Out in the dense Georgia woods, the capture mission was turning into an absolute circus. Rick, Shane, and Daryl were sweating through their new tactical vests, cursing loudly as they wrestled with three snapping, snarling walkers. Daryl had a loop of heavy rope thrown around a walker's neck, while Rick and Shane were trying to pin the arms of two others, desperately attempting to shove the thrashing monsters into the back cargo area of the INKAS Sentry without getting bitten.
Standing by the armored truck's open door, Merle watched the struggle with pure, unadulterated amusement, a wide smirk plastered across his face.
Instead of offering a hand or shouting advice, Merle casually drew his heavy machete. He stepped forward with fluid precision and swung the blade three times.
The three walker bodies dropped limply into the dirt, their decapitated heads rolling into the grass, still snapping their jaws aimlessly.
Rick, Shane, and Daryl froze, completely dumbfounded, staring at the headless corpses and then back up at Merle in sheer disbelief. "What the hell, Merle?!" Daryl snapped, wiping a splash of black blood off his cheek. "We were supposed to bring 'em back alive!"
Merle just shrugged, cleaning his blade on a stray leaf before sheathing it. He scoffed at their expressions. "What? Ya damn idiots. The kid said Jenner only needs the brains to test his little machines. He didn't say we had to haul the whole stinking body back."
"When did he say that?" Shane asked.
"Oh," Merle laughed, "He only told me, my bad, y'all"
The trio kept their mouths shut. They collected five snapping walker heads, secured them safely in a heavy canvas sack in the back of the Sentry, and drove straight back to the prison to hand the samples over to a deeply appreciative Dr. Jenner.
Meanwhile, inside the main cell blocks, Gray was staring at the massive space, trying to figure out how to speed up the installation. He opened his system shop and began scrolling through to see if he could make his job a little easier. He discovered a highly unique option, Skill Transferrence.
The system allowed him to permanently copy and inject any skill he had already purchased directly into another human being's mind. The catch was that the transfer cost exactly ten times the original price he paid for it. For example, if he wanted to give someone his 10,000-Gold electrical skill, it would cost him 100,000 Gold.
Thinking about the massive plumbing project ahead, Gray decided to test it out. First, he spent 10,000 Gold to purchase Advanced Plumbing Skills for himself, instantly absorbing the professional knowledge.
Next, he walked out into the common room and grabbed T-Dog and Morales. According to the system prompt, he needed to maintain direct physical contact with a person to initiate the cognitive transfer. Gray simply stepped up and shook hands with both men simultaneously. As their palms met, he authorized the transfer through his mental interface, spending exactly 200,000 Gold from his massive balance.
Morales and T-Dog instantly stiffened, their eyes glazing over slightly as a sharp wave of mental discomfort washed through their brains. A cold sweat broke out on T-Dog's forehead, but within a minute, the sensation vanished, and their eyes snapped back into focus.
They blinked, looking down at their hands and then up at Gray in absolute shock. A massive, complex blueprint of commercial plumbing, valve calculations, and pipe-threading techniques had just instantly manifested inside their minds.
"What... what the hell was that, Gray?" Morales stammered, rubbing his temples. "I suddenly know exactly how to solder copper pipes."
"Just needed to test something real quick," Gray replied casually. "Let me ask you something. Do you two know how to install the plumbing layout for this entire prison?"
Both men paused, looked at the walls, and simultaneously nodded with absolute confidence. "Yeah," They said, amazed.
"Perfect," Gray said. He opened the shop and spent roughly 50,000 Gold to spawn bulk crates of heavy-duty PVC pipes, copper tubing, welding torches, fittings, and industrial sealant directly onto the floor. "Help me run all the main lines through the building."
With T-Dog and Morales handling the internal routing, Gray marched out to the utility courtyard to handle something else. He walked over to the 10,000-gallon hard-plastic water tank and installed a massive, high-pressure commercial water pump directly at the base of the output valve. Next, he materialized a row of industrial-grade electrical water heaters, seamlessly mounting them against the concrete structure and running thick copper lines into the main plumbing manifold. He hooked the heaters directly into the prison's active MFE electrical solar grid, ensuring they had an infinite loop of blazing hot water.
Before heading back inside, Gray decided to add something. Right next to the main courtyard entrance, he built a row of heavy-duty outdoor decontamination showers. He knew this would be a game-changer for the community. Whenever a scouting squad or fighter returned covered in walker guts or mud from a heavy run, they could take a quick shower outside, stripping the filth away before ever setting foot inside the clean, pristine cell blocks.
Gray looked at the newly established piping network, fully aware that this setup was entirely temporary. Once his passive income had pooled enough gold in the coming weeks to buy the truly legendary upgrades, like the Minecrafter Physiology, he would be able to instantly punch out the earth, dig massive subterranean vaults, and build multi-level underground facilities without too much trouble. But for now, this industrial setup was more than enough to give his people absolute luxury.
Thanks to the prison's bright new overhead lighting and stable power grid, Gray, T-Dog, and Morales pushed through. They maintained a relentless pace, measuring, threading, and mounting pipes deep into the evening, only cutting the power tools at around 11:00 PM.
Gray stepped out into the crisp night air, uncoiled his massive white wings, and launched himself high into the air. He engaged his Wraith Sight, and he slowly panned his head across the dark horizon. Seeing absolutely no hostile blue signatures lurking anywhere near the prison borders, only a few gray ones, he glided back down to the courtyard and slipped inside his RV. He washed away the day's heavy industrial grime with a long, hot shower, then cracked open his laptop to finish his nightly episodes of The Walking Dead.
The following morning, the crew immediately resumed their work. To ensure the facility operated at peak efficiency, Gray purchased and installed a second heavy-duty 10,000-gallon hard-plastic water tank dedicated entirely to the laundry wing. Working quickly, he ran the primary feed pipes and mounted an independent high-pressure water pump to service the commercial washing machines. Meanwhile, Morales and T-Dog fanned out across the residential wings, effortlessly finalizing the remaining pipe connections.
By the time the clock struck 4:00 PM, the prison's plumbing was officially 100% complete. Every single sink, toilet, and indoor shower hummed with pressurized water.
Gray wiped his hands on a towel and pulled up his Status Info.
[Status Info]
Name: Gray Ashwood
Age: 23 years old
Race: Human
Gold: 3,046,397,504
Gold per hour: 88,557,233 (49,198,463)
Gold Multiplier: 1.80x
Time: 04:19 PM
Without a single moment of hesitation, he purchased the next upgrade.
[New Upgrade]
(3B Gold) 47'200,000 Gold/Hour
[New Hourly Rate]
173,517,233 (96,398,463) Gold/Hour
Gold: 46,397,504
Looking down at his remaining funds, Gray's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. He closed the interface, walked out into the courtyard, and approached Merle Dixon. Merle perked up instantly, a grin spreading across his face as he adjusted his weapon. "Alright, kid! Today's the day you finally teach me how to shoot like you?"
"Something like that." Gray stepped into his space, reached out, and firmly gripped Merle's hand. He focused his mind on his newly discovered Skill Transferrence mechanic, selecting Deadshot's Marksmanship from his profile. To his surprise, the system accepted the prompt and validated the copy.
{Skill Transferred: Deadshot's Marksmanship.} (30M Gold.)
The exact second the transaction cleared, Merle violently clutched his forehead with his free hand, his teeth grinding together as an intense, dizzying wave of ballistic calculations, wind-drift adjustments, and muscle-memory reflexes slammed into his cerebral cortex. After one long, grueling minute, the pressure vanished, and Merle snapped his eyes open, gasping for air.
"Holy hell, kid..." Merle wheezed, shaking his head as his eyes darted frantically around the yard, his brain instantly calculating the exact distances of every single object in his field of vision. "What did you just do to my head?"
"Follow me," Gray said.
He led the older Dixon brother out to the main gate, opening the heavy stone barrier just wide enough for them to look out. Far off in the distant fields and tree lines, several walkers were aimlessly wandering the landscape.
Gray gestured out toward them. "Take some shots at those walkers. Don't worry about the distance. Just pull the trigger."
Merle's eyes widened with excitement. He pulled his UAC handgun, braced his boots in the dirt, and raised the weapon. He didn't even pause to aim for more than a fraction of a second.
ZAP!
A walker exactly 50 yards away had its head instantly explode into a violent cloud of red mist. Merle didn't even blink. He adjusted his stance and fired again.
ZAP!
Eighty yards out, another biter dropped instantly, its skull vaporized. Merle grinned like an unhinged maniac, tracking a tiny, moving target deep in the brush.
ZAP!
At a staggering 150 yards, a final walker collapsed into the dirt, perfectly executed through the skull.
Merle slowly lowered the handgun, staring down at his hands in absolute awe as the legendary marksmanship settled into his muscle memory. "Wait a damn minute... is this what I think it is?"
Gray gave a calm nod. "You have the exact same shooting skills as me now."
Merle burst out into a loud, echoing laugh that bounced off the stone walls, his face lighting up with chaotic joy. "YES! Haha! That's what I'm talking about! I'm a goddamn sniper now, kid!"
"Don't let it go straight to your head, Merle," Gray warned, a smirk breaking across his face as he patted the older man's shoulder. "Keep up the good work. You earned it."
Merle immediately turned around, a massive, unhinged grin on his face as he looked up at the high guard tower. "Hey! Glenn! Maggie!" he hollered at the top of his lungs, waving his arms aggressively. "Get your asses down from there! Go watch TV or whatever! Big Merle is taking over the watch, and I'm gonna drop a few of these dead bastards while I'm at it!"
Up in the tower, Glenn and Maggie exchanged a thoroughly confused look, but seeing how eager and uncharacteristically cheerful Merle was, they didn't ask questions. They quickly climbed down the stairs and headed into the courtyard, happy to be relieved of duty.
Gray just shook his head, a quiet chuckle slipping out as he watched the older Dixon storm up the tower stairs, practically vibrating with excitement. He decided to just leave Merle alone to have his own fun and test out his new aim-bot capabilities.
Daryl, however, hadn't missed a single second of the insanity. He had stood perfectly still near the INKAS truck, watching his brother lean over the iron railing and immediately start shooting, laughing like an absolute psycho with every shot he took.
Daryl walked over to Gray, his brow furrowed deeply. "You think that was a great idea?" he asked, his voice low and deeply skeptical.
Gray shrugged, keeping his eyes on the tree line. "Having another world-class shooter in our group isn't going to hurt, Daryl. It makes this place safer."
Daryl shook his head, looking completely unconvinced as he raised a finger and pointed it straight up at the tower. "Yeah, I get that... but him? You gave that kind of juice to Merle? The guy's a loose cannon on a good day."
Gray let out a genuine laugh, slapping Daryl on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it. Eventually, I'm planning on transferring the exact same shooting skills to all the primary fighters in this group anyway. But for right now? Just let Merle have his fun. He's clearing our fences and saving us the trouble of cleaning 'em up later."