At this moment, F City International Airport was no longer merely a transportation hub, but a rapidly operating war fortress.
Inside the newly constructed command tower, a holographic projection displayed the tactical map of the entire F City. Countless green light dots represented patrolling Marine Corps soldiers and automated defensive turrets.
"Airport base Commander has entered command position. Command message system established. All-frequency encryption complete."
"Radar scan shows unidentified armed personnel three kilometers east of the base. Number: 20."
The base Commander, seated at the command console, coldly watched the red dots on the screen.
"Cleaner Squad, attention. Prepare for situation report."
"Headquarters has issued an order. You have enough prisoners. The Marine Corps will arrive at your location to complete the handover. Your current mission objective is to annihilate the invaders at all costs. No prisoners, no interrogations. Turn them into corpses. Enemy information has been uploaded to your devices."
"Understood."
A calm response came through the communication channel. It was the Cleaner Squad, waiting in the area.
They had just finished tying up those unlucky Dark Horse Squad prisoners.
In the night, their tactical night vision goggles flashed with a ruthless blue light.
The Cleaner Commander looked at the platform in his hand, then at the Dark Horse Squad prisoners who had broken legs and were barely alive, and an idea came to him.
...
Perspective switches to below the elevated expressway on the east side of F City.
A fully armed squad of 20 was rapidly moving between abandoned vehicles. They wore khaki tactical vests with the red and white Umbrella Corporation logo on their arms—U.B.C.S..
This unit's original mission was to support "Wolf Pack" and "Dark Horse," who had lost contact, but the severe electromagnetic interference in F City had rendered them blind and deaf.
"Damn it, the signal interference here is too strong. The last coordinates given by command are around here."
The U.B.C.S. Captain held his G36 Assault Rifle, scanning his surroundings vigilantly. "Everyone stay alert. Although there aren't many zombies here, I feel like something is watching us."
They proceeded along the abandoned street and soon arrived under a pedestrian overpass that spanned the expressway. This was the only way to the airport.
Just then, the point man at the front suddenly raised his fist, signaling to stop.
"Sir, something's up ahead!" the point man whispered. "Someone's ahead! Judging by the uniform... it looks like Dark Horse Squad!"
The Captain immediately raised his night vision binoculars.
On the road ahead, beneath the overpass, a figure was kneeling. He wore the black combat uniform characteristic of U.S.S., was bound tightly with thick nylon ropes, had thick black tape over his mouth, and his eyes were completely covered by a black cloth. He seemed to hear footsteps, and his body began to twist violently, emitting muffled cries for help from his throat.
"It's a friendly. He might have been captured by those mysterious armed personnel and left here."
The Captain's heart filled with joy. As long as they could find a survivor, they could figure out what had happened here.
He didn't realize why, in this zombie-infested city, a bound person could still be alive.
"First Squad, secure the perimeter! Second Squad, follow me to rescue him!"
Ten U.B.C.S. soldiers quickly moved forward to rescue the person, while the others established a defensive line around them.
The Captain led a few soldiers to the captive. The captive struggled even more violently upon hearing someone approach, even starting to bang his head against the ground, as if trying to convey some message.
"Don't be afraid! Calm down! We're here to save you!"
The Captain held the captive's shoulder, trying to soothe him. A medic quickly stepped forward.
"Let him speak first, ask about the situation," the Captain ordered.
The medic reached out and pulled off the black cloth covering the captive's eyes.
At that moment, the Captain saw the look in the captive's eyes—it wasn't joy at being rescued, but a deathly despair.
"Wooo! Wooohooo!!!" The captive shook his head frantically, gesturing not to touch his mouth.
But the medic didn't understand the look. He reached out and tore off the black tape sealing the captive's mouth.
"Rip—"
The moment the tape was torn off, everyone froze.
Inside the captive's forcibly opened mouth, there was no tongue, but a black metallic cylinder glowing with a red light—a miniature high-explosive proximity mine.
The red light's blinking frequency had already reached its limit.
The U.B.C.S. Captain's pupils instantly constricted to pinpricks, an instinctive reaction when facing certain death.
"No—"
"Boom————!!!"
An orange-red fireball erupted suddenly.
The violent explosion directly pulverized the captive's head, engulfing the Captain and four soldiers around him.
The huge shockwave, carrying fragments of bone and shrapnel, sent the nearest few flying, slamming them hard against the guardrails and abandoned vehicles on both sides.
Blood, organs, and severed limbs rained down.
Before the surviving U.B.C.S. soldiers could recover from the ringing in their ears from the explosion.
"Ding—"
A cylindrical object was thrown down from above the overpass, landing precisely in the center of the crowd.
A Flashbang.
"Bang!!!"
Blinding white light instantly illuminated the entire night sky, accompanied by a deafening roar that could rupture eardrums.
"Ah!! My eyes!!!"
"I can't see anything!!"
The remaining U.B.C.S. soldiers covered their eyes, letting out piercing screams, completely losing their combat effectiveness.
In this moment of chaos, two black ropes shot out like venomous snakes from the shadows at the top of the overpass, precisely wrapping around the ankles of two U.B.C.S. soldiers who were still blindly firing their weapons.
"What is that?!"
Before they could react, a huge force pulled them.
"Aaaahhh—"
After being dragged along the ground for a moment, the two UBCS soldiers were directly pulled high into the air, suspended upside down by the ropes, then slammed heavily against the concrete beam at the bottom of the overpass. The sound of their necks breaking was clearly audible.
And those two ropes became natural rappelling gear, as two Black Watch Soldiers descended from the sky, flipping over the overpass railing and leaping down.
They gripped the ropes with one hand to control their descent, while their other hand already held an assault rifle level.
"Da da da da da—!!!"
Fire spewed from their muzzles, and the two soldiers continued to unleash firepower while maintaining a standing posture after landing.
During their rapid descent through the air, their shooting accuracy was not affected in the slightest. Every bullet seemed precisely calculated, accurately piercing the heads and hearts of the U.B.C.S. soldiers below, who were in disarray.
At the same time, behind the railing above the overpass, the other four Cleaners appeared simultaneously.
Six rifles formed an all-encompassing network of fire.
The fully armed U.B.C.S. soldiers, at this moment, were like lambs to the slaughter.
In just five seconds.
The gunfire ceased.
All twenty U.B.C.S. soldiers, except for those who were blown to smithereens, lay in pools of blood, with fatal bullet holes in their foreheads or chests.
Then the Cleaner Commander rappelled down, landing steadily among the scattered corpses. His tactical boots squelched in the viscous blood. He didn't even glance at the corpses beneath his feet, but pressed his walkie-talkie and reported:
"This is Cleaner Squad. Target eliminated, over."