The dying sun outside the floor-to-ceiling window stained the ruins of F City a desolate, bloody hue. You withdrew your gaze from the distance and unfolded the tactical map before you.
Currently, with F University at its center, Lin Xuan's forces had forcefully advanced outward and secured a roughly ten-kilometer fan-shaped area. Within this zone, zombies had been cleared on a large scale, with barbed wire and machine gun towers forming the new boundaries. But compared to the vast expanse of F City, this was merely the first step in reclaiming lost human territory.
Just as you were deep in thought about the next step of resource allocation, the oak door to the office was gently knocked.
"Come in."
The door hinges made a faint scraping sound. A pair of long, straight, and shapely legs sheathed in black stockings entered the view first, followed by a well-tailored, light-black military uniform.
Ling Jianqing walked to your desk carrying a thick stack of files, a faint aroma of coffee wafting in with her. As Lin Xuan's adjutant, she possessed exceptional administrative skills and the imposing presence unique to a cold, glamorous older-sister type.
"Commander, this is the intelligence just compiled by the reconnaissance battalion." Ling Jianqing spread several high-definition drone aerial photos on your desk, her slender finger pointing to a fortified block in the images. "The drone discovered a large survivor stronghold in the Fuan Street District, coordinates approximately 12 kilometers from our outpost. Thermal scans and perimeter surveillance indicate the stronghold possesses a certain level of armament, including automatic rifles, pistols, and other firearms. Based on database cross-referencing and survivor testimonies, this stronghold is controlled by a group of retired veterans. The core members number around two hundred, with a civilian population exceeding one thousand."
Lin Xuan picked up the photos, carefully examining the crossfire networks and traps set up by those veterans. The Fuan Street District had an excellent geographical location.
"Retired veterans..." His fingers tapped rhythmically on the desk. "It seems we are not alone in this area. These people are organized, have some discipline—they're not on the same level as those thugs who only know how to loot. Avoid any overt contact with them for now. Don't alert them."
Lin Xuan looked up at Ling Jianqing's cool, clear eyes and issued the order: "Dispatch a capable agent to infiltrate. I need to know their chain of command, ammunition reserves, food sources, and... their attitude towards us. Peaceful coexistence would be best, but if not, I need to know where to strike."
"Understood, sir. I'll arrange for someone from the'Shadow' squad to handle it." Ling Jianqing gave a slight nod, quickly jotting down notes in her notebook.
"By the way, what's the progress on decrypting that official black box?" Lin Xuan shifted the topic. That black box was recovered last week from the wreckage of a crashed official helicopter. It might contain core secrets from the initial virus outbreak, or even contact methods for remaining official forces.
Ling Jianqing flipped through the files and answered precisely: "The decryption team in the Intelligence Department is currently performing multi-algorithm decryption. Due to the black box employing a military-grade physical encryption lock, progress is slightly slow. We expect to obtain all internal audio and data records by 8 PM tomorrow night."
"Hmm, good." Lin Xuan waved his hand, indicating she could leave. "Keep monitoring their movements. Report any anomalies immediately." He did not pressure the Intelligence Department's decryption team, as they had only been summoned a few days ago.
"Yes, sir. Your coffee is getting cold. Please drink it while it's hot." Ling Jianqing turned gracefully, the sound of her stockings brushing together unusually distinct in the quiet room.
As the door closed, Lin Xuan picked up the warm cup of coffee, his gaze falling once again on the photos of the Fuan Street District.
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The roar of helicopter rotors echoed beneath the cloud layer. The black "Little Bird" helicopter was like a ghost skimming the sky. By the open cabin door, a lean, wiry man with eyes sharp as blades silently checked his equipment.
He wore a worn but durable civilian windbreaker, carried a weathered-looking tactical backpack, and had a heavily worn machete sheathed at his waist—all camouflage to conceal his true identity as a member of the Black Watch's "Shadow Squad."
His codename was "Peregrine Falcon," but in the survivor base he was about to enter, his name was "Zhang Wei."
"Adjutant, Peregrine Falcon ready." He pressed his earpiece, his voice steady and devoid of any ripple.
Standing on the helipad, Ling Jianqing gave a slight nod, her black hair whipping in the fierce wind. Her long legs, clad in black stockings, were held close together as she returned a crisp military salute. "Peregrine Falcon, remember your mission. Infiltrate, observe, penetrate. Do not, under any circumstances, reveal your identity without further orders. Commander Lin Xuan is watching you."
"Understood."
The helicopter rapidly ascended, disappearing into the thick, gray fog.
A few minutes later, the helicopter hovered over the roof of an abandoned factory approximately three kilometers from the Fuan Street District. Peregrine Falcon slid down the rappelling rope, his movements as light as a falling leaf. Simultaneously, live drone footage from the reconnaissance battalion was already synced to his tactical terminal.
"Peregrine Falcon, target acquired." The scout's voice came through the terminal. "At your nine o'clock, roughly eight hundred meters, the back door of the 'Wanjiafu' supermarket. There's a scavenging team from the Fuan Street District, six people, equipped with submachine guns and homemade spears. They just cleared a wave of zombies and are preparing to return to base."
Peregrine Falcon switched off the terminal and melted into the shadows. He needed a "reasonable" opportunity for contact, a chance to blend in as a "stranded survivor."
He quickly moved through the rubble-strewn streets, using abandoned cars as cover, silently approaching the scavenging team.
"Move it! Get that crate of cans loaded!" A middle-aged man with a stubbled face, wearing faded camouflage, was barking orders in a low voice. His gun-handling posture was textbook, thick calluses on his palms, his eyes scanning the surroundings warily—a typical retired veteran.
"Captain, the zombies are getting thicker here. We need to pull back fast." Another younger survivor wiped black blood from his face, a note of anxiety in his tone.
At that moment, Peregrine Falcon saw his chance and deliberately kicked over an empty paint can at his feet.
*Clang!*
The dull metallic clang was startlingly loud in the dead silence of the street.
"Who's there?! Show yourself!" The veteran captain reacted instantly, his gun muzzle snapping towards Peregrine Falcon's hiding spot. The other five quickly fanned out, taking cover and forming a defensive perimeter.
Peregrine Falcon slowly raised his hands, a perfectly measured look of terror and exhaustion on his face. He stumbled out of the shadows. He had deliberately torn several gashes in his windbreaker, revealing what looked like scrapes and bruises—actually special-effects makeup—beneath.
"Don't... don't shoot! I'm human! I'm alive!" Peregrine Falcon's voice was hoarse, laced with a hint of desperate pleading. "Help me... I came from the north... my companions... they're all dead..."
The veteran captain narrowed his eyes, not lowering his guard. He signaled to a teammate beside him. Two survivors cautiously approached, guns trained on Peregrine Falcon's chest.
"Search him. See if he's carrying anything." the captain said coldly.
The survivors roughly patted Peregrine Falcon down, finding only a rusty pocketknife and half a bottle of dirty water.
"Captain, no weapons. Some scrapes on him, doesn't look like bite marks." the survivor reported.
The captain walked up, scrutinizing Peregrine Falcon's "frightened" face. "What's your name? Where are you from?"
"My name is... Zhang Wei." Peregrine Falcon swallowed, his eyes darting away. "I was a security guard at the chemical plant north of the city... it's all monsters over there... I ran for three days and nights to get here..."
The veteran captain fell silent for a moment, seemingly weighing the pros and cons. In this post-apocalyptic world, population was also a resource, especially a man like Peregrine Falcon who, despite looking disheveled, seemed physically fit.
"Lucky for you, Zhang Wei." The captain holstered his gun, his tone still icy. "We don't carry dead weight. Put him in the truck. Back at base, have the doc check him. If he's clean, toss him into the outer labor camp for now."
"Thank you... thank you, sir!" Peregrine Falcon thanked him repeatedly, his bowed head hiding the flash of cold, sharp light in his eyes.
He was roughly shoved into the back seat of a modified pickup truck. With the roar of the engine, the vehicle headed towards the heart of the Fuan Street District.
Peregrine Falcon leaned against the truck bed, eyes closed as if weak, but in reality, his mind was rapidly cataloging every gun emplacement, every fortified watchtower they passed, and every detail inadvertently revealed in the veterans' conversations.
"Phase One infiltration, successful." he said silently to himself.