"Your moves are miscalculated, and underestimating your enemies—your biggest mistake. You will find the will of a single man can be broken."
- Captain John Price
Izzy POV
Izzy crouched low, her breath steady but her pulse quickening. She trailed close behind Price, her eyes fixed on the pair ahead—the woman and the man with the baby. They moved quickly through the trees, their movements purposeful. Something about the way they carried themselves screamed urgency.
They stopped, hidden behind the treeline. Izzy mirrored Price's stance, peering past the foliage to take in the scene. Her stomach tightened at the sight before her—a man on his knees, hands raised in a desperate plea. A woman—mid-to-late forties, graying hair, a large bag slung over her shoulder—held him at gunpoint. Her face was hardened, but there was a fury in her eyes that seemed deeply personal.
Izzy's gaze drifted, catching sight of the baby strapped to the chest of the large man beside her. The child was bundled tightly, its tiny face peeking out from beneath layers of fabric. For a moment, Izzy's mind wandered—How did a baby survive all of this? But her thoughts were cut short by Price turning to her.
"Here," he said, holding out his pistol.
Izzy blinked, momentarily unsure, before taking it. It felt heavier than she'd expected, and the cool metal pressed against her palm reminded her of the weight of responsibility it carried.
"You ever shot a gun before?" Price asked, his voice calm but low.
She hesitated, glancing at him, then nodded. "Yeah," she said, though the reluctance in her voice was unmistakable.
Price studied her for a moment, his eyes sharp and unreadable. He attached a silencer to his rifle with practiced ease, then turned his attention back to her. "Alright," he said, his tone even but firm. "Keep both hands on it. Tight grip. Don't flinch when you pull the trigger—just steady yourself. And for Christ's sake, only shoot if you've got a clear sight of your target."
Izzy nodded, swallowing hard as she adjusted her grip on the pistol. Her hands felt clammy despite the cool morning air, but she forced herself to focus.
Then it happened.
The branch snapped beneath her foot, loud and jarring. Izzy froze, her heart leaping into her throat. The big man spun, his gun snapping toward the source of the noise—toward her and Price.
Everything after that was a blur.
The kneeling man moved—desperation flashing across his face as he lunged toward the gun on the ground. There was no hesitation, no pause, just a single, clean shot from Price's rifle. The man dropped instantly, blood pooling beneath him. Izzy hadn't even seen it happen properly—one moment the man was alive, the next he was a crumpled heap on the ground.
Price stepped out from the treeline, his rifle still trained on the group. He moved with purpose, calm and collected, like he'd done this a thousand times before. Izzy followed, her pistol feeling clumsy in her hands compared to the way Price handled his weapon.
The tension in the air was palpable, thick enough to choke on. The big man's gun was still raised, the woman's hands shaking as she was trying to get up.
Then the woman broke the silence, her voice trembling but defiant. "Who the hell are you?" she demanded, her gaze darting between Price and Izzy.
Price didn't answer right away. He stood there, his rifle steady, his eyes sharp as they took in the scene.
The woman's voice rose, desperate now. "Listen to me—Terminus isn't what you think it is. It's not a sanctuary. It's a bloody slaughterhouse! They're taking people—slaughtering them like animals. They're… they're eating them."
Izzy felt her stomach turn at the words. Cannibalism. She glanced at Price, searching his face for a reaction, but his expression remained unreadable.
The woman pressed on, her voice cracking. "We've got people there. Good people and they're being held prisoners. We're trying to break them out, but we need help."
Price's rifle lowered slightly, though his grip remained firm. His eyes narrowed as he studied the woman. "You've got a group there?" he asked, his voice steady. "A young black woman. Part of your group?"
The woman blinked, taken aback by the question, then nodded. "Yeah… There is. Her name's Sasha."
Price nodded once, his decision made. "We'll help you," he said simply, his voice carrying the weight of authority.
Izzy felt a mix of relief and trepidation. They were stepping into something bigger than she'd anticipated, but for the first time, she felt like they might actually stand a chance. Price wasn't just a soldier—he was a force to be reckoned with.
Price POV
The sun hung high in the sky, casting sharp shadows. The place reeked of death, even from the perimeter fence. Price knelt beside Carol, his rifle resting against his knee as they surveyed the chaos ahead. Gareth's men were dragging members of her group toward the slaughterhouse. They were bound, beaten, and stripped of any dignity, looking like lambs being led to the chopping block.
Price's jaw tightened. This wasn't the first time he'd seen something like this, but it never sat right. Never would. Evil like this had a way of clawing at you, eating away at the man you thought you were. But he didn't dwell on it—not now. There was work to be done.
He turned his head toward Carol, who was steadying her rifle, her face set in grim determination. There was fire in her eyes. She wasn't just doing this to save Rick's group; she was here to make a statement.
"You ready for this?" he muttered, voice low and calm, like they were chatting over a cup of tea instead of planning an assault.
She didn't even look at him, just nodded.
Carol took aim at the propane tank nestled inside the compound. Price followed her line of sight, scanning for any potential snags. Gareth's people were too preoccupied with their twisted routine to notice.
"One shot," he reminded her, his voice a quiet rumble. "Don't miss."
The crack of the rifle broke the air, and Price felt the corner of his mouth twitch as the round hit its mark. The propane tank erupted in a fiery explosion, the shockwave rippling through the compound. Smoke and flame billowed into the sky, a beacon of chaos that could be seen for miles.
Carol didn't waste a second. She grabbed one of Martin's fireworks, lit it, and launched it toward the breach. It soared through the air and exploded in a shower of sparks, drawing walkers like moths to a flame.
The groans of the dead grew louder as they swarmed through the opening, shambling into the compound with single-minded hunger. The screams of Gareth's people followed soon after.
"That'll do it," Price said, pushing himself to his feet and slinging his rifle. "Time to move."
He turned to Carol, his voice taking on that clipped, no-nonsense tone he used when giving orders. "You know the plan. Find your people, get them out. I'll handle the infiltration."
Carol hesitated for a moment, her eyes flicking to the chaos ahead.
"You sure you don't need backup?" she asked.
Price shook his head. "I'll be fine. Done worse with less. You focus on your lot. We'll regroup outside."
Carol nodded, a flicker of trust passing between them, and then she was off, disappearing into the trees to meet up with Tyreese, Izzy, Darius, and Caleb.
Price moved swiftly, keeping to the shadows as he approached the breach. The air was thick with smoke, the acrid smell stinging his nose, but he ignored it. His mind was locked in, assessing every angle, every sound, every movement.
The compound was pure chaos. Walkers were everywhere, tearing into Gareth's people like wolves among sheep. Price slipped past them, his steps silent, his eyes sharp. This wasn't his first infiltration, and it wouldn't be his last.
He pressed himself against a wall, peering around the corner. Two of Gareth's men were barking orders, trying to rally their people against the onslaught. Price didn't give them the chance.
"Bad luck, lads," Price muttered under his breath before squeezing the trigger. Two suppressed shots, and they were down. Clean, efficient, and quiet enough not to draw too much attention.
He pushed on, navigating the maze of hallways until he reached the slaughterhouse along the way he killed every men from Gareth's group, no exemptions were made. The sound of chains and muffled grunts reached his ears, and his jaw clenched. He didn't need to see it to know what was happening inside.
Slipping through the door, Price took in the scene: Rick, Daryl, Glenn, and Bob were lined up, their hands bound, their faces bruised. Gareth's men were preparing to make the kill, knives gleaming in the harsh light.
Price's grip on his rifle tightened.
Not today, you bastards.
He raised his rifle, taking aim. The first shot dropped the guard watching the door. The other two turned, their faces twisting in shock, but they didn't have time to react. Two more shots, two more bodies on the ground.
The room went still, the only sound the heavy breathing of the captives.
Rick's head snapped up, his eyes locking onto Price.
"Who the hell—" Rick started, but Price cut him off, already moving to untie him.
"Name's Price," he said gruffly, working the ropes loose. "I'll get you lot out. No time for introductions."
Rick didn't argue, his instincts kicking in. As soon as his hands were free, he grabbed a machete from one of the fallen guards. Daryl and Glenn were quick to follow suit, arming themselves with whatever they could find.
Bob groaned as he got to his feet, leaning heavily on Glenn for support.
"We owe you one," Rick said, his voice steady despite the weariness in his eyes.
Price gave a faint smirk. "Reckon I'll collect later. Let's move."
They slipped out of the slaughterhouse, sticking to the shadows as they navigated through the burning compound. Walkers were everywhere, their moans echoing through the night.
Price led the way, his rifle at the ready. He kept his steps light, his ears tuned to every sound. Rick kept close behind him, his grip tight on the machete.
Price and the others arrive to a room with hanging limbs and corpses grabbing weapons to defend themselves. Disturbed and shocked, Rick tells the others to kill any of the Terminus crew on sight. After exiting the building, they open up another train car after hearing screams from inside. En route to rescuing the other survivors, Glenn insists on opening the train car to free the captives inside. But when they do, a deranged man runs out screaming wildly before being devoured by a walker.
Then they encounter Gareth and 2 of his goons on the way out. Rick tell Price "don't shoot, we'll handle them" then this Gareth mentioned about being a cattle and the butcher something that didn't registered in me Price thought. I ignored him, as they were a dead man's rumbling. Rick hacked off Gareth's head with Daryl and Glenn doing the same to his goons.
Carol POV
The air was damp and heavy, but I didn't feel it. Couldn't. I had one job to do, and nothing else mattered. Tyreese didn't want me going alone, but I'd made my case clear. I needed him to stay with the others. If this went sideways, He'd need the others help in protecting the baby.
The guts were cold and sticky against my skin, clinging to me like death itself. It wasn't the first time I'd done this, but it never got easier. The smell, the weight of it... I shoved the disgust down deep where it couldn't touch me. Survive. That's all that matters.
I moved with the horde, their moans and shuffling footsteps surrounding me. Each step was a gamble. One wrong move, one sound, and it'd be over. But I couldn't think about that. I focused on the gates of Terminus, the place that had taken so much from so many.
They don't know what's coming for them.
Once inside, I slipped away from the walkers, keeping to the shadows. The place was a maze of misery. Bloodstains on the walls. Bones scattered in piles. Every corner told a story of someone who didn't make it out. My stomach churned, but I kept moving.
Then I found it—a room filled with the belongings of their victims. Clothes, watches, trinkets...pieces of people who'd trusted the wrong sanctuary. My hands moved automatically, sorting through the chaos. Rick's watch. Daryl's crossbow. Small reminders of the people I came here for.
I tucked them away and turned to leave, but something caught my eye. A shrine. Candles flickering in a grotesque display of Terminus's sick philosophy. "Never again. Never trust. You're the butcher or you're the cattle."
The words were painted in blood.
Butcher or cattle. Is that all we are now?
Mary found me there, and her voice was sharp, like a blade pressed to my skin.
"What are you doing here?"
I didn't answer. I didn't have to. She knew why I was here, just as I knew what she was.
She came at me, and we fought. Her desperation was palpable, every move filled with the fury of someone who'd lost everything and was clinging to what little power she had left.
When I had her pinned, she started talking, spitting out her excuses. How Terminus had been a sanctuary once, a real one, until marauders tore it apart. Rape, murder, destruction—it broke her people, turned them into what they are now.
"You're the butcher or you're the cattle," she said, her voice trembling.
I stared at her, my mind racing. Was she right? Was that the only way to survive now? I thought about Sophia. About Mika and Lizzie. About all the people I'd lost.
"You're wrong," I said, my voice cold and steady.
She looked at me, confused, as I pulled the trigger. The bullet hit her leg, and she screamed, falling to the floor. I left her there, the walkers already closing in.
Butcher or cattle. No. There's another way. There has to be.
Outside, chaos reigned. Walkers were everywhere, tearing through the remains of Terminus like a plague. I moved quickly, checking train cars one by one until I found them.
Maggie. Carl. Michonne. Sasha. Abraham and his group. Their faces lit up when they saw me, relief washing over them like a wave.
"All of you okay?" I asked, my voice trembling despite myself. She then hugs Maggie fiercely.
Maggie nodded, her smile faint but real. "We're fine. Thanks to you."
I didn't know what to say, so I just nodded and led them out. We made our way through the chaos, walkers at every turn, until we finally reached the woods.
That's where we found Rick, Daryl, Glenn, Bob, and Price.
Daryl saw me first. He ran to me, his arms wrapping around me in a hug so tight it knocked the air from my lungs.
"You're okay," he whispered, his voice breaking.
I nodded, tears welling up despite myself. "I'm okay. I'm here."
Rick was next, his arms pulling me into a quick embrace. "Did you do that?" he asked, his voice filled with awe.
I just nodded, not trusting myself to speak.
We made our way to the cabin, where Tyreese was waiting with Judith. The look on Rick's face when he saw his daughter was something I'll never forget. He ran to her, Carl right behind him, both of them laughing and crying at the same time.
Sasha hugged Tyreese, her relief palpable. Caleb and Darius were there too, their faces a mix of exhaustion and gratitude. Then he noticed Darius specifically, he was dejected as he hoped that the young black woman that I mentioned would be her sister. I walked up close to him and said that Terminus is already overrun, you cannot go there. I'm sorry, I thought you were related to Sasha and Tyreese.
Then Carol watch Price stood off to the side, watching it all with that same calm, steady expression he always wore. But when Rick walked over to him and muttered a quiet "thank you," and hugged him, Price also reciprocated the gesture then I saw something shift in his eyes.
"Your group are good people," Price said, his voice low and firm. "That baby...she's a sign. A sign that we can get through this."
Rick nodded, his jaw tight, and I knew in that moment he believed it too.
As we rested, I thought about what Mary had said. "You're the butcher or you're the cattle."
She was wrong.
We're more than that. We have to be.
Then Price and Rick decides that they will get as far away from Terminus as possible. When we came across the Terminus sign later, Rick scratched out the words and wrote something new: "No sanctuary."
It felt fitting. Terminus was gone, and we were still standing.
For now, that was enough.