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018] [video/action]

[For those who know him- and his story- it should come as no surprise that Daryl's face pops up on the network now, backlit with a hazy, mid-morning sky, bare branches, and a landscape that's probably unfamiliar to everyone but him. And he doesn't look happy: hair damp and clinging to skin already streaked with dirt, his expression probably says it all-

Welcome to my world.

But just in case it doesn't (and for those who haven't heard about this crap yet):]

It's the brain. Only way to put 'em down. Don't let 'em grab you, don't let 'em scratch you, don't let 'em bite you. Hell, don't let 'em anywhere near you if you can help it. [He scowls.] ...Easier said than done since we're crammed in here like a bunch of damn sardines- [never before has Wonderland made him feel more like an ant trapped under a magnifying glass........] -so I'm gonna say it again: Brain.

[If he seems more annoyed than anything else, it's because he is; this is business as usual for him, but just like back home there are people here he cares about, people who don't deserve this shit. That's his main concern. This won't last forever, but he'd like to keep the horrible deaths to a minimum if at all possible...]

Got some stuff out here, y'all can come find me if you need it-- [He pauses, and for a fleeting second considers making an apology... But the moment passes without one. Anyone wanting to ream him out for bringing this hell to Wonderland can do so when it's over- ain't no time for in-fighting unless someone don't got a pulse.] Out by the water, where the beach used to be. Don't got too many of 'em over here yet... [And of course as soon as the words leave his mouth, a figure shuffles into view of his camera, drawn, no doubt, by Daryl's deep and enduring love for the things.....

The feed ends there. DARYL SMASH.]

[[ooc: HIT HIM UP HERE VIA VIDEO OR ACTION IDK. He's at the quarry area now, but he'll go wherever he's needed. He has a stockpile of crap with him so if you wanna grab something from him there's that. Also walker-exterminating lessons, those are also a thing.

ALSO. This is a catchall, so if there's something you wanna do with him on a day other than the first day, just specify that and I'll roll with it! He'll be roaming so feel free to assume he's wherever you want/need him to be!]]

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_{[Sure, he doesn't want zombies to eat the guy while Daryl's distracted by the phone, but--

He exhales sharply, a rustle of static over the connection. Would it hurt people to actually listen to him? It's a mystery to him what's going on out there, and for all he knows this guy is two seconds away from getting his arm ripped off by a hungry corpse.

Goddamn it, he doesn't know. He hasn't been outside long enough to check if the way to his room is still the same.]}

Right?

_{[Adam's uncertain and his answer turns into a question as a result. Shit.]}

Fourteenth room.

[Don't take it too hard- Daryl doesn't listen to anybody.

At the question!answer, he starts down the hall, eying the cells as he goes. What a fucking mess... Not that it was much better at home, but now that he's more accustomed to the relative comfort of the Mansion it's strange to see this where mirrors and nicely furnished rooms should be. ...Sucks.

Not that he ponders it for long- he's too busy squinting through the semi-dark at the peeling numbers on the wall: 6, 8, 10, 12--]

If you got anything to bring, grab it now.

[Yahtzee.]

_{[Despite the relatively civil (and coherent, on Adam's part) phone conversation they've been having, when someone comes waltzing into view Adam has the look of someone whose eyes are betraying them. He lowers his arm, letting the device hang limp.

Nothing about this has felt so real until now, and it's not that pleasant of a wake-up call.

He hasn't latched the cell door but he's pulled it nearly closed, leaving him standing behind the bars. The thought of what's outside the cell is more discomforting than acting like an inmate inside. Fact is, Daryl's initial assessment had been right: although it feels like he's lived longer than any normal human has a right to, Adam still looks young, out of his depth. He's dressed practically, jeans and boots and all, but there are no weapons in his cell. Nothing that can be easily slung into a bag and carried off, aside from water and liquor bottles scattered about. He'd just been starting to settle into the mansion; he's not prepared for zombie-infested Georgian wilderness.]}

I didn't think you'd actually come.

_{[Which is to say... Adam has no idea what to do about him now that he's here--not just a voice on the phone but a real person in the flesh. He splutters before Daryl can get another word out.]}

And go where?

[It's okay, Adam, no one ever is.

Daryl snorts softly at that question, nodding at the bottles.]

Someplace they got more than a liquid lunch, to start.

[He's not judging you- what you wanna drink and how much ain't his business- but he's just pointing out that the nutritional value of what was in those bottles is approximately "starve to death".]

C'mon, get movin', if it's anything like back home more of 'em'll be comin' at us.

[Out of nowhere, for real this time.

Turning to peer into the hallway again, he reaches to his belt and pulls his hunting knife from its sheathe, checking it over before holding it out to Adam. He's got the crossbow, and so he won't miss it too much.]

_{[Keeping his strength up hasn't exactly been a priority--not before the Mirrors had taken over and he'd tried to throw himself out a seventh floor window just to get rid of it, and certainly not after, when he'd had to deal with Michael and the fallout from what Michael had done. And this is guy is asking him to dive back into the deep end? Start swimming again? What for, to get in the middle of this bullshit?

He looks at Daryl like a caged animal that can't quite figure out why someone is trying to lure it out into the open.]}

Wh-what, the prison cafeteria? _{[He wavers, confusion and apprehension alike at work despite the edge in his tone. He'd been more put together when he could hide behind the device, pretending at least a part of this isn't happening.]} You said this was the safest place. If we can't stop this, might as well stay.

_{[His gaze drops to the knife. Daryl can do what he wants, but he doesn't want to leave. He doesn't want to have teeth sinking into his flesh again. If they're anything like the ghouls, even a little bit, then nothing's going to keep them from getting to him, not a knife, not a gun, nothing.

Maybe this Southerner knows how to fight just like Sam and Dean, but Adam...?]}

I've never used one.

_{[As before, he doesn't sound so much scared of trying as resigned to ignorance.]}

[Daryl's nostrils twitch. You're getting on his last nerve here, kid...

Not that it makes much difference one way or another.]

Outside. Camp. Safe house, 'cause it sure as hell ain't in here-- [And as far as using the knife, well... He nods at it.] Sharp end goes into the geeks, the brain.

[Simplified, yeah, but in Daryl's mind it's always best to keep things simple. Try adding too much to it and you just wind up with your head so wrapped up in the dumb shit you forget what's important: Sharp end in the other guy.

But he gets it. He does, and not just from back home- he'd lost one of his lives here, not too long ago, neither, and so the idea of getting his throat torn out again is just a little more real than it might have been in the past. Regardless of his feelings, though, (or Adam's, for that matter), his trip up to this floor had been all the convincing he needs that inside isn't the place to be.] Look, kid-- I ain't lookin' to get you killed. Already cleared most of 'em in the hall so you ain't gonna need to do shit. Want you armed just 'cause, alright? [He jerks his head at the door.] Out, c'mon now.

[The safest possible place for this kid- other than this supposed safe house- is with Daryl, and he knows that. Good luck shaking him now, Adam.]

And outside is supposed to be safer?

_{[But he takes the knife, pulling it through the bars toward him. It's an awkward weight in his hands. The brain? The blade doesn't seem long enough or hard enough to pass through a human skull. Nothing in the world does. Adam doesn't imagine it'd be hard in reality, but the idea of using a knife on anyone or anything that isn't himself is... terrifying. A stone's throw from the kind of violence one can find in the pit. Pure rage, exiting from him into someone else.

Adam doesn't believe this is about protecting him. This is about wanting him to do what had been done to him. Kill.

Sucking in a breath, he drops the communicator onto the bed before finally pushing open the cell with a squeal of rusting metal, eliminating the last barrier between him and the outside world. He still doesn't want to go, but there's a conflict between fear and rationality and despite everything, despite a lifetime of Lucifer's Cage, levelheadedness has the advantage as its always had in his life.]}

Looks to me like you've got enough problems without picking up strays. Things don't look any better out there. "Just 'cause" gonna be enough?

[It's becoming clearer and clearer to Daryl that this kid's just as stubborn as he is... Which means nothing he says is gonna put him at ease at all.

...But that isn't the goal here, it never was, and so all the realization does is convince him that they need to move. Kid's taken the knife and opened the door, and that's gonna have to do as far as starting points go.]

Best hope it is. Let's go. [He steps away from the cell door and then, with one last jerk of his head, turns and starts back the way he came.

Don't make him manhandle you, Adam. He will if he's gotta, but this will go a lot more smoothly if he doesn't have to worry about keeping a kid on track.] How long you been here?

_{[Should he salute? This stranger, wearing clothes that look like they're splattered in unmentionables and armed to the teeth, seems to have taken up the roll of drill sergeant in Adam's otherwise upside down world. Or should he point out this is ridiculous and that he doesn't have a fucking clue what dragging him out of here is going to accomplish other than encourage Michael to stick to him like a wet shirt?

He does neither, cautiously falling into place behind the man. His eyes drink everything in, not knowing where to start.

... Had Daryl asked a question?]}

You want the truth or some bullshit?

_{[Because he could make a best guess, but he doubts it'd be accurate.]}

Edited 2013-12-06 05:30 (UTC)

[Be thankful he isn't his brother. If he was, there'd have been at least three head slaps and a hell of a lot less coddling by this point. Not that Daryl's known for coddling himself, but he'd at least given the kid time to think he's being given a choice in the matter.

And Daryl also isn't known for being out and about- honestly, events aside he could give a shit less if Adam does nothing but keep to himself, but with things being the way they are the kid needs to be aware of what's happening and what to do about it. No reason for him to die in a cell when there are people around who can give him a hand.

Daryl almost rolls his eyes at the question. Whadda you think, kid?]

Truth. [Otherwise he wouldn't have asked. His guess would be new- very new- but given the way the kid seems committed to doing nothing to help himself along he won't be surprised if it's been longer than that. Not much initiative, this one...

This ain't the place for that, not if he actually don't wanna get ripped to shreds.]

_{[The smell is even worse out here. If he ever steps foot on Earth again, he'll have to remind himself to never visit Georgia. Ever.

What Daryl probably doesn't know is that between Adam switching the knife from one hand to the other and anxiously taking everything in with the bravado of someone who doesn't want to admit to their unease, this is the most initiative he's shown in Wonderland since he arrived. Initiative that didn't end with him turning the knife on his own person in order to harm his Mirror.

Hell hadn't required him to be mentally fit or get his Survivorman on. It hadn't required anything of him. But this? This does. And it makes him nervous.]}

Then, uhh...

_{[The answer is airy, almost blithe, his gaze elsewhere.]}

I don't remember exactly. I have this headcase thing where I blackout. A lot. And hallucinate I'm elsewhere. So, you see, calendars are a bit tricky. But hey, depending how you look at it, I could be over-prepared for everything suddenly turning into an abandoned prison.

[Hey, that's his home state you're mentally shitting on, kid. Watch it.

...But no, in all seriousness, he wouldn't blame anyone-- the smell is... Well, it's what you'd expect. Death, rot, the whole nine disgusting yards. He'll learn to tune it out eventually, but in the meantime? Yeah. Nasty. Only thing that makes it worse is losin' your lunch and adding to it, so Adam'd best try to keep that from happening.]

...That's one hell of a silver lining, kid. Don't suppose it's gonna help much but I'm bein' straight when I say this ain't no hallucination. [He'd know- he's got a thing with them too, if you whack him in the head hard enough.] If you ain't gathered that much already.

[He continues down the hall, stopping occasionally and holding up a hand as he listens for echoes before turning down a corner. It's another five minutes or so- and some distance between the last pair of bodies they'd needed to step over- before Daryl speaks up again.] They ain't gonna stop. The events.

Hell definitely has something to do with it.

_{[This is spoken more softly, murmured to himself. There are still days when his bones ache and he still feels like he's in the pit, but they're not as common as they had been a month ago. He can believe the man's right about this not being some twisted fantasy. A hallucination would be kinder.]}

Yeah, I got that from the lumpy futon I woke up on.

_{[Which is to say, he can see the danger for what it is. If anything, he's developing a fine-tuned radar for it.

His most pressing survival instincts tell him that following this stranger into unknown places is a bad idea as a result, but really, what else is he supposed to do? He follows Daryl in halting spurts and stops, mindful to lift his feet with every step so that they can't catch on the floor and make noise.

The dead bodies scattered about are, quite frankly, the most gory things he's ever seen--if he doesn't count what he'd been in the Cage and what had happened to him there. A good portion of his energy goes into sidestepping them where he can, grim-faced.]}

In my life, the awful stuff never does.

[That radar could be seen as a handicap- who the hell wants to know when there's terrible shit on the way?- but it can also be an asset. Daryl's turned that hypervigilance into something useful, something he can control most of the time...

It's possible, kid. You'll get there.

He's aware of Adam's hesitation, he can hear it in his steps no matter how quiet they are, but at the end of the day he's still following and that's what really matters. His response makes Daryl stop, though, tensing slightly. He feels for you man, really.]

That ain't just you-- hold up.

[Lifting hand in Adam's direction, he finally lets his crossbow slide from his shoulder. He loads it quickly, an almost mechanical quality to the way he has it up and ready to go in a matter of seconds, and takes a few steps forward without explanation.]

_{[Christ, why does this have to happen. He scarcely dares to breathe when Daryl tells him to stop.

What? What? Should he ask what Daryl's ready to shoot with that thing?]}

[He won't have to- it doesn't take long for the walker to round the corner, dragging its feet and groaning and fucking drooling like they do.

It gets an arrow in its face for its trouble, though, and a fast one at that. It hits the floor with a crack and a squish... And there's some oozing. Can't forget the oozing.

Daryl wrinkles his nose.]

Pretty ripe.

[...And that's all he's got to say about that. Like Forrest fucking Gump. Mama always said life was like a box of Virginia Slims: it'll kill you eventually...]

Watch your step.

_{[Daryl should be glad to know he has enough control over his gag reflex from ghouls and Hell not to throw up at once when something--one of them--shambles into view. Seeing them through the windows is nothing compared to seeing them up close. He backs up a few steps, pressing his mouth into the crook of his elbow. The wet squish is new to his ears, and at the same time, familiar on an almost unconscious level. Monsters. Feeding. Bones breaking. Killing.

Memories he doesn't want.

Breathing into his shirt, Adam hesitates where he is. Fuck. The undead person looks like a ridiculous movie house prop, but he knows it's not. It's real, for once it's real and not the Cage.]}

Why's it--walking?

_{[The words come haltingly. Walkers. Ha ha ha, he gets it.]}

[OH HE IS GRATEFUL. Walker-sponsored yakking is almost worse than the walkers themselves... Almost.

He doesn't comment as Adam pulls himself together, wanting to give the poor kid some space to breathe, but at that question he snorts, rounding another corner.]

I got no idea. Far's we know it was a sickness, kills you quick with a fever and then you get back up. Don't know how it works, nobody does.

[EXCEPT THE GUY AT THE CDC THAT YOU DON'T REMEMBER GDI DARYL YOU STUBBORN SHIT.]

Know gettin' 'em in the head's the only way to put 'em down so they stay.

[And knowing is half the battle....]

_{[The worst thing he can imagine now is being left alone in the middle of this. He scrambles after the man, half-afraid that once he squeezes past the corpse and rounds the corner, he'll see nothing but an empty corridor.

Deep down, it's the being alone when the world comes crashing down that feels like the ultimate killer.

But Daryl's still there. His relief is almost enough to make him forget he'd asked a question. The dead coming back to life sounds like something that would've happened during the Apocalypse all right, a symptom of the disease Zachariah had wanted him to fight against, but they'd been all lies in the end. It's safer now not to wonder how the angels fit into all of this.

He falls silent, not sure how to reply. He's used to people shoving hard pills down his throat and not questioning them.]}

[Even for Daryl, who prefers to be alone, trying to survive in a situation like this by yourself is asking to get chewed up in your sleep. He'd been getting closer and closer to learning that absolute truth back home (and in his near future will utterly fail at getting that across to his brother), and that hasn't changed here. Loner though he is, he gets how it works: gotta have people who got your back.

And he's willing to reciprocate, of course; when Adam turns the corner, he'll be there, back tense and eyes narrowed in concentration as he listens for the scrape of feet dragged across concrete.

Fortunately, though, there's nothing, and so he continues onward with a jerk of his head, ever mindful of the twitchy kid he's got in tow. He's gotta hand it to you, kid, you haven't pissed yourself yet and that's a real good start...

He yanks that bolt out of the walker's head as they approach the stairs, wipes it off on his pants before replacing it in the quick-quiver in the front of the crossbow. Waste not...]

_{[If Daryl's willing to have his back, that's more than most people have done. He'll be the first if this ends without Adam becoming the bait necessary to keep the monsters at bay.

As he follows with a few feet of space between them, Adam tries to keep track of what he can see of the prison, but it's his first time being in one, let alone being in one that's abandoned and infested with the walking dead. The walking dead and just... dead dead, like the body on the floor. At the sound the arrow makes when it leaves the zombie, he makes a face, but says nothing.

He's positive picking up something that's been imbedded in a long-dead body is just about the least hygienic thing you can do, but Daryl's supposedly the expert. He can kill the things without a hitch, which is more than Adam can claim.]}

Where are we going?

[It's a little gross, yeah, although looking at them, Daryl's pretty sure the bodies littering the ground- the ones he didn't drop- are essentially random stock; not a single one of them has looked even remotely familiar, and while he doesn't know every single person here that's gotta count for something.

Place ain't that big, and with the number he's seen so far he'd be willing to bet on it.]

Back to my camp, I got water and food. ...Get you somethin' better than that knife for the long haul, too.

[Because he can't... See this kid getting close enough to one of the geeks to make good use of it. Maybe something longer, like a machete or a baseball bat. These things are pretty... Squishy, so that should be enough.

Provided he can whack it hard enough, of course.]

_{[For the long haul. Adam doesn't like the sound of that.]}

If you've got a solution for this, I'm all ears.

_{[He knows Daryl probably has a more practical solution in mind, but in a magical Wonderland one can't help but be sarcastic that they're living out the end of the world here. He swallows a sigh, too afraid to breathe too deeply due to the smell.]}

How long's this going to last?

_{[Forever? Until someone bursts the bubble on this nightmare?]}

Somethin' bigger. Somethin' with more power behind it.

[For better stabbing and slashing results...

He frowns. Yeah, he wishes there was a solution other than "survive by any means necessary"...]

Just gotta make it through the event, that's all. [Making it sound so easy, way to go, Daryl.] Most times they're over in a few days, ain't seen too many last longer than that.

[...Honestly, he can think of maybe one or two, but for the most part they're quick. Ish.]

_{[Yeah, that's what Adam had thought. Something he probably isn't ready to handle, just like he hadn't been ready to handle Wonderland summoning up this zombie shit. After a pause, he volunteers the truth.]}

I know there are people here that can fight. That's not me.

_{[He's not going to pretend he has skills he doesn't. Or the fortitude, for that matter. Zachariah had been right about more than just Sam and Dean: he'd been right that Adam didn't hold a candle to them. In this case, matching the experience they have.

A few days is more than long enough to prove it.]}

So what happens when the "event" ends? Everything's just supposed to go back to normal?

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