The perplexing roller coaster of events has left you dreading what the future may hold. As you toil with your feelings for Negan--as you strive to protect Nicole--enemies prowl on the fence of The Sanctuary. Menacing storm clouds of war are brewing...
"Please, there's no need for this! What did I do?" you pleaded as the walker-masked henchmen grabbed your wrists. Within seconds, your hands were bound. They forcefully jostled you and secured your arms. Any resistance would worsen the situation, but you tried, nonetheless, to free yourself from their grasps. You were out-manned; the only way to increase your chances of survival was to comply.
Alpha waved her arm forward. "Back to the camp, boys. Don't want to wake up the neighbors." She glanced at the towers of the factory in the distance and began the march. You staggered behind the herd of Whisperers. Two men tugged the leash on your bonds, and you nearly tripped. Their pace quickened as they dragged you away from the BP station. You stumbled into the darkness of the forest, and the moonlight was scattered between the branches. Very few leaves survived the November frost, but your path was still dimly lit. Quaking on the inside, you craned your neck and watched as Alpha trudged through the tangled roots of the trees. Her stride was broad and sturdy. The dog-tags bounced against her chest and jangled like bells. Her smokey breath steamed in the air in vaporous clouds; they floated to the back of the procession as you strut through the woods.
Each time you slowed your steps, the men would jerk the rope around your wrists. A jolt of pain shot through your right arm, and you suppressed a yelp. You felt like a dog being cruelly yanked by its owner. Maintaining your speed, you bit back your protests. The last thing you wanted to do was open your mouth and get into deeper shit. For the following hour, you quietly stumbled towards their camp--pondering the reasons for Alpha's appearance. Is she looking for Gio? Was she planning an attack on The Sanctuary? Did she want to target a nearby outpost? What's her deal? Questions darted through your mind with no resolution.
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You approached a clearing in the forest; faint lights shown between the shadows of tents. The line of men dispersed and removed their masks. Their grip on their weapons relaxed. The two cronies ahead of you pulled your leash sharply. Falling from the unexpected force, you landed on the grass face-first. You spit out a mouthful of dirt as the surrounding men laughed at your tumble. Glaring at them in rage, you rose to your feet and spat on the ground. Grit and mud coated your teeth. Alpha lifted her hand and ceased the cackles of her platoon. "Quit the fun and games," she ordered in a firm tone. She strolled to your position and addressed your guards. "I'll handle this one. At ease..." Relinquishing their hold on the leash, the two men bowed their heads and jogged towards the settlement. Alpha bent over, retrieved the rope, and dragged you closer--her eyes never left yours. Like a trained horse, you cooperated with her control of the reigns. You stood before her with helpless hands. Her eyes trickled from your chest to your legs; she was sizing you up. "You certainly aren't built for this kind of life," she commented as her gaze scrutinized every inch of your body. Laying her hand on your injury, she squeezed lightly. You flinched and hissed. "A little soft," she chuckled. "But your tone shows signs of labor." She tested your flesh with the pads of her fingers.
Wincing as your wound throbbed, you murmured, "Gotta pull a muscle or two to get by."
She smirked and pulled the rope. Wavering slightly, you fell against her chest. Awkwardly, you looked up at her piercing leer. "You've obviously been at work. The question is...who are you working for?" Her hazel irises cornered you; her perception was keen.
