In The Walking Dead as Itachi Uchiha ?! (TWD)

The doors creaked open, revealing an empty lobby.

Everyone hesitated. I felt Amy shift behind me. Her gaze darted nervously across the walls, the ceiling, and the glass. I stayed near Daryl. He didn't speak, but I could feel the same tension radiating off him. His hand hovered near his crossbow.

Rick stepped forward.

"Hello?"

His voice echoed, loud in the silence.

Suddenly—

CLACK

The sharp sound of a gun cocking split the air.

Everyone raised their weapons at once.

In the doorway stood a man with graying hair and hollow eyes, a rifle aimed steadily at the group. 

"Anybody infected?" he asked.

Rick froze, lowering his gun slowly, voice cautious.

"No… no, we're all fine."

The man didn't lower the weapon.

"What do you want?"

Rick exhaled, then spoke.

"A chance."

The stranger's eyes didn't soften.

"That's asking an awful lot these days."

"I know."

I studied him carefully. Every movement. The way he planted his feet, how tight his finger was on the trigger. The slight tremble in his left hand. His eyes flicked between us, calculating.

"You all submit to a blood test," he said. "That's the price of admission."

Rick nodded."We can do that."

The man finally lowered the gun.

"You've got stuff to bring in, do it now. Once this door closes, it stays closed."

There was no hesitation. The group surged forward through the threshold. I didn't move right away. Instead, I watched him—his steps, the pad he touched near the wall, the sound of a card swipe.

Beep.

"VI, seal the main entrance. Kill the power up here."

With a heavy clang, the metal shutters behind us slammed down. I noted the terminal. A wall-mounted security pad with a numeric reader and card swipe. I'd need that keycard if things went south.

Rick held out his hand for a handshake.

"Rick Grimes."

The man didn't take it.

"Dr. Edwin Jenner."

No one else spoke as we crowded into the elevator. 

Daryl broke the silence.

"Doctors always go around packing heat like that?"

Jenner answered calmly.

"There were plenty left lying around. I familiarized myself. But you look harmless enough." He turned to Carl with a faint smile. "Except you. I'll have to keep my eye on you."

Carl gave a slight smile. Jenner chuckled, but as soon as he turned his head, the smile vanished. Cold.

I leaned toward Daryl, whispering under my breath."Careful. Something's off about him."

Daryl didn't answer, but his eyes narrowed just a little more.

We followed Jenner through a sterile hallway.

Carol asked, "Are we underground?"

"A little claustrophobic?" Jenner said without turning.

"A little."

"Try not to think about it."

We entered a massive chamber—dark, empty, cold.

"VI, bring up the lights in the big room."

The room responded with a low hum. Lights flickered, then flared to life.

Rows of white laboratory stations surrounded a central ring. The ceiling had a glowing circle of soft light, like a surgical halo over a dead patient.

"Welcome to Zone 5," Jenner said, turning to face us.

Rick stepped forward, glancing around.

"Where is everybody? The other doctors, the staff?"

Jenner responds simply.

"I'm it. It's just me here."

Lori tilted her head slightly.

"What about the person you were speaking with? VI?"

Jenner just called out flatly,

"VI, say hello to our guests. Tell them… welcome."

A digital female voice responded.

"Hello, guests. Welcome."

Jenner spoke, tired.

"I'm all that's left. I'm sorry."

He moved to a small mobile lab station where several syringes were laid out. Blood tests, just like he said.

I sat down when it was my turn. Jenner was methodical but efficient.

This might actually be useful. If there's something different about me… maybe the blood shows it. Maybe there's a hint about my eyes.

Andrea grumbled from the side.

"What's the point? If we were infected, we'd be running a fever."

Amy's voice cut in before Jenner could answer.

"Hey… be nice. He let us in. He didn't have to."

Andrea glanced away. Amy folded her arms and stayed close to Andrea.

"I've already broken every rule in the book letting you in here. Let me just at least be thorough."

Click

.The syringe retracted. He stepped back.

"All done."

I nodded and stood.

Before I could move, a loud growl echoed across the room.

Amy's stomach.

She froze, her arms folding tighter across her chest as her face flushed with embarrassment.

Everyone turned to look at her. No one laughed. Andrea stepped closer instinctively, eyes full of concern as she glanced at Amy's pale face. Glenn shifted uncomfortably. Rick's expression darkened, his shoulders stiffening.

I turned my head and looked at her.

She avoided my eyes.

Jacqui spoke up, quiet but firm.

"She hasn't eaten in days. None of us have."

We sat at a round table surrounded by plates of steaming pasta, half-filled wine glasses, and—most surprising of all—laughter.

Real laughter.

Lori leaned back in her seat, smirking at Dale.

"Fine."

Dale nodded sagely.

"You know, in Italy, children have a little bit of wine with dinner. And in France."

Lori didn't miss a beat.

"Well, when Carl is in Italy or France, he can have some then."

Rick chuckled, nudging her.

"What's it gonna hurt? Come on. Come on."

Carl blinked.

"What?"

More chuckles followed. Dale leaned over and offered Carl a glass with barely a sip's worth of wine in it.

"There you are, young lad."

Everyone watched.

Carl lifted the glass to his mouth, sniffed it, and took a tiny taste. His face scrunched instantly.

"Eww."

Lori grinned.

"That's my boy. That's my boy. Good boy."

She took the glass and poured the wine into her own. Carl made a face.

"Yuck. That tastes nasty."

The laughter continued—real, full, warm. 

Shane smirked and pointed at him.

"Well, just stick to soda pop there, bud."

Daryl leaned over, eyeing Glenn's wine glass.

"Not you, Glenn."

Glenn blinked.

"What?"

"Keep drinking, little man. I wanna see how red your face can get."

The men laughed. Glenn rolled his eyes and took a dramatic sip.

My own glass remained empty.

Jim noticed before I could even shift in my seat. He reached across and poured a splash of wine into my cup without a word.

I gave him a nod and brought it to my lips. The taste hit immediately—dry, sharp, bitter in a way I hadn't expected. My mouth twitched.

Daryl caught it, smirking from across the table.

"What, not a fan of wine?"

I set the glass down.

"First time drinking."

Glenn raised an eyebrow.

"Wait—first first? Ever?"

I nodded.

Andrea narrowed her eyes slightly, her tone playful but probing.

"How old are you, anyway?"

I paused just long enough for them to realize I never said my age.

"Seventeen."

The table went quiet for a beat.

"Seventeen?" Dale blinked.

Glenn stared.

"You've got to be shitting me…"

Andrea blinked, glanced between me and Amy, then leaned towards her sister and muttered.

"So a minor… You know we've got two cops here, right?"

Then she looked back at me with a grin and a voice just loud enough for everyone at the table to hear.

"Blink twice if you need help."

Amy went stiff. Her face turned a deep shade of red as she swatted Andrea's arm hard.

"I—shut up," she hissed.

Andrea just laughed and sipped her wine like nothing happened.

Dale was the first to speak, eyes narrowing behind his glasses.

"Seventeen… Son, your face doesn't match your age."

Lori blinked, surprised.

"You're just a kid…"

T-Dog shook his head, still stunned.

"Seventeen? You got some Benjamin Button thing goin' on?"

I spoke up.

"Seventeen or seventy... it doesn't seem to matter anymore."

I looked at him.

"Every day out there strips people down to what they really are. You fight, or you fall. You adapt, or you die. That's the truth. Doesn't matter if you're young, innocent, or even trying to do the right thing—this world feeds on slow hearts and soft hands."

Daryl leaned back in his chair, nodding slowly.

"Kid's not wrong. World don't wait for anyone. Don't care how good you were yesterday—it'll gut you just the same."

The table went still. 

Across from me, Amy's hand tightened around her fork. She stared at her plate, eyes unfocused. Not in fear. Not in shock.

Just… thinking.

Her gaze slowly lifted. When our eyes met, something behind hers had shifted—just a little. There was still softness, but it flickered beneath uncertainty now. Doubt. Like a thread had loosened in her old way of thinking.

She didn't understand it all. Not yet.

But something inside her had started to move.

Rick looked around the table. The silence had started to stretch.

He picked up his fork and tapped it gently against his glass.

Clink.

"Doesn't change the fact that we're here," he said, voice steady. "Alive. Together. That counts for something."

He glanced toward Jenner.

"And it seems to me we haven't thanked our host properly."

Dale nodded.

"Hear, hear."

Daryl raised his glass with a grin.

"Here's to you, Doc. Booyah."

"Booyah!" Dale echoed.

Rick gave a small smile.

"Thank you. For letting us in. For giving us a place to rest. Thank you, Doctor."

Glasses clinked softly around the table.

Then Shane leaned forward, swirling the wine in his glass without drinking it. His voice came low and tight.

"So… when are you gonna tell us what the hell really happened here, Doc?"

Rick turned to him, brows furrowed.

"We're celebrating, Shane. Don't need to do this now."

Shane scoffed.

"Whoa, wait a second. This is why we're here, right? This was your move—supposed to find all the answers."

He gestured toward Jenner, letting out a dry chuckle.

"Instead we… we found him. Found one man. Why?"

He looked at Jenner now.

"No team. No cure. Just… you. Why?"

Jenner's voice was quiet, his eyes unfocused.

"Well, when things got bad, a lot of people just left, went off to be with their families."

He paused, his tone flat."And when things got worse, when the military cordon got overrun, the rest bolted."

Shane stared at him. His voice cut through the silence, low and sharp.

"Every last one?"

Jenner answered slowly.

"No, many couldn't face walking out the door. They… opted out."

He glanced down, his voice quieter."There was a rash of suicides. That was a bad time."

Andrea leaned forward, her voice soft but direct.

"You didn't leave. Why?"

Jenner didn't hesitate.

"I just kept working, hoping to do some good."

No one spoke for a long second. Then Glenn leaned sideways and muttered to Shane.

"Dude, you are such a buzz kill, man."

After dinner, Jenner gestured for the group to follow him and led us down a wide hallway lit with soft amber lights, most of the overheads flickering on or off. We passed closed doors, sealed labs.

"Most of the facility is powered down including housing," Jenner said, his voice echoing slightly off the walls. "So you'll have to make do here."

"The couches are comfortable, but there are cots in storage if you like."

He turned towards Carl and Sophia.

"There's a rec room down the hall that you kids might enjoy."

A faint smile tugged at his mouth.

"Just don't plug in the video games, okay? Or anything that draws power."

He looked over the group.

"The same applies—if you shower, go easy on the hot water."

Glenn blinked.

"Hot water?"

T-Dog cracked a grin.

"That's what the man said."

Both of them laughed.

It was strange how something like hot water could bring this much happiness.

One by one, the group took turns showering. Fresh clothes, clean skin, warm food—and the illusion of safety—brought a kind of happiness they hadn't felt since the start of the outbreak.

Now, the facility had gone mostly quiet. Most of them had settled in for the night.

I sat alone in the far room. Lights off. Back against the wall.

I waited until the last footsteps faded. Until the silence was deep and steady.

Then I moved.

The hallways were dim, quiet, and empty. 

I stayed low. Soundless.

Jenner's quarters were isolated at the end of the hall. When I got close, I pressed my ear to the door.

I listened for any movement—every breath he let out, making sure it was deep, steady, and rhythmic. Confirming he was asleep.

Then I knelt beside the lock, pulled a strip of curved wire from my pouch, and worked in total silence.

The door unlocked.

I slipped inside.

Jenner was asleep in a chair, head tilted back, a half-empty glass in one hand. He didn't stir. The keycard lay on the table beside him, within arm's reach.

I watched his breathing. Waited for the rhythm to settle. Then moved, timing each shift with his exhales to mask the sound. When the moment felt right, I reached.

In one smooth motion, I took the card and disappeared through the door again, letting it shut behind me without a sound.

I moved quickly but never rushed.

Two corridors down, I found what I was looking for—a wall-mounted terminal.

I swiped the keycard.

Beep.

The interface lit up.

"Welcome, Dr. Jenner," VI said in its soft synthetic tone.

I scanned the terminal quickly—no camera feed access here, just security overrides and admin-level commands. It would be enough.

I kept my voice low.

"VI, list all active security systems on this floor."

A pause. Then:

"Motion-activated cameras, thermal sensors, biometric field scanners, and lockdown-trigger failsafes are active in Zones Four and Five."

I glanced down the hall. No movement. No sound.

That would have to be enough.

"New command," I said. "Delete all activity logs from this floor and Zone Five. Time window: now plus one hour. Confirmation override: Level Four emergency."

There was a longer pause this time. Then:

"...Confirmed. Logs purging."

I moved quickly.

I swiped the keycard at the lab entrance Jenner had taken us through earlier—Zone 5.

Beep. Access granted.

The door unlocked with a soft click. I slipped inside.

The lab was quiet.

Most of the monitors were dark. Consoles dormant. Machines resting in standby.

I stepped deeper inside.

"VI," I said softly, keeping my voice leveleld. "Power up all stations in Zone Five. Minimal lighting."

Humming. Soft beeps.

Screens flickered to life, one by one. Low white light returned to the overheads, casting long shadows across the room.

I sat at one of the terminals, watching the data feeds scroll to life—bloodwork, metabolic breakdowns, viral latency mapping. Standard research.

Most of it was routine. Clinical. Monitored test subjects, expired samples, viral decay rates under heat and pressure. The kind of work you'd expect from someone trying to save the world.

I opened the internal directory tree, moving deeper through the root folders. Medical files. Field notes. Then something misfiled—tucked beneath a redundant log entry.

A folder with no proper name. Just a string of corrupted metadata and one line in the corner:

/BLACKVAULT/FR-VARIANT_X32

I selected it.

'Authorization required. Please enter security passphrase.'

My fingers hovered over the keys.

I remembered Jenner had lost someone—his wife. He'd mentioned her before. In the show, she was Test Subject 19. The one he stayed behind for. The one he couldn't let go.

But I couldn't remember her name.

"VI," I said. "Identify Subject 19 by full name."

A short pause.

"Subject 19: Dr. Candace Jenner."

That was it.

I typed it in.

Candace Jenner.

The screen blinked.

'Access granted.'

I scrolled deeper into the unlocked folder.

One file caught my attention—titled:

BLACKVAULT / FR-VARIANT_X32 / INTEGRATED REPORT – COLDVAULT MIRROR NODE

I opened it.

Most of the text was dry—clinical, fragmented, partially corrupted. But the pieces I could read told enough.

'Subjects V-X32 A through E show heightened motor responsiveness. Climbing behavior confirmed. Increased limb dexterity. Extended pursuit capability. Hostile reaction to environmental noise persists beyond baseline.'

Another block:

'Memory bleed in Variant D suggests early-stage cortical retention. Subject attempted to open containment latch. Failed, but response indicates learned behavior.'

There was a CDC note beneath it:

'Received from Coldvault France before contact was lost. French researchers claim these variants are not natural evolutions. Artificial genome edits detected. Origin unclear.'

'If accurate, we weren't treating a disease. We were watching someone weaponize it.'

And at the bottom, tucked into the metadata:

'Last transmission received 14 hours before Coldvault blackout. Entire lab presumed lost.'

I stared at the screen. The room felt colder.

This wasn't evolution. This wasn't random.

Someone did this. Someone took the virus and twisted it—turned it into something worse. Faster. Smarter. Cruel.

My mind drifted back to that moment in Atlanta. The way that walker climbed a fence like it remembered how. And the one in the city that picked up a rock… smashed it against a glass door just to break through.

I'd seen it then—strange behavior. Almost human. But I hadn't known what to call it.

Now I did.

Failed variants. Early tests. Signs that someone had already started pushing the virus in directions it was never meant to go.

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Author's Note:

Hope you all enjoyed the chapter! We reached +700 power stones — thank you all so much! 🙏 I genuinely appreciate the support!

So to celebrate, I'm dropping an extra chapter! 😄

I'm trying to explain some of the strange walker behavior we saw in Season 1 — like the walker that used a rock to break glass, or the one that climbed a fence. 

What if they were early test subjects — failed versions of something much worse?

I'm starting to connect the original series with The Walking Dead: World Beyond, especially Season 2, Episode 10, where we see a woman in France watching Jenner's message and mentioning that France sent information about the variants.

This chapter begins laying the groundwork for those variant walkers — smarter, faster, deadlier. It's my way of blending canon with new lore. The world was already broken… someone just made it worse.

Let me know if you like this approach!

And if you have questions about future plotlines, character arcs, or theories — I'm always happy to talk with you there.

And tell me if you find any mistakes or you have any suggestions.

Thanks again for reading!