDC, morale was low. Even for him.
They needed some good news, just something to get their spirits up.
And the good news came in the form of a street sign.
Wiltshire Estates
1 kilometer West
"I think we've finally found somethin' good."
Rick said as he peered through the iron gate of the Wiltshire Estates. The others were scattered around, also looking through the gate or sitting atop the cars looking over the brick wall.
They had decided to check out the estates. If it was livable then they would abandon their state park plans and remain.
Rick could practically feel the other's joy and relief at the prospect of a roof over their heads and an actual bed. He couldn't lie, he was also feeling it.
"Good? This is perfect!" Lori beamed at him. "We can start a new life here."
Rick smiled warmly at her and squeezed her hand in affection. They could finally stop moving and just take a breath. If everything went alright, this place could turn out to be their new home.
Shane walked towards them and his gaze stayed on their intertwined fingers for a second before sharply moving away. There was no sign on his face that matched the internal conflict he was experiencing.
"We should spread around. Check up some of the houses near the exit before it gets too dark." Shane said as he stopped near Rick, stoically avoiding making eye contact with Lori.
Rick let go of his wife's hand and returned to his duties as unofficial leader of the group. He blatantly ignored the tenseness that rose between Lori and Shane once the latter got close. That was a subject he did not want to dwell on.
He walked a few steps ahead so everyone's attention was on him.
"Everyone, listen up. While it may look good on the outside, we don't know how abandoned this place really is. And it's going to be dark soon, so we need to search the area around the house. At least the first few. Don't go inside the houses."
"Carol and Lori, you stay with the kids in the RV. The others will break off into three groups. Daryl, take Glenn and Shane, you take Dale. T-Dog, you're with me. Stay sharp everyone and no guns unless necessary."
As the convoy stopped outside of the estates, a form stirred from inside the second story bedroom of one of the houses.
Having been abruptly awakened from the first decent dream in months, the woman jerked into a sitting. The gun that was loosely curled in her hand was brought eye level and pointed towards the phantom danger. Green eyes never stayed in one place as they inspected the entire room she was in. She found nothing but her furry companion scratching and growling at the window.
The woman rose to her feet with a groan and gazed out the window to see who or what interrupted her slumber.
Gods, can't I ever catch a break…
She watched as a convoy consisted of a Winnebago and four cars stopped near the gates, and over a dozen people got out. The woman retrieved her binoculars and started inspecting each person. An older man was driving the RV with an Asian young adult as his co-pilot. Out of the RV exited a blonde woman and a sturdy African-American man. From the last car, a brawny man stepped out, and from the second, a woman with very short hair and a little blonde girl. The beat up truck's driver was a—
The woman grimaced. A redneck.
Unmistakable: torn sleeves, truck, motorcycle, crossbow, dirty countenance.
Just my fucking luck.
With a spat of disgust, she turned the binocular to the last car and its occupants. A woman, a boy and a man with a sheriff's ha—
Blink.
No fucking way…
But as she focused the binoculars to its maximum, it seemed the view in front of her wasn't a lie.
It was him. The Kentucky sheriff.
The woman remained frozen until a snort escaped from between her lips, and then another and then a short chuckle. Before she knew it, she was laughing like a madwoman. Immediately her hand covered her mouth, but that didn't stop some muffled snickers from coming out.
This was just too funny. And not haha funny, just shocking funny. Like when you see something so unexpected, you can't believe that it happened right in front of you and you don't know how to respond appropriately to it, so that frenzied titter came out.
She simmered down her laugh to a quiet chortle.
"Well, shit…" Wide pale green eyes turned towards the Collie. "This is the last thing I expected to happen."
The dog wagged his tail happily.
Another snicker broke out.
"And I'm out of vodka."
The woman watched as the sheriff directed his group in searching the estates closest to the gates.
They didn't attempt to search inside the houses and because of that she stayed where she was. She didn't want to make her presence known yet. Watching them was much more interesting.
Her astonishment settled down and now there was a cool calculating gleam in her eyes. First of all, she couldn't believe that Grimes actually made it out of Atlanta and found his family alive. And then found this location where she was. What were the chances of that happening? One in a million? Ten million? Too much.
A small part of her mused that maybe the small prayer had actually worked. The marshal immediately dismissed it, not believing in such things. This was just a very complicated, spider-like web coincidence. The sheriff had been just extremely lucky.
Second, who were all these people? It was obvious Rick was leading them, but how did he come by them. His wife and son were most likely among the group when he found them, that was the only explanation she could come up with. No way had they been on their own, and then Rick found them, and then found the others. His wife didn't look like someone that had been fighting tooth and nail to survive on her own with a child in tow. She still looked civil, and the boy was healthy enough.
The woman watched the others. The majority of them looked like regular folks, except for the redneck and the muscular white guy. Along with the oldest man in the group, Grimes and the muscular one were the only ones carrying guns. The redneck carried a crossbow which in Samara's opinion was a very good idea. Arrows didn't make deafening booms.
The sheriff, redneck and the brawny guy must be the force of the group.
Considering that the women remained with the vehicles, it probably meant that they were—for a lack of a better word—women. The African-American, the old man and the Asian teen didn't look like much of a threat. Maybe the old man since he had a rifle in his hands, but he didn't seem the killer type. And as for the kids…well, they were kids.
The marshal deeply considered her next actions. She had two options: expose herself or leave the estate. She could leave in the night. She had the means to see while they didn't. It would be easy to sneak along the back of the houses and exit through the gate. But what good will that do her? She'll be out in the open again with no transport. Maybe she could steal one of their cars and some of their rations.
…No, she couldn't leave. Not right now.
If she showed herself, then how would the sheriff react, she wondered. He wouldn't open fire, that's for sure. But he wouldn't greet her with a hug either. And the others…they would be cautious. And if the sheriff told them about the motel incident, then she wouldn't blame them for wanting nothing to do with her.
The woman sighed in defeat. She was out of food, water was pretty much extinct, had no vehicle and her body still hadn't recovered.
She was fucked.
These people could provide her with those items, the sheriff owed her that much. She already knew what she had to do, but that didn't mean she liked it or that she would do it quietly.
"Do you think we should welcome the sheriff into the neighborhood?" The marshal looked down at the dog at her feet.
The Collie's head cocked to the side.
"You're right. When they get settled in."
The group split into three small teams to search the estates. Daryl had been paired with Glenn, to his displeasure. It wasn't that he hated the Asian, it was just that he was too skittish for his liking.
In his opinion, staying in this boxed housing neighborhood was a mistake. They needed the light of day to fully search the area, not an hour left until dusk. He would have been more at ease if they had slept in the cars for the night and in the morning started their inspection. But the others had all wanted to sleep in a house, so that was what they were trying to do now.
The duo searched the backyard of a residence when Daryl saw something that made him pause.
—Dog prints.
Crouching low, he inspected the faint tracks in the dirt that lead in the overgrown vegetation that was the backyard. Following them he came upon the bowl remains of the canine which was still fresh. As in a few hours only, not months as it should be.
Daryl looked around for further signs of the dog. He didn't like this. His instincts flared, telling him that something was off.
"What are you doing?" Glenn asked from his place a few feet away from Daryl. He knew from experience to stay out of the hunter's way.
Daryl didn't answer as he kept looking for other tracks. Human, preferably. If there was anyone else alive living here, then they needed to be alert.
Except for the same dog prints here and there, he found nothing to indicate that a human was here.
The hunter was still not placated.
Even if there were no people around, the dog was a danger. If the houses were empty of food and water, then the animal would be desperate. Desperate enough to attack them.
Walkers weren't enough, now they had to beware of dogs.
Rick and T-Dog made the last round around a house.
The estates seemed deserted. No walkers came out from between the houses and no sounds were heard except for the ones they made. The houses seemed in better or worse shape. Some had broken windows; most likely looters had passed through and helped themselves to what was inside.
As shoddy as they were, they were good enough for now.
"Clear." T-Dog finally said.
Rick nodded and they returned to the road to join the others.
"What about you? All clear?" Rick addressed Shane once the man finished his search.
"As far as we can tell. I don't see anythin' anywhere near this area."
Glenn and Daryl approached, the latter's perpetual frown deeper than ever. "There's a dog around."
"What?" Shane asked with eyebrows high.
Icy blue eyes slid towards the deputy with slight hostility. "A dog. The kind you put leashes on, less you want 'em to bite your hand off. You should know how that feels."
Shane glowered at the man. In moments like these, he really wished he could introduce the redneck's face with the butt of his shotgun.
"Alright, if this dog appears then we'll take care of it." Rick took a step between the two men. Tension had been flying high between those two and a fight breaking out again wouldn't help anyone. "I say we grab blankets and crash in one of these houses tonight. The windows on the second floor of this one seem to be fine." He pointed at the one he last inspected. "We should be pretty warm up there. Tomorrow we can start clearin' out the houses and givin' people their own livin' space."
As everyone agreed, Rick nodded determinedly.
"All right, then. Let's round up the others and get settled in."
Night fell quickly, shrouding the estates in complete darkness. The moon still hadn't showed itself from behind the cluster of clouds.
Daryl and T-Dog had taken the first shift. Daryl was on the ground level patrolling the road while T-Dog was on the roof of the house surveying the entire area.
It was quiet. Extremely quiet.
It put Daryl on edge.
Two hours into his shift was when he heard a faint whine breaking the pervading silence. Crossbow ready, he listened further as the whine increased in volume. Daryl slowly moved towards the sound, mindful of his earlier discovery. He knew that this was the dog that had left the paw prints.
T-Dog, having caught the man's movements, turned on his flashlight to illuminate the path in front of the hunter. What the beam of light revealed surprised him.
—It was a limping dog.
Daryl cautiously approached the seemingly injured dog. He didn't trust it one bit. But as the dog came closer, it didn't show any signs of aggression. It just limped towards him with its head lowered meekly and its tail between its legs. Daryl crouched low and slinked his weapon over his shoulder. He didn't want to scare the mutt away.
"Come here." He said lowly, his Georgia drawl in a deep tenor.
The dog whined again, moving uncertainly.
"That's right, come here." This time it was gentler—at least as gentle as he could get.
As the dog stepped at arm's length, he immediately locked his fingers around its snout and one arm around the torso, trapping it under his arm. The dog started struggling frantically, not pleased with its confinement.
"Stop." Daryl's commanding tone along with the firm shake of its small body made the dog sag boneless. He still kept whimpering, only this time it was more fearful than in false pain.
"Hey man, what's going on?" T-Dog hissed from the roof. Even with the flashlight illuminating the man below, he still couldn't see what was happening since Daryl's form was blocking his sight.
The man in question ignored him as his attention was focused on his canine prisoner. This dog was too healthy to have been living on his own after all these months. There was no food in the house, no edible ones at least. He doubted the other houses were any different. But that didn't say much since dogs ate out of garbage. What did alert Daryl was the fact that the dog was well groomed. He still had that animal odor on him, but nothing very drastic, and his fur wasn't in tangles.
This mutt was being meticulously taken care of.
Shit. Someone is here.
As both lookouts were focused on the dog, they didn't notice the dark shape moving inelegantly across the street.
Once she reached the parallel house, the woman leaned against the wall and breathed in deeply. The pain shooting up her spine from the jog made her see multicolored spots in front of her eyes. With each passing day it became harder and harder to do much of any activity. With a grit of her teeth, she moved to the backyard and stayed close to the wall, walking as silently as possible until she reached the patio door of the intended house. With steady fingers she turned the knob, wary of it squeaking. She had seen some of the group come out the back way and knew that it was open.
The woman stepped inside and carefully walked along the empty kitchen. Once in the hallway, she spotted one of the group sleeping on the living room couch. It was the brawny man. He was snoring evenly, sign of deep sleep. There was a shotgun leaning on the side of the couch. The marshal continued on up the stairs to the second story. There were three rooms upstairs. The Grimes family must be in the master bedroom.
She knew her way around because every last building in the Wiltshire Estates was built the same. They were cookie-cutter houses and such, it was easy to maneuver inside.
At the top of the stairs she headed left, the master being that way. She wasn't wrong in her assumption because when she opened the door that was where she found him.
A smirk spread over her lips.
She walked carefully towards the sheriff's side of the bed and picked up the Colt Python from the nightstand. It seems the sheriff hadn't parted with it yet.
The sight of Grimes sleeping so peacefully among his family almost made her abandon her mission. He was probably dead tired and giving him a scare right now would ruin the rest of his night.
Sadly, that did not deter the woman from her objective. It only enforced it.
She tapped him on the shoulder with his gun, but only got a grunt as a response. Moving the silver barrel to his temple, she pressed against it with more force. That got a real reaction out of him.
Blue eyes popped open and it only took a second for him to realize that someone was standing over him. The darkness was too thick for him to see the person's features, but he did see a pair of goggles where the eyes should be. He knew immediately that this person wasn't part of the group.
—There was a stranger standing over him with a gun pressed to his temple.
His eyes widened in panic, his system going into a frenzy. When his arm shot out in reflex, his wrist was caught in a vice-like grip.
"Now now, you don't want to wake up your family, do you sheriff?"
That cut off the shout that had been seconds away from exploding into the room. Rick's alarmed expression fell and contorted into one of dumbfounded shock.
That voice…Even in a whisper, he still recognized that voice. Had been in a similar position with the owner of that voice not three weeks ago.
"I'm going to let go. Don't shout or punch me."
Her fingers left his wrist and she stepped back to give the sheriff his space. A quick glance at his family told her that they hadn't been disturbed from their slumber. They were deep sleepers.
The sheriff watched the figure with stupefaction. He didn't understand how this could be possible.
"Samara?"
A toothy smirk.
"Hello, sheriff. Long time no see."
Rick was still experiencing a sort of shell-shock as he stared at the marshal's form over him. He couldn't understand how she was here, at this time, in this room of all places. For a moment, he thought he was still asleep. Maybe this was all a dream…or a nightmare, depending on what would happen next.
Instead of asking her what she was doing here, the only thing he could utter was—
"Would it have killed you to wait till morning for this?"
Even if he couldn't see her smirk, he could feel it.
"As much as I would like to argue, shouldn't we do this where there's no chance for your family to wake up screaming their pretty little heads off?"
Rick turned towards his family, having forgotten that they were with him when Samara revealed herself. They were sleeping so serenely he couldn't spoil their sleep just because Samara decided to ruin his.
With a frustrated breath, he threw the cover off him and slid off the bed. Just then, a knock disturbed their reunion. Both turned towards the door, one with growing alarm of whoever was on the other side finding a stranger in here and creating a panic, the other with detached amusement to their situation.
"Grimes."
It was Daryl.
Rick took his Colt out of her hand and signaled her to stay put and not make a sound. She nodded and stepped back towards the wall to lean on. Before Rick could walk towards the door, Samara whispered.
"By the way, sheriff…Nice boxers."
Rick frowned and looked down at himself. Indeed, he was only in his T-shirt and underwear. With a sigh, he grabbed his pants and slid them on. The gun went at the back of his pants.
With one last frown at Samara, Rick opened the door and stepped out of the room. Daryl was in the corridor, crossbow over his shoulder and a camp lantern in his hand. He seemed agitated as he kept glancing down the stairs.
"Daryl, what is it?"
Daryl's narrowed eyes slid over to him. "I found the dog."
Alistair. Without a doubt. It seems Samara was still using him as a decoy.
"Is it still alive?" Lord, he hoped so. He didn't know if Samara would raise hell from behind the door if she heard that her canine companion was dead.
"Yeah. Locked it in the basement." He shifted again and his head turned towards the front door. "Someone's here, Grimes. The dog is too well taken care of to be on its own."
Yes, someone was here. Just a wall over. "Have you seen anyone?"
He shook his head.
"Then, we'll deal with this in the mornin'. There's nothin' we can do right now."
Daryl's perpetual frown deepened at the dismissive remark. "Look, we don't know how many people are out there. If they haven't showed themselves while we were searchin' the area, then they're probably waitin' for us to let our guard down."
"Everything's fine, Daryl. Go back to your shift. I'll join you in a few minutes."
Daryl paused. The sheriff wasn't concerned at all. And not in an 'ignorance of possible dangers' sort of way, but in a knowing way. He knew something everyone else didn't.
Blue eyes slid toward the master bedroom. At first, he thought he heard whispers inside the room and just dismissed it as being his wife. When Grimes opened the door, Daryl saw that the rest of his family was fast asleep.
"Who were you talkin' to?"
"Lori."
"You wife's asleep."
"Daryl, just…Give me a few minutes."
Daryl stood there unmoving. He might not like this, but he complied with the group's leader. The man had that resolute look in his eyes, the one you couldn't deter him from. Grimes wouldn't tell him anything right now.
With one last look, the hunter turned on his heel and descended the stairs.
Rick closed his eyes in tiredness. Could this night get any worse…?
Once Daryl exited the house, Samara opened the bedroom door and joined him.
"He wasn't happy."
"No, he wasn't…" He turned to her. "Did you hear everythin'?"
"Yeah. It seems Alistair is still alive." She said casually. Rick really didn't know how that dog hadn't developed PTSD by now.
He looked towards the bathroom at the end of the hall. It would do.
"Come on, we need to talk."
He took the lead and Samara followed. The marshal entered first. The bathroom had a small window that illuminated the room just enough to see each other's form. Samara took a seat on the closed-lit toilet. Closing the door gently behind him, he immediately turned on her, angry beyond belief.
"What the hell were you thinkin'?! Sneakin' in here in the middle of the night. Do you realize the panic you could have created?"
"I was thinking of surprising you." She said pleasantly, but to Rick it sounded condescending. "And yes, I realize that all this could have gone tits up, but it didn't."
In that moment he felt all that adrenaline since waking up just drain from his body. The sheriff sagged against the sink with his hands covering his face. Really, this was all too much. He just wanted a good night's rest, nothing else.
Samara leaned against the filter of the toilet and waited until the sheriff retained his composure.
His hands left his face and he addressed the woman, his voice back to its normal calm Kentucky drawl. "You are seriously the most frustratin' person I've ever met."
"Thank you."
Don't start.
"Samara…how are you here?"
"Well sheriff, I could ask you the same thing. But to answer your question, I have been here for over two days. You and your group are, in fact, intruding on my territory."
"Your territory…" Only she could think like that on an estate with so many houses. "Why didn't you come out when we were searchin' the area?"
"I wanted to see what I was up against. You have quite the group here, sheriff." She then took the goggles off and ruffled her hair, before addressing him again. Whatever cynicism or amusement she had was gone and replaced with sober curiosity. "How the hell did you escape Atlanta, Grimes?"
Rick recounted the event with the tank and horde of walkers eating the horse, Glenn finding him and helping him out. The others and the altercation with Merle which led to him cuffing the violent man to the roof of a building, him and Glenn wearing undead parts and walking through a herd to reach a van. Rain challenging them, their escape with the van and leaving the redneck behind. And finally, finding his family safe in the Atlanta camp.
Samara listened to all this with a blank face. When he finished, she let out an astounded chortle. "Sheriff, you have got to be one of the luckiest sons of bitches I've ever met."
Rick smiled faintly. "I guess you could see it that way."
"By the way, did you see that helicopter?"
His eyes widened. "So it was real…" I knew I wasn't imagining it. "Was it military?"
She shook her head. "Civilian. Why did you leave the camp? Assuming that's what you did."
"Walkers overwhelmed it."
There was that word again. "Is that what you call the undead now?"
"The others called them that. It stuck." Personally, he didn't care what they were called. Undead was undead. "We left for the CDC after."
"No shit…" She leaned forward, her curiosity sparking. "Did you get in?"
He nodded. "Met a scientist there, Jenner. He was the only one left, the others…they opted out."
Samara didn't care about a suicide rash, what was important was—"Is there a cure?"
"No." Rick's eyes lowered dejectedly. "The French came close to somethin' but communications went down. Jenner lost contact with everyone on the outside."
Samara hung her head and leaned back against the filter, her shoulders sagging. Even though she knew there was little to no chances of the world ever righting itself, it was final now. There was nothing to look forward to anymore.
"The CDC was on its last leg; the power was runnin' out. Jenner tried to lock us all in. To spare us the pain, he said." Rick let out a dry grunt. The terror he felt of being locked in the CDC along with his family as it was about to blow sky high was more intense than any group of walkers. "We lost a woman there, Jacqui."
"We've been on the road since…"
Silence encompassed the small bathroom. Both deep in their thoughts. It was defeat they were feeling. Knowing that this was all that was going to be from now on. Running and hiding from the walkers until they got bit or killed some other way.
—It wasn't fair.
"We're still here." Rick broke the silence. "That has to count for something." He didn't know who he was trying to placate, him or her. Maybe both.
"Hmmm…" Samara stirred and raised her head. "But for how long?"
She rose from the toilet on heavy legs. "I'm going back to my house."
"Are you alright?" He watched her closely. He still could remember vividly that night at the motel, how she looked at the fire.
"Don't worry; I won't put a bullet through my head. That would only be a waste…I just have a lot to think about."
He placed his hand on her shoulder in attempted comfort, but that only made the marshal stiffen. She looked at his appendage as if it offended her. An awkward atmosphere formed between them, and the sheriff took his hand off.
He should have known better.
"Right." He cleared his throat. "I'll show you where Alistair is." He opened the door and stepped out.
Samara placed the goggles over her eyes and followed the sheriff.
"Which house are you stayin' in?"
"Two houses down on the right."
They both quietly descended the stairs. At the ground level, Shane was still on the couch, not having moved one inch. There was a door beneath the stairs that lead to the basement. Rick opened it and not a second later Alistair ran out.
The dog pawed at its master, happy that he was out of the dark, dank basement. When he noticed Rick, he practically attacked the man's legs. Samara watched with faint amusement as the dog kept circling around the man, jumping on his lower half and trying to lick his hands.
"Glad to see you too, Alistair." Rick whispered after finally managing to calm the dog down. He wiped his fingers of the dog saliva on his pant leg. "Hope Samara hasn't worked you to the bone."
"He doesn't get to complain." Samara moved towards the back exit with Alistair.
Once outside, Rick stopped at the entry. The moon had finally come out and he could see Samara more clearly. "We're goin' to check the rest of the area in the mornin'. You wanna join us?"
"Sure. It's not like I have anything better to do." She tipped her chin towards the house. "Do they know about me?"
"I told them that you're the one that brought me to Atlanta."
Samara paused.
Rick leaned against the entrance wall. "I left out some aspects of our journey."
She knew instantly what exactly those aspects were. The motel.
"Good call." She stepped away. "Do me a favor sheriff; make sure that redneck doesn't put an arrow in me when I cross the street."
Daryl kept glancing at the door, tensely waiting for Grimes. The man was taking too long and he didn't like being kept in the dark. T-Dog had gone inside a few minutes ago, the sign of him ending his shift.
The hunter turned towards the house once he heard the door creak open. Before the sheriff could reach him, Daryl caught movement up ahead on the street and raised his crossbow. The moon had graciously showed herself during the space he left the house and now, so he had better view of the area. There were two forms crossing the street leisurely, a human and the not-quite-limping dog that he locked in the basement.
Son of a bitch…
Just as he was about to pull the trigger, a hand gripped the weapon and pushed it down.
"Don't shoot."
Daryl wretched his crossbow away from the sheriff, annoyed at his actions.
"Who the hell is that?!" He whispered vehemently as the figures disappeared between two houses.
Rick massaged his brow. Daryl hadn't heard about Samara since he hadn't been in the camp when he recounted to the others about the time since waking up from his coma and arriving in Atlanta.
"I guess I have some things to tell you."
Foot Note: This marks the end of the first chapter in 'Ring of Fire'.
I will be updating once a week. I hope that this time I'll keep to my word instead of uploading everything in the span of 3 days.
