Starter for @betaofthedead
It seemed that everything that could go wrong did. Jesus couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this afraid, not for his own safety, but for the safety of those around him. He could go out on his own and face any threat, even get himself in some quite big trouble when he wanted to, without as much worrying much that he might not make it out alive. But when it came to the lives of his people, just the thought of losing any of them made his blood run cold– or perhaps it was the concerningly low temperature. It wasn't usual for it to be this cold this time of the year and yet here they were, struggling through a fog so thick they couldn't make out a discernible shape of a walker in front of them until it was at arm's reach. Perhaps global warming had always had something to do with the weather in Virginia.
Jesus realized that not all of his uneasiness came from the threat on his people's lives. No, something was wrong.
It started subtle, a whisper that didn't belong to ananyt voice he was familiar with, so soft he would have thought he was imagining it if it wasn't for the fact he wasn't the only one who reacted to it. One of the new women, Yumiko, stood close and her head snapped in the same direction as his did when he heard it. So no, he hadn't lost his mind yet.
The second option wasn't much better: there was someone in the fog with them, and they weren't a walker.
He kept moving ahead, tackling and stepping on the head of one of the walkers that got in his way before kicking another to the ground. He didn't bother to end the second one, his eyes focusing on two silhouettes that stood ahead. One was Aaron, he could tell because, well, he knew Aaron way too well at this point, but the other one was a complete stranger, tall, menacing, closer to Jesus than it was too Aaron, but approaching Aaron while he was distracted.
Jesus didn't think. He ignored what might have been a: "What are you doing?" from Yumiko and rushed forward, dodging a walker that got in his way in his efforts to get to Aaron before the other shape in the fog did. When that proved fruitless, he changed direction, instead charging at the large figure and ramming onto its side.
Muscle memory took hold of him and his hand found its way under the leather flap of a trench coat, closing around the handle of a knife that he swiftly pulled free of its sheath, holding it half behind his thigh as he stepped back and watched the figure regain its– no, his balance, reaching with both hands under the very trench coat Jesus had just reached under of, and only finding one weapon.
"Looking for this?" Jesus hummed, holding the blade up as he spoke.
