Bitter Murmur | Abby Anderson x Male Reader

Chapter 24

As the horde descended upon the base, the sounds of chaos erupted. The guards at the gates shouted in alarm, their cries of surprise and terror a sweet symphony to the whisperer's ears. The thunder of gunfire filled the night, but it was no match for the relentless march of the undead.

Y/N stood at the front, the whispers of the dead a constant, pulsing presence in his mind. He felt their hunger, their rage, but also a strange kinship. He had become their conduit, their voice in the world of the living. With a roar, he urged them forward, watching as the fence buckled and gave way under the weight of their collective might.

The WLF soldiers were caught off guard, their bullets finding purchase in the first few waves of walkers, but their ammo was finite, and the horde was endless. Y/N saw the fear in their eyes, the realization that they faced something beyond their understanding, beyond their control. He felt a twinge of pity, but the whispers were deafening, their hunger for revenge drowning out all other emotions.

The battle raged around him, the mixture of gunfire and screams a symphony of destruction that seemed to resonate with the very whispers that guided his hand. He watched as the walkers swarmed the base, tearing through the defenders with a ferocity that was both terrifying and awe-inspiring. The WLF had underestimated the power of the whispers, the sheer will of the dead.

Y/N pushed forward, his eyes searching for any sign of Abby. He had to find her, had to show her that he was in control, that he had become something more than the creature she had feared. The whispers grew quieter, their power seeming to wane as the battle grew more intense. The living were fighting back with everything they had, a desperate struggle against the tide of decay.

The whispers grew more urgent, pointing out weaknesses in the WLF's defense, guiding him through the chaos. He saw figures moving through the shadows, heard the clang of steel on flesh as the two sides met in brutal, close combat. The smell of gunpowder mingled with the stench of the undead, a noxious cloud that choked the very air.

He pushed through the melee, the whispers in his head becoming more focused as he honed in on her location. Above the din, he heard her voice, a beacon of clarity in the cacophony of war. She was fighting with the ferocity of a cornered animal, her movements swift and precise, a silent promise of death to any who dared to approach.

He saw her, back against a wall, surrounded by a sea of WLF soldiers. Their eyes met for a brief, heart-stopping moment, the whispers in his head screaming for blood. But instead, he felt a strange calm wash over him, the whispers growing softer, almost as if they recognized her as something precious, something to be protected.

With a snarl, he pushed through the crowd of walkers, the whispers now a gentle nudge rather than a violent scream. They parted before him like water before a storm, allowing him to reach her side unimpeded. The soldiers looked on in horror as he stepped into the fray, their eyes wide with shock and fear.

Abby's eyes flickered to him, the anger and betrayal still burning in her gaze. But there was something else there too, a glimmer of hope that was quickly extinguished when she saw the knife still in his hand, the blood dried up on the blade.

"Y/N, what are you doing?" she yelled over the din of the battle, her voice cracking with fear and disbelief.

He took another step closer, his hand reaching out to her, the knife in his other hand now a silent plea. "I'm not what you think," he called out, the whispers in his head a faint echo of their former power.

Her eyes narrowed, the gun in her hand trained on him. "You're one of them," she spat, her voice thick with revulsion. "I can't trust you."

Y/N felt the whispers stir within him, a tempest of anger and confusion. But he remained steadfast, his hand still outstretched. "I'm still me," he shouted. "I've just found a way to control them."

The soldiers around them paused, their eyes flickering between Y/N and Abby, unsure of what to do. The whispers grew louder in his head, their hunger for the WLF's destruction a siren's call that grew more tempting by the second. Yet, he fought them back, focusing on the woman that was so important to him, the woman who had become his world.

With a roar that seemed to come from the depths of his soul, Y/N launched himself at the nearest WLF soldier, the knife flashing in the moonlight. The man didn't stand a chance, his eyes widening in horror as the blade sank into his chest. The whisperers' power surged within him, a rush of strength and speed that was unlike anything he had ever felt. The soldiers around them retreated, giving him and Abby a small bubble of space in the chaos of the battle.

Abby's eyes never left his, the gun in her hand still pointed at his chest. "What are you?" she whispered, the fear in her voice barely concealed.

"I'm a whisperer," he said, his voice steady despite the tumult around them. "But I'm not like them." He gestured to the walkers that had paused, their decayed faces twisted in a mockery of anticipation. "I control them."

The statement hung in the air for a moment before the horde of walkers took offense to his audacity. As one, they turned towards her, their once-human faces contorted with a rage that was all too familiar to Y/N. The whispers grew more insistent, their hunger for the WLF's blood now focused solely on her.