Purge Mission

The morning light was faint, and the zoo fortress still reeked of gun smoke and blood.

People silently cleared the battlefield, separating their comrades' bodies from the walkers. Besides the stench, only an oppressive heaviness hung in the air.

Inside the central command room, Lynn had gone all night without sleep. His eyes were bloodshot, but his gaze remained fixed on the mine map on the table.

"Patriarch," parasites, laboratory-these words represented threats more unsettling than the walkers.

The external threat was clear, and the internal trouble was just as thorny.

Lynn's attention shifted from the eerie "Origin Point" on the map to Shane Walsh.

Shane had fought fiercely last night. His shotgun had saved the defensive line several times.

But he often disobeyed orders, questioned Lynn's decisions, grew too impatient during interrogations, and sometimes acted on his own while defending.

Especially that look in his eyes, the one that said he wanted to call the shots-it challenged Lynn's authority every time.

This fortress could have only one voice.

Especially when facing an enemy like the Patriarch, internal sources of instability had to be eliminated.

Shane had gone from a fighting asset to a risk.

Lynn's fingers tapped unconsciously against the table.

He was no murderous maniac, but he was not softhearted either.

To survive, sometimes hard decisions had to be made.

"Anvil." Lynn raised his head, his voice hoarse but firm.

The rock-steady captain of the Ash Squad stepped forward. "Boss."

"The plan to infiltrate the mine stays unchanged, but we need to scout the perimeter first and establish walker concentrations and Whisperer activity near the entrances. We need more accurate intelligence."

Lynn's tone was casual. "Lead the team yourself. Pick a few good men. Davis needs to recover, and Old Joey needs to repair the walls... take Shane with you. His wilderness experience and combat ability will be useful."

Anvil's face was hidden in the shadow of his mask. Only his seasoned eyes shifted slightly.

He caught the slight pause in Lynn's tone and the coldness that flashed through his eyes when he mentioned Shane's name.

He immediately understood the real meaning behind this routine assignment.

This was not reconnaissance. This was disposal.

"Understood, Boss." Anvil's reply was utterly even. "Do you need anyone alive?"

He sought confirmation obliquely, referring to any Whisperers they might encounter, but possibly others as well.

"Prioritize safety. Intelligence... comes second."

Lynn's answer was equally vague, but its meaning was clear: if necessary, everyone could be eliminated, including the target.

"Keep it clean. Don't alert their nest."

"Copy."

Anvil nodded, said nothing more, and turned to leave.

Lynn watched him go, his gaze deep.

He knew Anvil understood what to do.

In this brutal environment, it was an unspoken understanding for survival.

An hour later, a reconnaissance team assembled at the east gate.

Anvil had chosen Wraith and Peregrine, who specialized in stealth and long-range support.

Shane arrived too, looking tired, but with excitement in his eyes at being entrusted with an important role. He even patted his shotgun and nodded to Lynn as he approached.

"Lynn, don't worry. We'll find out how many pebbles those bastards have outside their front door."

Shane's tone even held an almost comradely familiarity. He seemed to regard this as a chance to prove himself again and earn trust.

Lynn's face showed little expression. He merely said calmly, "Maintain communications and report at any time. Safety first. Pull back immediately if anything happens."

"Got it."

Shane checked his gear, looking confident.

Anvil did not look at Shane. He only nodded to Lynn and gave a hand signal. "Move out."

The four-man team vanished soundlessly into the dangerous woods beyond the fortress.

Lynn stood there until they were out of sight, then turned back to continue preparing for the mine operation, as though he had merely dispatched an ordinary reconnaissance team.

Deep in the woods, the smell of rotting leaves and damp earth mingled with the occasional stench of corpses.

Anvil led silently from the front, while Wraith moved like a shadow along the flank, clearing out scattered wandering walkers with swift movements that made only a dull thud.

Peregrine trailed behind, using a high-powered scope and night-vision goggles to scan their surroundings and the heights.

Shane followed Anvil. He was reasonably alert at first, but after walking for a while without finding large numbers of enemies, he relaxed a little and could not help asking quietly, "Anvil, where exactly are we going? The map shows mine entrances in several directions."

Anvil did not turn around. His voice was slightly muffled through his mask. "The old exploration site to the east first. High ground, good visibility."

"Okay." Shane suspected nothing.

After roughly another half hour, they reached a clearing with some rusted equipment and collapsed tents.

Sunlight filtered through the leaves in dappled patches.

"We'll rest here. Peregrine, find an observation point. Wraith, keep watch," Anvil ordered.

"Copy."

Peregrine quickly climbed a thick tree and disappeared into its branches.

Wraith slipped into the nearby brush.

Shane found a rotten log to sit on, took out his canteen, drank, and wiped away his sweat. "Seems pretty quiet. Did last night's beating scare those guys off?"

Anvil did not answer. He walked over and stopped a few paces in front of him, looking at him calmly.

Uncomfortable under his gaze, Shane lowered his canteen. "What?"

"Shane," Anvil said, his voice steady but cold, "you've repeatedly violated the Boss's orders. You've created instability in the fortress."

Shane's expression froze instantly. His relaxed manner vanished, replaced by shock and rapidly rising wariness.

He shot to his feet, reaching for his gun. "What do you mean? Anvil, what are you trying to do?"

He realized something was wrong and swept his eyes urgently around, but could not find Peregrine or Wraith.

"The Boss's authority cannot be challenged. The fortress needs unity, especially now."

Anvil's voice was emotionless, as though stating a fact. "You've become a risk."

"Just because of that? Lynn, he..."

Shocked and furious, Shane's face twisted. "Just because I have a different opinion? Does he want to be a dictator?! I haven't betrayed anyone! I just want to live!"

"Your methods conflict with the Boss's requirements."

Anvil slowly raised his rifle. The muzzle was not pointed directly at Shane, but the threat was obvious. "For the majority's sake, individual problems have to be resolved."

"Resolve my ass!"

As Shane roared, he hurled himself diagonally backward, quickly drawing his shotgun.

But the instant he moved-

Whoosh!

A bolt cut through the air with an extremely faint sound.

Thwack!

A bolt shot from the shadows of a tree behind him to one side, precisely piercing his gun hand at the wrist.

"Aah!" Shane screamed, dropping his gun.

Almost simultaneously, the brush stirred in another direction. Wraith appeared like a phantom behind the spot where Shane had thrown himself down and slammed a heavy rifle butt into the back of his neck.

Shane's scream stopped. His vision went black, and he pitched forward. The agony and heavy blow robbed him of any ability to resist. He could only twitch on the ground, blood pouring from the hand pierced by the bolt.

Anvil had remained standing in the same spot throughout.

He watched Shane struggling on the ground, his gaze like that of someone looking at an object already dealt with.

"You... Lynn... won't... get away with this..."

Shane forced a broken curse from his throat, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

Anvil ignored him and spoke quietly into his communicator. "Peregrine, report."

"Clear. Nothing unusual. Three walkers about four hundred meters southeast have been drawn by the noise. Moving slowly."

Peregrine's calm voice came through the earpiece.

"Take them out," Anvil ordered.

A faint single shot from a DMR sounded from the tree, followed by silence.

Only then did Anvil step forward and look down at the dying Shane.

He slowly raised his rifle.

Shane seemed to know how this would end. His eyes filled with despair, anger, and disbelief as he tried futilely to move his other hand.

"For the fortress." Anvil's voice was cold and hard.

Bang!

A crisp single rifle shot rang especially loud through the woods, startling a few birds into flight.

Everything fell silent again.

A few minutes later, Anvil's call connected to the command room.

Lynn picked up the communicator. "Anvil."

"Boss, we encountered an unforeseen situation during reconnaissance. A small number of walkers ambushed us. While covering our retreat, Shane had an artery in his neck bitten through. He couldn't be saved. He's been dealt with according to protocol to prevent reanimation."

Anvil's voice was as steady as though nothing had happened as he reported the predetermined script.

The other end remained silent for several seconds before Lynn's unreadable voice came through. "...Copy. Return immediately once you've confirmed it's safe. The fortress will remember his sacrifice."

"Understood. Returning now."

Ending the call, Lynn put down the communicator. His gaze returned to the hide map, and his finger pressed against the twisted spiral symbol-the "Origin Point."

The internal thorn had been pulled out.

Now all attention could be directed toward that deeper, darker threat outside.

Inside the fortress, the air seemed to freeze for an instant. Some invisible tension quietly vanished with the news, replaced by a colder, but more unified will.

The purge was complete.

Next, Operation Furnace was about to begin.