The Shepherd stared at the note, his eyes stayed on the smiley face at the end.
For ten seconds, perhaps longer, he simply stared.
Then he began to laugh.
At first it was only a low sound, barely more than a chuckle trapped in his throat. Slowly it grew louder. The laughter rose until it became something wild and uncontrollable.
"Ha... haha... hahahaHAHAHA!"
The sound echoed through the walls of his prison. Tears streamed down his face and mixed with blood and sweat. His body shook violently, sending sharp waves of pain through his shattered legs. The pain only made him laugh harder.
He laughed until his lungs burned and he could barely breathe. His throat turned raw from the strain. Eventually the laughter collapsed into broken sobs.
But even the sobbing didn't last.
Slowly, he lifted his head. The hysteria faded, and the despair drained away. What remained was the expression of a man who had already burned his last bridge and no longer feared the flames.
"I don't know who you are. But it doesn't matter anymore. God or devil, angel or demon... I'm past caring."
He looked down at the bite on his wrist. His throat worked as he swallowed.
"You didn't kill me outright. Which means..." He licked his cracked lips. "I'm still valuable to you, aren't I?"
The begging was done. Now came the negotiation.
"I can help you. I know how to read people. If I built an organization this size from nothing, imagine what I could do with real backing."
He started listing his assets like a man pitching a business deal.
"You need faith? Believers? I can give you that. What you did tonight can become the foundation of a religion. I can build it for you. I can fill stadiums with followers. Thousands of survivors on their knees, worshiping you as the one true god of this new world. The god of the apocalypse. The judge of the damned."
His voice dropped. "You need sacrifices? I know this territory. I know where to find the sinners. And I know how to make them walk to the altar willingly."
He gestured with one hand. "You need order? Control? I can manage them for you. I can be your voice in the darkness."
He paused, looked down at his mutilated body, and something like a smile crossed his face. It wasn't sane.
"You can take lives without a sound. You can kill without being seen. That means you can heal too. You can control, bind, and shape things however you wish." He struggled to push himself upright on what remained of his limbs, attempting a posture of submission. "My soul. My will. Everything that I am. You can have it. I will be your servant. Just let me live and give me the chance to prove my worth. I will do anything you command. I swear it on whatever gods or devils you want. Please, let me serve you."
---
Lucien stood in the shadows, the Invisibility Cloak wrapped around him, watching this display.
He'd fully intended to kill the Shepherd. That hadn't changed. The man was a monster who'd tortured and murdered God knew how many people, all while wrapping it in religious justification. But even planning to kill someone, it was hard not to be impressed by their sheer will to survive.
The Shepherd was dying.
Fever burned through his body from the bite. His legs were ruined from the amputations, and the blood loss alone should have pushed him into shock. Yet he was still bargaining and searching for some path to survival.
It was grotesque, and strangely impressive.
Lucien had spent hours tonight orchestrating the Shepherd's downfall. He'd wanted the Shepherd to die in despair, crushed by the weight of divine retribution he'd claimed to serve.
Instead, the bastard had chopped off his own legs without hesitation.
When he had left the note explaining that the first two bites had been fake, he expected the truth to shatter what remained of the man's sanity. The Shepherd had mutilated himself for nothing.
He'd expected screaming.
Not... this.
The unsettling part was that, under different circumstances, the offer might have worked.
If Lucien truly had been some dark god searching for a servant, the Shepherd would have been a strong candidate. The man understood power. He knew how to manipulate people, build movements, and turn catastrophe into opportunity.
In another life, with different morals, he could have been formidable.
Shame, really.
Lucien was just a kid with an invisibility cloak and a burning need to see justice done. He couldn't cure walker bites, bind souls, or offer the Shepherd anything except the death he'd earned a hundred times over.
He was debating whether to practice a few more spells on the dying man or just put him out of his misery when he heard footsteps outside.
---
The door burst inward.
Maggie entered first with her rifle raised. Shawn followed close behind with a pistol in his hand. Miranda and Glenn, who had already reunited with them, followed closely behind.
They all stopped when they saw what waited inside.
The Shepherd lay collapsed in a pool of blood that had to be at least a gallon by now. Both of his legs were gone below the knee. The stumps were wrapped in crude bandages that were already soaked through with blood. A bite mark was clearly visible on his wrist.
And he was still alive and conscious.
For several seconds, no one moved. The scene was too surreal and horrific to process immediately.
Then the Shepherd saw Maggie.
His eyes brightened. He dragged himself forward, leaving a smeared trail of blood behind him. His hands reached toward her.
"Maggie! My faithfu...—"
The words died halfway through the sentence when he saw her face. Her expression was cold, completely devoid of mercy.
His smile slowly froze.
Maggie raised her rifle and aimed at his left leg.
"Wait—"
She fired.
The bullet tore through what remained of his left leg. It ripped through the bandages, the ruined flesh, and the shattered bone.
"Ahhhh!"
Before the echo faded, Maggie adjusted her aim and fired again.
The scream rose even higher.
He writhed in the spreading pool of blood, convulsing under pain that had to be beyond comprehension. Every nerve in those stumps was already exposed and screaming. The bullets had transformed agony into something that words could barely describe.
Maggie stepped forward.
Behind her, Shawn's face had gone pale. Glenn looked as if he might vomit. Miranda simply stared.
The Shepherd was sobbing now.
"Please... I'm sorry... Whatever I did, I can fix it. Please don't..."
Maggie stopped in front of him. Her finger settled on the trigger again. She lowered the barrel and aimed between his legs.
The Shepherd's eyes widened.
"No. No. Please. Not that. Anything but that..."
She fired.
The scream that tore from him no longer sounded human. His body arched violently, muscles locking as his eyes bulged in agony.
In the shadows, Lucien flinched. He had seen plenty of violence in the past few months. He had even caused some of it himself.
But even for him, this was hard to watch.
Shawn and Glenn both turned their heads away at the same moment. Glenn's hand instinctively moved to his groin.
The Shepherd collapsed onto the ground. Every nerve in his body seemed to burn with pain. The sounds coming from his throat were no longer words.
Maggie stood over him with the rifle still smoking.
"You deserved it."
She lowered the rifle and looked down at him.