Vanessa Taylor, a sassy blue haired, tattooed cosmetologist with a mouth of a sailor was born and raised in Ohio. One summer while she was visiting her sick father, her connecting flight ends in the city getting shut down, leaving her stranded in th...
I stalk through the streets of Alexandria, rage filling every atom in my body, as I assess the damage around me. This place was my fucking home. It was supposed to be safe and permanent. Now it's in fucking ruins and ablaze. Anger guides my legs through the debris and flames, heading towards the place I know where my house sits, unsure of what I'll find. I run a hand through my hair, ready to cut Negan where he stands.
"Aye, Blue!" I peer over my shoulder, seeing Daryl and Dwight rushing over to my side. Without waiting, I continue the trek over to my house. "Ya comin' with us?"
I shake my head, eyes still glued ahead of me. "I got shit to do. I'll meet up with you when I'm done." My voice sounds alien to my own ears, hearing the numbness and anger seeping into my tone. My heart sinks, seeing my motorcycle is burnt to shit. My hand flies to my mouth, realizing Kelly's coat was tied to the back; it now lays in ashes around my baby girl. I reach down, gasping, "this was Kelly's." I shout, throwing the ash through the air. I don't flinch when an explosion rocks the ground around me. My hair flies into my eyes.
"Ya goin' after him, aren't ya?" I glare ahead not making eye contact with either man. "Okay, just come back to me in one piece. Will ya?"
"Vanessa, if anyone can kill him, you can. But in your shape-"
I round on Dwight, sword tight within my grasp. The point an inch from his eyeball. He closes his mouth at my sudden threatening attention, his hands in the air. "I'm going. I'm ending this tonight. Unless you have any fucking advice, I'm going in guns blazing. Or not, I'm undecided, but I know I want blood."
"Vanessa," Daryl warns. "Dwight, don't."
"No, Daryl. He killed Denise. He's why Abraham, Glenn, Kelly... Carl... are gone." I growl, narrowing my eyes, brandishing my sword in anger.
Daryl places his hand on my sword, forcing me to lower it. "Nah, that was Negan." He grabs me, pulling me close, "I love you, Blue. Just go. I ain't gonna let anyone come after ya."
I pull away from my husband, removing the walkie from my hip, handing it over to Daryl. "If I'm not back in 48 hours, I'm dead. Hopefully I take him down with me."
"Nah, if ya ain't back in 24, I'm goin' in after ya." Daryl hands over the keys to his own bike, giving me directions to where it's parked. "Take it. We will find ya a new one later, ok?"
I nod, taking off into the dark without another word. Ready or not, here I come, bitch.
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I parked the bike a mile from the Sanctuary, not wanting to give the asshole anymore warning. If he was smart, he would've run. He did nickname me The Reaper after all; and nowadays, the Grim Reaper is never far. I'm just lending him a hand on this weasel.
I kick open the doors, strutting in, pistol tight within my grasp. The workers all seem to freeze upon noticing my entrance; but taking in my stance, they return to their tasks.
