Daryl wiped the sweat from his temple with his shoulder, his hands occupied as they wrenched an arrow from a walker's skull.

"Not s'pretty anymore." He said with a satisfied smirk, wiping the bloody weapon on his flannel shirt. The collection of blood stains made him proud, proud that he had become a survivor. He was very much alive and very powerful. He and his group could be the last men standing, no doubt about that. Were they the nicest guys? Hell no. Were they worried about saving others? Hell no. As far as they were concerneds, everybody but their kin was an enemy. It might be cruel, but they all knew it was necessary.

His worn boots were sinking into the sludge, a rainstorm nearly flooding their camp. He licked at his lip, tasting the saltiness from the perspiration. The sun was beating down on the group and considering all the rain, it was humid as hell.

"Fuckin' rain soaked all my squares." Daryl grumbled, pulling the soggy box from his pocket and threw it blindly at a tree. He had finally found himself cigarettes and they get ruined before half the carton is gone. Sure, cigarettes weren't a necessity, but they sure as hell helped take the edge off.

Merle, Daryl's brother, grabbed his shoulder roughly to get his attention. "Will y'quit your bitchin', Darylina? We've been out here all morning and I ain't got the patience for yer complainin'." His brows were raised in amusement, lips slightly turned up in a mocking smirk.

"Maybe we oughtta find Darylina here a box of tampons." Merle announced, earning a laugh from the rest of the men.

Daryl kept his mouth shut despite the heat rising up his neck. Growing up, Merle constantly hackled Daryl. Teasing him about his long hair, his mole, even the way he would walk. A few times he'd try to fight back, but Merle would get furious. The man was a hypocrite. He can dish and dish and dish, but if you get lippy, he'll throw a punch. Conveniently, the apocalypse started the week after Merle was sentenced to 20 years in prison for a shit ton of different things. Robbing, domestic violence, drug trafficking, the whole nine yards.

And here he was, free and thriving off the situation. He was a bad guy… a criminal. In fact, the majority of the 6 guys were. The world went to shit and only the evil survive. It's like God poked his head out and said, "Hey, assholes! Now's your chance!" The weak, the sensitive, the good would all parish… and if they didn't, guys like them would make sure they did.

Daryl was brought out of his thoughts when the leader, Shane, whistled for the attention of the group.

"Well, look what we have here. Seems to be a prison. Probably a half mile away…" Shane's words trailed off, standing atop a hill and squinting as the sun challenged his pupils. His nostrils flared in frustration and he turned his head over his shoulder, grabbing binoculars from another's hands. He turned back to the sight and pressed the binoculars to his face, focusing in on the prison. Sweat slid down his cheekbone and into his mouth as he smiled widely. His eyes were burning from the lack of rest but he didn't dare look away, studying the scene before him.

There were people outside. A younger boy and a few men were walking through the fields, dragging dead walkers to a big pile. The boy smiled before lighting a piece of cloth and tossing it on the corpses.

Shane finally peeled his eyes from the lenses, hiding his gun in his waistband and covering it with his shirt.

"It seems as though people already live here," He began, nodding back to the large building.

"and we should go introduce ourselves."

AN: Okay so welcome to my story! The first chapter is super short I apologize. I just don't want to rush into everything because I'm still planning it out in my head. The following chapters will be much longer.

So Shane's character is different, Daryl's in a separate group, Merle is alive… so many differences! I hope you like bad boy Dixon..