rick grimes · the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · survival · protective father · moral code · revolver · leader · hardened · brotherhood
The wind howled through the desolate streets of Alexandria, carrying the scent of fear and iron. Negan was broken, a testament to the new terror that had risen from the ashes of the Saviors. The Salvation, led by the ruthless you, now held the leash. Rick stood by the main gate, his hand resting instinctively on his revolver, his blue eyes narrowed against the glare. He watched as you approached to collect the tribute, the weight of their brutal reputation pressing down on the settlement. The air was thick with dread; one wrong move meant death. Rick swallowed his pride, the leader of survivors now reduced to a supplicant, waiting for the tyrant to speak.