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25 April 2012 @ 09:47 am
Game Over: Chapter 4  
4/61



Eric: *dressed in a SS uniform* Why am I wearing this again?
Wanderer: Because it’s hot. Or, well, that episode where you and Godric wore them was.
Eric: I am always hot.
Wanderer: No arguing here. I just wouldn’t get this done if you sat there naked, is all.
Eric: *pleased* Get this one over with…

I had forgotten about my backpack in the truck when we had gone to my house, but now I had two bags to carry supplies in.

Wanderer: Who gives a fuck? This is useless information. Like Sookie’s measurements.
Eric: *amused look at Wanderer*

It was getting dark now and we were on a highway, blocked by cars. Everyone was trying to get out of the city.

Wanderer: Does she not realize that days have gone by? Rick says he lives from “up north” of Atlanta. That means Shane, Lori, and Carl would’ve been traveling for a while. Time passed. Rick ran out of gas at least once! IT DIDN’T HAPPEN IN A DAY DAMMIT!

KNOW YOUR GODDAMN FANDOM: 4

I groaned and slammed my head repeatedly on the steering wheel when we pulled up.

Eric: Did it get bloody?
Wanderer: No, she’s emoting like an idiotic teenager. Because she is one.
Eric: Pity *puts his fangs away*

Glenn pulled my head back to prevent me from banging my forehead on the wheel anymore.

Wanderer: No! Bad Glenn!

He smirked

Wanderer: GLENN DOESN’T FUCKING SMIRK! HE’S A MAJOR SWEETHEART!

BUTCHER CHARACTERIZATION FOR THINE OWN INTEREST: 1

at me and said, "Come on, you cant afford

Eric: She’s setting an “afford” at a slope or angle?
Wanderer: That or she’s empty, uncritical thinking or talking an “afford”

GRAMMAR NAZI: 8

to do any more damage to your face."

Wanderer: So, I get that Glenn is supposed to be the surrogate big brother here--*gags a little*--but he’s NOT AN ASSHOLE ALREADY. He doesn’t even insult Daryl, who he openly dislikes! Or is afraid of, really.
Eric: This is really bothering you, isn’t it?
Wanderer: YES JUST A LITTLE. I HATE authors that fuck up characterization.

Even though I knew he was joking, I stuck my tongue out at him.

Eric: Yes, indeed, she is quite immature.
Wanderer: She did tell us, you know.
Eric: Did she? That was kind of her.
Wanderer: Doesn’t make it any better when she acts like a child.
Eric: No, it does not. I’m beginning to wish that the zombie in the first chapter had eaten her instead.

I put the truck in park and shut it off, opening the door. I hopped down from what was quite a large height for someone of my size.

Wanderer: WE KNOW YOU’RE 120 LBS!
Eric: Is she going to play the delicate, damsel in distress card?
Wanderer: Who knows?! Apparently she’s a BADASS remember? Took out Glenn’s dad and her own.
Eric: *sigh*

I was 16 and still 5'4".

Wanderer: Fuck you I’m 5’2”. And no one says they’re “five feet four inches” tall. Shit.
Eric: You’re just upset you’re toy sized.
Wanderer: … I’m what?
Eric: *grins* Toy-sized.
Wanderer: You mean fun-sized?
Eric: That’s what I said.

Wanderer: No, fun-size is like a size referring to candy. Toy is a type of dog classifcation.
Eric: Still not really seeing the difference. Either way it’s small and entertaining.
Wanderer: Yeah, well you’re just unnaturally large, you oversized Viking! *huff*
Eric: D’aww, you’re just as cute as an angry Chihuahua, too.
Wanderer: Just shut up and look pretty.
Eric: *smirk*

I ARE SPESHUL SNOWFLAKE: 11

Damn Irish blood.

Wanderer: What? Did you just—insult the Irish?! Where the fuck do you think “Reedus” is from, you dipshit?!
Eric: Are you Irish?
Wanderer: Yeah, and shorter than she is, and fucking PROUD OF IT.
Eric: So you like being toy-sized.
Wanderer: FUN-SI—nevermind.

"Kaiya?" Glenn asked, coming around the back of the truck to stand beside me.

"Yeah?" I responded, leaning back against the truck.

"Do you think we'll be okay?"

Wanderer: GLENN IS THE OPTIMIST! And why the fuck is a 20-something-year-old looking to a KID for EMOTIONAL SUPPORT?!
Eric: This Glenn kid is a pussy.
Wanderer: …*gigglesnort* You said pussy.
Eric: *sighs*
Wanderer: What? A Viking saying “pussy” is HILARIOUS.

I looked up at him.

He was asking for reassurance from me? He was older!

Wanderer: EXACTLY

But I supposed I had always been more mature than him (believe it or not) when placed in adult situations.

Eric: What?!
Wanderer: WHAT THE FUCK!?

I ARE SPESHUL SNOWFLAKE: 12

I may have an immature sense of humor, but when it came down to it, I was probably the most mature 16 year old in the world.

Wanderer: Fucking BULLSHIT.
Eric: Well isn’t she just special.
Wanderer: You’re still an immature teenager, lady! You ain’t fooling anyone!
Eric: Say “ain’t” again.
Wanderer: Why?

Eric: It was amusing.
Wanderer: Ain’t.
Eric: Thank you.

I ARE SPESHUL SNOWFLAKE: 13

Probably the only 16 year old now.

Wanderer: AIN’T YOU FUCKING PRECIOUS

I ARE SPESHUL SNOWFLAKE: 14

I frowned. I looked Glenn straight in the eyes and said firmly, "Yes." I really did believe we'd make it through this. For a little while at least.

Wanderer: Oh shut up

Glenn smiled and threw an arm around my shoulders. I leaned against him, suddenly more tired than I had ever been in my whole life.

Wanderer: Yeah, whatever. Fucking only 16.

Donkey was in the back seat asleep, which was surprising; there was an awful lot of honking going on. But most of it was from farther up the crowd of cars.

Eric: I fail to see how this is important.

A honk just behind us made me jump. "Hey! Lets git a move on!" A thick southern drawl yelled from the blue and white truck behind us.

Wanderer: Who lets Git a move on? And who is Git? And why is he dancing!?
Eric: A thick, southern drawl? In the south? Shocking!

GRAMMAR NAZI: 9

I rolled my eyes. "Damn hicks," I muttered, which had Glenn laughing. "What?" I asked, giving him a look.

He just chuckled and said, "Never figured you for the racist type,

Wanderer: *too enraged to speak*
Eric: I think she means to point out that a “hick” is not a race.

being the best friend of a Korean and all."

Wanderer: YOU DID NOT JUST—*turns away and stares intently at Eric*
Eric: … what are you doing?
Wanderer: Distracting myself with the pretty. That’s why you’re here, remember?
Eric: Ah…
Wanderer: And I’m pretending she’s in the torture chamber you have under your nightclub. And Pam is destroying her.
Eric: Why Pam?
Wanderer: Because Sue doesn’t deserve you touching her.
Eric: *amused* I see.
Wanderer: *back to fic* I have so many issues with this. Why is Glenn making it derogatory to be Korean? Also, saying he’s “a Korean” implies he’s a first-generation immigrant, when he states during the show that his family is from Michigan, but before that it’s Korea. So he’s obviously a Korean-American. Goddamn.

YOU RACIST BITCH: 2

I shook my head at him and rolled my eyes. "Backwoods country boy isn't a race and due to recent circumstances,

Wanderer: … I don’t feel any better now that she cleared this up. I’M PRETTY SURE GLENN KNOWS IT ISN’T A RACE. STOP MAKING HIM STUPID!

BUTCHER CHARACTERIZATION FOR THINE OWN INTEREST: 2

I don't exactly have the patience for people like Bo and Luke Duke over there," I said,

Wanderer: HE SAID ONE DAMN THING! And you live in the fucking south! That THICK ACCENT IS FUCKING NORMAL.

nodding in the direction of the two cowboy-looking

Eric: Cowboys are not hicks.
Wanderer: Daryl and Merle are not cowboys! Nor do they look even remotely like them!

men in the front seats of the blue and white truck behind us.

I couldn't see their faces, but both were obviously men and very backwoods men at that.

Wanderer: IF YOU CAN’T SEE THEIR FACES THEN HOW DO YOU KNOW THEY’RE BACKWOODS MEN?!
Eric: I read that as “backwards” men. It amused me.

Glenn chuckled and then the slamming of two car doors could be heard behind us. I looked up at the moon, hoping the two guys from that truck wouldn't be coming over to converse.

Wanderer: Because they wouldn’t. The absolute last thing either Dixon would do is go ask some dumb little girl with an Asian kid for news.
Eric: Are you being intentionally racist?
Wanderer: Merle Dixon is racist. Daryl… isn’t so much.

Unfortunately, I had very shitty social luck.

Eric: I like how she thinks this is some kind of social call.
Wanderer: She’s an idiot. And EVERYTHING revolves around her because she’s a fucking Sue!

I ARE SPESHUL SNOWFLAKE: 15

"Hey, what's th' hold up?" the older-looking of the two yelled to the cars ahead, standing just in front of us and watching the line of cars before of us.

"Everyone wants to get out of this hellhole," I said, keeping my tone neutral.

Wanderer: Really? Merle Dixon is a pretty intimidating figure, even if you aren’t yet aware of his issues and violent tendencies. I’m older than you and I wouldn’t backtalk him! As a teenager? Hell no. I don’t want to get backhanded by some pissed off redneck.
Eric: You think he’s intimidating?
Wanderer: Not as much as you, I promise *soothingly*
Eric: As it should be.

I ARE SPESHUL SNOWFLAKE: 16

The older of the two turned to look at me then and I cursed my big mouth.

Wanderer: Yeah, right, you wanted the attention.

If I had kept quiet, he might not have noticed me.

Wanderer: You just said they stopped to stand right in front of you! Unless they’re both blind, I doubt that you and Glenn would go unnoticed.
Eric: Perhaps she’s not used to being noticed due to how short she is?
Wanderer: Shut up, Eric.

Glenn withdrew his arm from my shoulders and looked like he was trying to muster the courage to protect me if these two tried anything.

Wanderer: Glenn doesn’t hesitate to attack a zombie that attacks Maggie! Who he’s only known a day or so! You’re his best friend, and you’re calling him a coward? BITCH.

They were close enough now that I could see their faces.

Wanderer: You need glasses if you can’t see faces until people are RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU.

LOGIC FAIL: 8

The oldest had short, light colored hair and a weathered face. His jaw was slightly slack, as though he hadn't been sober a minute of his life. He seemed about in his 30s

Wanderer: NO! NO NO NO! There is no way in hell Merle Dixon seems to be “about” in his 30s! He fought in the Vietnam War, for Chrissake! Even if he was fighting in the last year possible, he’s still in his 50s. And there’s no way in hell he could even LOOK that young, since he’s notorious for using drugs, drinking excessively, and living hard. He has pills for the clap in his motorcycle bag! Not to mention, Michael Rooker, who plays Merle on the show—which is where you’re obviously basing this because Daryl doesn’t exist in the comic—is almost 60!

KNOW YOUR GODDAMN FANDOM: 5

and the younger of the two looked about mid to late 20s.

Wanderer: BITCH, EVEN IF HE WAS IN HIS LATE TWENTIES HE’S STILL TOO FUCKING OLD FOR YOU. I know Norman doesn’t look his age, but he’s 43. And if Merle practically raised Daryl, but was missing because he spent a lot of time in juvie, he would be more than 10 years older than him!

The younger had dark hair that came to the middle of his forehead.

Wanderer: So he brushed it all forward into a point on his forehead? What the fuck?
Eric: I believe she means he has bangs.
Wanderer: OH.

He also had a stubbly goatee growing in and the deepest blue eyes I thought I had ever seen. His eyes darted over to me and I looked down, feeling my face heat up.

Wanderer: YOU JUST GOT DONE CALLING THEM BOTH DAMN HICKS!

The oldest walked forward, standing next to his brother who was leaning against a now-abandoned car beside us.

"Merle Dixon." He held his hand out which kinda surprised me. I hadn't pegged him for a hand-shaker.

Wanderer: BECAUSE HE’S NOT.

I reached forward and shook his hand, gripping it as tightly as I could without seeming like I was trying too hard to look tough.

Eric: Because you are. *picking at his nails*
Wanderer: Yep.

"Kaiya Caston."

Merle grunted. "Wha' kinda name is tha'?"

Wanderer: HE’S NOT A PIRATE, HE’S A REDNECK.

I rose a brow at him. "What kinda name is Merle?"

Wanderer: Seriously, “rose” is not the past tense of “rise”.

GRAMMAR NAZI:  10

He gave a "fair-enough" look and nodded. "This here's my baby brother Daryl." He patted the younger one on the shoulder.

Eric: He’s a child monk?
Wanderer: *snort*

He just nodded to me.

Wanderer: Wait, I’m confused. Who nodded? Merle?

I tilted my head in Glenn's direction (who was looking very awkward and uncomfortable). "That's Glenn."

Merle scowled, but Daryl nodded at him, no emotions showing on his face.

Wanderer: Daryl tends to just look pissed off, not emotionless.

The wind picked up, coldness surrounding us.

Wanderer: It’s the middle of August. The nights aren’t cold yet.

LOGIC FAIL: 9

I shivered and decided to take my hair out of its ponytail; maybe it would keep my back warm. I pulled the ponytail out of my hair, conscious of the two Dixons eyes on me.

Wanderer: What are Dixons Eyes?

GRAMMAR NAZI: 11

I watched the cars ahead as I shook my hair out with my hands.

Eric: I’m still waiting for a zombie to grab it and yank it out by the roots.
Wanderer: PLEASE OH PLEASE OH PLEASE

"Awful lotta hair," I heard an unfamiliar voice say quietly.

Wanderer: No shit. Of course Daryl comments on this—because everyone knows Daryl has such a thing for long hair. That’s why he moons over Lori, Andrea, Amy… oh wait, no he doesn’t: he doesn’t care.

I looked over and thought it was Daryl since I hadn't heard him speak yet.

I nodded politely, not sure how to respond to that or if I was even supposed to respond. I turned my attention back to the vehicles blocking the road.

"Yer awfully short, ain'tcha?" Merle asked, having to look down to see me.

Wanderer: Merle, just walk away. You’re going to get sucked into the Sue!

I looked up at him. "I guess so."

"Not much of a talker, huh?" he mumbled, turning back around.

Wanderer: Newsflash, NEITHER ARE YOU! EITHER OF YOU!

Merle and Glenn both had their eyes on the cars ahead, but I had my sights trained on pavement in front of my feet. And out of the corner of my eye, I could see Daryl throwing me some strange glances.

I wasn't sure whether or not I liked these boys yet.

Merle spoke up after a few minutes of silence. He gestured between Glenn and I. "You two some kinda interracial couple or sumthin'?"

Wanderer: *small eye twitch*
Eric: What now?
Wanderer: Nothing. I’m refraining from getting pissed off.
Eric: I thought you said he really is racist?
Wanderer: Not about that. About “sumthin’” instead of “somethin’”.
Eric: Ah.

Glenn and I blushed and looked at each other before awkwardly refusing. We had gotten that for years. People always thought we were dating.

Wanderer: Really? This is the first I’ve heard of it.
Eric: Me, too.

"No, we've been best friends since he could walk," I explained.

My odd wording seemed to catch their attention.

Wanderer: Of course it did.
Eric: She has to reel this poor Daryl guy in.

"Whatcha mean since he could walk? You couldn't walk when ya was his age?" Merle asked, he and Daryl giving us a confused look.

Wanderer: (Merle): What, were you some kinda retard? *sneer*

"I could when I was his age, but we aren't the same age."

This confused them further. "Whatcha mean?" Daryl asked.

Wanderer: DARYL, BABE, YOU ARE NOT THIS STUPID!

"He's 20, I'm 16."

Their eyes widened. "16?" Merle asked, quite loudly.

Eric: Instead of just asking it at a good “the person I’m talking to is standing right in front of me” volume.
Wanderer: His disbelief makes this…

I ARE SPESHUL SNOWFLAKE; 17

I nodded. It was my turned to be confused.

"Well, damn…" Merle muttered.

Wanderer: (Merle): Underage. Shit outta luck then. I ain’t no pedo—I know what they do to them fuckers in prison.

I didn't know what he was going on about,

Wanderer and Eric: US EITHER

so I just shrugged and stood on the step up under the door of the truck so I could peek in the back window and check on Donkey.

"He still asleep?" Glenn asked.

I nodded and hopped back down.

"Got a kid in thur? Ya some kinda teen mom er sumthin'?" Merle asked, looking astounded.

Wanderer: Thur? Really? He’s speaking Ebonics now?

I shook my head, smiling. "No it's a dog."

Wanderer: … if some man just accused me of having a kid and being a teen mom, I’d be pissed off, not smiling.

He nodded in understanding.

They weren't that bad, aside from Merle being kind of nosey.

Wanderer: SHUT THE FUCK UP, MERLE DOESN’T GIVE A SHIT.

BUTCHER CHARACTERIZATION FOR THINE OWN INTEREST: 3

Screams were heard up the road. Everyone jumped, standing straight

Wanderer: As opposed to crooked.
Eric: Or diagonal.
Wanderer: At an angle.
Eric: Sideways.

and alert. I walked to the front of the truck and looked to my right.

There was Atlanta. But the whole city was on fire.

Wanderer: Why are you looking to the right? Everyone is going towards Atlanta because they think there’s a refugee center—BECAUSE IT DIDN’T TAKE A DAY. That means you’re outgoing traffic, and the city would be on your left.
Eric: Judging by how many rants like this you have, it’s becoming painfully obvious how little this girl paid attention to her fandom.
Wanderer: THANK YOU

LOGIC FAIL: 10

"They're dropping napalm in the streets!" A male voice ahead of us shouted. He and a woman with a young boy walked up to the car in front of us.

Wanderer: Why were they wandering around behind you?

The woman and boy got in, but the man stopped and looked up at us. He jogged over to us. "I'm officer

Wanderer: *grinds teeth*
Eric: It’s a title, do try to capitalize it.


GRAMMAR NAZI: 11

Shane Walsh. I don't know what's goin' on, but we gotta get outta here. You can follow me."

Wanderer: Uh, Shane would not just invite complete strangers along. He only cares about keeping Lori and Carl safe. And he definitely wouldn’t invite the Dixons’.

He didn't give us any time to argue or ask questions. He just ran back to his vehicle and got in.

"You think we can trust him?" Glenn asked.

"Never was one fer trustin' pigs." Merle muttered.

Wanderer: There you are, Merle. I missed you, so~

"Do we have a choice?" I asked, opening the door and hopping in.

Eric: You could ditch them all to strike out on your own and get eaten? *hopeful*
Wanderer: Nope.

"That's YOUR truck?" Merle asked, astounded once more.

Wanderer: (Merle): You compensatin’ for somethin’? Like a brain, perhaps?

I rolled my eyes. "Can we please talk about this later?" I didn't give him time to answer as I shut the door and drove after officer Shane Walsh.

Glenn clutched his head in his hands and groaned, "What are we doing?"

Wanderer: (Glenn): What the hell am I doing? Why am I with the Sue? SOMEBODY HELP ME!

I glanced in the rearview mirror to see the Dixon brothers following us. "Surviving."

Wanderer: So glad that’s over. Damn. Hah, the spork made this twice as long.
Eric: I am starving. *pointed look*
Wanderer: Ah, right. Ahem. C’mon…


Tracker:
BUTCHER CHARACTERIZATION FOR THINE OWN INTEREST: 3
GRAMMAR NAZI: 11

KNOW YOUR GODDAMN FANDOM: 5
LOGIC FAIL: 9
YOU RACIST BITCH: 2

I ARE SPESHUL SNOWFLAKE: 17

Chapters Remaining: 57