Walker? or Zombies? (Walking Dead Game x Strong OC)

Chapter 18: The Devil's Ballroom

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The roar of the first shotgun blast was a physical blow, a concussive wave that shattered the ballroom's cathedral-like silence. Marble dust rained down from the pillar where Zack's head had been a fraction of a second before. He was already in motion, a low, swift blur, using the chaos of the blast as cover. This wasn't a brawl; it was a geometry problem, an equation of angles, cover, and death. And Zack was a master of its grim calculus.

"Get him!" one of the guards yelled, his voice raw with panic as he racked the pump on his shotgun.

Lee and Carley, following Zack's command, had already dove behind adjacent pillars, returning fire with their pistols. The sharp crack of their handguns was a counterpoint to the deafening boom of the shotguns. Their role was suppression. Zack's role was annihilation.

He flowed from pillar to pillar, never staying in one place for more than a second. He was too fast to track, a phantom flitting through the moonlit ruins. The guards were terrified, their shots wild. They were used to fighting the slow, shambling dead, or perhaps the broken, desperate living. They had never faced anything like this.

The guard with the machete made a fatal mistake. Seeing Zack disappear behind a pillar, he charged forward, hoping to catch him as he emerged. He rounded the marble column, his weapon raised high. He found nothing. A flicker of confusion crossed his face before a shadow dropped upon him from above.

Zack had scaled the pillar in the blink of an eye, his superhuman strength allowing him to find purchase on the ornate carvings. He dropped silently, his combat knife held in a reverse grip. The blade plunged down into the man's shoulder at the base of his neck, severing muscle and artery. The man gave a choked, wet gasp, his machete clattering to the floor as his lifeblood sprayed across the marble. Zack was already gone, melting back into the shadows before the body hit the ground.

One down.

The two remaining guards panicked. They stood back-to-back, their shotguns sweeping the vast, empty room. "Where is he? Where the hell is he?!"

"He's playing with you, you fools!" the stranger's voice boomed over the PA system, laced with contempt. "Shoot anything that moves!"

As if on cue, Zack created a diversion. He hurled a shard of shattered marble across the room. It clattered against a far wall, and both guards spun, blasting away at the sound. In that split second, as their attention was diverted, Zack exploded from cover.

He sprinted across the open floor, a terrifying sight. He was a blur of motion, closing the fifty-foot distance in a time that seemed to defy physics. The guards turned, their eyes wide with disbelief, struggling to bring their long guns to bear. They were too slow.

Zack slid the last ten feet on the polished marble, his body low to the ground. He swept his stealth blade out in a low arc, slicing through the back of one guard's knees. The man screamed as his tendons parted, collapsing into a useless heap. Zack was already on his feet, pivoting to face the last man.

The final guard managed to get a shot off, but it was a panicked, desperate blast. The buckshot tore through the air where Zack had been, peppering a far wall. Zack was inside his guard now, too close for the long gun to be effective. The man tried to swing the shotgun like a club. Zack ducked under it, his combat knife flashing up, gutting the man with a single, brutal, upward stroke. The guard looked down at his own entrails spilling onto the floor, a look of profound, terminal surprise on his face, before he collapsed.

Zack turned to the last man, the one he had hamstrung. The man was on the floor, trying to crawl away, sobbing in terror and pain.

"Please... please, don't..." he whimpered.