Glenn struggled against the duct tape but no matter how hard he jerked his arm all it did was move the wooden chair a few inches. He could stand up since his legs are free but he has no idea when Merle will be back or what he even left to get but his gut is twisting with anxiety, a cold sweat collecting on the back of his neck because he has an idea and he hopes to god he's wrong but knowing Merle Dixon, it could even be infinitely worse than what he's thinking.
He didn't have much longer to think about it before the sheet-metal door swung open, hitting the haphazard brick wall with a loud 'bang'.
A sharp intake of breath stung his lungs and made his chest ache horribly, his heart rate skyrocketing as the mutilated corpse stumbled into the room on a metal leash.
Grotesque yellow puss-filled eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets fixed on him and a lunch-losing snarl roared from the walker as it dragged Merle into the room behind it.
The black and brown sludge around its mouth clung around it's teeth, saliva — or rather what used to be saliva — drooled down it's mangled chin, it's lips long gone like something chewed them off as it snapped it's jaws at Glenn, trying with all it's might to rip out of the grasp of Merle's metal leash.
"Alrighty. I want you to imagine how I felt fightin' my way off that rooftop." Merle struggled to keep his grip on the metal claw pole that held the walker captive by its neck.
"One handed. Losing blood." Merle let the walker so close that if it had an inch more it'd scratch Glenn's face off without a thought. "Walkers chomping down on me every step of the way."
Glenn tried to lean back as far as he could but he couldn't lean so far that the chair tips over or he's screwed.
"Last chance. Where's your group?"
Glenn shot a venomous glare at him, jaw locked and mind whirling with how to get out of this.
Adrenaline psyching him up for what's about to happen because he has no doubt about what Merle intends to do. There's no way he won't go through with a threat, at least Merle's reliable in that if nothing else.
"Alright suit yourself." Merle backed towards the door, fighting with the walker trying to pull forwards and devour the first thing in it's sight; Glenn.
"You're a pretty big snack for this fella but you know what they say. He's gonna be hungry again in an hour." As soon as Merle got to the door, he released it and all but shoved the walker forward, slamming the door behind it.
The second the door shut, Glenn jerked as hard as he could on his arms, it was the only thing he could think of, but he only got 2 tugs before his feet flew up and slammed against the walker's chest, pushing himself over as it threw the walker back.
Glenn braced for the impact as the back of the chair hit the ground.
Glenn didn't have time to even recognize what hurt as he threw all of his weight to the side and managed to roll the chair while the walker was struggling to get off the floor.
He managed to get up before the walker but only by a few seconds and it came stumbling towards him again.
His eyes flew to the stack of suitcases between them and he slammed his shoulder into them, toppling them straight into the walker which made it stagger long enough for him to find something else, he just needs to buy himself enough time to think and his luck was on the up again as he noticed the wire frame of a spring mattress right to him.
He threw it open with any haphazard movement he could just in time to use it as a shield against the walker.
It worked, but not as well as he'd hoped. The walker's body was stopped and it's teeth were kept at bay but it's arms went straight through, unflinching at the tearing the wires did on what's left of its flesh.
Glenn struggled to hold it back and keep its fingernails away from him before he threw his whole body weight into pushing it backwards and slammed it against the remains of the suitcase stack and the wall, before losing his balance and stumbling away.
Again though, it only bought him enough time to think of his next way to buy more time.
It came at him again after just a few seconds and he kicked the table at it until the table flipped over on top of it, forcing the walker to fall backwards against the pile of debris and Glenn staggered around, having enough time to look around desperately, and finally an idea.
Glenn threw himself backwards as hard as he could into the wall, the legs of the wooden dining chair immediately snapped off and splintered all over the floor but the rest of it remained intact, so he did it again and felt the chair break apart just enough that one more smash should do it but he looked up and knew in a heartbeat that he only had one more before the walker would tear him apart so he threw his all into it.
Someone up there must like him because the chair fractured apart like it'd been blasted with a shotgun and he had just enough time to block the walker's teeth with the wood post duct taped to his forearm.
He pushed it back one last time before twisting his other arm awkwardly and stabbing the remains of the chair arm through the back of it's skull, popping the eye out and almost puking as the smell of rotting fish permeated the air and grey-yellow pus squirted out from the socket. Glenn barely managed to avoid the spray as the walker fell in a dead heap at his feet. His back against the wall, hunched desperately trying to cradle his abused ribs, and panting as he could finally breathe.
His muscles tensed, a vein popping in his neck as his teeth ground his molars into sand paper. And he couldn't help opening his mouth and letting it out like a pot of boiling water with no hole in the lid to relieve the pressure. He screamed so hard his entire torso wanted to convulse in pain and ultimately stopped him, but the scream sent only one message.
If Merle thought this would stop him, he was dead wrong.
"So, they know Andrea." The Governor leaned against the front guard rail on one of the Hum-v's they collected from the national guard survivors they ambushed a while ago.
"But they don't know she's here." Merle confirmed.
"But they do know your brother."
"He and Rider do." Merle nodded. "But I don't know about the other girl, I've never seen her before."
"Their people may come for 'em." The Governor kept the exasperation out of his tone. Merle's decision to bring these people back was impulsive but he knew there was a chance — slim as it was — that Merle would eventually find a thread of his brother's whereabouts to grasp. Merle's an effective instrument but he can be unpredictable at times. He's difficult to control. He had his doubts about Merle's brother being out there still, but the longer he's been with them the more he's believed it, because if Merle's brother is anything like him, he wouldn't go down easily.
"Maybe." Merle nodded. "The kid and Andrea both say they went back for me."
Andrea's only been in Woodbury for maybe a week but when she told him that they went back for him in Atlanta, he thought she was talking shit. Turns out, she wasn't. He still finds it hard to believe though.
"So what? He won't break, say where his people are?" The Governor pressed.
Merle shook his head.
"He's a tough son of a bitch. Picked that walker apart in minutes." Martinez, the Governor's right hand man shook his head from where he leaned against the massive military truck next to them. He'll never admit it out-loud, especially not to these two, but this 'Glenn' guy earned some major respect from him for that. He thought he was a goner — more than half of their own "military" people wouldn't have made it out of that, much less kill the walker in under 5 minutes.
"Maybe a winter in the sticks put some hair on his balls." Merle praised. There's only one thing in this world that earns legitimate praise from him, and that's feats of strength, usually from violent fights.
"We'll need him for leverage if his people come." Martinez pushed off the truck. "What you try to kill him for?"
"He pissed me off." Merle answered with a tinge of anger. Like he was daring him to question his actions again and see what happens.
"What's the girl say?" The Governor spoke up before they could get into it.
"I was just about to go talk to her next." Merle nodded at him.
"No, not her. The other one, with the knives."
Merle's expression changed into something they'd never seen before. Something like reluctant reverence. No that's not it. It's more like … caution.
They haven't seen anything yet that could take away Merle's unapologetic satisfaction without being immediately replaced by his ruthless anger. This is new. He's never not had something disrespectful to say about a woman.
"You won't get a word outta her." he shook his head.
The Governor's eyebrows dipped in confusion, the expression almost accusing with a hint more curiosity than insult. "Why not?"
"I spent months with those people, I've only heard her speak once. Thought she was a mute before that. You'd be hard pressed to find another chump who could keep his lips as tight as Rider."
The Governor's eyebrows went up slightly, toward his left hand man.
Merle just called this woman by her name.
No derogatory nickname or sexist comment.
Even Martinez was in a pseudo-state of shock.
The most concerning and equally most interesting thing about it being the begrudging respect written all over his face.
The curiosity and urge to know exactly what this mysterious woman did to earn such a thing from him was insane, and popped a question past The Governor's thin lips before he could stop himself. "What did she say?"
Merle shifted, smirking at what looks like a bittersweet memory that he's somehow taking twisted amusement out of now but still angry about deep inside. How could he not be? The only person who's ever effectively silenced him and a woman no less.
"Two words,... walk away."
Martinez wanted to laugh — it should have been funny. But for some reason, Merle's tense posture just recalling the incident, put him on edge and he couldn't find it in him to laugh. Not even fake it.
Anybody who makes Merle cautious is enough to make Martinez wary and The Governor concerned.
"You won't get nothin' outta her." Merle was quick to change the subject as he saw the wheels turning in The Governor's head.
"I'll take care of it." The Governor walked past him, Martinez following behind closely as they went back into the building that's disguised as storage to the rest of the community. It'd be bad if folks knew this place was for holding people. No need to freak them out even though it's a necessary thing these days to protect themselves from outside threats.
Merle chewed his bottom lip when they were gone, not sure how this is gonna play out but he ain't thrilled about The Governor disregarding what he said about her.
She was deadly back then, if Glenn's nutted up this much, he can only imagine what it's done for Rider.
He locked her up tight for good reason but if she's got more tricks up her sleeve than she used to… it might not be enough.
This place looks like it used to be a meat locker but she's never seen a meat locker made of concrete before.
It's almost reminiscent of the cells back at the prison but all one solid dark grey color and no furnishings. Just a giant concrete box with a sheet-metal door. It clearly wasn't made by any architect. More like someone with a cement mixer and a rudimentary understanding of how to make a cellar.
Eve's eyes closed again, a deep steady breath through her nose and a long slow exhale.
She's been "meditating" for almost half an hour. Waiting.
She can hear faint sounds sometimes. The distant sounds of someone taking a punch, unfortunately she knows all too well what that sounds like and who it most likely is. It was followed a few minutes later by a whole lot of desperate yelling and then something that sounded like a war cry. That wasn't disturbing at all.
On the bright side, she knows Glenn is nearby. Hard to tell how close but he can't be more than a few rooms to the left. That'll make it easier to get out of here when she finds the opportunity.
She clenched her hands again. The cold sweat long dried, leaving her hands feeling tacky. She carefully turned her wrists again. The thick dusty silver chain links are running over the top of her jacket for the most part so at least her skin is largely protected, but it's also pinching the leather tight in some places, especially around the crooks of her elbows where the chain stops. Like she's wearing full forearm gauntlets.
It looks kinda cool actually. If only she had super strength and could rip the hooks out of the walls with some concrete blocks on the end and just go guerrilla warfare on this place; wherever this place is. Instead, it took her a few minutes to figure out how to get on her feet without hurting herself with an act of almost pure upper body strength to pull herself off her knees and get her feet underneath her so she could stand.
She looked down again and scoffed, eyeing her new fashionable~ knee-high boots of literal steel.
'Someone learned to be cautious. Too bad he had to lose a hand to figure it out.'
She rolled her shoulders for the 3rd time, trying not to let them get too sore as her arms are stretched out wide.
The dull fluorescent bulb above her head was definitely put in after it was built. Haphazardly too. The wires are just hanging from the ceiling and go out the top corner of the door, they didn't even bother to thread them through a hole in the wall instead, they just cut the top corner of the door off.
Clearly this room was built to be a makeshift holding cell but it must've been built a while ago. The faintest traces of blood on the floor and in the cracks and stuck around the square panels where the hinges are attached to the floor right behind her are enough telling that she's not the first who's been here. Anyone willing to build a cell like this, apocalypse or not, intends to use it quite often. For what though? Sadistic torture? Somebody got a psychotic kink or just psychotic?
It feels like she's been caught by a serial killer, the room has that sort of vibe about it. But one look at the door makes her wonder about the intelligence of whoever built it. It's like two different people designed it.
The inside was clearly designed by someone who knew what they were doing. But the door looks like someone just went to the junkyard, picked up a sheet of metal, slapped a couple hinges on it and voila.
If her hands weren't bound up she'd have gotten out of here already just by walking over and prying the pins out of the hinges. Don't even need to unlock it.
She twisted her wrists again, slowly trying to wriggle her arms in just the right ways that the chains will slip far enough down that she can just pull her hands free and let them fall. Getting her legs out will be harder but if she can get even just one hand free, it won't be too difficult to get the rest off.
Whoever made this obviously wasn't thinking about the Chinese finger-trap. The tighter you pull, the more stuck you get, the more you relax, the easier it is to get out.
Without actual cuffs around her wrists, this is not nearly as effective as they no doubt thought it would be.
It is a bit painful though. If it was her bare skin she might not have been able to. She's said it before and she'll say it again, leather is her best friend. This jacket has been her saving grace more than once and if she can help it, she won't ever go anywhere without it.
Eve immediately stopped moving at the sound of footsteps outside the door.
A moment later a shadow passed under the door and lingered, 'tinking' sounds of metal made her teeth close and she ceased moving, as the door was unlocked and gently swung open to reveal someone that was most definitely not Merle Dixon.
'So Merle isn't alone then. I thought this was a little too sophisticated for him. Even if he'd been living here since the week we lost him.' Her eyes scanned the tall pale man as he stepped inside and smiled like a friendly neighbor as he closed the door behind him and immediately she was on edge.
Her first thought was he looks like he should be the manager at some kind of small town fair ground. A textbook 9-5er with a decent sized office and a "friendly business" attitude.
A decent gun on one hip and a small knife on the other, and he's clean from head to toe. His hair is styled.
The distinct lack of facial hair was surprising. It's weirdly disturbing to see and was an immediately red flag. It looks like he must've shaved within the last 24 hours. If he had time to worry about shaving they must be set up pretty nice.
She's got a bad feeling about this. There's something about this guy that's just...not quite right.
Her expression darkened with her deducing thoughts, settling into a mask of solid neutral rock.
He stood across from her, sizing her up with a smile fake enough to be a politician. But no amount of smiling can cover up the aura around him. Something no self-respecting introvert would miss.
It's the smile the popular kid has in school or the person who thinks themselves charming, thinking no one can see through their bullshit.
Anyone who stops to think about them for even just a little while and takes a good look at how they behave or what they do, would see it plain as day.
Eve's POV
"You can relax, I have no intention of hurting you." Bullshit. "Unless you make me." You know a threat works best when you don't make it at all. Imagination is far more powerful than a person could ever be.
"You'll have to forgive Merle, he can be a bit on the impulsive side. Then again," he pointed at me. "You know that already, don't you? He told me you used to be a part of the same group. Eve, right?"
That was a weak blatant attempt to get me to talk. He certainly didn't come out swinging.
Resisting the urge to just look to the side at an invisible audience was almost overwhelming. I wonder if he can hear the crickets too?
He smiled wider like he's won something but that my dude, is a farce as plain as a white t-shirt.
He started talking and I listened with watchful eyes for the greater part of what felt like an hour but was probably barely 20 minutes and I'm surprised I didn't tune out.
He tried every trick in the beginner's 'manipulation for dummies' manual to get me to talk, and I spent 9/10ths of the time inwardly smirking because I could see the growing frustration.
He's better than your average Joe at manipulation, I'll give him that, but frankly this shit would only work on someone desperate or grasping at straws.
I wanted to close my eyes and roll them every time he finished a sentence while he droned on. Fortunately I've long since mastered the art of 'stone face' and gave him nothing but a slow blink every once in a while when my eyes began to dry.
This has been underwhelming. I expected him to try something pretty sneaky but after a while he's restored to poorly veiled threats and looks to be in no mood to play games anymore. But he's told me a lot more than he meant to, without even realizing it. Chief among those things being, this group Merle's with is much larger than I anticipated, they have a hefty military strength, he believes we won't get out of here at all much less alive, he's extremely confident in his abilities to manipulate a situation and is willing to use an indeterminate number of means to get what he wants, he's not as determined to play nice guy as he should be if he actually wanted the information, he's used to getting what he wants through some petty tricks, he's the leader of this group and they call him "The Governor", and he's unstable.
There's something wrong with this guy. Just the way he talks and the way his expressions are just slightly wrong, just enough to be telling that it's not real. I can't put my finger on exactly what it is about him but it's like watching someone strung out on the edge of a cliff and still trying to barter.
He also talks too much.
Your skills in manipulation are almost laughable, bub. Makes me wonder how he managed to become the leader of a group. Makes me wonder if I'm staring down the result of what would've happened if we'd all bought into Shane's spiel and he succeeded in both killing and superseding Rick.
What were you before this? A storefront salesman? Shane would've mopped the floor with you. At least his lies were somewhat plausible and difficult or near impossible to disprove.
I have to admit it's quite interesting seeing a wolf in sheep's clothing up close like this. I've only ever seen people like this from a distance and kept that distance carefully.
The closest I've ever come was the one time someone like this in grade school tried to approach me attempting to trade a fruit cup and "friendship" for my cookie. My cookie.
I watched with indifference as he grew more impatient but a dark concern is starting to grow in my gut. I've been around plenty of people who've had it rough and didn't handle it well, in my life. This is like being in a locked room with an addict who's about to go through withdrawal and you've got their dope.
It didn't take long after that for him to realize talking won't get him anywhere, and the moment I've been patiently waiting for finally came.
His smile faded and the frustration in his eyes burned against the rock in mine, like trying to melt steel with a birthday cake candle. Eyes going dark like someone blew it out.
His thin lips parted in a dead flat tone, "Fine. Have it your way then."
'Ahhh, there's the real face. Let's see what you resort to when tactful words and pretty lies fail.'
3rd Person POV
Four hours.
Four hours he's been at this, trying everything he knows to get someone to talk and not a word — barely even a grunt when the pain hits.
When Merle said she wouldn't talk, he took it as a challenge. He wanted to get her to speak but this?
This woman is one of a kind. He was right to be wary. The only person in the world who can shut down Merle, and now he knows why. This one isn't riled up easily…if at all.
It's uncanny how much she reminds him of Michonne but even she cracked eventually, but not Eve. Oh no. She's cool as ice and steady as stone.
Michonne's silence was daring and almost hostile. Eve's is like a shadow. Filling the entire room, unending and hardly shifting, yet you never know what could be lurking right inside, just under the surface and doesn't even bother to taunt because sooner or later you'll have to enter the room with or without knowing what's hidden in the dark.
He's starting to think that even if he grabbed a tool kit and started pulling fingernails that at most he'd get clenched teeth.
There's almost a haunting sense about her. It feels like he's caught a ghost.
Eve on the other hand has gone beyond rage. She absolutely cannot catch a break. This prison — this area is f*cking cursed. But they've put way too much into this already, so cursed or not, it's theirs and she's not giving it up.
When you're in the sticks, the only thing you can do is grit your teeth, light a fire and burn through to the ashes.
No matter what he did, not a peep. And just to boot, despite everything he tried, she finally gave him something.
She smiled, half her face swollen from the creative beating, and spat blood in his face, nailing him right in the eye.
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