Ignoring the people waiting in line, I walked toward the gatehouse, Clementine close behind me. Her eyes never stopped moving, sharp and alert as she scanned our surroundings. Most of the guards in the inner circle wore reinforced leather and plastic around their necks, arms, and feet. Any place where a walker could easily bite was heavily protected. Clementine wore similar leather padding as we approached. She looked small, but nothing about her posture suggested weakness.
As we neared the gate, the man inside called out nervously, "W-wait, sir. You have to pay three meals' worth of food." Fear clouded his eyes.
I slowly turned my gaze toward him. He immediately dropped his eyes.
Sensing my silent scrutiny, he hurriedly added, "Y-you don't have to pay, sir—but the young lady with you does." His voice trembled.
I glanced at Clementine, then back at him. Without a word, I pulled out my custom metal stamp.
"Put it on my credit," I said, handing it over.
He nodded quickly, stamped a slip of paper, deducted three credits from the account book, and returned the stamp. Three credits were meaningless to me; I had nearly three thousand.
As we passed through the gate, the guards nearby whispered among themselves. With my sharp hearing, I caught every word.
"Why the hell is this arrogant prick so afraid of that kid?" one man whispered. He sounded new.
"Keep your voice down," the guard beside him replied. "The boy in front of you isn't just a boy—he's a plague."
"A plague?" the newcomer asked, confused.
"Yes. Every time he goes on a mission, hundreds of people die. Entire camps get wiped out. Every community wants him working for them, because if you manage to hire this 'plague,' there's a one-hundred-percent guarantee the mission gets completed."
The man's eyes reflected both fear and awe as he glanced at me.
"That can't be real," he muttered. "He looks like a normal teenager."
"I thought so too," the other guard said quietly. "Until I saw him take three bullets and come back the next day like nothing happened, killing walkers and runners alone. He's not normal. Be careful."
The new guard fell silent, staring at me in open fear.
Ignoring them, I continued walking.
Suddenly, a fat man in his forties, wrapped in a long bearskin coat, came hurrying toward the gate, huffing and puffing. The guards immediately saluted, but he brushed past them and rushed straight to me.
"Welcome, Max Walker," he said eagerly. "It's always a pleasure to see you. Come inside—I'll show you anything you might like."
This was Robert, one of the four leaders of the Common Ground.
At first glance, he looked harmless, but appearances were deceiving. He was extremely cunning, the kind of man who could use any dirty trick to his advantage. Before the fall, he'd been a general manager at a major retail corporation. Now, he's in charge of the management of the Common Ground.
"No thanks," I replied. "I'm just here to explore. I don't want to inconvenience you."
I knew the more I spoke to him, the more he'd find a way to rope me into a mission. I shut it down before he had the chance.
His smile didn't waver. Instead, his attention shifted to Clementine, who had her fingers hooked lightly around my arm. Her grip was casual, not clingy, territorial in a quiet way.
A polished business smile spread across his face.
"Ohhh, young lady," he said warmly, "what's your name?"
"Clementine," she replied, meeting his gaze without flinching.
Robert nodded. "I'm Robert. You can call me Fat Uncle."
Clementine smiled faintly.
"Max," Robert continued, glancing at me, "you've really found yourself a beautiful young lady. You're a lucky man."
Clementine's eyes flicked up at me. A faint grin tugged at her lips, sharp and proud. She tightened her grip on my arm, just a little.
This fat bastard was good, really good at reading people.
"Clementine," Robert said smoothly, stepping closer, "if there's anything you want, just say the word. I'll see what I can do. Free of charge, of course."
She studied him for a second before answering.
"Thanks," she said evenly. "If I need something, I'll ask."
For a brief moment, disappointment crossed Robert's face before disappearing. I smiled faintly and gestured for us to move on.
At the gate, a guard stopped us.
"Sorry, sir," he said nervously, "but you're not wearing a muzzle."
Robert shot him a look sharp enough to make him flinch.
"I-I'm sorry, Sir Robert," the guard stammered. "Those are the General's orders. Everyone wears a muzzle now—even VIPs."
Robert opened his mouth, but I stopped him and pulled a leather muzzle from my bag. Clementine followed suit without complaint. It was the standard procedure in most camps.
The guard glanced at Clementine, his voice tightening.
"She's not listed as a VIP. She needs to surrender her weapon and report to quarantine before entry."
That was it, I was getting irritated. I knew he was just doing his job, but quarantine here was brutal.
Behind us, Robert appeared to tremble with rage, but a closer look revealed a sly smile tugging at his lips. Even with my heightened senses, I nearly missed it. The man was truly cunning.
Then a voice cut through the tension.
"Let them in, dumbass!"
The speaker was a bulky man in his late thirties.
"But General, you ordered—"
The guard never finished. He hit the ground hard, his nose broken and bleeding on the ground.
"Fucking idiot," the General snarled. "When did I tell you to stop this kid and his companion? Labor camp. One month."
The guard scrambled away in silence.
I almost felt sorry for him… almost. He was an idiot who hadn't read the room. Rules bend for the strong—that was how the world worked now. No… it always had.
Nearby, a few guards snickered quietly. "The General's pet finally got his promotion," one whispered.
The General turned back to us with a smile.
"Sorry about that stupid soldier of mine. Come inside. You don't need to wear the muzzle."
Robert smiled sheepishly.
"General Daniel, why don't you let them have some alone time?" He said casually. "I'm about to hold a leaders' meeting, so I hope you'll be there."
The General's expression twisted the moment the words left Robert's mouth. His teeth clenched as he glared at him.
"Fat ass," he growled. "You'd better sleep with your eyes open."
With that, he stormed off.
Robert didn't look scared in the slightest. He turned back to us, smiling as though he'd just closed a profitable deal.
"I'll leave you two alone as well. Enjoy yourselves and welcome to the Common Ground."
Then he walked away.
Finally, we were inside the Common Ground.