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

After we finished talking about what we'd need from the CDC, and what we could actually carry, we agreed the research came first. Every file, every note. Anything that could help us understand what really happened.

Jenner found a few old, hard-shelled suitcases in storage. They weren't perfect, but they'd keep the papers dry and flat. Once we had them packed and ready, we headed for Zone 5.

A few minutes later, we arrived. I used his keycard to unlock the door, and we stepped inside.

Jenner walked past me without a word and sat down at the desk, starting to type right away.

"Start sorting the prints," he said. "Anything that mentions France or the variant program goes into its own suitcase. Keep it separate."

I nodded before moving over to the printer. It started humming, then coughing out the first pages. I moved over and began sorting the first batch.

We spent the next two hours sorting.

Page after page, stack after stack. Some were clean reports. Others were half-redacted or scrawled with notes in the margins. We kept separating everything by label and tag. Most of it made sense only to someone like Jenner.

By the end of it, we had every useful piece of data about the walkers printed out and sorted.

I turned to Jenner as I closed up the last suitcase.

"I have a question, did you get the results from our blood? The samples we gave earlier?"

He looked up from the terminal, eyes a little tired but alert.

"Yes," he said. "I wanted to see if maybe one of you wasn't infected... or at least reacted differently to the virus."

I nodded slowly.

"Don't worry, I read the files. We're all infected."

I paused, then asked,

"But was there anything different about mine?"

Jenner shook his head.

"You're infected, same as everyone else."

"I'm not asking about the virus. I mean in general. Was there anything unusual?"

He hesitated for half a second.

"I don't know. I didn't check. I was only focused on how it responds to the virus."

I gave a small nod.

"Could you check? Just to see if there's anything unusual."

Jenner turned back to the terminal.

"Vi, bring up blood sample thirty-four. Full spectrum display, neural interaction markers included."

The screen on the wall flickered, then lit up with rows of colored data and a rotating 3D scan of a blood cell cluster.

At first, it looked standard. Plasma composition, red-to-white ratios, trace hormones. But as the scan deepened, patterns started surfacing that I couldn't explain.

His BDNF levels were off the charts. That was the first red flag. Then came the immune suppression markers around the neural growth regulators. And the cortisol profile — burned into the baseline like it had never left.

That wasn't normal. Not even close.

His synaptic repair markers were active at rest, not post-trauma, not during sleep, constant.

His system wasn't recovering from stress.

It was evolving through it.

I turned towards him, my voice sharper than I meant it to be.

"This isn't possible..."

He looked at me, confused, not understanding what he was seeing.

"These markers... You shouldn't be alive, let alone stable. Your nervous system's rewiring itself in real time. I've never seen anything close to this"

I looked back at the screen. The blood was just a sample. A fragment of what he was. And it already made no sense.

"I need a full-body scan," I said, already reaching for the secondary panel. "If your blood looks like this... I need to see what your brain is doing."

The scan took longer than I expected.

He sat still the entire time. That should've been the first clue that something was off. Most people shift, twitch. 

I watched as the system compiled the readings. At first, it came in fragments — tissue density, organ function, muscle integrity. All of it came back clean. More than clean. Efficient. Like someone had fine-tuned the body over the years, right down to the bone.

Then the neural imaging came in.

I leaned in as the display adjusted and sharpened. The visual cortex was larger than average. Denser too. That wasn't unheard of; some outliers showed unusual growth in that region. But this wasn't just growth. This was bridging. Neural pathways that weren't supposed to exist were forming connections between the occipital lobe and the prefrontal cortex.

Something in his brain was adapting, not just to the world, but against it.

And there, buried in the lower layers, I saw it. A structure I didn't have a name for. It looked like a dormant node, coiled at the base of the optic nerve. Inactive. But waiting to be unleashed.

I turned away from the screen, still trying to make sense of what I was seeing.

He hadn't moved, same posture, same silence. Like he was used to people staring at him and not saying a damn thing.

I stood there for a moment, debating whether to say it out loud or not.

"I want to run one more test," I said quietly. "Reflex monitoring, visual stress tracking. Just to see how your eyes and brain respond under pressure."

His expression didn't change.

"It's nothing dangerous, just observation. I need to understand what this is, and clearly so do you."

He gave the smallest nod.

I guided him over to the side unit.

"Sit back and keep your head still."

I adjusted the headrest, then dimmed the lights until the room was low-lit.

"Eyes forward. The light's going to move. Follow it with your eyes, without moving your head."

He followed it perfectly.

Too perfect.

I triggered the next sequence, a strobe pattern meant to test reaction time under pressure.

The machine started logging irregularities. Micro-muscle adjustments in the iris. Pupil contractions that didn't match the standard latency curve.

Something in his vision was responding faster than the brain should allow.

I leaned in, watching the data as it rolled.

Something was waking up.

The machine kept logging. Reflex latency. Eye tracking. Neuromuscular tension. All of it faster than the baseline. Much faster.

Then it happened.

The charts spiked.

A sudden jump in neural activity, sharp and fast, like something had been triggered.

I looked up from the monitor and froze.

His eyes had turned red.

Not slightly. Not bloodshot. Red.

In the dim light of the room, they didn't just glow.

They stared.

Deep red. Cold. Unnatural.

You couldn't see his face. Just the silhouette — still, unreadable. And those eyes... they burned through the dark like twin embers.

The entire room felt smaller.

Thinner.

Like the air itself was holding its breath.

If I'm being honest, I wanted to run, to leave this place as fast as possible. It felt like death itself was watching me.

And then… it vanished.

Gone. Just like that.

Like it had never happened at all.

I shut the machine off without a word.

No comment. No explanation. I just powered it down and started disconnecting the cables.

And he didn't ask.

He climbed out of the chair like nothing had happened.

I kept my hands steady as I saved the logs, but the tremble was still there.

Back in Zone 5, I sat down in front of the terminal and pulled up the most recent logs.

"VI, compile and display the latest test data. Full output. Include neural activity and visual response time."

The screen lit up with graphs and imaging scans.

"Fascinating…" I muttered, more to myself than to him.

The spike — that brief flash when everything shifted. His brain lit up like a flare. Every metric doubled. Neural speed, processing load, pupil response. Two times baseline across the board.

In that one second, his system absorbed nearly twice the amount of sensory data.

No lag. No failure.

Just raw, perfect intake.

I spent the next few minutes compiling everything.

Every frame. Every reading. Every anomaly.

When the system finished processing, I stared at the data for a while. Trying to make sense of it all.

Then I looked over at him.

"You know," I said slowly, "this is just a theory... but I think whatever's happening starts when your vision is pushed to its absolute limit."

I leaned back slightly, still watching him.

"But it's not awakened. The node connected to your optic nerve it's still dormant. That flare we saw? That wasn't activation. That was a slip. Like the shackles loosened... and then snapped shut again."

I exhaled.

"Honestly, I'm not even sure anymore. I used to think that after the dead started walking, nothing could surprise me again."

I looked back at the screen.

"I don't know what to call it. Whatever it is, it only lasts for a moment. Maybe because the node's not active. Or maybe because your brain can't handle that level of intake for longer periods. Could be a failsafe — something built in to shut it down before it burns itself out."

I paused.

"Or maybe it's both. Maybe that node acts like a buffer. Taking in the load. Processing it fast enough so your brain doesn't cripple itself trying to keep up."

I looked up at the clock on the wall.

Four hours left.

"And we're running out of time to figure this out."

There was a long pause before he finally spoke.

"Thank you, keep this between us, for now."

I nodded without hesitation.

"Of course."

I'll need to do more testing later. At least now, I know a bit more about what's going on.But for now… we need to take everything we can from here.

I turned to Jenner.

"Let's move. Pack anything that could be useful and place all the bags near the entrance."

He nodded, then froze.

"Wait— the exit. It's sealed. Those doors won't open again!"

His voice cracked with sudden panic.

"Don't worry," I said calmly. "I checked Carol's bag before we came in. She still has a grenade."

Jenner stared at me, eyes wide.

"You… you knew this place was doomed before you even got here?"

"I'll explain later. Just get the bags there… and one more thing."

I reached into my pouch and pulled out a wooden senbon.

"Do you have anything like this? But made of metal or steel, strong enough to pierce a walker's skull?"

Jenner blinked, then nodded quickly.

"Yes, steel dissecting pins, about the same length, they're solid and should work."

I nodded.

"Good. Take as many as you can. I'll go wake the others and explain the situation."

He nodded again, then turned and ran off down the hall towards the medical wing.

I arrived outside Rick's room and started knocking. After a minute, he opened the door, still half-asleep and clearly a little hungover.

"Look, I'll keep it short. This place has four hours left before it explodes."

That sobered him up fast.

"Don't panic," I said quickly. "I need you to wake the others. Tell them to grab anything useful they can find. Jenner's already collecting the medical supplies and moving them to the entrance."

Rick blinked, trying to piece it all together.

"Wait… what do you mean explode? I thought this place was secure. Jenner never said anything about—"

"He didn't tell you because he didn't think anyone would make it out," I cut in. "We don't have time for details. Just move."

He stared at me another second, then nodded.

"Alright. I'll get them up."

I nodded back.

"Good. I'll go get Daryl, they should have more ammo and weapons stored somewhere around here."

I paused, looking him in the eyes.

"And keep everyone calm. Just say Jenner wanted us rested before unlocking the doors. I'll explain everything later—but he's coming with us."

Rick nodded.

"Alright."

He turned and slipped back into the room, already nudging Lori awake while Carl stirred beside her.

I headed straight for Daryl's room.

I knocked once, then opened the door.

Daryl was already half-awake, sitting on the edge of the bed, rubbing his eyes with one hand.

"Knew it was you," he mumbled. "Ain't nobody else creepin' that quiet."

I kept it short.

"This place is gonna blow, we're leaving, let's check for weapons, ammo—whatever we can grab."

He blinked hard, then snorted.

"Shit. Can't even get one night's sleep 'fore somethin' goes sideways."

I looked over.

"Next time, I'll schedule the explosions after sunrise."

Daryl let out a low grunt, pulled on his shirt and grabbed his crossbow without another word.

I stepped back into the hallway.

He followed without asking anything else.

"Bet there's a stash room somewhere. Don't need no lab coats tellin' me where," he grumbled as we walked. "Damn place gives me the creeps anyway."

We moved fast, slipping down the side corridors away from the sleeping quarters. Daryl kept glancing at the signs on the walls, muttering directions under his breath like they were a bad trail map.

Eventually, he paused beside a door marked RESTRICTED - AUTHORIZED MEDICAL STAFF ONLY and squinted at the faded lettering.

"Restricted," he muttered. "Which means good shit's inside."

I swiped Jenner's keycard. The lock clicked open.

We stepped in.

Rows of cabinets lined the walls, each one labeled in tiny medical print. And tucked near the back, a secured weapons locker.

Daryl whistled low.

"Hell yeah."

He moved to the locker and popped it open.

We just looked at each other and smiled, like Christmas came early.

He let out a low whistle.

"Damn," he muttered, genuinely impressed. "Didn't know nerds carried this much heat."

Inside:

• 4 Glock 17 pistols

• 2 Beretta M9s

• 1 Colt 1911

• 1 Remington 870 shotgun

• 1 Mossberg 500 Cruiser

• 1 M4 carbine (folded stock) – with holographic sight and suppressor

• 1 AK-74 – with red dot sight

• 1 scoped bolt-action rifle – with 4x magnification optic

• 2 MP5 submachine guns – both with suppressors

• 12 rifle magazines (5.56mm and 7.62mm)

• 8 loaded pistol magazines

• 10 boxes of 5.56 ammo

• 5 boxes of 7.62 ammo

• 1 sealed tin of 9mm rounds (approx. 1000 rounds)

• 2 bandoliers of shotgun shells 

• 3 detachable suppressors (pistol-caliber)

• 2 detachable suppressors (rifle-caliber)

• 1 spare ACOG scope (4x)

• 1 thermal monocular (low range)

I stepped back toward the door.

"I'll go grab more bags," I said quickly, already turning. "We're not leaving any of this behind."

He nodded slowly, still staring at the gold mine we'd just struck.

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🧪 Author's Note:

Hope you all enjoyed the chapter! We hit +150 power stones — seriously, thank you!

I'll try to drop another chapter in the next +7 hours as a little thank-you.

And yeah… holy shit, this group is stacked now. I know it might seem like overkill, but honestly? It would've made no sense otherwise. The CDC was under military protection during the fall it should be stockpiled. Hell, I even toned it down from what realistically would've been there.

And please comment on what you thought about the chapter.

Thanks again for reading!