Joe received the parchment map from Jesus, covered with circles and scribbled names.
Dozens of tiny communities, each scratching out survival in Negan's shadow.
One circle stood out... the Savior outpost Hilltop knew about.
Joe folded the map and stood, but Jesus stopped him. "Would you attack the Saviors?"
His voice carried both fear and desperation. "Our problem with Negan has gone on long enough."
Joe raised an eyebrow. "Our problem?"
Jesus exhaled. "We both know Alexandria is only safe for now. Negan will come for you eventually."
Joe tilted his head. "What would you give us?"
"Ten percent of all crops," Jesus said quickly. "And free tool repairs."
"Twenty," Joe snapped back without hesitation.
Jesus's shoulders sagged. "…Fine. But it has to be soon. They've taken so much. They still have Craig."
Joe studied him for a moment, then asked, "You tagging along?"
Jesus's jaw clenched. "If I don't, I'll regret it. I need to see this through."
Joe nodded once. "Good. Come back with us. We hit the outpost tonight."
...
The RV and truck rumbled back into Alexandria with crates of vegetables stacked in the back.
The gates opened, and the people looked curiously at the Hilltop stranger walking in alongside Joe.
Joe didn't pause. He went straight to Deanna's house, briefing her in clipped sentences.
Within the hour, word had spread, there was a meeting at the training field. Mandatory for all Alexandrians.
Rick was found a few streets over, corralling Carl and Sophia. Joe pulled him aside and laid it out.
Rick frowned. "You sure this is the right move? Now?"
Joe's scarred face hardened. "Better to start thinning Negan's numbers while he doesn't know we exist. And you know what else... there's gotta be weapons, ammo, and food for all those Saviors. That outpost is sitting on a stockpile."
Rick nodded slowly, his tone grave. "That'll set us up even better to go after Negan himself."
Together they arrived at the field.
Torches and lanterns lit the grounds. A sea of faces waited.
Nearly a hundred Alexandrians.
Jesus stood near the back, eyes wide, whispering, "This many people…"
Joe stepped to the front. His voice boomed.
"We're going to attack the Saviors."
Gasps. Murmurs.
A wave of unease rippled through the crowd before erupting into questions, protests, fears.
Joe raised one scarred hand, palm open. Instant silence.
"It's just a small base," he said evenly. "We annihilate them. Thin Negan's numbers before they become our problem."
The explanation steadied the people, but Morgan's voice cut across the field. "Why can't we talk to them? Negotiate, instead of shedding more blood?"
Joe glanced at Jesus. "Tell them."
Jesus stepped forward. His voice trembled at first, then hardened with memory.
"When Negan first came to Hilltop, he lined us up. Then he forced us to watch while he beat a boy to death. He was fifteen. Negan said, 'Learn who's in charge right off the bat.'"
The crowd gasped, horrified whispers spreading. Mothers pulled children closer.
Joe stepped forward again, voice iron. "There's no negotiating with these people. It's kill or kneel."
His eyes glinted in the torchlight. "And I don't kneel."
A hush fell. Then murmurs... mostly agreement, quiet but growing.
Daryl muttered, loud enough for many to hear, "Never."
Joe gave one firm nod. "This won't affect most of you. I'll take a strike team tonight. We kill them, and life goes on as usual."
People nodded.
Some reluctantly, some fervently.
After a few minutes, the crowd began to disperse. The tension replaced with grim acceptance.
Rick, Daryl, Abraham, Glenn, Tara, Sasha, Rosita, and Kenny remained behind, circling Joe.
Their faces reflected the torchlight, hard and ready.
...
Joe tightened the straps on his body armor as his wives circled him like a protective wall.
Andrea pressed a hand to his chestplate, "Be careful."
Beth and Maggie kissed his cheeks.
Amy lingered on his lips. Andrea smirked faintly, "Don't get cocky."
Joe kissed each of them softly in turn, his eyes steady as he pulled away.
"I'll be back," he promised. Then stepped into the night.
At the gate, the trucks rumbled low, their headlights off.
A squad of killers waited...
Rick, Daryl, Lee, Kenny, Abraham, Glenn, Michonne, Carly, Lilly, Rosita, Heath, Annie, Carol, and even Jesus.
Black clothes. Suppressed rifles. Pistols. Full armor. Eyes sharp.
Joe climbed into the rear transport last.
Amy stood in the glow of a lantern, one arm around Julian, watching the convoy roll out into the darkness.
...
Half a mile from the satellite station, the convoy halted.
Engines cut. Silence fell heavy.
The crew filed out, loading magazines and chambering rounds with soft clicks.
Joe whispered, "Masks down. Guns quiet. Clean and fast."
They moved on foot, jogging low through the trees.
Ahead, red floodlights snapped on, bathing the SUV Jesus drove in blood-colored glow.
"Announce yourself, asshole!" a voice barked from the guard shack.
Jesus stepped out, lifting the fake head Gregory had prepared. "From Hilltop," he shouted. "It's done."
"You shitting me? Bring it here, dickhead."
Two Saviors strolled out, rifles dangling loose, attention fixed on the grisly prize.
Jesus held the head out, face unreadable.
As the guards leaned closer...
Joe and Michonne emerged from the dark. Blades flashed. Two muffled gurgles.
Both men hit the ground, throats cut, skulls punctured.
Jesus hissed, "What the hell? They would've brought Craig out."
Joe wiped his knife on one man's vest. "Craig's already dead. They just wanted to see how dumb Hilltop really was."
Jesus clenched his jaw, but didn't argue.
From the shadows, the rest of the strike team converged.
Joe grabbed the steel door, tugged it open with deliberate slowness.
The hinge groaned faintly.
"Move."
...
Inside, the station was a maze of narrow halls, fluorescent bulbs buzzing faintly overhead.
The stench of sweat, oil, and mildew hung thick. Boots whispered against concrete as the team fanned out.
"Pairs," Joe whispered. "Check every door. Find the arsenal. Then kill them all."
Joe and Kenny slipped into a dormitory. Four men slept on cots, snores rattling the room.
Joe motioned Kenny to cover the doorway. Then he crept from cot to cot, knife in hand.
One. Stab. Twitch. Still.
Two. A soft gasp swallowed by steel.
Three. A gurgle cut short.
Four. The blade slid home, hot blood spraying over Joe's knuckles.
He rose, breathing even, eyes stone cold. Kenny hadn't moved, rifle raised, gaze sweeping the hall.
They slipped back out, Joe whispering low, "Room clear."
Elsewhere, muffled thuds and faint wet crunches signaled other pairs doing the same.
Doors were opened. Sleepering Saviors were silenced.
No alarms yet.
The base was theirs to dismantle, one cut throat at a time.
...
Rick eased a door open, knife steady in his hand. The faint smell of smoke and musk hit him as he stepped inside.
A man was sitting upright on a cot, rubbing his eyes, about to speak.
Rick didn't hesitate. He lunged, driving his knife into the man's throat.
The Savior's eyes went wide. Rick caught his shirt, hauling him close to muffle the wet gurgle.
He lowered him to the floor with a grunt, blood pooling under his boots.
Before the noise could carry, Rick pivoted. Another man snored on the far cot, oblivious.
Rick strode over, pressed a hand to the man's chest, and shoved the blade down through his skull.
The body jerked once, then stilled.
Rick pulled his knife free and wiped it across the blanket.
His face was grim, jaw tight, but his breathing steady.
Just another enemy they wouldn't have to kill later.
He stepped back into the hall, whispering to the nearest shadow.
"Room's clear."
...
Meanwhile, Carol and Carly lay prone in the brush, rifles steady on their bipods, scopes trained on the satellite station.
The red perimeter lights still buzzed faintly, bathing the yard in a dull glow.
The two women scanned every angle, eyes sharp, breaths controlled.
Carly whispered, "Nothing moving yet."
Carol didn't take her eye from the scope. "That's how we want it."
A shadow shifted near the far side of the compound. Carly steadied her aim, finger brushing the trigger.
"Walker," Carol said before Carly could fire. "Slow one. Let it pass."
Carly exhaled, lowering her sights as the dead thing stumbled by the outer fence.
Minutes passed, nothing but the chirp of night insects and the faint shuffle of boots from inside.
Carly glanced sideways at Carol. "Feels too easy."
Carol's mouth curled in a humorless smile. "That's why we're out here. They don't get the drop on us."
Carly nodded, tightening her grip on the rifle, her nerves held in check by the way Carol stayed so cold, so steady.
Then a faint metallic clang echoed from deeper inside the station.
Both women tensed, weapons snapping back to their scopes.
"Stay sharp," Carol murmured.
...
Abraham and Lee checked doors as they worked their way down a separate hallway.
Most of the rooms had been empty so far. The others now had corpses where people once slept.
They came to a locked door.
Abraham raised his rifle, covering while Lee crouched to work the lock. The tumblers clicked, the knob turning slowly.
Suddenly, a shadow lunged from the side. A man came at Abraham with a knife.
Abraham twisted but still caught a slash across his arm. He snarled through the pain, shoving back.
Lee reacted instantly... drawing his pistol and firing twice.
Pff. Pff.
The silenced rounds punched clean through the attacker's chest.
The man staggered, dropping the knife, before collapsing in a heap.
Abraham gritted his teeth, clamping a hand over the cut.
He snarled, "Son of a bitch."
Then, without hesitation, he rammed his blade down into the man's skull, making sure he stayed down.
...
Jesus pushed open the door to another room, his knife at the ready.
He swept the corners quickly... it was empty.
He turned to leave when something on the far cot caught his eye.
Craig.
The man lay sprawled, pale, lifeless. A neat bullet hole marked his forehead.
Jesus froze, shoulders sagging. For a long beat he just stared, jaw clenched.
Then he whispered, "Sorry, man."
He pulled the door shut quietly behind him.
This was no time to dwell on it or grieve.
He tightened his grip on the blade and moved back down the hall. Slipping into the next room to silence another Savior in his sleep before pushing on.
His eyes peeled open now, looking for where they kept their supplies.
...
Suddenly, a shrill alarm blared through the compound.
Joe's crew froze for only a heartbeat before abandoning stealth and snapping their rifles up.
The silence of knives and suppressed pistols was gone... now it was pure violence.
Doors slammed open up and down the hallways.
Hostiles poured out, shouting, half-dressed, weapons in hand.
The Saviors didn't even get their bearings before they were cut down, lead tearing through them in silenced bursts.
Joe surged forward like a storm, boots pounding against concrete, his rifle steady.
Each trigger pull was exact. One shot slammed into a chest, the next cracked through a skull.
Every man in his path fell without hesitation.
The building erupted into chaos. The tight hallways turned into a killing maze.
Muzzle flashes sparking off the concrete walls as the Saviors scrambled for cover and returned fire.
Bullets snapped past Joe and his people, others hit their vests.
Some lodging into door frames or ricocheting down the corridors.
Still, Joe kept moving.
Relentless. Efficient. Anyone who stood in his way went down hard.
...
The alarm cut through the night air, echoing from inside the compound.
Carol's jaw tightened, her finger already sliding to the trigger.
Figures burst out onto the rooftop, rifles in hand, sweeping for targets.
Carol didn't hesitate...
Pff, pff, pff.
Each silenced shot dropped a man clean, their bodies collapsing against the roofline before they could even shout a warning.
Beside her, Carly froze for half a breath, heart hammering. Then her instincts kicked in.
She shifted her scope to the exit below, where another group of Saviors shoved through the door, sprinting for the vehicles parked outside.
Pff. One dropped. Pff. Another.
Carly's hands steadied with each pull of the trigger. By the time the last runner hit the dirt, she was breathing evenly, locked in.
Carol glanced at her briefly, giving the smallest approving nod before shifting back to her scope. "Good. Keep it up."
Carly swallowed and nodded, her voice low but steady. "I got it."
...
The inside of the base was a storm of gunfire and shouted orders, Joe's crew cutting down the Saviors with ruthless efficiency.
Glenn sprinted down a hallway, boots pounding against the concrete as bullets chewed up the walls around him.
A trio of Saviors were on his heels, their rifles barking.
Thinking fast, Glenn leveled his pistol at a doors lock.
Crack!
The metal shattered, and he shouldered the door open, diving inside.
He hit the floor hard, heart hammering, as a burst of rounds shredded through the doorway at chest height.
If he'd stayed standing, he'd be dead.
Groans and laughter from the Saviors carried through the bullet holes. "He's pinned!"
Glenn rolled to his knees and froze.
Racks of rifles lined the walls, crates of ammo stacked high. The armory.
His panic flipped instantly into resolve. Glenn grabbed the nearest rifle, a battered SCAR and slammed in a full mag.
The door rattled as boots pounded outside.
Glenn exhaled, aimed low, and when the door splintered open, he squeezed the trigger.
Brrraaat!
The rifle roared, spraying controlled bursts through the doorway. Screams cut off mid-breath. Shadows slumped to the floor.
Silence followed. except for the groans of the dying.
Glenn swapped mags, stepped carefully into the hall, and put a bullet into each Savior's skull.
He glanced back at the armory, adrenaline fading into grim determination. "Guess I'm on guard duty."
Glenn set up in the doorway, weapon raised. No one was getting past him.
...
Joe's crew swept the last hallway, boots echoing in the silence.
One by one, the rooms were checked, the dead confirmed with blades through skulls.
Michonne found the alarm box and flipped the switch, blessed quiet settling over the station.
"Clear," Daryl muttered. "All of it."
With the base secure, Rosita and Heath sprinted off to grab the trucks.
The rest of the crew piled weapons, crates of ammo, food, medicine, and even toiletries into bags.
The front lobby filled with the sounds of boots, grunts, and crates being dropped in stacks.
Others rounded up the Saviors' own vehicles from the back lot, lining them up like trophies.
By the time Rosita and Heath pulled up, the loadout was ready. They backed in the trucks, engines rumbling.
Bags and crates were hauled up the ramps.
Heath and Annie revved up an RV, already set to peel off on a long-range scavenging trip that would keep them gone for weeks.
Vroooom!
Everyone froze. The high whine of a motorcycle engine tore out of the back garage.
"Son of a..." Abraham started, raising his rifle.
Joe didn't hesitate. He dropped to a knee, sighted, and squeezed.
Pff!
The rider pitched sideways, the bike skidding across the asphalt.
The Savior scrambled up, clutching his side, and bolted.
Daryl was on him like a wolf, slamming him to the ground and raining punches until the man was half-conscious.
Daryl growled, blood running down his knuckles, "Where'd you get the bike?!"
His voice cracked with anger. His bike, the one that disappeared from where they stashed it.
The man spat blood, defiant even with Joe's shadow falling over him. "Go ahead. Kill me. Just like you killed the rest."
Before Joe could reply, a voice hissed from the dirt-smeared radio at the man's belt.
"Lower your gun, prick."
The crew stiffened, rifles snapping toward the treeline.
Joe crouched, calm as ever, and picked up the radio. "I don't think I will."
The woman on the other end had a hard edge. "We've got eyes on you."
Joe chuckled darkly. "You're bluffing. Come out and prove me wrong. We'll have a nice little chat."
Her tone hardened. "We're not coming out. But we will talk."
"Talk then," Joe said, amused, as he gestured for his people to scan the perimeter.
There was a shuffle of static, then two terrified voices broke through.
"Joe... it's us. Carol, Carly. They..."
Joe cut them off, voice steady as stone. "Don't worry, you'll be fine."
He leaned close to the radio. "I'm guessing you've only got a few bodies. Here's my offer... you let them go, and I'll make sure you die quickly."
The woman barked out a laugh. "We don't like that offer. We're gonna work this out, and it's gonna go our way."
Joe's own laugh was low, humorless. "No, it won't. But I'll play along."
For a long moment, silence.
Joe's crew scanned through their scopes, searching for any sign of movement.
The lack of moonlight made their search even harder.
Then the woman's voice came back, sharp with frustration. "I'll be in touch."
The radio clicked dead.
The group shifted uneasily, but Joe rose to his feet, blood still staining his shirt, expression unreadable.
"No worries," he said. "They'll set up an ambush. Try to catch us with numbers. They don't know who we are. They think we're like everyone else."
Abraham smirked, loading a fresh mag. "Let's show 'em the difference."
Daryl snarled, "We're getting Carol back."
Lee added, "And Carly."
Joe nodded once. "Rosita. Lee. Drive the trucks back to Alexandria. Bring some more people."
They obeyed without hesitation, jogging off to the vehicles.
Joe looked at the rest of the crew. "Grab a car. We leave the area now. More Saviors will be coming, and I don't plan to be here when they do."
Rick gave a sharp nod, voice grim. "Then let's move."
...
Carol and Carly were shoved into the back of a beat-up sedan, blindfolds scratchy against their skin.
The ride was rough, branches scraping the car as it barreled down back roads.
From the front seat, the leader crackled into the radio.
"What's taking so long?"
A rough male voice barked back, "We're tied up with some. Also, watch your tone, you screwed up by letting that crew take everything."
The woman clenched her teeth, but said nothing. The voice cut off with a final, "Hang tight."
The rest of the drive was silent, tension heavy.
When the car finally stopped, Carol and Carly were dragged into a squat brick building with cold concrete floors.
Their blindfolds were ripped off, and they were shoved down against opposite pipes, wrists bound, legs duct-taped.
Paula crouched in front of them, her voice cold. "Before you get any ideas, there's no way out of here for you. Not unless I say so."
Neither Carol nor Carly replied.
They had learned long ago that silence unsettled captors more than pleas.
Gunfire erupted outside. The Paula and Michelle rushed out of the roo., shouting orders.
Their rifles blazing at what sounded like a handful of walkers.
Carol and Carly shared a look. 'Idiots.' It was a miracle that these people had snuck up on them.
Carly twisted her wrists against the concrete corner, sawing the tape down.
Carol slid a strand of prayer beads from her pocket, the cross concealing a tiny blade.
She started working at the rope on her wrists, each motion steady, patient.
The gunfire died down. Heavy boots stomped back inside.
A bitten Savior was dragged to a bench, his face pale and slick with sweat.
Paula wrapped a rope above his elbow, preparing for the inevitable amputation.
Carol's breath hitched suddenly. She wheezed, her body jerking as if in panic.
Carly snapped, "She's having an asthma attack! She needs her inhaler!"
Michelle hurried over, fumbling in her pocket before pressing the inhaler into Carol's hands.
Carol's act ended in an instant. She lunged, teeth sinking into Michelle's throat. Flesh tore free in a spray of hot blood.
Paula's eyes widened in shock... too slow.
Carly kicked her legs out, tripping her hard to the floor. Carol wrenched Michelle's revolver from her hip and shot Paula in the chest.
The bitten man lurched up in confusion but Carly had already snatched Paula's pistol and put a round through his head.
Molly burst in, startled by the chaos.
She barely got a word out before Carol's gun barked again, dropping her dead.
The room fell silent except for Carol's ragged breathing.
She and Carly ripped free of the last of their bindings, collected weapons and knives.
They looked through a pack until Carol's hand closed around the Paula's radio.
She flicked it to a new channel. "Joe, can you hear me?"
His voice came back, calm and steady. "Yeah. What's up?"
Carol said, "We took them out. We're inside some kind of brick building."
"Good. See if you can get out. Give me a description when you're clear."
"Got it." Carol switched back to the Savior frequency, then turned to Carly. "Ready?"
Carly chambered a round. "Always."
They crept down the halls, pistols in one hand, knives in the other.
Walkers groaned in the distance, shadows flickering in the dim light.
They bashed and stabbed skulls until they found the exit.
Just as their hands touched the door... static buzzed.
"We're approaching the perimeter. Are we a go?"
Carol and Carly froze.
Then...
Pff. Pff...
Suppressed shots. The radio clattered to the floor, silent.
Joe's voice came through next, his tone calm. "We're clear. It's safe to come out."
The women stepped into the night air.
Daryl rushed forward, pulling Carol into his arms. "You good?"
Her voice cracked. "No." She buried herself against him, tears breaking loose at last.
Carly staggered into Lee's arms, their kiss brief but full of relief.
Joe stood nearby, watching, his katana glinting in the moonlight. "Let's go home."
Rick added, "And let the Saviors feel the burn."
The group laughed tiredly, heading toward their vehicles.
Only Primo remained, kneeling, eyes wide. He had seen it all.
The slaughter at the station, the precision of the ambush, how the two women had turned the tables.
His voice shook, but he tried anyway. "I'm Negan."
Joe tilted his head, smiling almost kindly. "No, you're not."
Swoosh!
His katana cleaved through Primo's neck.
The head hit the dirt with a dull thud, the eyes still wide in shock.
Joe wiped the blade clean on Primo's jacket, his voice low. "Like I care about Negan."