Chapter 52: Merle Goes Down Again
Merle charged at Hanks like an enraged bull, completely ignoring Daryl's attempts to stop him.
He'd learned from the last exchange. Instead of an easily-blocked straight punch, he went for a low sweeping kick.
Aimed hard at Hanks's supporting leg shin—powerful and heavy, whistling through the air.
But with 4-point Agility and Awareness passive stacking, Merle's fierce strike seemed to move in slow motion to Hanks's eyes.
Hanks didn't even need to retreat significantly. His supporting knee just flexed slightly.
His ankle twisted inward cleverly, meeting Merle's shin with the hard side of his military boot.
WHAM! A dull thud.
"Guh!" Merle grunted in pain, feeling like his shin had struck an iron post. The searing pain made him hesitate.
In that instant of delay—
Hanks moved.
Using the force of Merle's recoiling leg, his body slipped in like a fish, cutting into Merle's wide-open guard.
His left elbow shot up like a cannonball, driving hard toward Merle's jaw from below.
Merle's pupils contracted. He could only barely raise his arm to block.
BANG! Elbow met forearm.
His forearm went numb. The entire impact forced him staggering backward.
Hanks's assault was like a violent storm—relentless. His right hand shot out—not a fist.
His five fingers spread, suddenly gripping Merle's arm that hadn't yet pulled back from the block.
He yanked it hard toward himself while his right foot silently hooked Merle's supporting heel.
Perfect center-of-gravity disruption.
Merle felt an enormous, irresistible force pulling him.
His footing simultaneously gave way. He instantly lost balance—the world spun.
BOOM!
Another heavy thud.
Dust flew.
Merle was down again.
This time a solid back-slam that left him seeing stars. Every internal organ felt displaced.
Breath caught in his chest. He nearly blacked out.
He lay on the ground, coughing violently, not even having the strength to struggle up.
The entire fight lasted under five seconds.
Fast. Precise. Ruthless.
Not a single wasted motion—complete domination through strength, speed, and technique.
Daryl, pinned with a gun to his head, lay flat on the ground not daring to move. Cold sweat beaded at his temples.
He hadn't even had time to react, didn't even see how Hanks did it.
His brother—who never lost a fight, fierce as they came—was already on the ground again.
Lee's throat bobbed involuntarily.
He knew Hanks could fight, but witnessing this clean, efficient violence firsthand always struck something deep.
Hanks stood in place, shadow stretched long by the setting sun, slowly exhaling a smoke ring.
He wasn't even breathing hard. Just looked down at Merle struggling on the ground like a beaten dog.
"Want to go again?" Hanks's voice was calm and flat.
"Cough... cough..." Merle coughed violently, face full of pain and disbelief.
He struggled to raise his hand as if to say something, but it finally just fell powerlessly, slamming the ground and raising a bit of dust.
Merle closed his eyes, chest heaving violently, no longer trying to rise.
He was done.
Completely done.
Against absolute power difference, his outlaw toughness seemed laughable.
Daryl glanced back at Lee, who nodded and lowered his pistol.
Only then did Daryl relax, rushing over to check on Merle.
Hanks's lips curled slightly.
From the moment they'd met, he'd already recognized these iconic brothers.
One was hot-tempered and fierce, responding to force not words. The other appeared hard outside but was soft inside.
Rather than waste effort making conversation and building rapport, fists spoke more clearly.
Especially with Merle—unless he'd taken a solid beating, forget getting him to sit down and talk.
Hanks dropped the cigarette butt, ground it out with his boot heel, then walked forward and extended his hand to Merle on the ground.
"Can you move?"
His tone remained flat but had lost its earlier coldness. "If you can move, get up. Ground's cold."
Merle's eyes snapped open, looking at the extended hand in disbelief, then at Hanks's expression.
Seemed to be searching for mockery but found only calm.
He gasped heavily, hesitated, then finally gritted his teeth and grabbed that strong, capable hand.
Hanks pulled with slight effort, hauling him up like pulling a turnip.
Once steady, Merle immediately shook off the hand, turning his head somewhat awkwardly and rubbing his still-aching chest and back. But he didn't spit any more curses.
"Lee, collect their crossbow and knives." Hanks ordered, then added, "We'll hold onto them temporarily."
Lee immediately stepped forward.
He gathered the compound crossbow, hunting knives, and the previously-confiscated bolts and backup blade.
Merle's mouth twitched. He wanted to protest but glanced at Hanks and swallowed the words.
Daryl watched silently without objection. This was already a far better outcome than expected.
Hanks ignored them, walking straight to the deer that had stopped twitching.
He bent down, threading his arms through the legs, powering from the waist to hoist the nearly hundred-kilogram deer onto his shoulder.
Fortitude, Strength, and Load Bearing all worked together—the weight wasn't too taxing for him.
"Follow." Hanks tilted his head toward the Dixon brothers, tone brooking no refusal, then began walking steadily toward camp.
Lee raised his gun, gesturing for the brothers to walk in the middle while he brought up the rear.
The setting sun stretched their shadows long. Through the sparse woodland, the crude camp by the river—two battered vehicles—came into view quickly.
Kenny on the RV roof spotted them immediately.
Especially the deer on Hanks's shoulder and the two ragged but fierce-looking men behind him.
He called out sharply, "Lee! What's going on? Officer?" His shotgun rose a few degrees.
Carley and Katjaa, resting in camp, were also alerted and looked over tensely.
Clementine ran to the vehicle edge, small hands gripping the door, watching Hanks and the strangers behind him with worry.
"We're fine. Met two hunters."
Hanks's calm voice carried over, breaking the tension. "Deer for dinner tonight."
Only then did Kenny and Carley lower their guard slightly, though their gazes still swept over Merle and Daryl with scrutiny.
Lee stepped forward quickly, quietly explaining what had happened to Kenny and Carley.
Hanks looked at the still-wary Dixon brothers and pointed at the river. "There's water. You can wash up."
He told Katjaa, "Give the brothers some water. We'll all share the venison tonight."
Merle and Daryl exchanged glances, then looked at Hanks standing in the center.
This group seemed fairly decent.
Daryl nodded first, pulling the still-reluctant Merle toward the river.