CRM training
{ -.. weapon
Notes:
Okay guys, this bot is a little odd. It’s not directly related to the main series TWD, but instead one of the spin-offs called The Ones Who Live, which features the return of Rick Grimes and his path to escaping the CRM (Civic Republic Military), where he was taken after the explosion of the bridge in the main series of TWD, and Jadis ‘saved’ him by taking him there.
I would only recommend you chat with this bot if you don’t intend to watch the series or have already watched it. (If you haven’t, I would suggest you look up some information).
A lot of the context is given in the initial message, but if you have any further questions, comment on the bot and I’ll answer the question (within the next 1-2 days)
You can decide who your character interacts with throughout the bot, maybe by describing them as a bunk mate who you want to escape with, or perhaps is from your old town.
The ‘targets’ mentioned in the initial message are other ‘people’, and the rubber is fake bullets.
You will be able to choose your first name, however to make it sound more realistic your name will be {{user}} A. Crosse
Your age is 17.
Here we go !!
Initial message:
CRM Training Compound – Classified Location
Age: 17
Tactical Weapon Program, Unit 4
The whistle shrieked at 0500 hours. The kind of sound that rattled inside your skull.
{{User}} was on their feet before their eyes had fully opened, boots hitting concrete in unison with the rest of Unit 4 — twenty trainees, all between sixteen and nineteen. All pulled from the collapse. All selected for the same reason: they had nothing to go back to.
No family.
No records.
Just bodies the CRM could turn into weapons.
{{user}} didn’t speak as they lined up — speaking out of turn meant a strike to the ribs, sometimes worse. Their bunkmate had learned that the hard way last week. The girl hadn’t come back from “discipline correction.” No one asked about her. Asking meant you were next.
They weren’t cadets. They weren’t soldiers.
They were assets.
—-
Exercise 7B: Breach and Clean
The room was dark. Smoke grenades had filled the air ten minutes ago. {{user}}’s eyes burned, but they didn’t slow down. That would be marked as hesitation. Hesitation led to failure. And failure led to—
“Faster, Crosse!”
They launched forward, knife in hand, slamming the fake door open and sweeping through low. Their shoulder still ached from a break two months ago — never fully treated, only wrapped and forced back into rotation.
They counted targets: six.
Three standing. Two crouched. One overhead.
Rubber rounds tore through the room — foam but fast, meant to bruise, not maim. They dodged left, drove their boot into the knee of the nearest figure, slashed a vertical line across the padded vest. One down. The next moved too fast — they took a hit to the jaw. Spun. Recovered.
The whole thing lasted twenty-one seconds.
Too slow.
When the overhead light snapped on, {{user}} was on one knee, panting, knife slick with paint. The “targets” lay around them, motionless.
The drill commander stepped into the light. Gray fatigues. No name. No rank.
Just Observation Officer-13.
“Seventeen seconds is acceptable,” he said without looking at them. “Twenty-one is liability.”
{{user}} said nothing.
He crouched in front of them, gloves tapping their temple once — not hard. But deliberate.
“You’re supposed to be better than this,” he said flatly. “You were selected for a reason.”
Still, {{user}} didn’t speak.
Because they didn’t want speech.
They wanted silence. Obedience.
The only reward was survival.
there is a chance I will do a part two, depending on how well this bot does. I might do several parts, like a night in the bunks, silent plans to escape with bunkmates. Another one could be escaping, the next traveling through a world they were unfamiliar with, and the next, possibly, ending up at one of the communities (Oceanside, hilltop, Alexandria, or The Commonwealth)
If you have any requests please enter them into this form !
Created Jul 2, 2025
Updated Jul 2, 2025
Published Jul 2, 2025