"Get out of the car."
Shawn lightly commanded, gripping his Crescent Blade and leaping out of the car.
The others behind him followed one after another. Shawn looked back at Columbus, who was shaking his head to clear his dizziness, then swept his gaze to Tallahassee, who stood beside him, clutching nunchaku.
"If you want to join the Prison, then watch closely how we do things."
With that, Shawn reversed his grip on the blade and quickly approached the completely overturned muscle car.
Merle said nothing, only following closely behind Shawn.
Daryl widened his stance and walked to the side of the muscle car, his crossbow bolt pointing slightly downwards towards the deformed and shattered window frame of the muscle car.
Inside the car.
A man with a ring embedded below his nose had blood spilling from the corner of his mouth, but after regaining consciousness, he still desperately tried to struggle out.
The man held an automatic rifle with both hands, using the butt to smash the remaining glass from the frame, then climbed out of the passenger seat.
But before he could even move his lower body out, a faint stepping sound suddenly came from not far in front of him.
As if realizing something, the man quickly turned his gun, and in the second his finger pulled the trigger—
Whoosh—!
A flash of blade light streaked across his eyes, making him instinctively squint.
When he opened his eyes again, what greeted him was splattering blood, droplets rising into the air, completely painting his world red.
Shawn's blade technique was sharp; he severed the man's arm with one strike, catching the thrown automatic rifle with the side of his blade, and flicked it back without even looking.
The force was just right, causing it to flip once in the air before landing in Merle's hand.
Merle didn't idle after receiving the automatic rifle; he skillfully opened the magazine to inspect it first.
The almost full magazine of bullets and the smooth, efficient feel of using the firearm made his eyes light up.
Merle chuckled twice with his characteristic hoarse voice: "Nice weapon."
According to the usual conditions at the Prison, there were no weapons this good.
For example, the sniper rifle Merle used most was one he had brought all the way from the Quarry.
It was a good thing he maintained it well daily, otherwise, with such frequent use, it would have probably broken down long ago.
So, seeing this automatic rifle now, Merle was as delighted as if he had seen his long-desired fine wine, unable to put it down.
The next moment, Merle turned the gun.
He rested the butt against his shoulder, brought the gun body close to his cheek, slightly bent his body, and advanced with staggered steps.
It's true, Merle had been a soldier before; this tactical offensive posture really looked the part.
In contrast, Shawn didn't continue after his first strike; he merely held his blade with interest, enduring the suppressed screams, and circled to the other side of the muscle car, observing the appearance of this group the entire time.
A crossbow bolt whizzed past Shawn, narrowly hitting one person inside the car in the head; Daryl had made his move.
The three of them, like hunters surrounding their prey, tightly cornered the four targets inside the shell, unhurriedly waiting for the opportune moment to strike.
However, through continuous observation, Shawn became increasingly certain of what he had in mind.
'These people belong to an organization, and this organization is not an ordinary survivor Camp.'
The same clothing, the same symbols, the same facial features.
Even as Shawn approached, he could vaguely hear them muttering something.
He couldn't hear the whole thing clearly, but judging from the intonation, the content they kept repeating was the same.
After Little Stone made her move, they unhesitatingly switched targets to attack Shawn's fire truck, and it was almost a suicidal attack.
Why was that?
Was it because they mistakenly thought Shawn and the others were Little Stone's reinforcements, or were Shawn and the others actually their targets all along?
But no matter what, their spontaneous actions without excessive communication were enough to prove that there was 'discipline' within their ranks.
As their lives were about to end, their first thought wasn't to beg for mercy; instead, they quietly recited something inexplicable.
"This fanaticism... interesting."
Shawn gave them a deep look.
Do you know what Shawn thought of at that moment?
In modern terms, it could be multi-level marketing, or brainwashing.
But combining the current era's background with the fanatics' state, their characteristic of attacking directly without distinguishing right from wrong and using any means necessary, and their almost unified ideology...
Perhaps 'fascism' is a more suitable word to describe this group of people.
This is another extreme manifestation of the 'collective' survival mode.
Shawn could guess without even thinking that it was yet another extremist group of lunatics spawned by the apocalyptic environment.
"Don't waste time, Merle."
Shawn looked at Merle; their gazes met, and Merle instantly understood Shawn's thoughts.
He cooperated with Daryl's precise shots, quickly taking down the remaining people.
Other than the automatic rifles these people carried, Shawn found nothing else of value.
Inside the fire truck, Columbus and Tallahassee watched Shawn and the other two so decisively kill the people, leaving no one alive, and couldn't help but be surprised.
At least so far, they had only killed Walkers, and had never laid hands on a person.
Seeing Shawn and the other two, who were previously quite friendly, turn around and deftly kill four living people, how could they not be shocked?
Shawn returned to the car with the spoils of war and closed the door.
His ten fingers resting on the steering wheel tapped lightly, then he turned the car around and chased back along the way they had come.
Columbus sniffed the faint scent of blood and gunpowder emanating from the three of them, swallowed, and asked,
"Are we going back to save them?"
Shawn didn't answer him immediately, merely glancing at him in the rearview mirror first.
Daryl frowned and turned his head, presenting his finely sculpted profile to them.
"Perhaps you should learn to grow up a bit."
"You should know that when they led people to us, there was no longer any possibility of us becoming friends. Why should we save them?"
"Haven't they harmed you enough?"
Columbus and Tallahassee, before meeting Shawn and the other two, had already suffered at least twice because of these two sisters; they should have learned their lesson.
Although the saying goes, there are no eternal enemies, only eternal interests.
However, the benefits that the two sisters could bring seemed insufficient to make Shawn change his mind.
What Shawn wanted was intelligence, information, to ask why these two women had provoked people they shouldn't have again.
What Shawn cared about was the organization those people belonged to, and the potential underlying danger.
Shawn traveled north, heading towards North Carolina, and encountered them head-on, which suggested they might have come from North Carolina.
He hadn't seen any traces they left behind while traveling through South Carolina.
It was enough to conclude that although the south was also their area of activity, it was not their main base.
So, it could basically be confirmed that the organization these people belonged to was located north of the central line between north and south.
Since Shawn was going to pass through North Carolina, he was bound to run into them.
Before everything happened, Shawn needed to know why this group of people kept chasing Vechita and her companions relentlessly.
-------------------------------
I've already uploaded 70 chapters of this story on Patreon!
If you enjoy it, come check out the latest chapters in advance.
Here's the link:
[email protected]/Rexlent
Thank you so much for your support!!!
"And If you're enjoying it, drop a Power Stone for me!"