𝐱𝐢𝐱. 𝐰𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭, 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬

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[ xix

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[ xix. we first, always ]

june 29th, 2012

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ASTRID LANCASTER'S PALMS WERE slick with sweat, her heart pounding in her chest as she swiveled her head from side to side, scanning the shadowed faces of the Terminans. In the vast courtyard, she noticed more and more the increasingly familiar sight of clothing and gear that belonged to her former prison group strewn about. A man cladded in riot gear aimed his pistol at her, while another equally menacing stranger had a distinct, bright orange backpack at his feet.

Glenn Rhee was clearly here—but was he alone?

"Where the hell did you get this watch?" Rick repeated in a low growl, fingers tightening their grip on Alex.

"You want answers? You want anything else?" The captive man's words strained. He was struggling to maintain a façade of strength against the forearm pressing down on his throat. "You get them when you put down the gun."

Rick's retort was swift and cutting, "I see your man on the roof with a sniper rifle. How good's his aim?"

Astrid allowed her gaze to drift upward, locking onto a figure poised on the rooftop's edge, surveying their every move. Her eyes flicked to other nearby buildings that lined the courtyard, revealing more snipers lying in wait. She knew she could make the shots from her vantage point . . . but could they do the same?

Alex's next response was met with an urgent plea, not directed at their group but at those ready to shield him. "Don't do anything! I have this!" He cast a commanding glance toward the sniper that Rick had pointed out. "You just put it down," He ordered. "Put it down!"

Reluctantly, the sniper obeyed, lowering his weapon.

Alex's voice then softened as he addressed their group once more. "You want to listen to me," He advised Rick. "There's a lot of us . . ."

Astrid's own patience was wearing thin. "Tell us where you got the watch!" She hissed.

"I got it off of a dead one," He explained. "I didn't think he'd need it."

Rick scoffed and pressed for more answers. "What about the riot gear? The poncho?"

"Got the riot gear off a dead cop. Found the poncho on a clothesline."

A new, harsh voice disrupted the tense showdown, diverting Astrid and the others' attention. They spun around, seemingly as one, to behold Gareth emerging from the same alley they had recently come from. His cold stare was fixed upon them with an intensity that sent shivers down Astrid's spine as he took cautious steps forward, hands raised in a gesture of supposed peace.

"Gareth, we can wait," Alex pleaded.

"Shut up, Alex."

"You talk to me," Rick snarled, his finger encircling the trigger of the gun aimed at Alex's head.

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