❝You can breathe. You can blink. You can cry. Hell, you'll all be doing that.❞
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The End started, walkers overran the world, and you stumbled upon the scourge of the new society; an alpha, a leader, and a monster.
In that single momen...
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Once Kid and the rest of his murder crusade gathered what little workers remained -- the others being used as walker bait -- they were tied and dragged into large truck-like vehicles and transported to the main base, a train station of sorts, combined with several large buildings as a barrier against the outside; and it was called the Victorian Punk.
The drive itself wasn't so bad, but rather, the arrival there. Not only did you see families, but you also witnessed children and teens running around; a prospect that wouldn't have been so horrifying if it weren't for the fact that Eustass Kid was the alpha of the pack -- the leader of this forsaken group. You worried what kind of a fate they would meet...
Once there, the newer workers were assigned duties and chores based on their skills set, whether that be their alpha or omega-like strength or their intelligence; they really were impartial to that, as odd as it may be, coming from a group run by someone like that monster, but really, it wasn't too bad, or so you thought.
A week in and you were already acclimated to the buzz of your surroundings, the only thing that really set you off though was your antsiness and your lack of weapons; primarily Dawnbreak. Your time there was spent getting to know the older alpha, the one that you had been locked with before. Later, while the two of you were tending to the crops, you learned that his name was Rayleigh, a gentleman, despite his cold exterior. He'd been unlucky enough to shift into an alpha, regardless of his crippled leg and old age, and somehow survived these four years without his wife, a woman who'd died in the early stages of the End.
He'd willingly, or so you believed, walked into Eustass's encampment and allowed himself to be caught; thinking it'd be better to work in a group rather than be all alone on the roads. You were sure he'd be able to survive though, with his remarkable strength and wit, but maybe that was just you. His crippled leg would be a burden if ever he ran into a pack and his weak joints were another downfall. In his prime, he might have been one of the strongest men alive, but as an old man with a disability, he wasn't much but an outlier like you; a person, who despite their unlucky genes, whether that be staying a beta or living with a useless leg, somehow survived.
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It hadn't taken long for you to concoct a plan of escape, seeing as most of the guards were busy fooling around with some of the other omegas or alphas rather than paying attention to the workers -- or maybe they just couldn't comprehend the fact that someone would rather leave this place than stay behind the safety of the walls. Either way, with the shiv you sharpened from your cell earlier that week, you'd been able to sneak it into the makeshift pocket of your sleeve and hide it there as you worked on the garden; eyes ever sharp on the rotating shift of guards, picking apart the weakness between them.
