Who: Gwen Cooper and Daryl Dixon What: Meeting up randomly Where: New York alleyway When: Late Thursday night Rating: TBD for Daryl's mouth (and possibly Gwen's as well since he's liable to inspire colourful language by being a git)
So he was stuck. Daryl had learned how to deal with that the best way he could, but only because getting out of the city was impossible now. Those hooded bastards were everywhere and they were almost begging him to cap them, so that was what he was doing. They didn't travel in large packs like walkers, so at least this way, he wasn't wasting arrows.
And the cops were almost nonexistent, so it was like playing a video game. Fucking Play Station had nothing on the real thing, and with people like Peter the poor man's Superman flying around, he at least couldn't say he was bored.
He yanked the arrow free of the most recent victim's head and wiped it off briskly with the rag he had tucked in his belt. He didn't like nobody following him and the weirdest thing was, getting one's attention was like getting all their attention, even though only one or two came after him. So when he sensed the person behind him, he immediately went for his knife and swung the other person around until their back was against the wall. He knew it wasn't one of them -footsteps were too light, but it didn't piss him off any less.
"What the fuck do you want?" he asked, pressing the knife to the woman's throat. "You stupid or something?"