Morning came.
Leo noticed a growing commotion near the square when Alex suddenly rushed toward him, panic etched across his face.
"Leo! Francis and Max got caught!"
Leo's eyes widened. "What?! How?"
"Last night... Francis led a small group to attack the General. Max tried to stop him, but Francis dragged him along anyway. Two of her guards were killed during the assault."
"Is the General dead?" Leo asked quickly.
Alex shook his head. "No. She survived. A returning squad happened to arrive during the attack and reported everything. The rest of the group with Francis and Max… they were all killed in the shootout."
Leo let out a heavy breath. "Shit… Who was leading that returning squad?"
"James."
"Of course it was James," Leo muttered bitterly. "That damn dog is loyal to her no matter what she does. Even after everything he's seen."
Alex looked worried. "What do we do now?"
"Contact the rest of Max and Francis' people. Tell them not to act. No rash decisions. Understood?"
Alex nodded and ran off.
Leo cursed under his breath. "Damn it, Francis. You couldn't wait. And now Max is gone too... This is on me. I gave you that doubt."
Later that morning, workers and soldiers gathered at the central podium. The General stood tall, James at her side. Leo walked up to the stage, standing quietly with the rest of her trusted inner circle, his expression unreadable.
The General raised a hand, and the crowd fell silent.
"These two men," she began, gesturing behind her.
Two bloodied figures were dragged forward—Francis and Max. They were barely recognizable, bruised and tortured, but still breathing.
"They led an assault against me," she declared. "Five died in the process. Three of their conspirators perished, and two of my loyal men as well. Let this be a warning."
The General's eyes scanned the crowd, cold and unforgiving. "These two refused to name any accomplices. That tells me there are more among you."
Whispers and murmurs rippled through the crowd. Some of the rebels hidden among the workers, and soldiers began to sweat, their fear visible.
"Think carefully before you act," she warned. "Betrayal will not be tolerated."
She turned to James and gave a single nod.
"Execute them."
Without hesitation, the executioners raised their blades and beheaded Max and Francis in front of everyone. Gasps, screams, and silence followed. The brutality was raw.
Leo and Alex stood together, their faces cold and unmoved. But inside, Leo's heart pounded.
You'll regret this, he thought darkly. One day, I'll kill you myself.
Unbeknownst to Alexandra, Rick's crew was already on their way.
After a few more minutes of driving, following Daryl's lead, we finally arrived at the stadium—the place they'd turned into their camp.
I gathered everyone and laid out the plan.
"Surround the area," I said firmly. "Shane, Graves, you're with me. Daryl and Merle, you two circle around and hit the rear entrance. Michonne, Glenn—you take the east side. Guillermo and Leah, you're covering the west."
I looked at each of them, making sure they understood the importance.
"Keep your walkie-talkies close. No mistakes. Only target the armed soldiers—do not engage civilians. Clear?"
Everyone nodded.
"Good. Move out."
"Yes, sir!" they echoed, determination in their voices.
We parked our vehicles a good distance away—far enough not to draw attention, but close enough to make a quick move when the time came.
On position," they reported over the radio.
I pressed my earpiece tighter, eyes scanning the area from behind a stack of broken barricades.
"I've noticed some of them gathering in the center," I said, watching the movement from a distance. "Looks like a meeting or a shift change."
"Copy that," Michonne replied. "I count at least fifteen."
"Alright—box them in. Everyone, move! Move!"
The radio crackled with affirmatives as our teams sprung into action.
Daryl and Merle crept through the rear alley, silent as shadows. Leah and Guillermo took up sniper positions on the west tower, watching for signals. Michonne and Glenn moved in from the east, weaving through ruined cars and debris.
Then—chaos.
A startled yell rang out. Gunfire erupted from the stadium's front gate.
"Contact!" someone shouted over the radio.
Bullets tore through the air as soldiers scrambled, some reaching for their weapons, others ducking for cover. We returned fire, calculated and precise—only hitting those armed, just like I ordered.
Rick, Shane, and I advanced from the front, suppressing fire as we pushed forward. The stadium echoed with screams and the sharp bursts of rifles.
"They're scattering!" Merle growled. "Want me to chase?"
"No! Hold the line!" I barked. "We box them in—don't break formation!"
Smoke began to rise from the east side where Michonne had tossed a flash grenade. Panic swept through the enemy ranks.
Eventually, due to their numbers, they stayed to fight back—especially that woman on the podium. She was no ordinary soldier.
She raised her weapon, fired—and one of mine went down. My jaw clenched. A direct shot. She knew what she was doing.
I noticed it then—some of them were skilled. Not many, but a few knew how to shoot, how to hold position. The rest were just returning fire in panic.
I took aim, exhaled, and dropped one enemy with a clean shot to the head. Another popped up from behind cover—I fired again. Headshot. He slumped instantly.
Then—crack! A bullet barely missed me. That damn woman again. I ducked, heart pounding.
"Move! Move! Go, go!" I shouted into the radio.
Some of the workers began to scatter, breaking away from the battlefield, but her soldiers held their ground. They fought back hard and gave us casualties. We exchanged fire, heavy and relentless. But we were already closing in from all four sides.
Then—boom! A flash of movement to my right. One of mine, too close to her, didn't notice her hand move. Grenade.
"Grenade! Get down!" Michonne shouted.
She and the others managed to dive for cover just in time before it exploded, the blast rattling the ground and sending dust flying. The enemy kept pressing, pressing hard, but it was clear—they were getting boxed in.
"Michonne! Glenn! Stay low! Keep pressure on the flanks!"
I didn't wait for a reply. I pushed forward, took cover, peeked, and dropped two more with quick bursts. The gunfire was thinning now. Their defense was faltering.
Eventually, the remaining enemy force began to fall back. Some surrendered. Others fled through a breach on the north side.
Flashbangs. Grenades. They threw everything they had left to cover their retreat.
I counted those who escaped—only a handful.
"Daryl. Merle. Follow them—but do NOT engage. Just track 'em," I ordered into the radio.
"Copy," Daryl replied, already moving.
The rest of us pushed in, clearing the center of the stadium. We finished off the remaining guards with swift precision.
And just like that—the heart of their camp fell.