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

Chapter 30: The Family, Reunited

---

The clatter of Zack's sword hitting the splintered floorboards was a sound of absolute finality. It was the sound of a god being put in chains, the sound of a world coming to an end. The fight was over. The lodge was lost.

Carver smiled. It was not a pleasant smile. It was the cold, satisfied smile of a man who had just proven a fundamental truth about the universe: everything, no matter how strong, has a breaking point.

"See?" he said, his voice a calm, conversational purr that was more terrifying than any shout. "Compliance. It's a beautiful thing. The first step towards order."

He looked at Zack, who stood panting in the center of the room, his body still thrumming with the violent energy of the fight, his eyes a maelstrom of pure, undiluted hatred. Carver began to walk towards him, dragging a terrified, weeping Clem along with him.

"You are strong, son. I've never seen anything like you," Carver said, his tone one of genuine, almost academic, appreciation. He stopped in front of Zack, using Clem as a shield. To make a point, he twisted her arm just enough to make her cry out in pain.

"But strength without discipline is just chaos," Carver continued, his eyes locked on Zack's, enjoying the fire he saw there. "And chaos... chaos needs to be taught a lesson."

That whimper of pain was the only trigger Zack needed. The surrender was forgotten. The tactical reality vanished. All that was left was the raw, primal instinct of a protector.

With a roar that was not human, a sound of pure, unadulterated rage, Zack exploded. He launched himself forward, a weaponless, chainless blur of fury, his hands outstretched like claws, aimed directly at Carver's throat.

He never made it.

Carver, always prepared, simply sidestepped, using Clem's body to block the attack. His men, who had been frozen in a mixture of fear and awe, reacted instantly to the direct threat on their leader.

"NO!" Kenny roared, but it was too late.

Two of Carver's largest soldiers intercepted Zack mid-lunge. The first swung his rifle like a baseball bat, the hard steel stock connecting with Zack's ribs with a sickening, wet thud that lifted him off his feet. The second soldier met him as he fell, his heavy combat boot slamming into Zack's back, driving him face-first into the floor.

"Teach him," Carver commanded, his voice losing its calm for the first time, now laced with a cold, personal fury.

What followed was not a punishment. It was an execution that stopped just short of death. A brutal, systematic breaking.

They beat him with their rifle butts, with their steel-toed boots. They were silent, methodical, their movements fueled by a savage need to put down the monster that had dared to attack their leader. They aimed for his ribs, his back, his legs. It was a savage, ugly symphony of cracking bones and tearing flesh.

The lodge was filled with the sounds of the beating and with the screams of those forced to watch. Clem's shrieks were continuous, a high, desperate wail of "STOP IT! PLEASE, LEAVE HIM ALONE! STOP!" Kenny, held at gunpoint, thrashed against his captor, his voice a guttural, helpless roar of pure rage. The Cabin Group was frozen in horror. Luke's face was ashen, Pete looked away, unable to watch, and Nick was openly vomiting in a corner. Sarah had buried her face in her father's chest, her body shaking with silent sobs.

Through it all, Zack made no sound. He took every blow, every kick, every crushing impact, without a single cry. His body convulsed on the floor, but he did not scream. He just lay there, his face pressed against the dusty floorboards, and endured. When one of the soldiers rolled him over, his face was a bloody, swollen mess, but his eyes... his eyes were open. And they were fixed on Carver, burning with a cold, unbreakable fire of pure, murderous hatred that promised a terrible reckoning.