Adele

With one arm, Adele wiped the blood from her lip, which had split when one of the men had swung the butt of his shot gun at her. Swiftly she threw their prisoner into the desk chair of the room and removed her belt from her trousers, tying one of his wrists to the arm rest. Georgie did the same, then disappeared into the bedroom. Adele heard a ripping sound, and she emerged with long strips of bed sheets, which she used to tie the man's chest and legs to the chair.

The man was still breathing shallowly, as a result of the impressive punch Daryl had landed to his solar plexus. Adele had lost no time in dragging the man to the spare room whilst he was incapacitated, before he could fight back. T-Dog and Rick had been taken, T-Dog unconscious, Rick with a gun to his head. Daryl had wanted to go straight after them, to save his friend, but Adele had held him back, afraid that if they attempted to chase them, they would kill the pair straight away. Their best bet now, was to get the location out of the one they had and get it fast.

Georgie stepped back and regarded him with a look of fear and disgust. The man's skin was yellow and mottled. His eyes were bloodshot and they moved from Georgie to Adele, looking at them in a way that unsettled Adele almost as much as the Governor had. His nose was crooked, as if it had been broken a few times, and when he leered at them, Adele could see that a few of his teeth were broken. Her revulsion must have shown on her face, because he laughed, an unnatural, sinister cackle that made the hairs on the back of Adele's arms stand on end.

"Pretty, pretty, pretty..." he hissed. He licked his lips and made a clicking noise at them. Worried about your friends? Don't worry, my friends will take good care of them." He leaned forward, lowering his voice, almost as if he was taking them into his confidence. "You'll never find them." Georgie looked at Adele and nodded. She turned to Daryl, who had been stood by the door, glaring at the man. Even from here, Adele could see he was shaking with rage. She was impressed he'd managed to contain himself at all. Georgie murmured into Daryl's ear. Daryl looked confused.

"What are ya gonna do?" Georgie looked at Adele.

"Just...it's best you don't know." Daryl looked at the two girls in confusion, but didn't ask anymore questions. He opened the door and moved out. Adele took a deep breath and against all her natural instincts, she walked up to the man, and crouched down in front of him. She wished she didn't have to get closer, at these closer quarters, she could smell the metallic tang of blood from his clothes, which made her want to retch. She took a moment to compose herself, to wipe all emotion from her face. She stared into the man's face, waiting for him to register that she wasn't scared of him-or that she didn't appear to be.

"We will find them. Because you're going to tell us where your friends have taken them." The man kept smirking at her. Adele gazed back at him. She'd known from the moment she and Georgie had tied him to the chair what they were going to do, and it repulsed her. She and Georgie had learnt a lot of dubious skills at the complex, but none as inhuman as what they were about to do. She hoped against hope that this man would somehow sense how serious a situation he was in, and give up the information she wanted.

But that wasn't to be the case. A glob of spit landed on her cheek and the man's laugh echoed through the room again, like a jackal. Adele fought the instinct to flinch away, or to squeal in disgust. Keeping her face neutral, she wiped her face with her jacket. She looked the man in the eye, feeling her stomach twist and churn. Before she could speak, the door opened, and Daryl walked in. Adele kept her gaze on the man, and he on her. She could hear Daryl and Georgie discussing something, Georgie's voice, low, even, emotionless, just as Adele was forcing herself to feel. Daryl's voice was as unsure and worried as Adele had ever heard it. It surprised Adele that he seemed to know Georgie well enough to pick up that something wasn't right. But whatever he wanted to know, Georgie wasn't telling him, and Adele heard the door close again, sensed rather than felt Georgie moving towards the chair. Moving aside, she made space for her friend in front of the man.

Georgie was holding a holdall that clinked when she moved. She set it down on the floor, and knelt beside it. Slowly, she started to empty it's contents, holding each one up to the man's face, and then laying it on the floor in front of him.

Whatever Daryl's misgivings had been, he had worked fast, and gotten a good collection. Of course, there were all of Georgie's hunting knives that she had picked up from the cabins, and Adele's samurai sword, still covered in blood from the beheadings. Somehow, he had managed to empty the kitchen too. A Cleaver, a chefs knife, a butchers knife and a few she didn't know the names of. The bag must have been used by the caretaker to carry his tools around, as Georgie produced a hammer, hacksaw and a vicious looking pair of bolt cutters. When she had finished, she looked up at the man's face. Adele was pleased to see he had lost the smirk, and was looking uncertain. She leaned in again, and asked him.

"Where have your friends taken our friends?" The man continued to look at the weapons on the floor, seemingly thinking things through. He looked at Georgie then at Adele. The smirk was back on his face.

"Neither of you have the guts." Adele groaned inwardly. "Your friends are dead meat." Georgie sighed resignedly and picked up a short dagger, cutting up the man's sleeve, exposing more dirty flesh on his arm. Adele chose a similar knife, with a nasty looking serrated blade. She paused briefly, praying that whatever deity was looking over them, they would forgive her. She positioned the blade over the man's right hand. Georgie placed hers over the left.

"If they are, they're better off then you'll be if you keep holding out on us. Last chance." The man rolled his eyes. Adele wondered why people thought that she and Georgie were incapable of inflicting pain? Was it because they were young and female? Was there something in their faces that screamed innocence? Before the dead had started to walk, she would have never have been able to do anything like this. Why didn't people realise things had changed? And they had had to change with the times. Adapt or die.

Both girls plunged the knives into the man's hands, into the chair arms, twisting so they took root and anchored his hands to the chair.

His screams echoed through the room.