[TWD x Resident Evil] — Chapter 289 - Forming the Unit
Murphy stared at the butterfly knife hovering one centimeter from his eyeball. His mind ran desperate calculations.
If he refused, that blade would punch straight into his eye socket without a moment's hesitation, then twist through his cerebrospinal fluid. This bald bastard was not joking.
The man had toyed with a mad dog like Vincent, a lunatic who commanded his own private army, without breaking a sweat. Skinning a blue hide for a pair of boots would be as easy as eating a burger.
And if he agreed?
At least... he'd still be breathing.
Better to survive first. Figure the rest out later.
"I... I'll take the first option."
Murphy swallowed hard, his voice barely louder than a mosquito.
"I'll do it. Boss, I'll do it."
His blue face was etched with pure misery, the look of some poor bastard who'd just been forced to sign away his own life.
Leon withdrew the knife, satisfied. The butterfly knife CLICKED shut.
"Wise choice."
He clapped Murphy on the shoulder, hard enough that Murphy nearly stumbled.
"Go get ready, Commander Murphy. Your unit forms today."
Murphy shuffled out of the interrogation room like a Walker that had lost its soul, limping with every step.
---
Out in the yard, the sunlight was harsh.
Leon climbed atop an empty wooden crate and clapped his hands.
The sharp crack cut through the noise. Everyone who'd been working turned around.
Rick, Daryl, Merle, Roberta's crew, they all drifted in and formed a loose crowd.
"Everybody stop what you're doing." Leon swept his gaze across them.
"Regarding that stinking ditch and the pile of rotters backed up in it — I've got a long-term solution."
Every ear perked up.
"Those military planes overhead drop noise on a schedule, every single day. They're drawing Walkers from dozens of miles around into that funnel terrain."
He pointed at the sky.
"We can't clear them out. We can't blow them up."
"So we're forming a special unit."
A pause.
"I'm calling them the Whisperers."
A murmur moved through the crowd.
"Their job is simple." He kept going. "Skin the Walkers. Make masks from their faces. Wear them. Cover your human scent."
"Then blend into the horde — move through it like sheepdogs and guide those rotters somewhere else."
T-Dog's jaw nearly hit the ground.
Wearing Walker skin to herd the dead away?
What the hell kind of person even comes up with something like that?
They all knew that wearing Walker guts stopped an attack, that wasn't new. But Leon's upgraded version was something else. It left a cold feeling that settled low in the gut.
Merle's eyes went wide.
"Leon, have you gone crazy from all the stress?" he blurted. "How the hell are Walkers supposed to listen to us? You're lucky if they don't take a bite out of you first."
"What do you know? Just do it." Leon shot him a flat look. "Would I lie to you?"
"And the commander of this unit will be our one-of-a-kind Mr. Murphy."
He reached into the crowd and yanked Murphy out from behind the backs he'd been hiding behind.
Murphy gave everyone an awkward wave. His smile looked worse than a grimace.
Roberta's expression changed in an instant.
She locked her eyes on Murphy, then shifted them to Leon.
Alarm bells were screaming inside her head.
Murphy leading a unit? Out of sight? Roaming freely across open countryside?
Absolutely not.
The second this blue-skinned coward found an opening, he'd vanish without a trace. He was humanity's only hope. She could not let him slip out of her protection.
"I'm in." Roberta stepped forward without a moment's hesitation.
Doc nearly choked on his pipe.
"Seriously? Wearing rotted flesh?"
"This is our mission." Roberta said it through her teeth, voice low. "We have to keep eyes on him."
10K quietly tightened the sling on his sniper rifle and stepped up beside her.
"Count me in."
Doc sighed and tapped the ash from his pipe.
"Fine. I'll tag along. Just hoping they can find me a face that's at least a little bit handsome."
Leon watched them. Something flickered in the depths of his eyes.
Free labor. No reason not to use it.
"Good. You're all in."
The rest of the prisoners exchanged uncertain glances. It sounded disgusting. It sounded dangerous. But any job Leon assigned usually meant extra supplies and a bump in standing.
"Boss, I'm in too!" A thick-necked prisoner with a face full of scar tissue shot his hand up.
"Count me in!"
"Me too!"
Within a minute, over a dozen people had volunteered.
Leon pointed at a few who looked sharp and physically capable.
And just like that, sloppily and absurdly, the first Whisperer unit was formed.
---
The crowd broke up.
Paco and a few of his dealers lingered at the edge of the yard, shifting their weight, rubbing their hands. They'd just gotten settled in the prison. Eaten their first real meal in days. But they knew exactly how this place worked: no value, no future. Stand still too long and you become cannon fodder.
"Boss..." Paco hunched slightly, a fawning smile on his face.
"We talked it over, us brothers. The skinning thing, that's not for us. We were thinking... we want to join the scavenging team."
He nodded toward the modified pickups parked in the distance.
"Glenn's crew."
"We came up on the streets. We know the roads. We're fast. Finding supplies is what we do."
Leon looked at him.
The guy wasn't stupid. He'd already figured out the scavenging team was the cushy assignment, more freedom, better odds.
But Leon's expression went cold.
"The scavenging team." A flat exhale, not quite a laugh.
Paco's stomach dropped. He'd read the room wrong.
"Glenn doesn't have time to babysit you right now." No warmth in Leon's voice at all. "He went off on his own and nearly dragged his whole crew into a disaster."
"He's in solitary. And he'll be scrubbing every toilet in this prison for a week to make up for it."
Cold sweat broke across the back of Paco's neck.
Even that stone-cold bastard who'd gone toe-to-toe with regular army soldiers had to scrub toilets for one mistake?
This bald boss's rules were a hundred times stricter than their old gang boss's ever were.
Had he just pushed too hard?
"That said — if you want to go out and run, fine." Leon's tone shifted.
He jutted his chin toward the wall, where Daryl was running a cloth along his crossbow.
"The scavenging team answers to Daryl now. Go report to him."
Paco followed Leon's gaze.
The man up on the wall wore a sleeveless vest. His eyes were like a lone wolf's, cold, watchful, already sizing them up in a way that made Paco's skin crawl.
He shuddered.
"Yes, yes, Boss!" Paco nodded fast and turned, leading his men in a half-jog toward the wall.
Daryl watched the dealers coming. The corner of his mouth pulled up.
---
Outside the infirmary.
Glenn leaned against the wall, toilet brush in hand.
Lee Mi-ju stepped out and pulled her mask down.
"She's awake."
Glenn's head snapped up.
He didn't say anything. He just tightened his grip on the brush and turned down the hallway toward the bathroom at the far end.
He still didn't know how to face the person who had saved his life.
---
The prison's back gate.
Murphy had changed into a protective suit. He held a dripping plastic bag at arm's length.
Inside: face skins, freshly peeled from a handful of fresh Walkers.
Roberta stood behind him, pistol chambered.
Doc pinched his nose shut. His face said everything.
"What's coming is coming," he muttered. "Let's just do it."
➤ Next: Emergency Training — Face to Face