I posted a complete list of fantasy casting to my tumblr for those of you asking about who I'd cast. Since it's a fantasy cast I went a little wild and indulged myself. You can find the link to my tumblr on my profile page.


Chapter Forty-Five: Bosou Koblamin II

**The Lieutenant**

By the time they pulled up Delgado's driveway, he had calmed himself somewhat from seeing an apparition from his past.

God willing they would get Carol back smoothly, but lately it seemed like God was a rainy day companion of theirs. Not that he would say God didn't favour them. As a man who wasn't entirely religious, it didn't escape him that their convent home had – so far – been untouched by the wasteland mongrels that haunted the new American frontier, but he wondered how long that would last. As the vacuum left by the absence of power and control sucked filth and junk into the recesses, he found they would be seeing more and more scum and lowlife rabble in their land.

But this? This lowlife rabble was probably going to be the hardest for him.

He had honestly thought the old bastard had died with the others, he wasn't expecting to see him, to actually have to face his own origins again.

Emerging from the vehicle at Delgado's finding the man himself moving towards them, he pushed thoughts of Martin Deveau out of his mind and held out his hand in greeting to the man.

"Corporal, you know these others, but this is Rick and Joan, St. James and Cash there," leaning in close to his old friend, he whispered. "Keep an eye on those last two, they come from this group. Cash is on the run from them and St. James, well, beats me. Just watch him."

Nodding once, Delgado took Rick's hand. "Rick, Joan, good to meet you. Was expecting you all back here a lot sooner—"

"We ran into some troubles of our own." Rick explained. "Those men nabbed one of our women, they're holding her for ransom until we return this dumbass." As he said this, Rick shoved St. James hard in the direction of the house.

"Well, we'll tie him up, you can make the trade off like we planned," Daryl said as Merle joined them from the farmhouse. "Merle and I'll scout out the situation on foot."

"Think that's a good idea?" Delgado asked.

Daryl, still pissed about the pipe bombs shrugged. "Wasn't looking for permission from you."

"Sarge?" Delgado asked, deferring judgement to the superior officer among them.

Fay shrugged. "Let him go if he wants. He isn't going to cause any trouble with his woman in their midst."

"Just scouting," Daryl reassured. "Figured if we pegged out where they're hiding we can always make an attack if things don't go right. Fay, you with us?" The young Dixon nudged him with his elbow.

The Lieutenant shook his head. "Not this time, cabri. I'm going to keep my head down for a bit."

Daryl narrowed his eyes at him. "Alright, whatever. Merle, let's hit it."

"Why don't you boys mount up a couple of horses," Delgado suggested.

Shaking his head firmly, Daryl rejected the idea. "Naw, horse brought me nothing but trouble last time. Better on foot."

"Alright, it's your decision," Delgado returned, motioning Dolly Mei and that blond asshole over. "Dolly, you and Sid go with those boys, give them some back up."

"Walking around? Just on foot?" Dolly demanded.

"Problems, Marine?" Delgado inquired.

The woman beamed and shook her head. "No, boss."

Glancing over at Kowalski, the Lieutenant found him holding his rifle up and motioning inquiringly towards the Dixon's who were gearing up for their trek.

He shook his head.

Whistling sharply to Delgado to get his attention, Kowalski motioned to the Dixon's asking permission to head out with them.

"Naw," Merle grunted. "Don't need his deaf ass slowing us up."

Everyone paused, uncomfortably eyeing Kowalski who couldn't hear Merle and still waited almost eagerly.

After a moment of anxious shifting, it was the Lieutenant who spoke, kicking the dirt with his boot. "Take him, Merle. He's a good man to have your back."

"And how the hell do you think he's going to watch his own?" Merle demanded. "He'll get us all killed if some biter sneaks up on his ass and chomps."

"He saved us in those woods," Glenn broke in. "I'd trust him."

"Why don't you boys head out," Dolly suggested. "I'm forty-five fucking years old, I don't need to be slogging my ass up and down the Georgian countryside looking for raping dipshits," she stated firmly walking off, pausing only to give Kowalski a rub on his shoulder like one who placate a puppy. "I got laundry to do."

"Fucking Christ," Merle growled. "He ain't coming with us!"

Daryl, determined to get moving, was already halfway down the driveway, leaving Merle to scramble after him, followed by Delgado's man Sid and another man the Corporal waved over to go with them.

Left behind, Kowalski stared after the men for the longest time, before shouldering his rifle with a dark look.

..-~-..


..-~-..

"What are your plans, Sarge?" Delgado asked as they all congregated near the barn, helping his people rebuild it enough to stable the horses safely.

Idly tapping his hammer against the palm of his hand, the Lieutenant shrugged. "Don't have one."

"You always have a plan, Sarge," the man argued.

Sighing, the Lieutenant went back to hammering up a piece of plywood to cover a burnt out hole in the side of the building. "Del," he began almost irritably. "You're your own man right now, there ain't no ranks here. You make a plan, you let me know."

Quietly eyeing him as he held the plywood up, Delgado sniffed suddenly and angled his head. "Something eating you, Lafayette?"

"No," he replied.

"Don't give me that contrary Aquarian bullshit, Sarge," Delgado snapped. "Now what the hell is up your ass?"

"Right now? About two hundred and ten pounds of Portuguese immigrant's son."

"Sounds like a fun time, mind if I join?"

"Of course you'd make that gay," Fay grumbled.

Chuckling blithely, Delgado stepped back from the newly secured plywood and eyed their work.

"So?" Delgado demanded.

"Just tired, I suppose. It's been about two days and my ribs are panging me."

"Right, well take it easy, you don't have to help out. My people have this."

Scoffing, Fay motioned to the nearly decimated barn and the chaos that still lingered all around them. "Yeah? Just go over and sit under that oak while you all bust your humps?"

"Exactly."

"Yeah, sure. I'll do that." As Delgado moved to the doors of the barn, Fay flipped his hammer casually in his hand and followed. "So, you still believing in that zodiac crap, hm?"

"Sure, you still rubbing that mojo bag of yours daily?"

"That's between me and my bag, Corporal."

"Astrology isn't half as crazy as that hoodoo you pull on us, Sarge."

"Voodoo, son, if you're going to insult an entire religion then do it right."

"I think I did do that right."

..-~-..


..-~-..

"So we'll go in tomorrow, eight or nine men, make the exchange. I don't think that'll be it," Rick said as they sat around the Hollander's dining room later that night. "But hopefully that goes well."

"Then what?" Eve asked.

Finding Delgado glancing in his direction, Fay leaned back in his seat, resigned to let the younger man take care of it.

"We go in and do what needs to be done." He said evenly.

"I have no problem with that," Rick said, catching the mildly concerned looks of a few of Delgado's people.

"You know it's going to be a hell of a fight, don't you, son?" Mr. Hollander asked from the head of the table where he sat in a place of honour in his own home.

Rick tilted his head. "Don't matter. It's us or them."

"The Bastards won't go down as easily as you think," St. James said from where they had chained him to the heavy old oakwood dining table leg. Hollander said it'd take three men to move the thing and Fay believed him, it looked heavy.

"Who the fuck asked you?" Carter Brooks demanded. The young man was braying for blood and ready for a fight, even at the young age of fourteen.

"You're right," St. James fell silent, it wasn't until Glenn's prompting that he finished his train of thought, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

"The Bastards of the Blacktop," he went on. "Biker gang out of the swamplands of Cajun country."

He seemed to have everyone's attention then, so he went on smoothly.

"Look, I don't know much about these people, but I can say this, the common dipshits running errands and scouting, they aren't anything. They're ants at a picnic. But the Bastards, ride hard, fight hard, go down biting and they're some of the dirtiest motherfuckers you'd never want to run into."

"Cash? Anything you'd like to input about these Bastards?" Rick asked, turning to the blond in the corner.

"Not really, killer," the man stated.

"You guys want a bargaining chip with this group," St. James broke in. "You should be dangling Cash in front of Martin."

"Oh, fuck you very much, junkie." Cash declared.

St. James smirked, scoffing at the man. "Did Cash ever tell you why he's a wanted man?"

"Think it's about time he did," Rick growled.

Cash scowled. "Go ahead, junkie, since you're so eager to dime on me."

Chuckling, St. James leaned back in his chair and begins in his rasping purr. "Cash rolls up, about a day or two after me, fancy assed car, icon of the Madonna on the dash and a trunkload of ammunition and supplies. Well, naturally Martin was very obliging to the new boy and his partner. Was about three days Cash lasted before he cut out with more than he came with and a whole shitload of women."

"What happened to your partner, Cash?" Glenn asked.

The blond, his face bloodless, swallowed thickly.

"He didn't make it," St. James clarified for him. "Martin, beat the holy shit out of him in the middle of a cheering crowd. I mean, this boy was ground chuck when Martin fed him alive to his shuffler girls."

"And the women?" Rick asked.

"They were free, didn't stick around long, except for that one and her boy," Cash said. "Couldn't get them off my ass."

"Cash is the reason Martin's recruiting women. Take away a man's enjoyment, you get a nest of miserable, snarling hellhounds. Martin knows that a real army doesn't march on its stomach, but on its dick." St. James said. "Fun and games for the menfolk, not so much for ladies."

"And you just stood by and let this happen," Rick stated.

The expression of mild worry darkened into something resembling insult on St. James' face and he quirked a brow. "I was one white sheep in a sea of black rams, they would have killed me just for thinking of trying anything. I did what I could."

"What does that mean?" Eve demanded.

"Nothing," he said. "Wasn't enough."

"Maybe we can pay Martin off with both of them," Glenn suggested. "Cash and St. James? Get them to just leave this area and stay gone?"

"No," Rick said. "They'd only come back eventually. We need to eliminate the threat to our people."

"Alright, so how do you want to go about it?" Delgado asked.

Rick shifted in his seat. "We'll wait for Daryl to get back from scouting out their camp, then we'll have a good idea of how to go about an attack that'll spare us losing people."

"Lieutenant? Anything you want to input?" Mr. Hollander asked.

"No."

..-~-..


..-~-..

"You got to get your head back into this," Rick growled as he caught up with him after the meeting. "We need you with us when this all goes down."

Eyeing the man's hand which had clamped down hard on his bicep, Fay scowled for one of the first times in a long time. He didn't like the assumption that his head wasn't in this. Rick, Delgado, no one knew just what was going on in his head and he wasn't about to let them think he was a liability.

"Get some rest, Rick," he returned casually.

Stepping back Rick sighed. "Look, I get it, this man's kin, but—"

"Whoa," the Lieutenant said. "Pull back for a moment. If you think for one second I have any hesitation over killing him—"

"Patricide is a hard thing to pull off," Rick returned.

"Yeah, but killing a raping asshole isn't. I'm fine with killing him. I'm just worried about how okay I am with it."

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing."

Scrutinizing him for a long, hard minute, Rick backed down from his confrontation. "Get some sleep tonight, Lieutenant."

Nodding, Fay stepped back. "Sure. It'll do me some good, yeah? Clear the head."

..-~-..


..-~-..

Upstairs in a bedroom given to him by one of Delgado's people, Fay undressed his top portion and examined the deep reddish-purple bruise which was forming on his side, tenderly he touched his fingers to the area, seeking out the broken rib and wincing when the two jagged, broken pieces ground against each other. The rib above them gave a little oddly when he pressed it as well and he figured it was fractured.

He invited Eve inside when she knocked and the woman entered with clean clothes for him and a worried look.

"Oh, sweetie, that bruise doesn't look good," she said, setting the fresh clothes on the bed for him and moving to examine it.

"I need some duct tape, you have any here?"

Eve looked up at him, she was almost two heads shorter than him, putting her around the height of Grace. "Duct tape?"

"I need to tape them up."

"You need to get rest is what you need," she protested.

Turning on a little of his Cajun charm, he smiled sweetly at her. "Aw, well, no rest for the wicked. How about you help me out, honeychild?" He purred.

She looked him up and down, before making a sound in her throat. "A boy like you is never up to any good when he smiles like that. Your mother must have had a hell of a time keeping you away from the good girls."

"Just trying to charm my way into getting myself a nurse, maybe some sympathy," he returned. "And some duct tape."

"Um-hm, I can imagine the kind of sympathy you want, boy. Stay here."

When she returned with the roll of silver duct tape, Fay thanked her and with her help, reset the rib in place and secured it with tape around his ribcage. Tape didn't have as much give as tension bandages, but he knew he'd need the tougher stuff for the next few hours.

With her hand on his abdomen, Eve looked up at him as they finished. "Well, that all?"

"I think so. Thank you, beb."

"Um-hm."

Finding her hand still on his stomach, Fay grinned crookedly and leaned in close to her. "You can stop touring now," he suggested.

"Touring," she scoffed stepping back with a sheepish look. "Like hell I was."

"Goodnight, girl," he said as she moved to the door.

"Goodnight, sweetie."

..-~-..


..-~-..

In the early hours of morning, with the sky darkest and the world too still in the aftermath of the walking dead, Fay found Daryl poking his head cautiously into the room.

It wasn't a bother for him, he wasn't sleeping. Resting sitting propped up in bed in the best position for his ribs, he was thumbing through an old coin collectors manual he found in the bottom part of the bedside table.

"You ain't sleeping?" Daryl asked.

"No, how'd the scouting go?"

"Followed the red scraps of material at the crossroads, they're holed up in that cabin where we found Carol," he said easing into the open window and sticking one leg out onto the roof of the veranda.

"Chooh, you serious?"

"Yeah."

"That's good news for us. You and I and Merle have been there before, I'm sure your girl knows the place too. Familiarity for us means they don't have the upper hand."

"There's a hell of a lot of men there swarming around that camp, some biker gang or something from the looks of their bikes and jackets and a shitload of firepower."

"Apparently that gang are known as the Bastards of the Blacktop," Fay said. "And firepower don't mean nothing if you don't know how to utilize it properly. Couyons probably hold their pistols sideways when they shoot or some shit."

Daryl eyed him quietly.

"I'm fine, Daryl," Fay said before the man made both of them uncomfortable by inquiring awkwardly in that Dixon fashion. "I'm over the shock."

They were quiet.

"Never killed a man for pleasure before though," the Lieutenant added softly. "Killed a lot of men, but never for my own gratification, always for business, or war – hell, peace," he scoffed. "Whatever you want to think we were doing over there. Killed a boy once," the Cajun confessed suddenly. "Fourteen years old, holding a semi-automatic in a warzone and…" he broke off, realizing he got lost in the quagmire that was his past. "But I never got no pleasure from killing before."

Daryl remained quiet, allowing him to get it all out.

"I'm a little concerned with how anxious I am to put a bullet in that man," the Lieutenant went on. "I can almost feel the kickback from Marie."

"Pleasure or not," Daryl said finally. "That asshole may be the man who popped off in your mama, but he ain't your daddy and he's still a dangerous son-of-a-bitch. Killing him won't make no fucking angels weep."

Smiling, the Lieutenant nodded. "Your rustic, backwoods turn of phrase is always wise and welcome, cabri."

"Fucking poetry is what it is," Daryl stood up. "Come on, the others want to look over this map I scratched out for them and make some plans."

..-~-..


..-~-..

"I've been thinking," the Lieutenant finally spoke up as the group met again, this time out in the yard away from St. James. "There's no good time to spring a surprise attack on this group. They'll be expecting us either before or after the exchange this evening. So, the only way to get the upper hand by surprising them is to launch our attack during the exchange."

"You mean, attack the camp, right?" Rick demanded.

"Of course, look, these couyons, they don't even have walkies, there's no way to communicate with each other, but we have that old radio of mine back home. We get a man on the radio the instant the exchange is made and open fire at the camp. Martin and whoever he has tagging along with him at the exchange point go home to a bullet in the brain from the trees as soon as they pull up into camp."

"What if they get wind that something's up as their driving into the camp?" Merle asked.

"We pull the same trick they pulled on us on the highway, box their vehicle in with another."

Daryl nodded. "That trail is narrow enough, we could easily park that big Hummer of theirs in behind whatever vehicles they have. But what if they do have some way of communicating with the exchange point men? If they catch wind of this earlier…"

"You scouted out the place, did you see any tent or sign of a radio or walkie operator?" The Lieutenant asked.

"No, but that don't mean they're not carrying handhelds."

"Batteries being as scarce as they are," Rick supplied. "I'd say it's a good bet they're walking deaf." He winced and gave a quick look in the direction of Kowalski's tree where the young Marine had retreated sullenly after Merle spurned him.

"What if they have other ways to communicate?" Dolly asked.

"Like smoke signals?" Merle inquired.

She glared at him.

"Okay, Sarge," Delgado said. "So, what's the run then?"

"Four or five of our best shots creep up into the trees around the camp, we get eyes in the sky with silencers, we can pick off a good deal of them before they even catch on. Once they get whiff of the sniper team, we send in the ground force. If we do this carefully, we may not have that big of battle on our hands. Get the exchange team of ours to make the exchange as slow as possible without it coming off as suspicious, gives us more time to clean out the camp, get ready for Martin and his men."

"There's one thing that's sticking in my ass about this plan," Sid Kessler said. "If batteries are scarce how do we communicate?"

"The Lieutenant has an old crack radio," Rick said.

"Fine, who's at the other end?" Sid inquired.

"What about a runner?" Dolly suggested. "Someone on horseback hiding in the woods, tears off as fast as they can as soon as Martin and his men show up."

"Who's our best rider?"

"Cabri?" The Lieutenant teased.

Daryl scowled. "Hell no."

"Why,Sid, didn't you used to show-jump horses?" Dolly chirped, clapping the man on the back hard. "Want to be a runner for us?"

The blond with the New Hampshire accent frowned darkly. "Not really. Ask the cowboy."

"Come on, take one for the team, Sidney," Delgado stated. "You know Pace is one of our best shots. We may need him in the trees."

"Cui bono, Corporal? I'll be dead before I take my first breath in that camp."

"Qua-what now?" Delgado demanded with a small grin. "You'll be properly taken care of, Sid. We wouldn't risk losing our best horseman."

"Fine," the man said. "But what's the signal when I get to the camp? Any noise or sign I make big enough to catch the notice of the snipers would get noticed and give us away and I won't know where you've hidden yourselves so I can't tell you all individually."

It was Eve who spoke up. "What if he waved a red flag in the middle of the camp?"

Everyone looked at her.

The short, buxom woman licked her bottom lip. "Do we know what those biker boys' jackets look like?"

"It could work," Daryl said, catching on. "Martin would probably take them with him to the exchange if they're his best fighters, in case something went down he'd need men he can trust."

"No, that's too risky," Delgado broke in. "Sid may be a pretentious dick, but he's our pretentious dick and we need him alive."

"Thanks, Corporal," Sid returned dryly.

"We still need a signal that every eye in the sky can see," Rick broke in. "That's subtle enough we won't tip them off."

"Oh, hell," Sid said. "I'll try the jacket thing. Maybe if I avoid enough people, I can give the signal without going noticed and then cut the hell out of camp, join up with the ground troops in wait."

"But what if all the Bastards don't go with Martin?" Dolly asked. "And, no offence, but Sid doesn't exactly look like the biker type."

Daryl worried his bottom lip. "From my counts there was one about eight or nine Bastards, I'm sure Martin will take them all with him to the exchange. I'll wait at a point just outside the camp for Sid, he can come to me and I'll ride up with the jacket and the bike, no one will question a Bastard rolling up if he's on two wheels. I'll give the signal from the middle of the camp with my rag, take it out and wipe the back of my neck."

"Well, it's better than we could hope for," Rick said. "If we can do it as carefully as we can we might spare lives on our side. We need a leather jacket and we need to paint the Bastard symbol on the back of it. Merle, you and Glenn get the ordnance ready, every man and woman who's going to fight gets a rifle and handgun, and pull out the Kevlar vests from the back of our SUV. Make sure everyone is equipped properly. Lieutenant, you pick out some good shots for the treetops. Dolly, Eve, if Daryl draws up a rough symbol for the jacket, do you think we can paint it on the back?"

"Sure, can."

"Sid, you need anything?" Rick asked the man.

"Yes, I'd like Delgado to retract that 'pretentious' comment," the man retorted. "It's a calumny to my character."

Ignoring him, Rick nodded to the others. "Alright, I'm going to round up volunteers for the ground troops."

"Wait," Cash broke in from where he was being watched carefully by Glenn. "What about the women? They'll be in the crossfire if this scheme happens. Most of them are detained against their will."

Everyone looked about, before Rick said, "we don't shoot at the women, unless they look like they're a threat. Agreed?"

"Unless they look like a threat," Delgado confirmed.


..-~-..


..-~-..


..-~-..

Girl in a White Dress - I hope Fay gets to meet Adele. I'm sure he'd treat her like a princess.

Whooptiedoo - The Lieutenant is Armitage. No contest.

DarylDixon'sLover -Thanks!

Merle's Right Hand - Carol is going to kick ass. She just has to.

Brazen Hussy - Hey now, just because they're Cajun...ehehe...

Surplus Imagination - Incest, eh? Yikers.

itsi3 - So glad you're back! It's nice to see my loyal reviewers back!

GG - Yes. Let's hope those men get their asses handed to them.