"GET OFF ME!" The Spanish accent roared, cracking through the air like a whip. This was enough to startle everyone awake that had been sleeping.
"Shuddup!" Daryl growled, jerking the young man slightly. The Redneck had his right arm wrapped snuggly around the Mexican's throat while his other arm had his hands locked firmly behind his back, constricting the man as he pushed him forward forcibly.
"What's goin' on?" Rick inquired, his eyes resting uneasy upon the Mexican within the Hunter's grasp. He had a buzzed head and two tear drops tattooed on the corner of his left eye. His arms and hands were also covered in art.
"Found this Beaner sneakin' 'round!" Daryl stopped a few steps before the Sheriff.
"I said get your fuckin' hands off me, Ese!" The Mexican hissed, but instantly regretted it as the arm around his neck flexed.
Rick quirked a brow as he stared at the Mexican. "What's your name?"
"Why the hell should I tell you?" He spat back his response.
The Sheriff shrugged this off. "Well since ya ain't to interested in name exchanges, how 'bout ya tell me what is you were doin'?"
The Mexican chortled humorlessly. "Don't even play like this is your prison, Chinga! We were here first!"
"We?" Rick repeated with furrowed brows.
"That's right. WE." The Mexican growled.
"How many of you are there?" The Sheriff asked.
"Three of us. We're all that's left."
This caused everyone in the group to exchange looks amongst each other, before Rick continued his interrogation. After lots of heckling the Mexican, he told them where the other two were at and this led the group of men to check out the Cafeteria, where they dragged the Mexican along with them. The Cafeteria was its own small building located off to the side, across from the Yard. It was run by its own generator and it was evident that the three remaining Prisoners had been living comfortably off of the food supplies here. The other two prisoners were not too thrilled, to say the least, about an ex-Sheriff intruding on their territory. A tall, pale blonde with blue eyes was in charge of these three. His name was Paul andRick could swear he saw the devil in his eyes. He was a man of few words, but when he did speak nothing but pure evil oozed from him.
There was much dispute about who would or wouldn't be running the prison, but eventually Rick and Paul came to a mutual agreement. The two groups would keep to themselves and neither one would disturb the other. Rick swore that none of his people would bother them as long as Paul and his kept to themselves.
"Ya sure 'bout this?" Daryl questioned, concern hidden somewhere in his gruff voice as he walked back with Rick.
"Ain't got much of a choice, do we?" Rick responded.
For a few days the groups did as they had agreed. However, one night that changed. Rick and the others had split off into different teams to start clearing out a few more cell blocks at a time. The prison itself was three stories and so Rick had high hopes to using every bit of space the place had to offer, and maybe if anyone stumbled upon the place in the future they could over them their own sanctuary space. It was when T-dog, Hershel, Glenn, and Maggie didn't return to the rendezvous at the designated time at Cell Block A when Rick and the others began to grow worried that something had gone wrong.
Daryl told Rick to remain with the rest of the group, for protection purposes, as he offered to go and scout for the Sheriff. Upon reaching Cell Block E, Daryl found blood trails leading past the Guard Tower towards the western halls. The blood was fresh. Drag marks. Daryl quickened his pace as he followed it. Bloody handprints were stationed on a door frame, like the person they belonged to had tried to keep from going inside the room. The Redneck kicked the door open, so he could keep his crossbow aimed, and barged into the room, his eyes searching desperately for signs of movement. The trail continued...
The Hunter rounded the corner and was stationed in a corridor of cells. The trail stopped just outside of an open cell. His crystalline hues narrowed as he cautiously began approaching the cell. His jaw flexed as he closed in on it, his eyes shifting to look at whatever was waiting inside of the confines of that small prison.
Daryl quickly turned his head away from the scene. His eyes lowering to the ground as his face scrunched in disgust. He grimaced as he slowly moved to look at it again, this time more prepared. T-dog was strung up by his ankles with a chain. He had been viciously mutilated and ripped apart. His stomach had been cut wide open and all of his insides were scattered around him. His eyes had been gouged out and there was a deep and long gash along his throat. Every drop of blood that had been inside this man had been drained and spilled onto the floor. Not one inch of this cell was spared of the red substance as it stained the concrete. The Hunter clenched his teeth, his jaw flexing one again as anger stared to form. One of those scum bastards had brought harm to a member of his party. His grip tightened upon his crossbow.
Just then a scream caught his attention. It had been faint, but his hunting ears picked up on it with ease. Someone was in pain! Without wasting any time, Daryl swiftly ran down the remainder of this corridor and began to follow the cries for help. The more he ran, the louder it became.
"HELPPP! SOMEBODY!"
A petrifying wail ripped through the air and Daryl recognized that the voice belonged to Glenn. Some awful thing was happening to him! The brunette rushed through a series of opened security gates, knowing that he was going the right way by the faint blood marks left here n there along his pathing. He knew better than to stupidly call out to the asian boy to try and figure out. All he needed was to wait and Glenn would make another sound on his own.
Another cry erupted and this time Daryl pinpointed it coming from the Infirmary. He entered through the door, eyes blazing as his crossbow was aimed. Maggie was seen lying on the floor in a pool of blood, whether she was dead or unconscious was left unsure to the Hunter as he quickly stepped past her, his eyes turning in every direction as he tried to locate where Glenn was. Curtains that went up around the beds were drawn, making it hard for Daryl to properly scope out the area. When Daryl finally managed to locate the poor boy tied down to a bed. His wrists and legs were strapped tightly to the sides of the bed and his entire frontside was drenched in his blood. Several long cuts had been made along his abdomen and torso, parts of his skin was missing on his forearms and biceps. Blood stained every inch of his lips and chin as he had coughed up good amounts of blood. He was in excruciating pain, but that had not stopped him from trying to wiggle from of the ropes that bound him. Daryl ran in a flash over to the asian boy, who immediately began crying for the Redneck to help him.
"HUSH BOY!" Daryl snapped quietly but urgently, his blue eyes moving instantly to search his surroundings. He held a finger to his lips to warn the asian to be quiet and surprisingly the asian silenced himself as best he could. Only giving off a few softs sobs as he tried hard to swallow the pain. "Where'd they go?"
"He took Hershel!" Glenn spoke through gritted teeth, his eyes soaked from tears as he fought back the pain. "He got Hershel." The tears welled in his eyes again as he closed his mouth as his brows pulled together. He felt responsible and guilty.
The Hunter squinted his eyes, his expression blank as he seemed unsure of what to do. "I'll come back for ya, Chinaman." Daryl had started to say, but the look of fear that had suddenly filled Glenn's eyes told him that he wouldn't have a chance to leave because someone was already behind him. BAM! The Redneck stumbled forward, his crossbow slipping from his hands, his head hitting the inn table as he tumbled to the ground.
"Sonuva bitch!" He breathed as he laid there for half a moment. His forehead gave off a warm tingly feeling and he knew that he had split it open. He was dazed as he lay there, his head spinning. It ached terribly and even though he wished to reach up and grab it, he found that he didn't have that opportunity as two hands reached down and yanked him up by the shirt collar. WHAM! Daryl's head hit the tiled floor as he took a blow to the face. Glenn's shouts and pleas rang through the air like a gunshot, echoing through the Hunter's mind.
Rick glanced up from his place beside Lori as he noticed the Mexican Jose approaching them. A look of interest crossed over the Sheriff's features as he waited for the man to get close enough. He seemed concerned, nervous even. "I thought we agreed not ta bother one another..?" Rick started.
Jose fidgeted, rocking back and forth slightly, his expression serious. "You and me both, ese. But..." He paused. His forehead was coated in sweat. He was hesitant. "Look. I may have been a prisoner, but I didn't do nothing! All I did was drugs, homes! I swear it!" Jose threw this out there worriedly, his upon Rick's as he continued. "But Paul...he's psycho, man! Sabes que, he don't play!"
Alarmed by all of what Jose was starting to say and Rick straightened up in his chair, his hand ripping from the clutches of Lori as she too listened intently and worried to all that Jose had to say. "Why are you tellin' me this now?" Rick demanded quietly, his sharp blue eyes locked firmly with the Mexican's.
"Because he's been missing for a few hours...and last night he was talkin' crazy. Like he wanted to do somethin'."
Without waiting to hear anymore, Rick quickly jumped to his feet as he dished the order out for Lori to stay where she was until he got back. "You're comin' with me!" His eyes pierced into Jose as he left no room for argument in stating that the Mexican would be joining him in the search for his group members.
Daryl had just started to fight against the hand that had found itself wrapped around his throat, when the sound of an actual deafening gunshot filled the air. The grip upon his neck loosened and a loud thud was heard as Paul collapsed to the ground. Daryl gasped as he took in a deep breath and then coughed sharply before rolling over on his side.
Rick hurriedly made his way over to Glenn, where he was left speechless at the boy's condition. "Give me a hand!" He barked out to the Mexican, who wasted no time in obeying the Sheriff's orders. "Glenn! You're gonna be fine, ya hear me?!" Rick stated as he began to frantically untie the ropes that had been around his wrists. The asian boy was barely responsive.
The Redneck forced himself to his hands and knees as he tried hard to fight against the spinning room. After taking half a moment to regain himself, Daryl brought himself to his feet, using the side of Glenn's bed to his aid. His blue eyes settled upon the face of the Korean as he laid motionless. "'Ey." Daryl spoke hoarsely. "Ya ain't allowed t' opt out yet, Chinaman." He panted, his eyes narrowing when the asian made no response. His jaw tightened as he closed it. Rick glanced over at the Redneck, a sorrowful expression spreading upon his features as he saw the struggle in Daryl's eyes. "Chinaman!" Daryl took hold of the Korean's shoulder and shook it roughly.
"Daryl..." Rick spoke quietly, but it was no use.
Daryl instantly turned around and knocked everything off of the table beside him in a fury. His anger blazed like fire in his eyes as stormed out of the room, not even bothering to collect his crossbow that he had dropped earlier.
Rick stared after him for a moment, his eyebrows arched upwards and a sadness filling his eyes as he turned his own sights upon the Korean.