Survive | Daryl Dixon ¹

𝐥𝐢𝐢𝐢. 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐮𝐬

"That guy's already in there," Daryl disclosed. "Just sat down with Rick."

Hershel's nervous glance darted around. "I don't see any cars," He observed warily.

Astrid's voice was barely above a whisper, her body trembling in the chill morning wind. "Something doesn't feel right," She murmured. "We need to be ready to make a quick escape, Hershel. Keep the car running."

Daryl nodded in agreement as he closed the distance between himself and Astrid, his grip finding her hip as he gave her a reassuringly tight squeeze. In an instant, their moment was shattered by the approach of a roaring vehicle in the distance. Reacting with instinctual protectiveness, Daryl abruptly shoved Astrid behind him and raised his crossbow, the cold steel aimed squarely at a massive truck hurtling towards them, its tires tearing at the rugged road.

As the truck swerved to a halt, Astrid stood ready, her finger coiled around the trigger of her gun. Her keen eyes focused on the trio which emerged. First to catch her attention was Andrea, a flicker of tension rippling across Astrid's features as she recalled Andrea's missed opportunity to eliminate the Governor days ago. Then, her gaze shifted to a Hispanic man brandishing a menacing baseball bat, and finally, it settled upon a man clad in a flannel shirt and oversized glasses. His almost nerdy-like appearance did not match their post-apocalyptic setting, leaving Astrid to wonder how he had survived.

"What the hell?" Daryl growled at Andrea. "Why's your boy already in there?"

Andrea's eyes widened in dismay as she gasped, "He's here?"

Astrid's response was icily curt, "Yup."

Andrea's frustration was an understatement as she pushed past them, striding towards the barn where Rick and the Governor engaged in their meeting. Without hesitation, the blonde infiltrated the building, vanishing from view. Astrid contemplated following her, but Hershel's exit from the car diverted her attention. With a supportive arm extended, she assisted him towards her side.

Meanwhile, the Governor's two men leaned nonchalantly against their truck, while Hershel and Astrid soon mirrored their stance. The tension in the air was nearly suffocating. Daryl, however, continued to pace restlessly, his agitation evident. Hershel directed a searching glance towards the barn. "Maybe I should go inside," He mused aloud.

The nerdy man, whose presence naturally grated on Astrid's nerves, scribbled something in his notebook before casting an irritated glace their way. Then, with an air of formality, he explained, "The Governor thought it best if he and Rick spoke privately."

Daryl rudely scrutinized the stranger. "Who the hell are you?" He interrogated.

The man, identified as Milton Mamet, introduced himself without hesitation. Daryl's response was less gracious, a muttered, "Great," escaping his lips. "He brought his butler."

A wry chuckle emanated from the Hispanic man, who later introduced himself as just Martinez, while Milton arched a quizzical brow. He corrected Daryl with measured composure, "I'm his adviser."

Astrid's curiosity got the better of her as she inquired, "What kind of advice?"

Milton's gaze flicked over her, running a brief but assessing scan up and down her form. He spoke, his voice trailing off momentarily as he sought the right words. "Planning . . . Biters . . ." He hesitated, then shook his head. "You know, I'm sorry. I don't feel like I need to explain myself to the henchmen."

Astrid, knowing very well she was not going to use it, cocked her gun, nonetheless. Milton immediately grew nervous, yet Martinez remained unfazed. Daryl, on the other hand, took a decisive step forward, his glare seething. "You better watch your mouth, sunshine," He snarled.