𝐍𝐄𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐂 | 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄

𝑵𝑬𝑼𝑹𝑶𝑻𝑰𝑪

𝘊𝘏𝘈𝘗𝘛𝘌𝘙 𝘛𝘏𝘙𝘌𝘌

☼

Who ever blew the hole in the side of Terminus had Delaney's eternal gratitude, and, well, she supposed irritation too. Whilst it felt like something freeing to know that Terminus wasn't gonna stand, that it was gonna go up in smoke like the flames of that fire, the explosion had also drawn in the dead, and plenty of them. 

She wasn't shy about having to dispatch them, if anything she was a little too comfortable with it. Though, having to wobble her way around with dazed sight was a situation more complicated than she would have liked. There was gunfire sparking off in the distance, and she had her back flat to the wall, trying to think - trying to keep those four men together like a mother hen. It was stressful, and she could feel her energy burning at both ends. God, what was wrong with this asshole - Rick, that was. 

"Del..." Daryl pressed her for a plan. None of them really knew where the hell they were, other than her, of course. She was standing there, listening to the gunfire as it got closer and closer, whilst the rest of them nervously and in irritation shifted about on their feet. Why wasn't she doing anything?

She tried to ignore the pestering, closing her eyes to listen for the guns. Five, it sounded like there was five individuals that were coming their direction, taking out the dead that had wandered their way further into the compound. When she heard Rick hiss something like, we don't have time for this, Delaney opened her eyes. Her sight was getting better by the minute, and his features were a lot more clear. He definitely had a beard. It was scraggly, dark, and looked far too large for his face - which was otherwise pretty handsome. 

Annoyed, Delaney risked grabbing hold of him - this loose canon, and slammed him into the door of the container. She saw the immediate snarl, but with her arm pressing against his throat she snapped, "Stop movin' beard." His hand latched onto her arm as if to wrench her off of him, but she rose the hand holding her rifle and managed to press a finger to her lips. Daryl was hovering nervously behind them, radiating a weird indecisive vibe. As if he didn't know whether to grab Delaney or Rick. Luckily for her, Rick didn't seem to be into hitting girls and the way she shushed him made him pause. 

"Five..." she whispered, "There's five of 'em." She released Rick and shouldered her rifle, as the walkers coming their direction were mowed down by the semi-automatic's. The gunfire was loud, drawing more, but they were effortlessly mowing down the herd. She glanced to Daryl, who was still holding onto the handgun she'd given him, her eyes darting up to his, "Keep the children close together." She sarcastically, muttered, moving past Rick and rushing over to the car just a few meters away, hiding there. She crouched down, fingers itching to just pull the trigger then and there, as those people marched past, firing their weapons at the dead. 

All of a sudden, a walker crouched down over her, though a knife swiftly entered it's skull, it's body tossed to the side to reveal Rick. She met his eyes, or tried to, still a little hazy and begrudgingly muttered, "Thanks." 

He crouched down beside her, watching, "One's laggin'." She motioned, whispering so the guy at the back of the group didn't hear her, "Grab him, his gun, kill the others." 

Rick might have scoffed, but he didn't oppose the idea. In fact he brushed past her, and did just as she had suggested. He lunged out from behind the wall and caught the guy around the throat and chest, sending the gun upward as it spewed rapid fire into the sky. Before anyone of his friends could turn around and see what was going on, Rick had killed the man and taken his gun - firing on them. His aim wasn't precise but there was something disgustingly and sickly satisfying about knowing those assholes weren't dead. That the actual dead ones were gonna get them soon enough.