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Julius awkwardly sat by himself on the living room. His fast-beating heart reflected his anxiety; what was that man, Rick, going to do next? If it wasn’t for his exhaustion discouraging him, he would’ve done something more proactive by now.

Rick heads to the end of the hallway, noticing the opened door to the left. He was clutching Meredith with his right hand.

As soon as he reaches the room, he knocks on the opened door twice. Vinnie, sitting on the bed and patiently waiting, turns to look at him.

“Here’s the guitar,” he tells him, holding it up to his level. Vinnie nods, stands up and receives it, quickly sitting back down afterwards. “We got really lucky today, Rick,” he replies, his voice somewhat quiet. Rick nods once in response and assumes a more relaxed position, hanging onto the sides with his elbows. “Yep. We pretty much did.”

After half a minute of running water in the background, he casually leaps out of sight. He passes by the two other doors and transfers to a jog once he reaches the first step of the stairs. He reverts to normal steps as he descends down, jogging toward the living room.

He appears before Julius, opening his mouth to talk; but before he does, he walks back to the dining room, vanishing into the darkness for one second and appearing with a dining chair the next. He sets the chair to the right side of Julius, and casually sits.

“Now, before we do anythin’, I should catch y’up on what the hell’s been goin’ on.” He leans forward, setting his elbows against his lap. “I know you’re pretty confused about everything.” He lightly squints at Julius’s face, as if to examine it. “Yeah, I can see it in your face,” he says, a faint smirk forming on the corner of his mouth.

He pulls himself back up, letting his back rest against the chair. “This… ‘owner’ o’ the house? This guy’s freakin’ nuts.” He pats his lap as he says the last three words.

“His name’s Harold Burrough. He likes to be called Mister Burrough, though. Man was freakin’ rich before everythin’ went to shit; his success is an example o’ this house.” He looks around the ceilings and walls with his hands gestured up. “Guy’s a weirdo; he’s an inheritant, and was a pretty damn successful one at that.” He starts to rub his chin. “Smart freakin’ guy, he is…”

--------

Mr. Burrough paces his room, stopping to look at any photo he sets his eyes to; it was the only way he could calm his nerves. He was much too excited for this “new” girl… the girl that might ease his tension, and bring him back into order again. Then again, she might not, and he might be forced to do something he wishes not to do…

He stops at the family photo standing on his desk; it displayed him, his wife, and this “despicable” thing… he still can’t believe how this boy acquired all his features. He reaches for the frame to bring it to a closer view. He shakes his head and places it back, facing it down this time.

--------

“He went through some crazy struggles—y’know, risk of bankruptcy, fraud—but he managed to pull through… but things got worse...” He points his index finger up and shakes it toward Julius. “… a lot worse. His son… his son was the hardest rebel you’ll ever see. Hated his dad like a passion. And his wife? Got sick of him. Kept it for fifteen years. They even got separate beds after a while.” He glances the ceiling above him.

“And that’s when the fucker went crazy. He would… he’d try to pass that shit off by acting normal, but no. It consumed him on the inside.

“He was never a drinker; but the fucker downed bottles of wine for two straight weeks, once.” He puts his two fingers up with his left hand, repeating the number to Julius. “Two. Don’t know how many, but… basically a garbage bag’s worth.” He puts his hand down and playfully pushes his chair backward by leaning against it. “Then he’d… make us fuckin’ buy this ridiculous shit. A slot machine, a fuckin’ zamboni—the fuck you need a zamboni for?—fuckin’ trophy mooseheads—I don’t fuckin’ know why it had to be a moosehead—fuckin…” He stares off as his voice trails, trying to remember the rest.

“…fuckin’ tickets to Bon Jovi!!” he continues, his volume a little louder. “That fucker always listens to classical shit, I don’t know…” He shakes his head as he stares off. “I don’t… I don’t know. That guy was goin’ through this mid-life crisis shit.” He stops leaning against his chair, and reverts back to a normal seating position.

“Then, shit got worse…” He slowly leans forward again, this time resting his chin on both his hands, his elbows pointed against his lap. “He started pickin’ up these… young chicks. Don’t know where—some of ‘em were probably gold-diggers an’ shit—he’d bring them up in his room, laugh it up, drink some wine. Normal shit.” He pauses, still staring off, though squinting a little.

“Then he’d… he’d fuckin’ have sex with ‘em. I mean, it was—it was normal the first few times. But he kept on doin’ it.” He returns leaning back on his chair.

“All while his fuckin’ wife is in the same roof! Woman had to find somethin’ else to do—” He was making gestures with his arms now. “Eventually the woman left, just—outta nowhere. He didn’ care though—just kept on at it.”

Julius was all-ears; even though he barely knew Rick, the way he told this story seemed to attract all of his attention to him. He intently listened, his chin resting on the palm of his right hand. He felt glued to it, as he barely had the energy, let alone motivation, to change it.

“It was a behind-the-scenes thing—the fucker came out normal outside. Fuckin’ went to these parties, fundraisers, galas, all dressed-up, actin’ normal an’ shit. This guy’s a damned psycho… I mean, he’s this weird fucker in the house, but when he’s out—he’s all… normal. I’m like—” He motions both his hands above his head in an “exploding” manner, accompanying it with a “boom” sound from his mouth. “—y’know?

“I mean… we had no idea what to do. Fuckin’… Vinnie up there—” he points to the ceiling with his finger. “He was all like, ‘Leave ‘im alone. It’s all right. He’s just goin’ through some shit’… y’know, typical excuses.” He sinks himself into the seat, somewhat biting the nail of his index finger.

“Vin’s been with ‘im for so long. Twenty years. Them’s good friend’s y’know?” He raises an eyebrow upon saying it. “Vin always thinks Harold’s fuckin’ right—and… y’know. What the hell am I to do? I look up to Vin. He took me up when I was a kid…” He stares off again, halting his nail-biting.

--------

Vinnie examines the guitar on his hand, and rests it just behind him. He stands up, and slowly walks toward the dressing table. The running water in the shower provided the background noise in this room.

He examines the photos; pictures of Edna Burrough, happily smiling. Other times, she looked blank. He shakes his head, and places it back on its spot.

He still blamed her for his struggles. He still couldn’t forgive her for walking out on him…

--------

“So… so yeah. Shit carried on until the world went to crap. Harold was seein’ Laura, this one really attractive blonde girl—she was smart, had a career goin’… good girl on her feet. But Harold dragged her down, kept her locked up in this damn house—I mean, I fuckin’ hated it when I looked after her—man held on to her while the world fuckin’ ended.

She was… miserable, y’know. Couldn’ see her family, don’t know what happened to them—” He points to the ceiling again, though briefly this time. “Your pal? She kinda looks like her, though a little… shorter. S’why Harold was all excited an’ shit when I…” he sighs, “…informed him.”

He scoots his chair closer to Julius, leaning in toward him to indicate his seriousness. “Y’see… Harold has a son. Name’s Hamill.” Julius felt like he’s been the missing piece of this story, though he was a bit uncertain about it.

“Kid loves Laura; saw her sufferin’ during her stay here. Cared for her behind his dad’s back…” He looks away, slowly leaning back to his chair and shaking his head. “Stupid kid…”

He goes back to looking at Julius. “Told me all ‘bout his plan. How he’d do whatever it takes to get’er outta here. Tellin’ ya…” He starts rubbing his chin, as if he was mustering something important to say. “… kid’s got guts. Went over to the harbor, to secure a … boat? Somethin’. But he’s comin’ back right now…” Rick starts to relax back to his chair; he pauses, as if he was deep in his thoughts.

He suddenly stands up, walks over to the side of his chair, and carries it. “C’mon, let’s get started,” he urges, turning toward the dining room. “Le’s go get Laura out. I’m sure Hamill’s gonna be waitin’.”


As soon as the running water stopped, Vinnie made sure he was out of view. He stands behind the wall next to the bathroom opening, looking at the carpet. “You just about done there, little lady?” he asks, out loud. He hears the shower door close, followed by a weak sound of moving cloth.

The only thing that responds to him was a closing door. “Yeah, y’are,” he says to himself, nodding. He walks back to the bed and sits on it, resuming his patient waiting.

He scans around the room, both his hands balled up together. He starts shaking his left leg.

This goes on for another few minutes. He shakes the wrist of his right hand and folds the sleeve up. He squints at the small print of his vintage watch. “Four o’clock… this is fuckin’ broken,” he mutters, tapping the watch’s glass. He always forgot to replace its battery, if they still existed… Those damn things are too hard to see; it was always a bother replacing the battery.

He gazes at his watch for a few more seconds, and unties it. He takes the watch with his left hand and places it on the breast pocket of his suit. He turns his head to the opening of the bathroom, then shifts it to the corners of the room.

He forms his mouth into a small O shape, and starts blowing. He attempts to whistle, though the noise didn’t completely come out; his lips must’ve been dry, and…

He hears loud steps against the tile floor of the bathroom. A…. different girl was starting to come into view.

“Holy… crap. The hell are you?” he asks, sarcastically; he indicates this with a faint smirk.

He couldn’t recognize this girl; she wore a patterned, dark-green dress, the sleeves frilled on top of her shoulders, its collar evident. Below it, she wore designer stockings, and tiled, dark-gray pumps. Her hair was untied, stretching down to her neck. Her signature headband sealed her look.

“Heh, nevermind.” He shakes his head, stands up, and approaches her. He scans her for any other flaws he can find; she just looked at him with a certain dullness that he couldn’t figure out. He carefully places both his hands around her collar, and tugs it. “You… you really serious ‘bout this?” he asks her; his tone was lacking, and a bit silent.

Nina’s eyebrows slightly pull up; her eyes assume a more dreary look. “Look—y’don’t … y’don’t gotta….” He looks at her for a second then turns away, his mouth somewhat covered by his index finger. “Just don’t let ‘em touch… just—” He glances back at the bed to look at the guitar. “—play a song, and call…” He sighs, then starts to quiet down.

“Do what?” she asks; her volume was even lower than his. He shakes his head again and smirks.

“Look—Look.” He transfers to her side and places his hand on her shoulder. “Just do yer best. Act... cute. Vulnerable. He really gets a kick outta that…” He lets go for a second to get her guitar, quickly recovering it from the bed and handing it to her. He pats her back and nudges her toward the opened door. “First door after this one.” He reaches behind his pocket, but then decides against it. “Oh, and... an’ greet ‘im nicely once y’see him. ‘Hello, Mr. Burrough.’ Like that.”


Rick asks Julius to follow him; he approaches the staircase first, and does a quick scan. He walks up to it and stops halfway. “Let’s go,” he says to Julius, motioning him to follow. They both carefully climb up the steps, until they reach the second floor. The hallway that greets them seemed to be as well-lit as the living room, in Julius’s eyes.

Rick lightly steps toward the first door to their left, his head fixated on the room one door away. He glances Julius once as he steps over to the right side of the door, carefully turning its knob. He slowly pushes it open, and peeks his head in.

“Laura?” he calls, almost in a whisper. From Julius’s angle, the room was nothing but darkness.

“Laura?...” he repeats, now turning his head left and right. “She ain’t here,” he tells Julius, as he stops leaning in.

The knob he was holding onto suddenly pulls forward; in an instant, there was someone face to face with Rick. “Oh hey,” he casually says, looking at the face directly in front of him. She had blonde hair, and an intimidating expression that made Julius want to keep his distance.

“Yo, um… Julius, this is Laura.” He looks to him while pointing at the person to his right. The woman then turns toward Julius, glancing him fairly quickly with her look. She slightly leans in to Rick, whispering something.

“He’s tryina help us,” Rick replies, barely audible. “Let’s—” He does a quick scan on the end of the hallway and turns back to her. “Let’s head on out.” He lets the door go and approaches the staircase, where Julius stood. The woman, Laura, follows suit, exiting in a sneaky manner.

“We’re gonna meet Hamill outside,” Rick tells Julius, as he approaches him. Julius lets Laura pass by and follows, hoping to not let an awkward moment pass.

As soon as he left, he glances the hallway once; he sees half the figure of a woman coming out from the end of the hall, nervously clutching a guitar. “What was she doing with Nina’s guitar…?” was the first thing that comes to his mind.

--------

She tried to keep her hands steady as she held Meredith with both her hands; she managed to calm her palms, but her fingers weren't complying...

She was blank in her thoughts as she was briefed by Vinnie; this was the only other time she could think.

She goes through her plan one more time; look for something extremely heavy, conceal it, and hit this man on the head. She assumes Vinnie won’t be in the same room; he already had the decency to not watch her. Then again, maybe he was lying…

Okay. She’ll do plan B; plant her foot on both of their groins when they least expect it, take Vinnie’s gun, point it as soon as she leaves…

But how easy will that be? Vinnie might be in one area of the room, while this man, Mister…. Borrow? Is going to be in another area. Maybe if she tackles Vinnie first, then run to that Borrow man…

No. Maybe she has to do plan C. Apologize to Meredith, and use her as a weapon. She looks at her friend once and whispers “Sorry” to it. She was going to slam it onto Borrow, as lightly, but as hard as she could… then do the same to Vinnie. But that’s already a risk she isn't fully willing to take...

She lightly shakes her head, hoping that Vinnie will wait outside, just like all typical henchmen. She can only hit one person with this guitar. That’s final.

She stops in front of the door, and gulps. She has no idea what to do; she looks to her right, and sees Vinnie looking at her. He nods at her, somehow putting forth the message that it was okay to knock.

She sighs, pauses for a second, and follows Vinnie’s order, knocking on the door three times.

“You… may come in,” a voice from the other side says. Nina looks at Vinnie one last time; he nods once, in response.

She braces herself and holds the knob with her left hand. Her right held onto Meredith. She slowly turns the knob, and prepares for the worst.

She pushes the door open, her eyes slightly closed.

A man, wearing a red robe, holding onto a half-full wine glass with his left, had his back turned in front of her, looking at a large window with the curtains folded away. He turns his head sideways, revealing the side of his face.

“Ah…” He does a complete turn to reveal himself. “You…” A smile of satisfaction grows on his face.

“You must be her. My new… my new muse.”

Nina could only look at him with a blank expression; she was far too frozen inside to move. And just then, she remembers what Vinnie told her. “H-hey Bo…” she sighs, out of nervousness, “… Borrows.”

She blinks once, to realize her mistake. “Burrough, you idiot! Burrough…” she says to herself.

“Borrows, eh?” The smile in his face grows into a grin. “That… is... just adorable.” He shakes his head, and walks toward her. Things couldn’t get worse for her when she hears the door behind her closing.

He balls his right hand up, and slowly caresses Nina’s cheek with it. “A doll. You’re like a doll…” he mutters, looking up and down to examine her. “Such a pale color…”

Nina was trembling. Not because she was scared; because of the anger flaring inside her chest. This man has already made a complete pervert of himself in just their first meeting. She though he had manners, at least…

She glances once behind her, to see if Vinnie was present; her hunch was correct. She was able to hurt this old coot as much as she possibly could.


His room was even bigger than she expected; it looked like it could top the living room alone. His bed had open space to each of its side. It even had a canopy.

“Well…” Mr. Burrough walks to the bed, and sits on the footrest. He takes a quick sip of his wine. “I’d like to know more about you before we share this… this intimate time.” He looks at her, expecting her to respond; instead, she just stands there, letting her guitar block the rest of her figure.

“Well?” The volume in his voice suddenly grew; it made Nina slightly jump. “Aren’t you going to talk, instead of standing there, acting stupid?” The way he sounded angry intimidated her even more.

“So help me… if you disappoint me in any way…” He quickly stands up and walks to the desk, where the huge window was. He pulls the top-left shelf open and puts his hand inside it. “I do not want to be disappointed…” He reveals a pistol in his hand, and brandishes it in front of her.

“I—I—” Nina tries to process this sudden mood spike, fumbling her words. “I—was a… maid! Just a m-maid… f-for rich people… and I went—”

The redness in Mr. Burrough’s face suddenly vanishes; he drops the pistol on the desk and replaces it with the wine glass. “I… I see. When you talk…” He walks toward her again, but stops; instead, he starts circling her, slowly. “… you just sound like an angel. It calms me…”

She has to end this soon. No, she needs to.

“Please… speak more.”

“Well…” as she trails off, she looks around her direction, for anything, anything, she can use to plant onto his forehead. She stops at a bronze statuette of a standing woman resting on his desk, just right next to the pistol. “Perfect,” she thinks.

“I was… I was this really sad girl. Alone, no siblings… no friends…” She tries to add more passion to her tone, but fails; these current circumstances just forbid her to. “I was lonely. A lonely girl…” She paces the floor, to add more drama; the way she changed direction didn’t help her get close to the desk.

“Lonely, lonely girl…” she repeats a little slower, looking at Mr. Burrough’s eyes. The man ate it up, as the curiosity slowly grew into his look. “I sat there, all alone… being alone, it was…” She was running out of things to say. “Diff-difficult.”

She paces one more time, stopping near the desk as she intended. “Sometimes…” She turns around and looks to him. She tries to find the perfect look with her eyes, resulting in a flurry of expressions that turned into awkwardness in her part. But judging from how Mr. Burrough barely changed his look, it somehow worked.

“I was just…” she decides on the simplest look she could find; slightly downward-curved eyebrows. “... so sad. So…” She lets go of her tenseness, and relaxes, almost collapsing onto the desk, the way she wanted it. “Lonely…” Bingo.

There was a silence in between them; Mr. Burrough continued to look at her with utmost interest. Nina gives him a hesitant smirk then quickly turns around, just so she can confirm the statuette. He just needs to approach her, so that she can take it, and slam the big, square part of the statuette’s bottom onto the gigantic target of his forehead. She still maintained a hold of her guitar by placing it against the flat, left side of the desk.

“Your voice… it’s already like music.” Mr. Burrough stands up from his bed, continually scanning her. “The sooner the better you old... Brannigan,” Nina inaudibly mutters.

“I don’t know what Vinnie made you do…” Nina’s heartbeat almost stops; did he just see through her act? He was lacking the charmed tone he had from earlier…

Once her heart resumes beating in a rapid manner, her anxiety shoots up. It looked like she was going to have to act much sooner than planned.

“But all of it is working. Oh, so extremely well…. I must…” Mr. Burrough paces toward Nina, his right hand reaching out. “I must have—”

Nina places her right hand onto Meredith’s fingerboard, tightly grasps it, and swings it sideways as she turns around, hoping to hit him; she felt something nearly deflect her, followed by a tumbling sound.

She curls up Meredith toward her chest, and does a quick check. “I—I’m so sorry gal,” she mutters to it; there were no visible scratches at least. “I’m so sorry you had to make contact with that…” She looks at the nearly lifeless Mr. Burrough; he was plopped onto the ground, face down. “… bandersnatch.”

She rests Meredith against the desk, and grabs the bronze statuette. Mr. Burrough was starting to recover, as he slowly folds up his arms. “You…” he mutters; it was clear in his tone that he was frustrated, but he could barely raise his voice. “… fucking bi—” Before he could finish that unspeakable word, Nina kneels down and slams the bottom part of the statuette onto the back of his head, silencing him and giving him what he well deserves.

She stands up, and sloppily throws the statuette on the floor. “Yeah, well…” She inhales and hocks the largest spit she could gather.


Hamill was on his way back. He was in the back of the car, eagerly waiting, formulating a plan for when he arrives. It was extremely difficult for him to think, with all the current implications he’s currently going through. His plan being foiled didn’t help much, either.

Hamill is a man in his early thirties; if not for his brown hair, it could be said that he was his father’s younger version. He hated him with a passion, especially now that he was on a mid-life crisis that nearly destroyed his own life. Even if the apocalypse subsided, he still wishes for this problem to be fixed.

Of course, that was asking too much. This was far too irreparable; all he has to focus on now was to save Laura. But before he can, he has to figure out how to slip out of these handcuffs on his wrists. That, and then he has to figure out how to stop his own driver…

“What’re y’lookin’ at? Hoping to escape?” The driver looked at him through the overhead mirror. He had semi-dark skin, buzz cut dark hair, a goatee, and a semi-formal, all-black suit. He was Valez, his dad’s most loyal bodyguard. He doesn’t know how he managed to find him; probably Rick’s fault, or Vinnie beating the information out of him.

They drove through the seemingly empty road, on the way back to the house. “I don’t fuckin’ know what yer dad’s gonna do to you,” Valez says, glancing him a few sides through the mirror. “But I hope he kills you. Hope he lets me kill you.” He makes an almost reckless, sharp right turn; Hamill slammed against the passenger door next to him.

“Y’know I always hated ya? How y’always drive your dad mad...” There were a few walkers in this street now, unlike in the past few they drove through. “… he’s always right, y’know.”

“Why do you love him so much?” Hamill suddenly replies. “You’re only this loyal to him because he has all the money, right?” Valez looks at him with an annoyed look and responds by making yet another sharp turn, forcing him to slip through the seats.

“Fuck you,” Valez says, a look of satisfaction on his face. It was somewhat true; Harold’s bank account nearly had all the money in the world. It was a shame that an ungrateful “bastard” like Hamill is going to inherit all of that. Maybe if he earns Harold’s trust a bit more, he’ll get his own piece…

--------

Rick, Julius, and Laura all waited outside the house; Rick was scanning the road, while Julius and Laura waited near the front door. Laura’s demeanor discouraged him from engaging any type of conversation with her; the way she looked down, folded arms, tapping the ground with her left foot just made her unreachable.

Rick was almost right about her almost looking like Nina; she had a long, pale-blonde hair tied on a pony-tail, a dark headband, and light skin. Even without the make-up, her beauty is still evident. If not for her height, it would be safe to say she was Nina’s sister.

Rick was at the sidewalk in front of the house, looking left and right, his hands on the pockets of his pants. He does another look-around then jogs back toward the front door. “Still ain’t here,” he says as he approaches the pair. “I know Laura, it’s a’right…” He approaches her and pats her shoulder once. “… he’ll make it back. They ain’t got ‘im.”

Julius almost forgot about the walkers; all of the commotion inside this house had him distracted for a while. “Why don’t we go get your friend?” Rick suggests, getting Julius’s attention. But before they could go, Laura sees something on the street that makes her walk toward it.

“Isn’t… isn’t that…?” This is the first time Julius heard her speak. Rick turns to the direction she was looking at, and squints. “What the hell is… Valez doin’ here…?” He knows what car he drives; it was a pale gray Buick four-seater, unlike Hamill’s jet-black one.

He sees Valez come out from the front door, waving at him once. “Yo Valez!!” he shouts. “Thought you went back?!” The man named Valez replies something inaudible from their position.

“Almost forgot…” Rick walks back next to Julius, looking at him. “Valez is the third member of our… lil’ group. Stubborn, kinda like me. Loyal, like fuckin’ Vinnie.” He glances the car once to see what he was doing; he was getting something out of the backseat…

“He… said he was goin’ back to get his family. I mean, he’s a nice kid, but he—he could be a handful sometimes—”

“Look who I fuckin’ have!” Valez emerges from the car, holding Hamill by the arm. With his other arm, he held a silenced pistol.

“What—what the fuck’re you doin?!” Rick shouts back. He walks toward them but stops halfway through, reaching for his own pistol. “H-Hamill!” Laura shouts with him.

“Nobody fuckin’ move! I wanna see Mr. Burrough!” Valez walks toward them, dragging Hamill with him. Rick jogs in a rushed manner and carefully approaches them both.

“The hell—the hell’re y’doin’? Calm—calm the fuck down—”

“How the hell could you, Rick?” Valez interrupts, his tone aggravated. “How could y’let him sneak out, with… with that fuckin’ whore over there?” He points his pistol hand toward Laura.

“Why’d—why’d you tell him?!” Hamill says, struggling a bit.

“I—I didn’t know—I thought he was on my—”

“Shut the fuck up!” Valez exclaims. “I want to see Burrough. Where the fuck is he!?”

Rick looks up to the second floor’s window. “He—he’s a lil’ busy—oh shit—” He glances Julius once, reminding him of what Mr. Burrough was probably doing at this moment.

--------

Nina takes Meredith, and walks toward the door. But before she even reaches it, the door opens up. “Listen—Mr. Burrough—” instead, Vinnie sees a surprised Nina, and Mr. Burrough face down on the carpet. “The hell happened…”

“I knocked him out,” Nina replies, with no remorse in her voice. “With…” She turns sideways and points to the statuette on the ground. How could she forget about Vinnie? It looked like she was going to have to use Meredith again—

“Oh.” Instead, Vinnie just shrugs, looking nonchalant at his boss. “I was…” he forms a smirk and shakes his head. “I was goin’ to get y’out. I knew I had time, but… this… this is better.” He walks toward Nina and nudges her to exit. “I’ll go ahead an’ take y’to your friend. C’mon.”

A sting of confusion suddenly hits Nina; why is he so helpful all of a sudden? “Why… why are you…?”

“Don’t mind it kid.” They both casually walk toward the stair case. “Because… because Harold’s one sick sunuvabitch.” He turns back behind him to look at the room one last time, then shakes his head. “And also ‘cause y’remind me o’ her.” Nina shyly looks at him.

“Her…”

“My daughter.” They both reach the darkness-enveloped kitchen. “Was too busy workin’. She… she died when I was still here. Neglected ‘er.” It was unfortunate. Vinnie’s daughter was another victim to the end of the world, Nina thought.

They both go to the living room, only to find it completely empty. “The hell…” Vinnie does a quick scan, and walks to the door. “They’re probably…” He pulls it open, and urges Nina to follow.

Once they step out, they were greeted by yet another confusing scene; Julius and Laura looking at the distance, while Rick tries to calm down Valez, who was holding Hamill hostage.

Nina freezes up in confusion, while Vinnie walks past Laura and Julius.

“The hell’s goin’ on here?” he exclaims, getting Rick and Valez’s attention.

“Vinnie!” Rick replies, somewhat relieved. He glances the front door to see “… is that… the girl…?” standing in front of the door.

“Vinnie! Just the man I wanted to see.” Vinnie approaches them and stops at Rick’s side.

“Go get Burrough. I got his lousy fuckin’ son, and he’s got some ‘splainin’ to do.”

Vinnie gives Hamill a disappointed look, and glances Laura in the back. “Hmph. Good job Valez.” He reaches back behind him and pulls out his own pistol. He glances Laura one more time and turns to Valez. “Yeah, he’s right up there. I’m just gonna…” He does a few casual turns and quickly pulls his pistol up, shooting Valez three times.


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