The sound of groans could be heard faintly. Daryl's eyes moved behind closed eyelids as his senses slowly came back to him. The Redneck Saint was laid out on his stomach, his head turned to the side. He could feel an annoying pain in his skull, a migraine that had been brought upon him from his head wounds hours ago. Another soft groan came from his lips as his eyes opened to tiny slits, allowing the light to filter through and blur his vision. His eyes adjusted and he stirred. He winced as a paint shot up the length of his arm to remind him that he had a bullet wound there. He lifted his head off the floor to see that his arm and shirt had been drenched in his blood. He went to lift his hand toward his head, but couldn't move it. Daryl's brows pulled together as he came to realize that his wrists were cuffed behind his back.

Another groan filled the air only this time it did not come from Daryl. This caused the Redneck to turn his head to meet the dead, glossy eyes of a walker. It's hands were outstretched in excitement as it tried to grab ahold of him. Without missing a beat, Daryl swiftly rolled away and worked himself up onto his knees. The Walker reacted with more excitement as it tried more desperately to reach for him. The Redneck stared at it for half a moment (noting that it was chained to the wall) before his eyes began to take in his surroundings. There was a small round table in the very center of the room with two chairs near it. A metal door was stationed at the opposite end of the room with a tiny square cut out of it for a window. The brunette stepped up to it and began to peer out of the tiny window and saw nothing but a deserted hallway. He silently withdrew from the door and turned his attention back upon the walker, his eyes squinting as he stared thoughtfully at it.

"Sir, the hostage has awoken." Lopez informed the Governor as he entered into his office.

The Governor paused from writing in his journal, his eyes trailing to peer at the mexican from the tops of his reading glasses. "That so?" He returned his attention to what he was writing, seeming very casual about it. "I hope ya gave him a proper welcoming."

A soft grin formed on Lopez's features. "We didn't wanna take away your honor."

The Gov finished writing his sentence and then firmly closed the book. "Course not." He got to his feet and removed his glasses, placing them upon his desk. "Any word of Merle and his team being back yet?" He asked curiously as he moved across the room towards the door, expecting to be followed.

"No, Sir. But as soon as we hear from them, I'll be sure to let you know."

"No need." The Governor paused with his hand on the knob. "Just send Merle my way. I have a few things we need to discuss." He opened the door and then exited his apartment, followed swiftly by Lopez.

When the door opened two of the Governor's strongest men stepped in fully armed. They glanced around the room and were surprised to see the walker they had chained in the room with Daryl was dead. It's head had been smashed in and all of its brain matter and blood had pooled around the broken fragments of its skull. They barely had time to register this fact before Daryl had charged toward them at the side. The Redneck threw his handcuffed wrists over the neck of the guy closest to him and jerked him towards him. The man choked as Daryl tightened his grip, causing the small chain to dig into his throat.

The second man quickly turned and aimed his gun at the Redneck. "Let him go!" He demanded, his finger resting upon the trigger.

Daryl's eyes squinted as he glared at the man. "Put ya weapon down first." He shot back.

He paid no attention to the Redneck's request and pulled his trigger instead. The bullet exited the chamber and pierced through the skull of his comrade.

Blood and brain matter splattered across Daryl's face and the body in his grasp went limp. His leverage died in his arms. He appeared to be unphased by this man's course of action though, as he allowed the corpse to fall to the ground with a thud. His eyes narrowed and his mouth formed into a deep scowl. Now the gun was aimed at him and him alone. If the man didn't hesitate to shoot his own ally, Daryl knew he stood no better a chance.

"Wise decision." A voice spoke from behind him and Daryl turned swiftly to see who it was.

Three men stood before him and the one in the middle was better dressed than any of them. Daryl had never once seen this fancy fellow, but he knew that it was the Governor. He could tell by the way he carried himself. The way he stood with that confidence and cockiness with that smug smirk twisted upon his lips. It was enough to cause that tiny flame of rage to burst into a blazing fire. All of the shit he had done to and put Nora through returned to his mind and he wanted nothing more than to murder this man right where he stood. Overcome by his fury, Daryl instantly charged at the Governor shouting, "You sonnuva bitch!" He didn't get very far before the two men at his side stopped him. They grabbed him by his arms and after much struggling they punched him good a few times.

Amused somewhat by this, the Governor rested his hand upon his belt and smiled. "Well, I can tell already you're not one for conversation. So I'll go ahead and tell you this so there's no misunderstandings later." His smiled broadened. "You and I are gonna have a nice little chat. I'll ask my men to leave and it can be just the two of us." He paused briefly. "But you lie to me or you try anything, like you did with my guard," He gestured towards the dead man on the ground, "I will not hesitate to deal with you."

Daryl glared at him as he boldly stated, "I ain't afraid to die."

The Governor cackled at this, causing Daryl's scowl to grow immensely. "Oh, sorry. I should clarify. I wouldn't kill you," He chortled a bit more. "I would make you suffer in ways you can't even imagine." His face smoothed abit, though the presence of a smile still twinkled in his eyes as he leaned closer toward the restrained Redneck. "I could torture you in ways that'd make you beg to be ripped apart and eaten by Biters. You'll wish that you were dead." A cruel smirk curled upon his lips.

Daryl said nothing in response to the man. He had no reason to speak to him. Not now and definitely not when he wanted this little "chat" of theirs to take place. The thought of torture didn't scare or intimidate Daryl. Instead it just added fuel to the fire. It would be just what he needed to feed off of to prepare himself for when the window to kill this guy opened.