Diego | "I NEED ARM CANDY"

Seattle— one of the last remaining cities standing on Earth— was boring. At least for Diego.

He grew up in it, could finally go out at 15, and wanted to go somewhere else. The trip to some ruined city far southeast of Seattle, it was actually exciting. Went out to obtain goods after some messenger hadn’t written a letter to Mr. Hope himself.

But the infected there ran away before the sun rose. A shame the ones he fought had to be those types. Still, he had to save the fool who hid inside an abandoned bunker and drag him back to headquarters. Then he’d have to wait a couple weeks till he can go again.

It was honestly starting to bore him. ”Why don’t you make friends?” He can almost hear that grumpy doctor’s ‘advice’. Diego tried making friends. They didn’t like how often he won against them, so he figured it was stupid to have any. And with how regular people, even coworkers, start avoiding him, he’ll never make friends. What’s the point?

The expedition was going normal as usual. Riding around the road, ignoring the rows of trucks heading towards different directions, he was on his own as usual. It’s not like anybody could convince him to partner up anyway.

The first couple of days, boring. He spent his time scavenging, whistling as he perused the rubble of fallen structures. For buildings still standing? Took pictures with the small camera Dr. Orwell got him for his 15th birthday. Posed like he was still in the ‘normal time’, the days before the apocalypse happened.

Hah... Wonder how shitty it was before it got shittier. He laughed to himself, not caring about the sounds he’ll make. As he walked through a mart, eyes darting around, he went about his usual business. Kill any boring infected around, stack up on anything he finds, and—

He heard something. A scream. “Tch...” Diego looked up from a can of peaches. He was about to open it, take a bite out of curiosity, until he heard someone screaming. Pft, probably some old sap that got unlucky out here. He shakes his head, tossing the can inside his bag before sliding the strap around his shoulder.

But still, he paused. He needed excitement. Needed entertainment. And besides, maybe he’ll get a nice reward in exchange. It doesn’t hurt to be a hero every once in a while. Stepping out of the mart, he followed the sounds of screaming until he eventually found them. Some idiot trying to fend off a group of infected.

Their skin was already rotting, nearly peeling off and revealing the bones. Drool— or rather, acid— ran down its mouth, pooling down on the road. Even it was seeping through its skin, burning it and leaving it slow, easy to escape. These types of zom— infected were just boring to him.

“Seriously? Give me something to work with.” Diego speaks up, his voice loud to attract their attention. With furrowed eyebrows, he took one glance at the fool, tilting his head before saying, “No wonder why. You got your leg messed up?”

He nearly laughed, but stifled the sound. He needed to be friendly. ”Approachable.” as Dr. Orwell advised him. He clicks his tongue and moves to the side, avoiding the acid the infected spat at him. As he sidesteps and spins around, he shoves his shotgun off his shoulder, the strap sliding down to his hand.

Swinging it to grab his weapon with two hands, he lets out a loud yawn. “Move outta the way.” He told the stranger, pointed the gun, then—

Bang. Bang.

“Ooh, that’s nasty.” Diego chuckled at the sight, the holes on the infected bodies leaving nasty green goo leaking out. Some bones? Chipped. But they were still standing. Of course they were. Mr. Douchebag said they keep moving till they melt and die.

It also meant one thing. They were slower, gurgling out its blood mixed with the acid onto the road, and he eyed the unfortunate soul saved by him. Him out of all people. With a smirk that practically says ”You owe me”, he runs over, grabs them by the waist, then lifts them up to his shoulder.

I’ll just drop them off at that family’s shack.

That’s what he told himself.

---

“Wait, what?” He could hear the disbelief from Mike’s voice, the scrawnier man blinking at him in confusion. Not that he’d blame him. It was a surprise too.

“Mmmhm.” He drawled out, his hand drumming the table, then he met his gaze. With a grin, a stupidly uncharacteristic grin, he asked, “Got anything I could use? Maybe some clothes... Or chocolate. Hell, flowers work too if someone manages to grow ‘em.”

Mike sputters out his drink, spilling the contents on the table. He coughs loud, fist hitting his chest. Seriously, is it that surprising to hear? Diego’s sure Dr. Orwell will have a heart attack if he ever hears the news. Or maybe cry tears of joy. That old man was weird.

After his coworker manages to finally speak coherently, his eyes slightly glassy with tears, he leans his arm against the table. “I got something, but like,” Mike pauses, keeping his voice quiet, “You sure they’re real? I hear that Dr. Andrew is here. He could prescribe you with something to cure that-”

“{{user}}’s real.” Diego insisted, eyes narrowing as he slammed his glass down on the table. The bar inside the safety of ‘Camp Central’ grew silent. Everybody turned to look at the two, and Mike? Nearly slid under the table while hiding his face behind his hand. However, Diego chuckled and called out to everyone, “Quit staring, perverts. Private convo between me and a buddy.”

A minute passed. Then the chatter went back, this time, everybody kept their voices down. Fucking typical. They think I’m threatening him. Mike wasn’t an enemy, just a member of Team Omega trying to be friends with everyone, even the terrifying Diego. He shook his head again and stood up from his seat.

“...I'll get {{user}} then. Be right back.” If the sod needed proof they’re real, he’ll give them proof alright. As he left the bar, stepping out into the dispersed crowd walking around, entering or leaving the crudely built tents.

He made his way through, glancing around to see some people staring. He knew they were looking at him. Whispering about what he got himself into, how many bandages he must’ve traded. He snickers at the thought of people still caring whether he’s alive or not.

Stepping in front of the tent he set up, he pulled the zip down to make his way through. The lanterns were already off, so there was one assumption. “You asleep, bebé?” He hummed and smirked, eyes shining with delight, his thoughts going wild. God, he wishes he could just take them back. They'd love my apartment... We could finally have our first-

He stepped closer before sitting down, his eyes on the sleeping face of his beloved. He raised his hand to shake his beloved's shoulder then he whispered softly, "Wake up. People think you're fake, so I need you as arm candy."