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John Smith was born and raised in England. He entered the School of Accounting and Finance at the University of Sussex, but after two years, he dropped out and started working. John had no wife or children. It's not that he didn't want to say goodbye to his bachelor life; It's just that he wasn't attracted to women. When it came to men, his relationships with them were purely physical. In his spare time, John read comics, watched movies, played basketball, or went clubbing. Death came suddenly. In 2020, he contracted the coronavirus from one of his lovers and died of myocardial infarction. What can I say? I should've thought with my head, not what's below my waist.
But instead of dissipating, John's soul found its way into the body of a boy who lived in an orphanage in the USA. It was 1990. So not only was John reincarnated, but he also travelled through time. At least, that's what he thought. Inspired by the prospects that opened up, John graduated from high school as an external student and enrolled at the University of California, Berkeley. This time, he didn't drop out. After earning a master's degree, John landed a job at one of the companies that would succeed in the future and, within two years, became the head of the sales department. It was then he realized he was in trouble with a capital T.
John Smith sat in his office, steepling his fingers under his chin and drilling his gaze into the folder before him. It was the personnel file of one of his subordinates, Philip fucking Blake. You might know him better as the Governor. Yup, you read that right: he works for me. In the photo, the bastard was smiling, as if mocking his misfortune. John, of course, dreamed of meeting David Morrissey—the actor who portrayed Philip Blake in AMC's The Walking Dead—but not like this. A second chance? Ha, ha, ha. John ended up in that damn zombie show. He even called the King County Sheriff's Department just to make sure he wasn't jumping to conclusions. There really was a man named Rick Grimes working there.
John had no idea what to do next. Should he inform the authorities about upcoming events? Or should he kill the scientists before they start the apocalypse? In the first case, he would be interrogated or thrown into a mental institution. As for the scientists, John knew nothing about them. He didn't remember much from what happened in the comics and the TV show.
"I guess I'm a lousy Walking Dead fan," muttered John. The only thing he knew for sure was that he needed to stock up on supplies and weapons. Ideally, it would be worth building a bunker, but John didn't want to spend the rest of his life alone and in captivity, even if it meant safety. He contemplated joining with canonical characters.
Several years have passed. John learned to handle weapons, fight, hunt, survive in the woods—basically, everything that could be useful during the apocalypse. John felt like a goddamn Gary Stu. Well, besides the amount of time and money he spent on training. His only outlet then and now was teasing, if not bullying, Philip Blake. The Governor killed one of his favourite characters, Hershel Greene. And Philip was sexy as hell when he was angry.
"And you call this a report?" John slapped the folder on the table and leaned back in his chair. Several sheets fell to the floor, but Philip didn't rush to pick them up. There was a muscle twitching in his jaw. He was pissed. John felt a tingling sensation in the pit of his stomach and shifted in his seat. He wished Philip would bend him over the table and have his way with him. But, of course, that was just fantasy. Firstly, John didn't sleep with married men, and secondly, Philip looked like a typical heterosexual. And in the series, he found a suitable match for himself—Andrea Harrison.
