The bus was a metal tomb. Maggie moved between the seats, each body she turned over a psychological torture. Jackson stood at the top of the bus steps, leaning against the door frame, watching her. He could have told Glenn wasn't there in five seconds just by smell, but he wanted her to feel the weight of the loss. Despair breaks people, and broken people are easier to mold.
Maggie sobbed as she plunged her knife into the skulls of former prison friends. The smell of death was suffocating.
— Glenn... Glenn... — she murmured, her hands trembling.
Suddenly, a walker lying in the hallway, seemingly "dead" among other corpses, grabbed Maggie's ankle. She screamed, losing her balance. Before the creature's teeth could pierce her skin, a figure passed by her.
Jackson didn't use his claws. He simply stomped on the zombie's head with his heavy boot, exerting such brutal pressure that the sound of the skull cracking sounded like a watermelon hitting the asphalt.
"Stay alert, Greene," Jackson said, his voice low and hoarse. He gripped her shoulders, lifting her up. For a moment, he held her close, her chest rising and falling against his. "He's not here. Accept that. He's become food or he's out there being targeted. Now you have to focus on who's alive. In this case, me."
Maggie didn't answer. She just let go and started walking back to the pickup truck, her shoulders slumped, defeat etched into every step.
POV: Inside the Pickup Truck
Sasha watched the scene through the windshield, her hands clenched on the dashboard.
"He's toying with her," Sasha growled. "He's having a field day with our fear, Bob. We can't trust him. A man who has all this stuff in the middle of nowhere? He's a looter, or something worse."
Bob, still pale but breathing better thanks to the medication, shook his head. "He saved me, Sasha. He could have left me to the crows and stayed with just the two of you. He's... strange, I know. But we're alive. That counts for something."
"Nothing's free with guys like him," Sasha retorted. "I saw the way he looks at Maggie. And the way he looks at me. He's waiting for the right moment to collect."
scene change
Jackson was right behind Maggie. As she walked toward the car, he couldn't help but let his eyes wander. Her jeans, stained with dirt and dried blood, perfectly accentuated her curves. The Wolverine template didn't just bring healing; it brought animal instincts, and his libido was at its peak.
Maggie stopped at the passenger door and felt his gaze burning into her back. She turned sharply, meeting Jackson's wry smile.
"Did you lose something?" she asked, her voice heavy with hurt.
"Just enjoying the view, Greene. It helps pass the time in this gray world," Jackson replied without a hint of embarrassment.
He walked around the car and got into the driver's seat. Before starting the engine, he glanced in the rearview mirror and gave Sasha a slow wink. The gesture was pure defiance. Bob is a good man, Jackson thought, but good men die quickly. She'll realize she needs a wolf, not a patient.
He pulled a sealed bottle of whiskey from the [INVENTORY] (pretending to have taken it from under the seat) and broke the seal. He took a long swig, feeling the liquid burn his throat.
"You shouldn't drink all of that," Maggie said, looking at the bottle. "It might be the last one we've found in months."
Jackson let out a dry laugh and drank another half of the bottle before wiping it with his jacket sleeve.
"Relax, honey. I have more in the trunk," he lied, knowing that his inventory contained entire boxes of that brand. "And if it runs out, I know where to find more. The secret is knowing what you're willing to trade for a drink."
He turned the key, and the pickup truck's engine roared, startling the birds from the nearby trees.
— Next stop: the train tracks. I heard there's a place called Terminus. — Jackson grinned, thinking of the Adamantium reward that awaited him. — Let's see if "Sanctuary" can handle an encounter with Wolverine.
....
Jackson parked the pickup truck under the canopy of a massive oak tree, whose shadows would help obscure the glare of the flashlight. As the engine crackled and cooled, he processed the information from his previous life.
Let's see... Abraham and Rosita must be escorting Eugene around here. Rick is with Carl and Michonne. And Glenn... Glenn is with Tara. Jackson smiled, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. If I speed up with Maggie now, by the time she finds the Korean, she'll already have the taste of my cigarette in her mouth. The law of the strongest doesn't wait for emotional reunions.
He got out of the car and began unloading the "camp." With calculated movements, he removed from the back—once again discreetly accessing the inventory—a high-quality tent, provisions, and Bob's medical kit.
"Here, take this. And try not to die during the night, you're costing me dearly," Jackson said, tossing the antibiotic to Bob.
"Thank you, Jackson. Really," Bob nodded, genuinely grateful.
While Sasha helped Bob settle in, Maggie approached the back of the pickup truck to look for blankets. Her eyes widened. Besides canned food, she saw something she hadn't seen in months: feminine hygiene kits, sealed bars of soap, and even packets of wet wipes.
Sasha, who approached right behind, let out an involuntary sigh. It was the ultimate luxury in hell.
Jackson, who had been leaning against the side of the car watching their reaction with a predatory gaze, took a step forward, positioning himself between the two. He leaned in, closing the distance until Maggie could feel the warmth of his skin.
"Did you like what you saw?" Jackson whispered, his voice deep and provocative. "This world doesn't have to be just blood and filth. I have everything you need right here."
He leaned close to Maggie's ear, letting his breath brush against her neck. "If you ask nicely... I might even let you use the private stash."
"You're a pig," Sasha hissed, though her eyes were still fixed on the hygiene products.
"I'm a pig who has soap, Sasha. Think about that before you sleep on the dirty floor," Jackson winked and walked away, chuckling softly.
...
The camp was set up. The tent was comfortable, but clearly too small.
"I'll keep watch tonight. I'll sleep in the pickup truck; the front seat folds down," Jackson announced. "You three can stay in the tent."
Bob looked at the tent and then at Jackson, embarrassed. "Jackson... the tent is small. It only fits two adults comfortably if we want to keep our backpacks and legs stretched out. Three will be dangerously cramped, and my injured leg needs space."
Jackson feigned surprise, even though he had planned exactly this scenario when choosing that specific stall from the inventory.
"That's your problem. But if you're really cramped..." Jackson shrugged, looking at Maggie. "One of you can ride with me in the pickup. The seat is leather, it's soft, and I'm a great human warmer."
Sasha looked at Maggie, alarm bells blaring in her eyes. She knew what Jackson was doing. "Maggie stays in the tent with Bob. He needs care overnight," Sasha said quickly, trying to protect her friend.
Maggie glanced at the cramped tent, then at the pickup truck where Jackson was already getting in. She was exhausted, emotionally devastated by the failed search on the bus, and felt filthy. The idea of sleeping on a leather seat, protected by the locks of a car, was too tempting, despite the danger the man represented.
"I'll stay in the car," Maggie said, her voice firm.
— Maggie, no! — Sasha protested. — You don't know what he...
"He won't do anything I don't allow, Sasha," Maggie lied to herself, trying to maintain her dignity. "Besides, Bob needs legroom."
Jackson, already seated in the driver's seat, opened the passenger door and patted the seat twice. "Wise choice, Greene. I promise not to bite... unless you ask."
Sasha watched Maggie get into the car, her heart in her throat. Jackson closed the door, and the sound of the electric lock echoed in the clearing like a sentence.
Inside the car, Jackson's scent was overwhelming. He pulled a thick blanket from the back seat and threw it onto her lap.
"Make yourself comfortable," he said, reclining his seat. "Tomorrow is going to be a long day. And Maggie... try to relax. I'm the only one here who can really guarantee you'll wake up tomorrow."
He closed his eyes, but his senses were 100% focused on the sound of Maggie's rapid breathing beside him. "The Consolation for the Widow" was only just beginning.
The silence inside the pickup truck was dense, broken only by the crackling of dying firewood outside and the whistling of the wind through the cracks in the windows. Maggie was huddled against the door, the blanket pulled up to her chin, her eyes fixed on the dark dashboard.
"You know, Greene..." Jackson's voice came out low, vibrating in the enclosed space. "You look much better without that funeral face you had on the bus. You have too beautiful a face to waste on crying over the dead."
Maggie pressed her lips together, anger battling exhaustion. "Are you always this insensitive, or are you trying so hard to be a jerk?"
I'm a realist. The world doesn't have time for your grief," he replied, turning to face her. In the dim light, his eyes seemed to gleam with an animalistic intensity. "But I admit… you've got fire. Glenn must have been a lucky guy. Or an idiot for letting you get away."
That mention was the trigger. Maggie felt the barrier break. The image of Hershel being executed by the Governor, the chaos of the Prison, Beth's disappearance... it all came flooding back at once. She began to tremble, silent sobs shaking her shoulders.
Jackson watched the collapse for a moment. His transmigrator mind was pragmatic: She's on the edge. Now or never. He stretched out his arm and, with a force that accepted no resistance, pulled her to the center of the console, forcing her head to rest on his leather shoulder.
"Cry it out already, girl," he growled, but his hand rose to stroke her hair with a strange gentleness. "Your father's gone. The little blonde could be anywhere. But you're here. And as long as you're with me, nothing will touch you. Understand? Nothing."
Maggie couldn't pull away. Jackson's warmth and the scent of tobacco and masculinity were the only solid things in a melting world. She cried against his chest, clutching Jackson's jacket as if it were a lifeline.
"That's it, cry for the past... because your future is me," Jackson thought, as he put his arm around Maggie. He looked at her profile, noticing how the moonlight highlighted her curves even under her dirty clothes. "I'm sorry, Glenn, but the law of the jungle says that what is left behind becomes the possession of whoever finds it. And I don't intend to give it back."
Suddenly, the blue interface flashed before his eyes, invisible to the woman in his arms.
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION] Bond Progress (Maggie Greene): 45% - "Pillar of Support". Reward for Psychological Comfort: 1x Cohiba Cuban Cigar + 1x Pack of Condoms (Ultra Resistant). System Note: A cautious predator is worth two.
Jackson almost let out a grim laugh. The System was quite straightforward about what it expected of him. He mentally stored the items in his inventory, feeling Maggie's weight relax against him as her crying subsided and exhaustion took over.
He made her more comfortable, adjusting the blanket over them both. He was a brute, a mercenary, and a trickster, but there was one thing the Wolverine template brought in full force: territoriality.
"You can sleep, Greene," he whispered, his face inches from hers. "The wolf is guarding the door."
Maggie fell asleep within minutes, too exhausted to fight the dangerous attraction she was beginning to feel for the man who was, at the same time, her savior and her moral captor. Jackson stayed awake for a long time, only feeling her heartbeat against his arm, planning his next move to Terminus and how Sasha would be the next to fall into his web.
next day
The morning dawned cold and cloudy, but inside the pickup truck the air was still warm from the shared heat. Jackson opened his eyes and, for a moment, simply observed Maggie. Her face, now relaxed from deep sleep, no longer bore the mask of pain from the previous day.
He gave a wry smile, lightly tracing the jawline with his thumb. "I get your point, Korean," he thought. "She's not just a pretty face, she has something that makes a man want to build a wall around her just to protect her." But Jackson wasn't Glenn; he wasn't just going to look for her, he was going to possess and dominate her.
He exited the pickup truck with feline movements, without causing the vehicle to rock.The cool morning air reached his lungs, and he took the opportunity to check his status.
[SYSTEM MENU - JACKSON CLAWS] Template: Wolverine (Progress 38% - Bone) Active Abilities: Berserker Rage (Locked), Healing Factor (Level 3). Future Available Abilities: * Predator Vision (Thermal) XP for Adamantium: 2,800 / 5,000.
"A one-man army," Jackson murmured to himself, feeling the power flow. He went to the back of the pickup truck and began to "remove" items from his inventory.
....
When Maggie woke up, the smell of fresh coffee and melted butter filled the cabin. She sat up slowly, feeling strangely refreshed. For the first time since her father's farm fell, and then the Prison, she hadn't woken up with her heart pounding with fear. Jackson's presence, however rough, exuded absolute security.
Outside, Sasha and Bob were already standing, looking at Jackson as if he were a god from another world. He had set up a folding table with:
Scrambled eggs with cheese.
Crispy bacon.
Lightly toasted sliced bread.
A thermos of steaming coffee.
"Good morning, sleepyheads," Jackson said, his voice hoarse. He watched Maggie get out of the pickup truck and fixed his gaze on her, a look that clearly said he knew how she'd felt the night before.
He approached the two women and, without saying a word, extended his hand. In one, a package of luxury wet wipes; in the other, two lavender soaps and small bottles of shampoo.
"Go wash yourselves in the nearby stream before you eat. I don't want people smelling of death at my table," he said with his usual gruffness, but the gleam in Sasha and
Maggie's eyes when they saw the items was priceless.
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION] Action: Basic Needs Provider. Reward: +200 XP | +15 Affinity Points with Sasha | +10 Affinity Points with Maggie.
Sasha picked up the items, almost in disbelief. "Why are you doing this?" she asked, her tone still skeptical, but her voice faltering.
"Because I like my women clean, Sasha," Jackson replied, giving her a cheeky wink that left her flustered. "Now hurry up. We have miles to cover."
As they walked away to the creek, Jackson poured Bob a mug of coffee. "Drink this, Bob. You need strength if you want to see the end of the line on these tracks."
Bob accepted the mug with trembling hands. "You're a difficult man to understand, Jackson. But thank you."
Jackson simply lit his new cigar, the Cohiba the system had given him, and exhaled a thick puff of smoke. Enjoy the calm, he thought, because when we get to Terminus, I'm going to need every drop of this XP to turn these bones of mine into metal.