After your world fell into black putrefaction, you soon realize that walkers are the least of your worries. Tragedy and loss has led you to fear attachment more so than the undead. You thought hiking the trail of survival was best accomplished alone...
"Fuck you," you cursed, but your speech was muffled by the disguise.
After giving you a grin of gratitude, Gio crept down the stairs toward the amalgamation of yelling and grunting--axe in hand. The lights continued to flicker inconsistently, shooting sparks from its old fixtures. Ideas fluttered about your brain. Acting as a decoy was not an option, unless you wanted to be blasted out of orbit. You mumbled to yourself, pondering other plans. While The Saviors played a frantic game of "Where's Waldo," you snuck down the hall to the wive's lounge. In times of distress, they all convened in that room. You paused in front of the door, contemplating your next move. Cries of distress would be an ideal distraction. And if anyone here would be frightened easily, it would be these fragile flowers. Making those four nymphs scream would split up The Saviors and hopefully give Gio enough cover to flee. You pressed your ear against the door--the wives were chattering inside. They already sounded on edge. It was the prime time to act. Let's make some noise, you thought with a giddy smile. Backing up, you took a deep breath and jumped into character. Become the walker. Be convincing. And with that in mind, you burst through the entrance and gargled vehemently.
"ARRRGGGHHHAAHHHRRRLLL!!!!" you hissed and gurgled and drooled. Stumbling over the threshold, you swung your arms and dragged your feet. Tilting your head, you bared your gnashing teeth like a lurker.
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Just as planned, the four women shrieked in complete horror and nearly climbed the walls. They scurried to the corners of the room and cried loudly; their eyes were as wide as satellite dishes, and their complexions went ghost-white. "WALKER!!!" they yelled at the top of their lungs. Poor Nicole sobbed and covered her eyes. A couple flailed and flew to the bathroom, locking themselves in and yelling, shrilly. They were so terrified, they practically spoke in tongues--distraught and fearing for their lives. You nearly broke character and laughed at the sight of them. Once the other two women trampled over each other to the shower room, screaming violently as they went, you peeled off the mask and dashed down the scintillating hallway. Tossing the mask into one of the vacant rooms, you bolted toward the cafeteria.
Dozens of men came rushing up the stairs after they heard the alarming screams of the wives. The Latino man approached you, breathless. "Sin-Nombre, did you see the biter?" he panted.
"I'm not sure where it went. Just check on the women and make sure they're okay," you commanded. Pointing toward the lounge, the gang followed your orders. But when they surged into the room, more shrill shrieks erupted. The men tried shush the girls, but their volumes didn't cease. You choked back a giggle and scampered to the stairs. Thanks, gals. You've been extremely helpful.
Sliding down the railing in a hurry, you made it to the dining hall. You scoured the place for signs of Gio, but there were far too many clusters of men to be able to identify anyone. Attempting to pin-point his muscled frame, his bushy beard, his tangled hair tied in a bun, his axe, you only saw the puzzled Saviors in the glinting light. Your eyes fell on Negan, who guided you to his side with Lucille. "Where the fuck have you been, Nameless?" he shouted across the room. You jogged to his right flank with your .44 drawn. "What were those pretty-ass-pussies hollering about?"
