[TWD x Resident Evil] — Chapter 301 - Michonne, You Really Are a Good Person

Prison, conference room.

Leon was bent over the blueprints of that beat-up armored vehicle with Jim when T-Dog's voice crackled through the walkie-talkie, sounding like he'd seen a ghost. Leon frowned.

She's back?

Already?

He crossed to the surveillance monitor and found that familiar figure on screen.

Michonne stood 100 meters from the outer fence, perfectly still.

She didn't approach. She didn't call out.

She just waited for the people inside to react.

Leon smiled.

Style.

He liked it.

"T-Dog." He picked up the walkie-talkie. "Open the gate. Let her in."

"Huh? Just like that?"

"What else?" Leon shot back. "Leave her out there to feed the Walkers?"

"But... didn't she not want to join us?"

"Carry out the order." No room for argument in his tone.

The heavy iron gate ground open again.

T-Dog walked out with two armed inmates, wearing the expression of a man stuck dealing with a troublesome relative.

"Hey! You again!" He looked at Michonne like she owed him something. "Boss says you can come in."

Michonne said nothing. She nodded and followed them through.

When she stepped back into this prison, her state of mind was entirely different.

She was no longer the prisoner desperate to escape.

"Wait." She stopped suddenly. "I have people with me."

T-Dog's brow twisted. "People? What people? Where?"

Michonne pointed toward a distant grove of trees.

T-Dog raised his binoculars, looked, and his face shifted immediately.

"Shit — she brought backup?" His gun came up on instinct. The others snapped to high alert, one already reaching for the alarm.

"Relax." Michonne's voice was flat. "I picked them up on the road."

Leon's voice came through the walkie-talkie.

"Bring them all in. Conference room."

Tyreese's group was "escorted" inside by several gun-toting men.

When they walked into that smoke-stained conference room, they felt like lambs that had wandered into a wolf's den. Especially when they laid eyes on the bald man sitting at the head of the table.

Tyreese felt his calves go soft.

The man radiated authority without effort, no anger needed, no raised voice. That presence hit harder than any boss, any cop, or any military officer Tyreese had ever stood before.

Not that you could blame the feeling. Leon had killed people. That edge was real.

Leon lifted his head. His gaze settled on Michonne's face for a full second.

A little surprised.

He'd figured this woman would spend some time out there eating dirt before she remembered the "iced orange juice" waiting for her here.

He didn't expect her back this fast.

Had she come around? Or...

His gaze moved past her, to the people at her back.

When he spotted the man, nearly two meters tall, built like a bear — his eyebrow ticked up.

He looked familiar.

Then he caught the woman following behind the big man. Sharp-eyed. Coiled with alertness.

It clicked.

Fuck.

Son of a bitch.

Tyreese. The Hammer.

Sasha. The sharpshooter.

Leon felt like he'd cracked open a mystery box and pulled two hidden-model SSRs.

He'd always figured Michonne was a lone wolf with off-the-charts fighting ability, and letting her walk was like releasing the wrong fish. A bit of a shame, but no real damage done. And who knew, she might even find her way back.

But who in the hell could have seen this coming.

This fish swam a lap around the ocean, came back on her own, and dragged two great white sharks home with her.

Leon's eyes found Michonne again.

Appreciation. Admiration. And something close to helpless laughter, all tangled together.

This woman.

She had no idea the favor she'd just done him.

She thought she'd brought back a few deadweights. A few hot potatoes nobody wanted.

In Leon's eyes, she'd just delivered top-tier combat power straight to his front door.

He couldn't stop his mouth from curling up.

He looked at her.

Michonne's face, the one that never stopped broadcasting "I don't trust a soul," now carried something she couldn't quite hide: a flicker of awkwardness, a thin layer of uncertainty. She didn't know how to face him when he was wearing that look.

Leon quietly gave this woman a solemn internal designation.

Michonne, you really are one hell of a good person.

"Welcome back."

He stood, didn't spare a glance at Tyreese and the others, walked straight to Michonne, and held out his hand.

"And thank you for the gift."

Michonne looked at the outstretched hand. Then at his face, at that smile — the exact one a shady merchant saves for an easy mark. She went completely blank.

Gift?

What gift?

She hadn't brought anything.

➤ Next: Don't Leave This Time, Stay