The flickering streetlights cast long shadows against the walls, elongating the figures of three men as they moved with purpose toward the armory.
Rick, Daryl, and Murphy moved swiftly but cautiously, their boots crunching softly against the dirt path. Every step felt heavy with the weight of what they were about to do. If this went south, they wouldn't just be on the Governor's bad side—they'd be dead men walking.
Merle was exactly where Daryl expected him to be—leaning against the side of the armory, flicking his knife open and shut in the dim light. The rhythmic snick of the blade echoed in the silence. He wasn't alone. Two other men stood nearby, smoking and muttering quietly.
Daryl stepped forward first. "Merle."
Merle's head tilted slightly as he smirked, tucking his knife away. "Well, well. Baby brother comes back after all. I was beginnin' to think you forgot all about me." His gaze shifted to Rick and Murphy, his smirk widening. "And look at this. You even brought Officer Friendly and our magic-blooded guest. Ain't this a fine little reunion."
Rick didn't waste time. "We need to talk."
Merle studied him for a moment before nodding toward his two men. "Take a walk."
The two men hesitated, giving Rick and Murphy suspicious glances before nodding and slipping away into the darkness.
Merle let out a dramatic sigh. "Alright, boys. What's this about? Y'all look like you're about to ask me to babysit."
Daryl stepped forward, voice low and firm. "We're takin' this place."
Merle blinked, then let out a short bark of laughter. "Oh, shit. That's a good one." He grinned. "Y'all been here five minutes and already wanna play king of the hill?"
Rick's face was like stone. "The Governor's got too much power. Too much control. He's got these people livin' under a damn dictatorship, and they don't even see it."
Merle chuckled, shaking his head. "And? World's gone to hell, Rick. Ain't no democracy anymore. Strongest man wins."
Murphy, leaning against the wall, finally spoke. "And what happens when you're not useful to him anymore?"
Merle's smirk faltered slightly.
Murphy folded his arms. "You know the Governor better than anyone. How long you think it'll be before he decides you're a liability?" His voice was quiet but steady. "Maybe you slip up. Maybe you get too mouthy. Maybe he decides he don't need an old war dog anymore."
Daryl took a step closer, voice serious. "You really think he sees you as an equal?"
Merle didn't respond, but something shifted in his expression.
Rick pressed on. "You help us, we take this town. You pick who you trust, we hit fast and hard. We replace him." He let the words sink in. "And you don't have to worry about bein' put down like a damn dog when he's done with you."
Merle tapped his fingers against his belt, lips pursed. "And what's my cut?"
Daryl scoffed. "You really gonna make me say it?"
Merle grinned, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Say it anyway."
Rick didn't hesitate. "You live. You keep your place. And we don't take you out with the Governor."
Merle whistled low. "Damn. Now that's one hell of a sales pitch." He flicked his gaze to Murphy. "And what about you, magic man? You trust me?"
Murphy's face remained unreadable. "I don't trust anyone."
Merle chuckled. "Smart." He exhaled through his nose, scratching at his metal stump absentmindedly. Then, after a long pause, he nodded.
"Alright, baby brother." He clapped Daryl on the shoulder. "I'll play ball."
Then his grin returned, sharp and wolfish. "But if we're doin' this, we ain't just takin' him out. We're makin' sure he stays out."
Rick's eyes darkened. "Agreed."
Merle rolled his shoulders, his smirk widening. "Well, hell. Guess we're plannin' ourselves a damn coup."
The night air was thick with tension as Rick, Daryl, Murphy, and Merle moved swiftly through the dimly lit streets of Woodbury. The town was quieter now, most of its people either asleep or huddled in their homes, unaware of the storm brewing beneath their feet. The Governor's compound loomed in the distance, its windows glowing faintly from within, a stark reminder of the power they were about to challenge.
Merle strolled beside them, the ever-present smirk on his face betraying a glint of excitement in his eyes. "Damn," he muttered, stretching his arms, "feels like old times, don't it? Plotting behind some bastard's back, gettin' ready to raise hell. Warms my cold, dead heart."
Daryl shot him a warning glare. "Ain't a game, Merle."
Merle snorted, tapping his metal stump against his belt. "Ain't it, though?" He glanced at Rick. "You really think this bunch is ready to take on the Governor?"
Rick didn't bother answering. His expression was grim, focused. They had already committed, and there was no turning back now.
Murphy, walking a step behind, exhaled slowly, his piercing blue eyes flicking toward the streets around them. "We need to keep moving. No telling who might be watching."
They reached their safe house, an old storage shed near the back of Woodbury, hidden behind stacked crates and long-forgotten supplies. Daryl gave three sharp knocks on the wooden door before pushing it open.
Inside, the rest of the group was already waiting.
Andrea and Amy sat against the far wall, Amy clutching her sister's arm tightly, her eyes wide with nerves. Glenn stood near the door, pacing slightly, hands rubbing at his jeans. T-Dog leaned against a crate, arms crossed, his face tense. Shane was sitting with his back to the wall, but the way he gripped his gun made it clear he was on edge. Dale sat nearby, his usual cautious demeanor amplified tenfold. Lori was standing protectively near Carl and Sophia, her expression one of deep unease.
The room fell into silence as Merle stepped inside.
Shane was the first to react, pushing off the wall. "Oh, hell no."
Glenn stiffened, his hand hovering near his pistol. "What's he doing here?"
Merle smirked, lifting his arms slightly as if in surrender. "Now, now. Ain't no need for the hostility, gentlemen. I'm just here to lend a hand."
Shane scoffed. "Yeah, right. More like to stab us in the back the second things go south."
Daryl stepped between them, his expression unreadable. "He's in."
Shane let out a bitter laugh, rubbing a hand down his face. "Jesus Christ, you trust him?"
Daryl's jaw clenched. "No. But I know what he is. And I know what he ain't. He ain't loyal to the Governor. He's loyal to himself. And right now, that means helpin' us."
Rick finally spoke, his voice firm, cutting through the tension. "We need him."
Lori, arms still wrapped around Carl, frowned. "Do we? After everything he's done?"
T-Dog narrowed his eyes. "Yeah, I got a real hard time believin' Merle Dixon is suddenly on our side."
Murphy leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "It's not about trust. It's about necessity." His tone was calm but unyielding. "He knows the Governor's weaknesses. He knows his men. If we go in blind, we die."
A heavy silence settled over the room.
Merle grinned, taking a few steps forward. "See? Magic Man gets it." He turned toward Shane, flashing his teeth. "Now, if y'all are done with the introductions, can we get back to the part where we overthrow a goddamn warlord?"
Shane exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. "God, I hate this plan."
Rick stepped forward, scanning the group. "It's not about liking it. It's about winning." His voice carried weight, the finality of a man who had already accepted what had to be done. "This is our shot. We don't get another one."
Andrea shifted uncomfortably. "So… what now?"
Rick's expression hardened. "Now we get ready."
Merle sat lazily on a crate, his usual smirk in place, but his eyes held a sharp, calculating glint. He tapped his metal stump against his knee absentmindedly, like a man weighing his options. Daryl sat opposite him, crossbow resting in his lap, his expression unreadable but his eyes never leaving his brother.
Rick stood, hands braced against the back of a chair, his gaze sweeping over the group. His face was tense, lined with the weight of leadership. "Alright," he started, voice low but firm. "We're all in agreement. The Governor's gotta go. But we don't just take him out—we take this place from him."
Andrea shifted uneasily, arms crossed. She still wasn't fully comfortable with the plan, her fingers tightening around her elbows. "How do we do that without losing half the town in the process?"
Merle snorted, shaking his head. "Y'all still thinkin' about savin' these people? Lemme tell ya somethin', sweetheart—most of 'em don't even wanna be saved." His eyes gleamed in the dim light. "You ever tried showin' a caged dog the open door? They don't run. They just sit there, waitin' for someone to tell 'em what to do next."
Amy, Andrea's younger sister, frowned, hugging herself. She had been mostly quiet since the discussion started, but now she spoke, her voice hesitant. "But… what if some of them would leave? If they knew the truth?"
Dale nodded in agreement, rubbing his forehead. "We have to at least give them a chance. Not everyone here is blind to what's going on."
Shane let out a harsh breath, rubbing his chin. "Fine. But we don't have time to go door-to-door with a goddamn brochure. We take the Governor out, we make it loud, we make it final. The ones who wanna go? They'll go. The rest?" He shrugged. "We deal with 'em after."
Glenn, leaning against the wall near the door, frowned. "And if the town turns on us instead?"
T-Dog shifted his stance, his broad shoulders tense. "Then we better have a backup plan."
Rick nodded. "That's why we need a detailed plan." He looked at Merle. "You're the closest to him. You know how he moves, who he trusts, and what his weak spots are."
Merle stretched, cracking his neck. "Ain't wrong. Phil—sorry, the Governor—keeps his most loyal men close. His top dogs? Martinez and Crowley. Those are the bastards you gotta worry about. Take them out, and the rest of his little army falls apart."
Daryl frowned. "What about his supplies? Fuel? Ammo?"
Merle smirked. "That's the fun part. Governor's got two big stashes. One's in his own damn house—locked tight, but nothin' a well-placed bullet can't fix. The other?" He leaned forward, his grin widening. "Hidden in the basement of that fancy gladiator pit y'all love so much."
Murphy, arms crossed, nodded slightly. "Makes sense. He keeps his people entertained while stockpiling everything he needs to stay in power."
Rick exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. "Alright. Here's how it goes down."
The Plan
Rick pointed at the rough map they had drawn out on a scrap of parchment. "During the next gladiator match, we split into three groups."
-Group One (Disruption Team): Daryl, Andrea, and GlennTheir job was to create chaos in the arena. Daryl would take a sniper position near the top of the bleachers. Glenn and Andrea would sneak into the holding areas for the walkers and set them loose right when the fight started.
-Group Two (Execution Team): Rick, Shane, and T-DogThis was the Governor's downfall. They would wait until the chaos started, and slip into the mansion. Rick would lead, Shane would cover the hallways, and T-Dog would take point on finding Martinez and Crowley before they could rally the guards.
-Group Three (Supply Raid & Extraction Team): Murphy, Dale, and AmyWhile the Governor's people scrambled to deal with the chaos, Murphy would lead Dale and Amy to secure weapons and supplies. They needed enough firepower to hold the town if things got ugly—or enough to flee if it all went to hell.
Murphy rubbed his chin, considering. "And Merle?"
All eyes turned to him.
Merle chuckled, tilting his head. "Oh, I got my own part, don't worry." He leaned back, his smirk lazy but his eyes cold. "I'll be standin' right next to Phil, smilin' when the world goes to shit."
Rick's expression was unreadable. "And then?"
Merle tapped his metal stump against his knee. "Then I put a bullet in the bastard's skull."
Silence.
Daryl's eyes narrowed. "You sure?"
Merle met his gaze. "What, you don't trust me, baby brother?"
Daryl clenched his jaw but didn't answer.
Rick exhaled sharply, nodding. "Alright. We go at sundown tomorrow." He looked around at each of them. "This is it. We win, we take this place. We lose?" His voice was grim. "We don't get another shot."