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Private take my face and desecrate

Discussion in 'Morhall' started by Bellamy Blake, Nov 26, 2017.

  1. Bellamy Blake

    Bellamy Blake The 100
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    October 24, Year 7 BP
    @The Governor

    Maybe things would be okay.

    That was what he kept telling himself over and over again and lately, he almost actually felt like it might be true. Things had been fairly quiet save for a couple of problems butting heads with people in Morhall, having to pull some of the Saviors out of fights, whether they started them or not. It wasn't just Saviors, though. People in Morhall were, in general, a little rough around the edges. Some crazier than others. Bellamy thought back to Billyboy on occasion. He'd thought there might've been potential there for a friendship, something more than an acquaintanceship in their alliance, but he'd turned out to be unhinged. Paranoid. Seeing hostility where there wasn't any at all.

    Was it the air in this place? People were crazier, more physical, who the hell knew. Maybe Jo really did have the right idea, moving to Cascade Bay, but he had a place here now and like hell was he gonna abandon that place after everything it had taken to get this point in his life.

    And so, there he was, walking back through one of the dimly lit tunnels to the cavern he called home. It was admittedly homelier than a cavern, though, because Morhall had come a long way since the Saviors had come here. Negan had done a lot for this place and Bellamy was gonna make sure to keep up the hard work as long as he could.

     
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  2. The Governor

    The Governor The Walking Dead
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    [​IMG]

    Wincing faintly, he stretched back up on to two legs, leaning against the wall of the tunnel, the surface smooth and cold against the palm of his hand. Bellamy was on the other side of the bend in the passageway, so he had to keep his labored breaths quiet.

    He’d been stalking sonny boy in tiger form, taking advantage of his feline grace and agility to move as silently as a shadow. How was Bellamy doing after he’d lost his sweetheart, his sister that night, hmm? The Governor figured it was about time to put him outta his misery, but not quickly… No way in hell. He’d betrayed him by running off with Negan.

    From what Philip’s scouts had told him, Negan had betrayed sonny boy in turn by disappearing off the face of the planet. Pretty amazing that his group was hanging on without him.

    Plan was to knock out Bellamy, then drag him somewhere private to torture him to death. On his trek up to the area, The Governor had found a cave that’d serve the purpose nicely not far from Morhall. The entry’d been difficult to spot ‘cos of a thick cluster of plants and weeds growing in the way.

    He just had to lure sonny boy back here first. If Philip ambushed him right now, a good Samaritan or wannabe hero might hear and come running to help.

    Pursing his lips, he started to creep back the other way, letting out an ear-splitting whistle, ‘cos that was his thing first, Negan.

    Daddy's gone a-hunting, he whistled again, the sound echoing shrilly around the sepulchre-like tunnel. Gone to get a rabbit skin.


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  3. Bellamy Blake

    Bellamy Blake The 100
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    The moment he heard that sound, the distance sound of a tune being whistled, Bellamy found his pace slowing. Brow furrowing, he shifted slightly, turning on his heel toward the direction he at the very least thought the whistling was coming from. There was something foreboding about it, nobody could deny that, and Bellamy sure as hell wasn't stupid enough to innocently trail after it without a clue in his mind. He had too much of a bad feeling for that.

    But not everybody in Morhall was smart, not everybody in Morhall had the skills for self-preservation that Bellamy did. And, shit, not all of them threw themselves into the fray so readily the way that Bellamy did. Maybe it was that deep sense of worthlessness he couldn't help but feel. Who knew?

    That, though, was exactly the reason he found himself turning to follow the sound. To find the source and snuff it out if it really was an issue the way he couldn't help but suspect. Paranoia? Maybe, but half the time that feeling was right.

    A few steps into the short journey, he'd pulled out his gun, holding it readily in his hand as he crept along the corridor, eyes peeled for any sign of movement. His finger hovered over the trigger as he went. The further he walked, the more sure he was that something was up. And the further he walked, the more he considered getting back and getting a couple of his guys to back him up.

    But, shit. By then, it was too late.

     
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  4. The Governor

    The Governor The Walking Dead
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    [​IMG]

    He snuck a glance around the corner of the tunnel, seein’ that Bellamy had taken the bait, his gun out and ready. The Governor bared his teeth in a vicious grin.

    Letting out an earsplitting whistle now and again, he proceeded to lure him further away from civilization, pausing when he reached a crossroads with a couple different shadowy tunnels. He pulled a voice recorder out his coat pocket, its blood red light blinking steadily in the dark.

    Smiling grimly, he rewound it to the beginning and stabbed in the blocky play button, his shrill whistle ringing out across the high chamber again. There was nothin’ to give away that it was a recording rather than the real thing.

    A small, crumbly pile of rocks were grouped together in a gloomy corner of the tunnel. He slipped the whistling voice recorder among ‘em, before stealing off down a different passageway. From his previous explorations, he knew that it would lead him around in a tight circuit, so he’d wind up behind Bellamy. Sonny boy would never suspect a thing.

    Just like The Governor didn't suspect a thing…

    Somethin’ hard slammed into the back of his skull, driving him to the ground. He lay on his side bonelessly, watching in a half conscious trance as two stocky male figures crept past him. One of ‘em was wielding an aluminium baseball bat, blood, his blood staining its head.

    Philip strained to drag himself to his feet, but felt a boot collide into his ribs, throwing him on to his front. Who the hell? Were these Bellamy’s new henchmen? Goddamn. Had the dumb-ass kid just outsmarted him?


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  5. Bellamy Blake

    Bellamy Blake The 100
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    Everything about what he was doing was risky, but if it wasn't head, then it might've been someone else. Someone less suspecting, someone who couldn't defend themselves as well as he could. Shit, it had to be him. It could've been worse. He could've been going in entirely blind, which wasn't true. Only half blind, really.

    The sound of that whistling grew louder and louder, shriller and shriller, the more he walked. He knew he was going in the right direction and Bellamy could feel himself more on edge with each step he took, but just as well more aware. He was one of the best people in Morhall equipped for shit like this.

    Still. Maybe he should've called for some backup.

    It was too late, though. He heard movement somewhere behind him. Not too close, but the sound bounced off of the walls in these corridors, leaving it unmistakable. It was quiet commotion, somebody being hit, somebody tumbling onto the hard surface of the ground. Clenching his jaw tight, Bellamy whirled around and took two steps in the other direction. That was as far as he got, though, as a bag was suddenly flung over his head from behind, old musty hemp pulled tight enough that he stumbled backward. The hand with the gun went flying, trying to elbow whoever was there, and he felt a grunt, but a second later, something collided with his hand and he lost the grip he had on his weapon.

    Off balance and now entirely blind as he was, Bellamy could never have seen the blown to his head coming, so once it struck, he was out like a light. His consciousness faded in and out every so often as he was dragged across the cool stone into far deeper depths of the mountain.

    By the time the bag was torn off of his face and his dim surroundings were revealed to him, time had passed. He didn't know how much. The only thing he did know was that he was being shoved into some kind of man-made cell, iron bars keeping him in as he heard the clang of the door closing and locking behind him. "Hey," he grunted, closing in on the bars and wrapping his hands around the cool metal. "Hey!" The sound was more forceful this time, but the turned backs of the men were already leaving him alone there.

    But he wasn't alone in that cell at all, was he?

     
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  6. The Governor

    The Governor The Walking Dead
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    [​IMG]

    The Governor jerked awake in the dark, grimacing at the sharp pain in his skull and ribs. He must’ve passed out after that last blow, or he’d been struck again.

    Slowly, hesitantly, he pushed himself into a sitting position, staring blearily around the location. Philip was in a small, odd shaped chamber with a low ceiling and uneven dirt walls, large pieces of stone embedded in ‘em. He breathed in the smell of damp and soil, the sound of water dripping rhythmically from some shadowy corner of the room.

    A commotion had started up somewhere outta sight. There was the clang of metal, a key scraping in a lock, Bellamy shouting like a moron.

    Bellamy…

    The Governor rose stiffly to his feet, pressing his back against one of the lumpy walls, cold moisture seeping through his coat, his shirt. He edged over to the bend in the room, sneaking a look at sonny boy, who was calling after the retreating men. He was in a cell with sonny boy. A cell somewhere deep under ground. Shit.

    Clenching his jaw, he checked his belt and pockets, finding that the men had taken away his weapons, which meant he couldn’t use a knife or gun to take out Bellamy. Philip guessed he could switch to cat, ambush him right there and rip out his throat, but it wasn’t a good idea to show his captors that card yet. He was better off saving it until an emergency, then using it to surprise the hell outta ‘em.

    Anyhow, it probably wasn’t wise to try and kill him off yet, ‘cos he might need to use him later on as a sacrificial lamb. Only flaw with that plan was keeping sonny boy from killing him.

    Raising his head, The Governor stepped out into full view of him, his logger boots crunching grit. He ignored the sharp twinge in his ribs, somethin’ sticky and coppery smelling dried into the side of his head. Those men were gonna pay.

    He just scowled sullenly at the top of his eye at Bellamy, daring him to come at him, bro.


    Template thanks to Steel.
     
    #6 The Governor, Dec 18, 2017
    Last edited: Dec 18, 2017
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  7. Bellamy Blake

    Bellamy Blake The 100
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    [​IMG]
    By then, any other suspicions he'd had of somebody else being in that tunnel with him were gone, entirely under the impression it had been the guys who'd grabbed him. What were the chances, after all? What were the chances it might've been Philip Blake lurking, trying to lure him away at the exact moment someone else showed up and snatch them off into the mountain.

    That had to be where he was. Somewhere deep in the mountain where they wouldn't have to worry about people finding them. Shit.

    It didn't occur to him at first that he wasn't alone, but the sound of movement behind him had him whirling around, a wide-eyed look on his face as his dark eyes searched the shadows until they landed on the familiar face of The Governor. Suddenly, it didn't matter where they were or what the hell their situation was. White-hot rage flared up inside of him as he stared at the other man who was scowling back at him like he had any right to scowl. After what he'd done.

    There were no words, there was no negotiation. Bellamy knew how much The Governor liked negotiation, but his former soldier didn't have the patience for words. Philip Blake didn't deserve words, which was why Bellamy suddenly threw himself at him, a cry erupting from his throat as he remembered every bit of that tape, every piece of knowledge he had of the things this sick psychopath had done to the people he loved. The most important people in the world. Bellamy had every intention of knocking him to the ground, every intention of letting his fists fly into his face as a blind rage took over. Hitting him and hitting him and hitting him.

     
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  8. The Governor

    The Governor The Walking Dead
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    [​IMG]

    Bellamy threw himself at Philip, driving him to the cold damp floor on his back. He struck his sore head against the ground, his vision tunnelling into a pin prick.

    The Governor felt like he was up in the sky, drifting in a mist of black cotton wool clouds, numb to the punches slamming into his face and improving his looks.

    It was only when a set of knuckles slammed into his bottom lip, splitting open the skin, that his senses sharpened up again. He clenched his hands into fists, drawing his arms up to his face to block the blows. Woulda been so damn easy just to turn right now, sink his fangs into sonny boy’s throat, but he hadn’t changed his mind. He couldn’t afford to kill him yet, couldn’t afford to show his captors that card.

    Philip watched Bellamy’s fist fly, hoping to time it right so he could grab him by one of his wrists. He would summon up all his strength, throw sonny boy back from him. Thanks to that whole zoo thing, he was strong enough to hurl a guy Bellamy’s size across the whole length of this chamber into the wall, although his position and the sharp twinge in his ribs would make that hard. At the least, The Governor oughta manage to throw him back a few steps.

    If that went to plan, he would roll himself on to his feet, go lunging at sonny boy. He’d pin him up against the nearest wall, slam his skull against it until he was calm.

    Real shame he didn’t have his gun on him. He could’ve used the threat of a bullet to avoid this whole messy situation. Then again, he probably would’ve wound up giving in to temptation and pulling the trigger on him…



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  9. Bellamy Blake

    Bellamy Blake The 100
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    [​IMG]
    There was a satisfaction to watching the man's head whip around like that, one way and then the other, and so on and so on. But he didn't think there was any amount of satisfaction that would ever make up for all the things that he'd done. To him, to his sister, to Jo. To everyone in Pandora. So he kept hitting him and hitting him and hitting him. The Governor could go to jail, could rot in there, but he wouldn't have been satisfied. He could have fucking died, and he wouldn't have been satisfied. Where did it end?

    Suddenly, it was like the life came back to the other Blake and he lifted a hand to catch Bellamy's wrist. He froze, surprised for a split second, but by the way his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed, he wasn't done. He pushed back against the other man's hand, the free one readying itself this time, but before he could actually make his move, he felt The Governor shoving him back, tossing him a good ways across the space of the cell. Fuck.

    He always forgot. He always fucking forgot he wasn't just a regular guy, he was something else entirely. A hypocrite, that was what he was, but that kind of strength didn't exactly come from hypocrisy alone.

    Blake rushed him and Bellamy felt his back hit the wall, The Governor's hand pressing against his forehead and smashing his skull into the wall. Once, twice, three times. By the fourth, Bellamy looked like he was in a daze, his chest rising and falling with exhaustion and fading fury alike.

     
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  10. The Governor

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    [​IMG]

    He felt Bellamy flag underneath him. The Governor bared his teeth, wanting to carry on slamming his skull against the wall until it caved in like a gourd. Instant gratification. But it wouldn’t benefit him long term.

    Philip backed up from sonny boy, spitting a thick glob of blood on the ground. He paused to catch his breath, rasping quietly, a stabbing pain slicing through his side whenever he inhaled too deeply. He catalogued the rest of his aches and pains. Sore head, torn lip, heat in his face from Bellamy’s flyin’ fists. Nothin’ that’d keep him from fighting his way out to freedom, though.

    “We get outta this cell, take out the threat,” The Governor said to him, his voice level and cool. “Then we tear each other to shreds.”

    Or more accurately, he would tear sonny boy to shreds.

    Philip gave him opportunity to think that over or get himself back under control, while he eyed the cell, tryin’ to pick out any weak points. He made sure Bellamy wasn’t in his big old blind spot, keeping his outline in the fringes of his vision in case he launched himself at him again.

    Aside from a loose stone in the cavern wall, he couldn’t see any defects in the damn cell. He let out a low snarl, crossing over to the rock, which he worried free from the wall. It fit nicely in his fist. He figured it’d make a half decent weapon.

    The Governor stood with his forearm rested on his belt, head raised in thought, the beginnings of an idea tugging at his mind.


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  11. Bellamy Blake

    Bellamy Blake The 100
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    His head was spinning and it took Bellamy a moment to collect himself again, trying to keep his eyes on Blake despite the fact that it was hard to keep them open altogether. It passed eventually, but it was slow going and clearly the other man needed a second, too, as he watched him spit a thick glob of blood. Huffing out a laugh despite the pain in the back of his head as he watched him, Bellamy couldn’t seem to help the smile on his fade. Tired, but pleased. Genuinely pleased by the way his knuckles ached and by the sight of the skin that had broken open on The Governor’s face.

    That was a good look for him. There were still better ones, though. Of the dead variety.

    Still, he was right and he fucking hated how right he was. They had to get out of there and they needed each other to do it. If Blake got left behind along the way, though? Well, that wouldn’t be so bad. Pushing away from the wall, Bellamy’s gaze shifted toward the direction their captors had disappeared to. “How do you feel about playing dead?” he asked after a moment, only half joking. Joking about the playing part. Not so much joking about the actual plan.

    “They brought us here for a reason. They didn’t kill us for a reason.” There were a hundred things they could do to get their attention, to get one of them to open up the cell and give them exactly the chance they needed to make their moves. They didn’t have weapons, but it wasn’t the first Bellamy had dealt with that kind of thing.

    And The Governor? Well, he had unique skills of his own.

     
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  12. The Governor

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    [​IMG]

    Bellamy’s laughter had him glaring over at him coldly, his hot wounds throbbing in rhythm to his indignation, his fury. The Governor tightened his grip on his rock, resisting the temptation to drive it against sonny boy’s skull, split open the skin, splinter the bone like a nut shell.

    Play dead? His glare deepened at the nonsense question, although he began to understand what the hell Bellamy was getting at when he provided some elaboration.

    “You wanna distract ‘em,” Philip spoke slowly, chewing on the idea. “Lure ‘em into the cell, then hit.” He nodded tersely to indicate that it was a serviceable plan.

    But sonny boy should play dead, not him. Playin’ dead was a damn dog thing. Most importantly, it’d make him appear the weakest outta the two. He wasn’t sure his pride could take Bellamy standing over his body, the victor of the so-called fight.

    The Governor rubbed at his mouth, coming away with blood on his hand. He did look more beat up than him, though. More chance of convincing those men.

    “Awright,” he agreed, his voice hoarse and sullen. “But don’t try anythin’ funny, or I’ll turn, tear the entrails from your belly.”

    Philip chose a spot directly in front of the cell door and stretched out across the cold damp ground, lyin’ on the side that didn’t ache as much. He had one of his arms pressed against his body, his other up by his face and obscuring his one good eye from sight. Anybody approaching would only see his big old eye patch, the smear of blood on his bristly cheek.

    “Go on then,” he whispered. “Give ‘em a call.”


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  13. Bellamy Blake

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    He didn’t mind the look he was giving him. He didn’t mind pushing The Governor until the moment he snapped. Fuck, he’d already snapped, he’d done that a long time ago. The only thing Bellamy did know was that he’d use this maniac until the second he didn’t have to anymore. And he wasn’t an idiot, he knew The Governor was thinking the same thing. It was just a matter of who’d be quicker on their feet. Who reacted first.

    For a moment, it looked like Philip was gonna fight him on this, but in the end, he agreed it was the best plan of action for the moment. Out of the two of them, he was the one who looked the part of the prisoner beaten to shit, something Bellamy was gonna silently pride himself. At the threat, his hands went up in the air, all innocence as he gave him a tiny smirk, some small assurance that he wasn’t gonna try anything. It wasn’t the time for that yet.

    And so, once The Governor was in position, Bellamy grimaced and turned toward the entrance to the cell. “Shit. Shit!” he called, stepping away from his still body toward the cell’s bars, wrapping his hands tight around them. “Hey! We need help, hey!” Bellamy cried, pulling one hand away from the bars and then bringing it back to bang on them, the sound of a muffled rattle filling the cavern until he finally saw a shape appearing the way their captors had gone.

    One of them was coming back. Just one of them, a big stocky guy who shoved a knife through the bars toward him to drive him back, though one of his eyes was on The Governor’s body. Bellamy stumbled backward, empty hands up in the air again. “Look, man, he came at me. Hit him harder than I wanted to.” Hit him not nearly enough.

    Already, he could see him pulling out the key and twisting it into the lock so that he could swing the door open and check on his fallen prisoner.

     
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  14. The Governor

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    [​IMG]

    The Governor carried on lyin’ motionless on the ground, listening to Bellamy shout like a moron, the crunch of boot steps, the click of a key in a lock.

    He figured there was only one guy, but then he heard the sharp, echoing sound of footsteps hurrying up the tunnel, the hoarse rasp of breath. “Don’t open that fucking cell, Frank.”

    “Shut your mouth,” he snarled back at him. “One of them’s knocked out cold… Or dead. You back me up and keep your knife on the other little prick.”

    Philip heard him, heard Frank, clomp into the cell and cross over to him, smelling of dirt and stale sweat. He felt rather than saw his shadow pass over his back as he bent down next to him, a hot, clammy hand grabbing hold of his neck, thumb digging into his jaw.

    As Frank started to lift his head to take a closer look, The Governor’s one good eye snapped open and he twisted outta his grip, biting down as hard as he could on the intruding hand. Guy was lucky he was in human form, otherwise he would’ve easily had it off at the wrist. Instead, Philip’s teeth cut through his pinkie with a noisy twig-like crack, severing it from the rest of his fleshy hand, the iron tang of blood filling his mouth.

    Frank let out a shrill, strangled scream, rearing back and clutching feebly at the wrist of his butchered hand. The Governor spat the finger out in his face spitefully, before tackling him to the ground, his fist white around his rock. End the threat.

    He drove the rock into Frank’s skull, bloodied spittle bursting from between Philip’s bared teeth with the effort. The impact of the rock against bone jarred his wrist, sending shockwaves of pain spiking up through his arm, but he found it hard to give a damn.

    Red creeping into the fringes of his vision, the Governor smashed the stone into his skull over and over again, blood splattering and lumps of flesh flyin’ thickly. The side of Frank’s head was caving in more and more from the blows, the coppery smell of his blood staining the area.


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  15. Bellamy Blake

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    One had been too lucky, too easy, and when he heard the sound of a second pair of footsteps come after the first followed by the hoarse voice of one of the other men who had taken them, Bellamy felt his jaw tighten. Bellamy’s hands stayed up in the air, watching the second guy intently, eyes boring into his. The expression alone may have tipped the guy off and the way he was looking back at Bellamy, the way his eyes narrowed, it was clear at the very last second that something was up. Something was off.

    Too late.

    Suddenly, Frank was wailing and Bellamy didn’t look. He didn’t fucking care what happened, all that mattered was that it wasn’t Blake screaming, so that meant it was going their way. The second guy, though, had snapped his gaze distractedly in that direction. Bellamy took full advantage, hand suddenly dropping to grasp roughly for the wrist with the knife, twisting it until he dropped the blade to the ground. He wasn’t done there, though, shoving him back into the cell’s bars and reaching up to smack the back of his head directly into the bar behind him over and over and over again until he wasn’t moving anymore.

    Letting the guy drop to the ground, Bellamy could still hear the disgusting sound of The Governor smashing Frank’s skull in over and over again. The sight of it was even more sickening. “Hey, hey!” he shouted, having already reached the door to the cell. “Blake, get your ass up off the floor, we need to go.”

     
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  16. The Governor

    The Governor The Walking Dead
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    [​IMG]

    Baring his bloodied teeth, he proceeded to drive his rock into the mashed up remains of Frank’s skull, but Bellamy’s barking voice snapped him outta his daydream. The Governor blinked the red filter back to the fringes of his vision, his hand and forearm plastered in warm gunk.

    He patted over Frank’s motionless body, but a knife was the only half useful thing he found on him. Damn. Where the hell was his gun?

    Scowling at sonny boy, he stalked silently out the cell, tossing aside his stained rock. It clattered against the ground, flecking it in drops of blood. He breathed noisily from beating in Frank’s head, his arm aching like he’d just spent five minutes hammering steel.

    The Governor frowned around the dingy passageway, seein’ at least two other tunnels veering off into shadows. Before he could pick a tunnel to try, he heard voices and footsteps echoing down one of ‘em. They were calling out to Frank. A Ben, which must’ve been the other man. Everything OK? What was with the commotion, guys?

    He glared pointedly at Bellamy, then tore off down the opposite tunnel. Sonny boy could follow him, try another of the mazelike tunnels, or just stand there and welcome ‘em with wide open arms.

    After a half dozen twists and turns, The Governor burst out into a larger chamber with more iron cells. They each contained one man or woman.

    He jerked to a stop, his breath rasping in his chest. The prisoners were gaping in his direction, their hair lank and greasy, clothes ripped and filthy. Empty cups and bowls stood inside the cells, not a single crumb or liquid stain left in any of ‘em.


    Template thanks to Steel.