Meanwhile, Charles and his group continued their arduous search.
Luck, however, was not on their side. Hours passed, and they hadn't found a single trace of a zombie. Instead, they were left shivering in the biting cold, noses running as the icy wind howled around them.
Suddenly, a gunshot shattered the stillness. Kevin was the first to react.
"Brother, there's gunfire coming from the mansion!"
Charles cast a glance in that direction and smirked. "Looks like they're turning on each other. Bunch of amateurs. Give them a gun, and they think they're invincible."
"Let's go check it out," Charles ordered, leading his group to the outskirts of the mansion district, just in time to witness Nathan and Anthony locked in a heated standoff.
"Why is it always him?" Charles muttered.
Not far away, Luther's group had also been drawn by the commotion. Spotting Nathan in the fray, Luther chuckled. "That guy's got to be cursed. This is the second time in three days he's been robbed."
A few of Luther's lackeys, who had been scouting nearby, chimed in eagerly. "Luther, Thomas, you wouldn't believe it. That Nathan is such a pushover! Earlier, Anthony fired a single shot, and he nearly bolted on the spot."
"With guts like that, how's he even leading a team?" Luther sneered. "Miles must be blind to have put him in charge. If it were me, I'd have taken Anthony out already. No hesitation."
Back at the standoff, Nathan and Anthony continued their heated exchange.
"Anthony, don't think having a gun makes you untouchable. Push me, and we'll both go down together!" Nathan growled, his anger barely contained.
Anthony scoffed. "Go down together? Do you even know what that means? Stop using words you don't understand, you illiterate fool."
"You—!" Nathan's face flushed with anger. "Fine, I've had enough!"
With that, he lunged forward and landed a solid punch on Anthony's face.
Thud!
Anthony stumbled to the ground, clutching his face. He muttered under his breath, "Damn it, Nathan. You're actually hitting me?"
Nathan smirked, straddling Anthony and delivering a flurry of punches. "Acting, my friend. Our teacher always said, the key to a great performance is authenticity. Bear with me—just two more punches."
"Damn your authenticity!" Anthony snapped, reaching for his gun. A wild shot rang out, forcing Nathan to retreat.
Anthony scrambled to his feet, aimed his gun at Nathan, and delivered a sharp slap across his face.
Smack!
Nathan staggered, his expression stunned. "What the hell? You're actually hitting me?"
"Didn't you just say realism is key?" Anthony muttered, throwing another punch. "You started this! Think you can take me? Do you even know who I am? I've got the guts to take on anyone in this city!"
Anthony's acting might have been mediocre, but when it came to intimidation, he was a natural.
Nathan stayed on the ground, shielding his head, muttering curses. "If you've got the guts, kill me already!"
"Kill you? And then what?" Anthony kicked him again. "You're Miles' guy. Fine. If you're so sure, go ahead and report me! See if he cares."
Anthony's lackeys hesitated, murmuring, "Boss, Miles won't like it if we actually kill him. He hates infighting. If word gets back..."
"Who cares?" Anthony bellowed, puffing out his chest. "I've fought for Miles. I've killed for him. Why would I be scared of a bunch of nobodies?"
Despite his bravado, Anthony didn't pull the trigger. Instead, he signaled his crew to beat Nathan and his men until they were sprawled on the ground, groaning in pain.
...
From a distance, Thomas watched Anthony walk away, a sly smile creeping onto his face. Without a word, he approached Nathan, who was still clutching his injuries.
"What are you doing, Thomas?" Luther called, hurrying to catch up.
Thomas's smile widened. "Don't you think this is the perfect time to recruit them?"
Having seen Nathan humiliated twice now, Thomas was convinced that Nathan's position with Miles was precarious. If Miles valued him, he would've intervened. The fact that no one had come, despite the repeated gunshots, proved that Nathan and his team were expendable.
Thomas crouched down and extended a hand to Nathan. "You alright, brother?"
Nathan blinked, momentarily stunned. "I'm fine... thanks."
"Don't mention it," Thomas said, brushing off the gratitude. "We're all just trying to survive. Helping each other is the least we can do."
Nathan nodded, awkwardly scratching his head. He turned to leave, but Thomas's voice stopped him.
"Have you eaten?"
Nathan and his men froze.
"Luther, bring out those biscuits we've been saving," Thomas instructed with a wave.
Luther frowned, reluctant. "Thomas, those biscuits took us forever to save. Why should we give them away?"
"We're all struggling here. If we can help, we should. It's just a couple of biscuits. We'll manage," Thomas replied, his tone calm yet resolute.
Nathan hesitated. "We... we can't accept this. You saved them for yourselves."
"Don't be so hard on yourself," Thomas said, pressing the biscuits into Nathan's hands. "I can't stand seeing decent folks like you being pushed around. If you ever need help, come to F District. We'll figure something out."
Nathan looked overwhelmed. "I... I don't know what to say..."
Luther chimed in with a wry grin, "Brother, you can't keep letting them walk all over you. This might've ended okay today, but what about next time?"
Nathan lowered his gaze, unable to respond.
Thomas spoke again, his tone firm but understanding. "This isn't just about standing up to them. They've got guns and Miles backing them. What can you realistically do?"
Nathan let out a bitter sigh, his frustration palpable. "It's not fair. We left the factory because Miles promised us food. Now, we're here starving while he lives it up."
"You never reported this to him?" Luther pressed.
"Of course, I did!" Nathan spat bitterly. "Twice, I went to his mansion. Miles didn't even show his face. He's got all the food and women he could want. And us? What do we have?"
Thomas and Luther exchanged a knowing glance.
A plan was forming.