Red ~ TWD (Daryl Dixon)

The Devil Doesn't Bargain

"How many people in yur group?" Merle snarled, bending down so he could glare at the prisoner directly in the eye. The girl whimpered, keeping her eyes glued to the floor as her body shook from fear. "Answer me!"

"A few, not many," she replied, tears streaking down her dirt-stained cheeks.

I sighed, leaning back in my chair while I used one of my knives to pick at my cuticles. Daryl and Merle had been trying for the last half hour to get the prisoner to spill her secrets. So far, the only thing she'd spilled was bullshit. It was starting to piss me off. The longer this took, the longer I was away from my children. As it was I was already going to be spending the night at Hilltop. One night away from them was one night too many. The only thing keeping me in my seat was the fact Rick arrived just before we did. He'd gotten worried when we didn't return on time, and set out looking for us. He assured me the twins were fine and Deadpool was keeping them close.

"Stop lyin'." Daryl huffed, hands on his hips as he stared the girl down. "How the hell ya know about this place?"

"Please...I just want to be left alone." Well us too, and look how that turned out. "Can I get some water?" When neither brother responded she continued, "Maybe, walk around some. I promise I won't do anything."

This was one of the worst attempts at sabotage or spying I'd ever seen. It wasn't shocking. She couldn't be more than 17 or 18-years old, a baby when the world went to shit. She'd grown up in this poor excuse for a world, molded by the psychopath that sent her to the wolves in a pitiful attempt to gain information.

The door the basement opened, sunlight illuminating the dingy, dark space. Rick's high heels clicked as he sauntered down the steps, pausing briefly to glance at Henry with a shake of his head. What Carol's adopted son had done to get put in timeout would normally be enough to keep me entertained for at least a day, but I was a half hour past giving a fuck.

"Should I ask how it's going?" I raised my eyebrows at the former cop, and he sighed leaning a shoulder against the wall beside me. "Think she'll break?"

"Oh, she'll break. She's not the type to hold out for long."

"They haven't had any luck." He pointed at the redneck brothers currently circling the prisoner like turkey vultures about to pounce.

"Our techniques differ," I added by way of an explanation.

"Can you get her to talk?" I stopped picking at my nails, staring at him with an offended expression. "Right, dumb questions. Go at her, but don't do anything that will leave any permanent damage."

That was like telling a kid not to overeat in a candy store. There was only so much you could do before you got to that point. Still, something was holding me back from going in there and simply carving her open until she told me what I wanted to know. The girl reminded me of someone, mainly myself, and that was a bit off putting. No one wanted to break their own fingers.

"You got it." I stood, slipping my knife back into the sheath at my waist. "The twins...are you sure they're OK? I haven't been away this long since..." Ever.

"I wouldn't lie to you about something like this. They're fine. In fact, they're having the time of their lives. Doesn't get much better than a multi-night sleepover with their cousins."

"I'm mildly insulted."

He laughed, slapping me on the shoulder. "Let me know what you find out."

He waved briefly at the brothers who were making their way out of the cell. They didn't look upset by the fact they hadn't convinced the prisoner to talk. They were just the warmup band. I was the main attraction.