TWD - Chapter 540: Winning People Over with Virtue (Patreon)

Just as everyone was locked in a standoff, Daryl slipped silently out from the rubble behind Victor, crossbow raised, bolt nocked, eyes narrowed to slits. Then he stopped.

Daryl had spotted a problem.

Victor was standing in exactly the right position!

The back of his head was right there, round and fuzzy, like a perfect target.

But a crossbow bolt was meant to be fired. If he killed Victor, Cyrus would turn on him, and then he would have to kill Cyrus too. Leah might even turn on him over it.

Daryl hesitated for just a moment, then turned the crossbow sideways and weighed it in his hands.

Not bad. This probably wouldn’t kill him.

He lunged forward suddenly.

When Benson later described the scene to Josephine, he put it this way:

“You know those cartoons? The ones where a wolf sneaks up behind a deer, then swings a club at it, and the deer’s eyes turn into two X’s?”

Josephine nodded.

“Just like that.”

Victor didn’t notice a thing. His full attention was on Benson. He was like an erupting volcano, his eyes blazing with rage, his curses rattling off like a machine gun.

Then came a sharp “thud”!

The crossbow stock struck him squarely on the back of his round head.

Victor’s stream of curses cut off instantly, and his eyes rolled back!

His eyes really did roll back. His pupils vanished upward until only the whites showed. His body went rigid for a second, then pitched straight forward.

Cyrus was stunned. He hadn’t even noticed there was someone else lurking in the corner!

Benson pounced immediately, dropped one knee onto Victor’s back, and wrenched his arms behind him while Daryl pinned his shoulders from the other side.

It took the two men only two seconds to pin the enraged young man firmly to the ground.

Victor’s face was buried in the dust, and muffled sounds still came from his mouth. “Mmph… you… mmph…”

He struggled once, but his head was spinning as if he had ridden a carousel a hundred times. He simply could not muster any strength.

Benson looked up at Daryl. “Are you knocking him out or killing him?”

Daryl remained expressionless. “Knocking him out.”

“His eyes rolled back.”

“Normal reaction.”

Benson was silent for a moment. “It looks pretty serious. You’ve done this before? He’ll be okay?”

Daryl thought for a moment. “Merle used to hit deer like this.”

Benson: “…”

Cyrus stood frozen in place, his whole body stiff. He watched Victor being pinned to the ground, watched his legs still twitching, watched his dust-caked mouth still spewing muffled curses.

He could only say weakly, “Don’t-don’t kill him!”

Daryl glanced at him. “He won’t die.”

Cyrus let out a sigh of relief.

Then Daryl added, “He might have a concussion.”

Cyrus’s breath caught in his throat again.

Leah walked over, placed a hand on his shoulder, and comforted him earnestly. “Don’t worry. A concussion won’t kill him!”

Cyrus looked at her with a complex expression.

Daryl hoisted Victor off the ground. Victor’s legs were still wobbly. He couldn’t even stand steadily, and his whole body hung limply from Daryl’s arm like a sack of potatoes.

Benson walked up to him, looked at his innocent face caked with dust, and scratched his head. “How long will it take for him to wake up?”

Daryl thought for a moment. “About ten to fifteen minutes.”

“What’ll happen when he wakes up?”

Daryl thought for a moment longer. “A headache.”

“…That’s it?”

“He might want to curse a little, too,” Daryl said.

“All right, then. Take him away.”

Daryl dragged Victor deeper into the ruins, Victor’s feet leaving two crooked trails on the ground.

Cyrus looked in that direction, his expression complicated. “Is-is he really okay?”

Leah stood beside him. “He’s fine. We don’t kill people.”

Cyrus looked at her and sighed. “Victor’s my friend. He saved my life…”

“I know,” Leah said, glancing at Benson.

Benson nodded, pulled a plastic zip tie from his waistband, caught up with Daryl, and tied Victor’s hands behind his back.

...

Victor felt as if he were dreaming, a very, very long dream. People were talking somewhere inside it, their voices drifting closer and farther away as if muffled by water.

The back of his head hurt like hell, as if someone had swung an iron bar into it. No, as if something had smashed into him. He wanted to touch it, but his hands would not move.

He was tied up.

This realization brought Victor back to his senses a little. He struggled to open his eyes, but his eyelids were too heavy. He could only manage a narrow slit.

Before him lay a blurry scene of ruins. Several figures were sitting in a circle not far from him. They were talking in hushed tones, but the ruins were so vast that he could still hear them.

“…What should we do with this guy?” It was Benson’s voice.

Rage surged through Victor instantly. Traitor! Damn traitor!

His mind was awake enough to struggle, but his body would not obey him. He had no choice but to keep pretending to be unconscious and listen.

A deep voice with a Southern accent said, “Just kill him. Easier that way.”

It was that bastard who’d hit him! The one with the crossbow!

Victor cursed the crossbow guy a hundred times in his mind.

Another female voice, very calm, said, “Don’t kill him.”

It was Leah. Victor remembered her. She was one of the traitors.

Benson’s voice came again. “Then what do we do? Once he wakes up, he’ll start ranting again, and he’ll definitely snitch. He’s not right in the head. He believes whatever The Pope tells him!”

There was silence for a few seconds.

Then a very pleasant female voice spoke up. “Guys, wait~ We have to win people over with virtue.”

Victor’s mind went blank for a second.

Win people over with virtue? What the hell is that? Does anyone even do that these days?

Benson’s voice carried obvious confusion: “Win people over with virtue? What does that mean?”

The pleasant female voice explained, “It means we don’t kill him, don’t hit him, and don’t yell at him. We let him choose for himself.”

Benson: “…Commander, are you serious?”

“I’m serious.”

“This guy just pointed a gun at me, cursed at me for three solid minutes with tears and snot all over his face, and tried to blow me away. You want me to win him over with virtue?”

“Yes.”

Benson fell silent again, then said, “Daryl, what do you think?”

Daryl’s voice was muffled. “I only know how to hit people. I don’t know how to win them over.”

Benson: “…”

The pleasant female voice gave a soft laugh. “It’s fine. We have a professional.”

“Who?”

“Gabriel.”

Victor lay there, his mind a mountain of question marks.

Win people over with virtue? Gabriel? What did any of that even mean?

And that woman’s voice, the one everyone called “Commander.” Whenever she spoke, everyone else’s tone changed.

That bastard Benson was usually so cocky, yet when he spoke to her, he was as obedient as a cat.

Who is she? What gives her the right?

Victor couldn’t figure it out, but he had a vague feeling that this woman was no ordinary person.

After what felt like an eternity, Victor was finally able to open his eyes. The back of his head still throbbed, the pain making him want to curse.

He struggled to sit up and discovered he was tied to a pillar, his hands bound behind his back and his ankles tightly bound as well.

Damn it. He could not move. Not at all!

Victor looked up and saw several people standing in front of him.

Benson, that traitor, stood on the left with his arms crossed, wearing that “you’re finally awake” look on his face.

Leah, that female traitor, stood on the right with no expression on her face, but her eyes were fixed sharply on him.

Daryl, who had to be the bastard who hit him, stood a little farther away with the crossbow slung over his back. When Victor looked his way, he even rubbed his nose.

There was also a woman standing right in the center, arms crossed as she sized him up. Another former coworker, Carver, stood behind her, likewise tilting his head and folding his arms.

That face made Victor pause for a moment. She was beautiful, of course, but what really struck him was that Benson and Leah’s new boss actually looked so young!

Victor’s rage surged instantly. “You bunch of traitors!!!”

His voice was hoarse, but he still had plenty of force behind it. “You betrayed the Lord! Betrayed The Pope! Betrayed…”

“Enough, enough,” Benson cut him off. “You’ve already yelled all that. Can we come up with something new?”

Victor froze for a beat, then got even angrier. “You still have me tied up! You-you hit me in the head!”

He glared fiercely at Daryl. “Fuck you! You fucking ambushed me! You damn bastard, come at me head-on if you’ve got the guts!”

Daryl looked at him, his face expressionless. “If I’d faced you head-on, you’d be dead right now.”

Victor: “……”

There was no way to respond to that.

He turned on Benson. “You! You traitor! You-you should just die!”

Benson sighed. “Victor, calm down. Aren’t you dizzy?”

“Fuck off!”

Benson glanced at Leah. She said nothing. He looked at the woman again, and she nodded slightly.

Benson sighed. “All right, Gabriel, it’s your turn.”

Before Victor could even process who “Gabriel” was, a figure stepped out of the shadows of the ruins.

It was a middle-aged man in a black priest’s cassock, a silver cross hanging from his chest and catching a soft gleam of sunlight.

Compassion showed on his face. His eyes were gentle, but there was something deep beneath that gentleness.

Victor froze, staring at the black robe and the cross.

That was a priest’s attire, and this Black priest looked even more compassionate than the Reapers’ chaplain.

“Who are you?”

Gabriel walked up to him, crouched down, and gently met his gaze. “My child, my name is Gabriel. I am a priest.”