Disclaimer: The Walking Dead Series is NOT my work. It is owned by TellTale, all rights, commendation and acknowledgement goes to them.

However, "Derek Brooks" is my own fictional character and apparently the only thing I own in this story.

AN: Here's the second part for the long-awaited reveal of Derek's past. It's for you guys to understand a little background about him and what he went through before he met Clementine. I wish you guys would enjoy! Leave a review or comment about your thoughts, suggestions, or anything really. I would love to hear about them!

Chapter 10 – The Past that Defines us (Part 2)

As I walked through the desolate battlefield, death and destruction surrounded me. The compound, once housed our enemies, now lay in ruins. Only a few buildings stand such as their medical center, their headquarters, and armory. In one of their more wide-open areas, was an array of tents established uniformly in which I could only assume where these people sleep considering the lack of barracks. However, it is now a ruin of its former self as it now stood as burning silhouettes, their canvas and supports consumed by fire which now serves as fuel to brighten the area. There was also the warehouse and a few more buildings afar but I haven't been there to see it myself.

My feet walked over uneven terrain, leaving a trail of footprints against the snow amongst many others. The acrid scent of smoke, blood, and charred debris hung heavy in the air even as it snows. My nose crinkled at the smell, it only reminded me of the recent conflict we had. My eyes landed on a few of our soldiers dragging corpses after corpses, both friend and foe. Twisted and broken. Their blood left a trail of crimson blood in contrast of the white snow. My heart felt heavy as I remembered the sergeant's last moments. I don't even know if there was ANY of him to bring home to.

But despite all the losses we sustained, we finally got rid of the biggest raider stronghold in Washington D.C. It was a battle hard-fought but its results justified the losses we received. It… wasn't like the movies I saw. I always thought firefights would stretch on for hours but in reality, it didn't last for more than thirty minutes. It was swift and decisive the moment they lost their initiative.

I looked down at my blood-soaked hands, watching as they trembled uncontrollably. Most of our experienced soldiers had told me that it was normal after a firefight and that the shakes would eventually subside. However, they hadn't mentioned just how long it might take. The biting chill of the cold weather wasn't helping either.

I made my way toward the nearest building I could find, their headquarters, and sought refuge inside. My lips felt dry, and the chapped skin scraped against my tongue. My throat ached for water. It was only then that I realized, amidst all the chaos, I had forgotten to bring my canteen.

I sighed in frustration. I was about to venture out to search for water when someone suddenly extended their canteen right in front of me. I looked at it in surprise and followed the arm holding it to see Lieutenant Davis, our field commander. He was widely known as the right-hand man of Captain Vasquez, our squad leader.

"Brooks." He said, shaking his canteen in front of me.

I cracked a small, grateful smile and accepted his offer, taking deep gulps of the precious liquid. What was meant to be a small sip turned into a desperate rush of relief as the water flowed down my parched throat. I glanced at him guiltily, but he didn't seem to mind. After wiping my mouth clean, I handed the canteen back to him, letting out a sigh of relief.

"Thank you, sir."

He waved me off. "Just thought you needed it that's all."

A momentary silence followed. There was a contemplative look in the lieutenant's eyes, and I patiently waited for him to speak. However, it only got increasingly awkward as the silence pressed on. I averted my eyes, pursing my lips in suspense. What could I say to break this silence?

Should I…. say something? Crack a joke? I don't really have a good humor. Ask about the weather? It's pretty cold, I guess? My thoughts rambled on to think on something to alleviate this awkwardness but considering the post-battle and the casualties we racked up, I highly doubt it's the appropriate time for such topics.

Finally, the lieutenant shifted and turned to look at me. "I heard about what happened to your team." He started. "I'm glad you survived corporal. From what I heard, things got ugly real fast and you were the only one who survived."

In an instant, the mood soured, and a sharp sting of remorse struck my heart as I remembered the few people I knew in that squad. I opened the pouch containing the dog tags I had managed to collect and presented them to him. "I… managed to get a few of their tags, sir. Some of them don't have any, or I couldn't find them."

He took the tags from my hands and inspected each one before pocketing them in his vest. "Thank you Brooks. I'll order some men to round them up and identify them. Their family needs to know what happened here."

The sting only deepened and an unseen weight pressed down on me, making it hard to breathe. The feeling was suffocating, and a huge lump formed in my throat. What if I could've changed the outcome? What if I had been more alert? These are the questions that kept swirling in my mind but before these questions could progress any further, I forcefully shut them down. I was the first one to get knocked out and was only saved by my helmet only to wake up a few minutes later. There was absolutely nothing more I could've done.

I kept my thoughts shut after that.

The lieutenant continued speaking, and I was quick to focus on his words to drown out any unwanted thoughts. "In any case," he began. "This base used to be a weapons testing facility which explains the stockpile of weapons and ammo so there's bound to be a few more places to investigate. So, I'm sending you and two others to investigate the building right next to the warehouse. They're in-route as we speak."

I nodded in affirmation.

"Good. Report what you find to me directly." With that, he left without another word.

I sighed, is this what they meant about 'no rest for the wicked?' I chuckled humorlessly. As I made my way toward the exit, the main door suddenly swung open, and another soldier walked in. However, neither he nor his uniform looked familiar which was odd since I recognize most people by face from our group.

My eyes then landed on the red band on his right arm and it finally clicked.

Reserve force.

These are individuals which hailed from various settlements who were victims by these raiders. We didn't have the numbers to take them down and they didn't have the firepower to fight back. So, an agreement was formed and a temporary alliance was made. In exchange for their help, they were promised a share of the supplies we could get in this compound as a reward for their services.

The soldier exchanged a brief look with me before proceeding. I greeted him back with a nod and then left the building, heading toward my assigned objective.

As I arrived there, two soldiers stood in attention and saluted at me. Both of them are obviously older than me which was kinda off putting since I was younger than both of them by several years but I did welcome the sense of respect they offered.

"You're the guys the lieutenant sent?" my eyes darted between the two.

"Yes! I-I am Williams and this one over here is Charlie. He's French so he doesn't really speak English but he can understand it quite enough. If there's anything he wants to say I translate for him." He scratched a spot beneath his ear.

Charlie was a tall man with a deep complexion, appeared to be probably in his mid-40's or so. He sported a full-grown beard to compensate for his balding head and had a sturdy build with lean, well-defined muscles. Williams was quite the opposite. He's a lanky young adult, probably in his early 20's. His thick eyeglasses and slightly shorter stature gave him a more youthful appearance. His dirty blonde hair was wild and unkempt, appearing as though it hadn't seen a comb in weeks (a condition I was quite familiar with).

William adjusted his eyeglasses as he continued. "Lieutenant Davis said to help you investigate and look for supplies while we're at it then report back."

I nodded in confirmation. "That he did. Come on, let's get this over with." I gestured them to follow. We headed inside and saw dozens of pots and pans lined up on the wall along with various kitchen utensils and tools.

"Looks like a kitchen." I commented. My eyes landed on a steaming hot pot, I opened the lid and I couldn't help but be drawn in by the sweet aroma of meet and herbs wafting from it. My mouth watered at the scent, but I shook my head, resisting the temptation. Given the circumstances, they could have poisoned the food during the attack. I carefully replaced the lid, letting it settle with a quiet thud.

In another section of the building, I could hear William engaged in what sounded like a persuasive conversation with Charlie. Well, begging most likely. "Oh, come on Charlie. Just a little bit?" I circled around a corner to see William holding a ladle with some soup on it, presenting it to Charlie.

"Non. (No.)"

However, Williams was persistent, nudging Charlie's arm a little. "Just a little?"

His answer was still the same. "Non. (No.)"

I would've found the scene funny if it wasn't for the fact that one of them could get poisoned (possibly). I cleared my throat, announcing my presence. "Don't drink that if I were you. The food could be poisoned for all we know."

William jumped at my sudden intrusion and quickly disposed of the ladle. "I-I-I wasn't thinking about it," he stammered.

I looked at him strangely. Are people usually this jumpy? I shook my head, it's not really my place to judge. I'm mostly focused on bringing back supplies that hopefully came in a can. "Spread out and look for something useful. We're looking for canned goods or anything that came in sealed. You find anything let me know." I ordered.

The two soldiers immediately set to work, combing through the area for resources. They opened cabinets, crates, and any other containers they could find only to find nothing but dust and the occasional insect. There weren't even any vegetables in sight. Still, food doesn't just come in thin air and with a camp this big, they would require a substantial amount of food.

I delved into my own thoughts, pondering where they could've stashed these supplies. The hot-pot immediately came into my mind and I remembered the smell of meat and herbs. Which would make sense as soup can feed a lot of people with minimum ingredients. However, herbs, spices, and the like would typically die when exposed to cold weather so they would have to be stored in a dry place during winter far from the cold but where?

We already searched the cabinets, crates, and any other places they could've possibly stored and there was nothing. I let out an annoyed sigh, things just don't come easy, do they? Suddenly, a hollow sound echoed in my ears. I looked down in confusion. Did I hear that right?

Unlike the usual solid sound of wooden steps, this one had a hollow quality. I tapped the floor once more and heard the same hollow sound. Moving my hand to another section, I tapped again, but the sound was more solid this time. I examined the floor carefully and noticed a cut-away in the wooden planks. A hatch! Of course!

I took out my knife and pried the hatch open, it took a little difficulty due to the tiny gap between the boards but after a little perseverance I managed to create enough leverage to prop it open. With a grunt, I lifted the hatch open and was greeted with several bags of herbs, spices, and more.

"Over here!" I called out.

Williams and Charlie rushed over, their eyes immediately drawn to the open hatch. I grinned at them with a hint of smugness, internally patting myself on the back.

"Good find sir!" Williams congratulated.

I could already feel my ego growing but I beat it back down.

"Oh, we also found a door leading further back. We tried opening it but no luck." He added.

I immediately dropped the act and nodded approvingly. The two led me towards the back of the kitchen leading us deeper inside the building.

'For a kitchen, ain't this a little too big?' I couldn't help but ask myself.

We stopped just before a fortified metal door then huddled together to brainstorm solutions on how to open it. Looking for the key is out of the question as it could be anywhere by now which leaves us to breaking it down or look for another way.

"Any ideas?" I asked, glancing between the two.

Charlie tilted his head to the side and spoke in his language I didn't understand. "J'ai déjà vérifié autour du bâtiment mais ils sont tous bloqués par des grilles métalliques. C'est le seul moyen d'entrer."

I looked at William with a pleading look. "Err… English please?"

"He said he already checked around the building but they're all covered with metal grates. The only way in is through this door." William translated, tapping the door for emphasis.

I let out an irritated breath. "Let's get this over with then."

The door was made from solid steel but despite its imposing appearance, it accumulated a considerable amount of rust over the years. This thing was probably older than me with no real maintenance either. Still, it's going to take some time to get through it with brute force.

Williams took the first swing, kicking the door with all his might. However, the force from the impact only sent him stumbling backward. Charlie came in next, delivering powerful kicks to the frame. Each strike was a thunderous blow that reverberated across the room, leaving a noticeable dent in the doorframe, but it still wasn't enough. My turn was even worse than Williams as not only did I stumble from the impact, but also lost my footing and landed on my ass.

I hissed in pain, rubbing my sore bottom. I could see Williams and Charlie chuckling on the side and I shot them a mildly irritated look. This only made them laugh even harder. The laughter was infectious, as even I found myself joining in.

After what felt like an eternity later, our valiant efforts were rewarded. Charlie finally managed to kick the door wide open, causing its hinges to snap at the impact and breaking into two pieces. We wiped the collective sweat off our heads and reveled in our minute success.

"Fan-fucking-tastic." I wheezed. I peered inside the dimly lit indoors and an all-too-familiar stench of blood enveloped my senses, making me recoil. "Ugh... What the hell?"

William and Charlie could clearly smell it too, and a foreboding sense of unease settled in the pits of our stomachs. We pulled out our pistols, exchanging determined glances, and nodded in silent agreement. With caution honed by our training, we proceeded further into the room.

We had minimal visibility but from what little we could see we could only make out an outline of metal bars on each side. Eventually, we reached the far end of the room without encountering any trouble. William spotted a silhouette resembling of a light switch, he fumbled around for it, and after a few attempts, managed to turn on the lights.

The sudden change of illumination blinded us momentarily, but as our eyes adjusted, a horrifying sight met our gaze. This section of the building clearly functioned as a prison, but the gruesome scene inside the cells was enough to chill us down to our very core. Several walkers were feasting on whatever living being had once occupied those cells. They tore into the flesh with savage hunger, seemingly oblivious to our presence. The floor was littered with discarded remains of uneaten flesh, bloodied and abandoned.

William gagged at the gruesome sight. "Oh God," he groaned, quickly averting his eyes.

Charlie whispered a silent prayer and made the sign of the cross.

I, too, turned my gaze away in disgust and disdain. Trust me, it wasn't a pretty sight. However, something about their unwavering focus intrigued me. Most walkers would typically abandon what they're doing upon hearing unusual sounds but not them. Why? Did these walkers feel hunger? Or were they genuinely preoccupied with their gruesome meal? I really should stop asking these dumb questions to myself.

Something shiny on the floor caught my eye. I looked down to find not one, not two, but several bullet casings scattered around. A connection clicked in my mind, and I turned to the prison walls, where I saw dozens of bullet holes embedded.

A sick realization washed over me. "Bastards killed every prisoner they had," I muttered, my lips forming a deep frown with a tinge of anger. It was a final act of defiance; they knew we were winning and chose to kill everyone inside. Bastards, every single one of them.

Williams looked with horror at the scene. "These-These had to be the missing people we keep hearing about." He pointed at the prison cells. "There's atleast a dozen of them in there!" He added.

We can't leave them like this, caught between the lines of life and death. It was barbaric. A few spears leaned against the wall, likely used by the former wardens of this place to keep the prisoners in line.

I turned to the two. "Williams, Charlie." They turned to look at me. "We can't leave them like this. Grab some spears and… let them have their peace." The two exchanged uneasy glances but nodded in agreement. They knew I was right, and if they don't really believe the bullshit of 'releasing their souls to have a peaceful afterlife' they can atleast understand the logic of getting rid of them now would be beneficial for all of us.

Still, all these people, for all this time. There's at least twenty of them here, maybe more. How do they keep them fed? Where did they keep the food? There's a stark discrepancy between the food situation and the number of people in this camp.

I had to get to the bottom of this.

There has to be a hidden stockpile nearby. It's the only logical explanation.

A doorway leading towards another room attracted my attention. However, instead of a conventional door, it used a plastic strip curtain instead, similar to the ones you see in butcher shops. I glanced back at the other two, who were heavily occupied with dispatching the dead.

'Guess I'll check this one out myself.' I thought.

I readied my pistol and peered inside, nothing the eye could see. I entered the room with caution, watching my surroundings for potential threats. After a quick survey of the room, I concluded that it was empty. I sighed in relief. I just want this day to be over to be honest.

The interior of the room resembled a typical butcher's shop, complete with meat hooks hanging from the ceiling and various sharp tools neatly arranged on tables. Several slabs of skinned meat lay on one of the tables, curiosity got the better of me, and I poked at one of the meaty flesh and felt warmness from within.

'It's fresh.' I deduced. After a few more investigating I noticed there were a substantial quantity of this meat stacked neatly on the side.

'That's a lot of meat. Probably a lot of game to hunt around.' There was a small crate of unknown contents near the butcher's table, as I got closer, I realized it was just a bunch of used clothing. I raised an eyebrow at the setup. Who would put their laundry in the butcher shop? Do they not realize the amount of blood that could stain their clothes? It just didn't make any sense. Among the clothing, a pair of dog tags stood out. Curiosity got the better of me, and I picked them up, reading the name aloud.

"Sherman, Josh C." I wracked my brain for familiar names but found nothing. "Nope. No idea who this is." I muttered under my breath. I was about to return the tags back when a nagging feeling gnawed on me. If I remembered correctly, we did lose some people on a separate mission months ago and was labeled missing in action but it was far away from here. There was no way they could've ended up here but a feeling in my guy wondered if there was a connection.

'Maybe Williams will know,' I thought, deciding to bring the mysterious dog tags with me.

Exiting the room, I found Williams and Charlie sitting on a few chairs, a bit out of breath but otherwise fine. I approached them and handed Williams the dog tags, watching as he examined them with a mix of confusion and interest.

"What's this?" he asked, turning the tags over.

"Was hoping you'd find out for me. One of ours?" I inquired.

He furrowed his brows at the tags, scrutinizing them intently. "Could be. Where did you find this?"

I jabbed a thumb behind me, gesturing to the room I had explored earlier. "On some room at the back. There's loads of stuff in there." Their curiosity piqued, they stood up and followed me towards the room. I showed them around the small room, taking extra care on the dangling meat hooks and showed them exactly where I got the tags.

"Found them here just beside the butcher's table. Oh! And I found some meat as well. They probably hunted a lot since there's a lot more of that stored nearby."

Charlie looked at the meat in curiosity, inspecting it with a close eye while Williams was more curious about the stack of clothes. I decided to let them be and wandered around for a while. However, the silence didn't last when Charlie pointed at the meat in a frantic manner.

"C'est humain! C'est humain!" He kept repeating.

Williams froze in place and I looked at him confused. "What's wrong? What's he saying?"

He turned to look at me with deep horror in his eyes, he grabbed me by the shoulder and stared at me intensely. "The meat! It's human! ALL OF IT!"

I looked at him incredulously. I… must've misheard him because I could've sworn I heard him say the meat came from… people. That-That can't be true. My eyes darted back at the butcher's table, the stack of clothes on the crate, the doorway leading towards the prison cells where they keep the missing people. My brain slowly connected the dots. How they managed to feed this many people. Why there's no other food to be found.

They've been eating themselves.

The shock of realization gripped me like a vise, freezing me on my tracks. My face twisted into a look of pure disgust and disdain. "What the fuck?!" I exclaimed, recoiling away from the table. "What the actual fuck?!"

A shiver of revulsion coursed through my body, and I could feel my stomach churning with nausea. I walked back to the prison cell and found myself a chair and sat down. My eyes followed the rows of prison cells, its former inhabitants lay on the ground unmoving. Is this why they killed them? To keep it a secret? Or for something else? I don't know, I don't care anymore. I just want to leave. I just want to go home.

I don't want to be here anymore.

We returned to the lieutenant and gave him a brief report of our findings. He looked at us with a mixture of disgust and shock as we described the horrors we had uncovered.

"I... see," he finally managed to say, his composure returning. "Did you find anything else?"

Williams took out the dog tags I found earlier and handed them to him. "We also found this sir." The lieutenant inspected the tags with a close eye and suddenly seemed to recognize them. "This is one of our scouts who went missing a few months ago." He said grimly.

My heart sank. I don't think we'll be finding the body anytime soon.

The lieutenant balled his hands into fists then relaxed. He pocketed the tags and continued. "Thank you for your work gentlemen. I'm just glad these fuckers got what they deserved. What else did you find in there?"

"We found some bags of herbs and spices." I piped in. "There's also a few tools we could probably use but nothing else of interest. "I added.

The lieutenant hummed. "Not really something I'd call a great find but we'll make do. In any case, the supply trucks would be here soon so we'll have to mobilize on the double as soon as they'd get here. I'd suggest you rendezvous with the rest and assist with the load once they get here. Dismissed."

We stood in attention, salute, then left the room in an orderly manner. Outside the building, the rest of the troops were in swift motion, efficiently transporting supplies for extraction. We helped as much as we can in quickening the process. Thankfully, we didn't have to wait for long as the telltale sounds of our trucks rolled into the main gate.

Two M35A2 cargo trucks rolled into the compound and stopped just in front of the stockpile we had meticulously prepared. We assisted in loading the cargo onto the trucks and I was surprised by the amount of military hardware we found. Ballistic vests, helmets, radios, gas masks, and other nifty gadgets I couldn't comprehend, followed by crates upon crates of weapons, ammunitions, and drums of gasoline. There was more than enough to go around.

A nearby sergeant barked out orders with impatience. "Hey! I need a few men in the warehouse, chop-chop! Move your lazy asses!"

Williams, Charlie, and I volunteered on the task and followed the sergeant. Fortunately, it was just a short walk towards the warehouse. The inside of the warehouse was quite a mess, it looked like a tornado just passed through here. The once orderly rows of storage containers had been transformed into a labyrinth of destruction. Many of the containers were flipped over, their massive metal frames now lying on their sides, creating a surreal landscape of twisted steel and shattered wood. Crates and boxes were scattered haphazardly, their contents spilled across the floor. The pungent stench of spilled gasoline and burnt rubber filled the air, creating an oppressive atmosphere. Not only that, there were a couple of bodies belonging to the enemy, lay strewn about in grotesque disarray. A nightmarish tableau of chaos and destruction.

"The supplies are in the back." He pointed out. "I'll get some more people to help you out." He then left without another word.

We traversed through the maze-like wreckage of a warehouse until we reached the end of the warehouse but to our surprise, five people were already there seemingly waiting for us. How the hell did they get here so fast? I noticed the red bands on their arms, indicating they're from the reserve forces. An unsettling feeling was present in my gut but I suppressed it, focusing on the task at hand. The faster we're done loading the supplies, the sooner we get home.

Williams approached the group with a twinge of surprise. "You guys are quick." He scanned the vicinity, puzzlement etching his features as no supplies were in sight, contrary to the sergeant's instructions. "So, where's the- "

Suddenly, blood sprayed across the cold concrete ground. At first, the scene didn't register, but the harrowing sound of Williams choking on his own blood jolted me to action. I watched in complete helplessness as he choked on his own blood, clawing at his aggressor.

'They…. They killed him. They fucking killed him!' My enraged thoughts forced me to move. I drew out my own pistol the same time they drew theirs and opened fire. Shots rang out, and chaos erupted in the dimly lit space.

The sudden betrayal caught me off guard but I will not let them pass. They will pay for what they've done to him. Amongst the initial confusion, I lost sight of Charlie, leaving me alone against all five of these traitors. I could hear them exchange commands with one another as well as the heavy thud of their boots on the cold, hard floor.

I looked down on my pistol and cursed as I realized I don't have any ammo left. I forgot to restock. I can't take them head on. Not alone. I need to outsmart them. Thankfully, the dimly lit warehouse gave me the opportunity to sneak past them. I sneakily moved from cover to cover, doing my utmost best to steer clear from their field of vision. I praised my past self to go above and beyond while in training, to train in situations one may not even face in their lifetime. All that months of grueling training and self-doubt finally paid off.

Suddenly, another barrage of gunfire echoed through the air, this time, it came from outside the warehouse. This wasn't random. This was preplanned! These bastards were planning to betray us from the start!

"Fuck! There weren't supposed to be any resistance!" One of them exclaimed.

I gritted my teeth in anger. They. Will. Fucking. PAY!

The cacophony of gunfire outside was loud enough to mask my footsteps, I moved stealthily across the room, closing the gap between myself and one of them. Withdrawing my knife, I lunged at the man's back, the blade finding its mark in his throat. There was no room for sympathy as he gasped for air in desperation. My hand closed around his pistol, and I cocked it, confirming one round in the chamber with a nod of approval. Ignoring the dying man's futile struggles, I swiftly shifted to another position.

They must've noticed one of them went quiet as two soldiers were out to investigate the area. I watched from my vantage point, keeping track of the location of the four remaining enemies. Two of them were slowly advancing towards their fallen comrade while the other two were patrolling the vicinity. This presented an opportunity for me, and readied my pistol in anticipation.

As the two soldiers were close enough, I fired my pistol three times. The first shot nailed one of them in the arm and the other two hit the other square in the chest but to my surprise he only recoiled from the impact.

'Shit! He's wearing a vest!' I cursed to myself.

They immediately homed in on the flashes from my shots and responded with a furious volley of gunfire directed at my position. I instinctively ducked into cover, hastily scrambling away from the barrage of bullets descending upon me. I could hear another set of footsteps closing in, indicating the other two soldiers moving towards me as well. Fear and adrenaline surged through my veins, and the grim reality settled in – I was surrounded, my ammunition was running low, and four determined hostiles were rapidly closing the distance.

The warehouse door swung open, and a figure beckoned me urgently from the entrance. "Corporal! Get over here!"

I ran as fast as my legs could carry me, racing towards the exit while four armed men were chasing me down. Just as I cleared the doorway, the figure shut the door with a heavy click. I gasped for breath; that was too close!

"Dang Corporal. That was cutting it close don't you think?" I looked up and saw it was the sergeant from earlier, smirking at me.

"Sergeant," I gasped out, my voice strained. "Sir, the reserve forces turned on us! We need to—"

Before I could blink, he managed to take the gun away from my hands. I stared down in shock. How-? My thoughts were cut short when he aimed his pistol at me, my eyes widened in disbelief.

'What the fuck?!'

He smirked devilishly at me, like a predator toying his prey. "You boy scouts sure are a pain in the ass, I'll give you that."

All of this was too much to process. First, the reserve force had attacked us for no apparent reason, and now one of our own officers had turned on us? What the hell is happening?

I locked eyes with the sergeant, desperately seeking answers. "Why?" I couldn't help but ask.

He scoffed, his gaze filled with hatred and disdain as he began his tirade. "You people are obsessed about bringing back the old world, kept talking about doing the right thing and bring America back on its feet but it's all fucking bullshit!" he exclaimed. "I know the truth! Those fucking army boys are so hell-bent on redeeming themselves for failing their jobs in the first place that they'd do anything to win back our favors. Sending us on some goddamn mission to find scientists nobody gives a fuck about, looking for a cure that doesn't even exist- I mean what the fuck?!" he let out a frustrated breath. "I'm not going to be some goddamn pawn ready to be sacrificed by some suicidal maniacs just to redeem themselves." He then grinned at me. "And if you were smart like me, you'd do the same."

He did all this for himself? My anger boiled inside me but a shred of rationality remained, prompting me to ask the real questions. "But why bring us all down? You could've left on your own?

He sneered at me. "Are you fucking kidding me? Everybody fucking hates us. They hate what we represent."

"So, your plan is just to kill of us is that it?" I gritted my teeth in fury.

"You wouldn't understand even if I told you kid. That's why I'm a survivor- "he snarled, aiming his gun at me. "and you're fucking dead!" He pulled the trigger.

I held hope that someone or something would swoop in and save me. Like one of the movies I used to watch. Where the hero gets saved at the last minute and everything goes back to normal.

Life, however, just doesn't work that way.

A searing pain surged through my body as the bullet hit its mark. It was as if a red-hot poker had been driven through me, my senses were overwhelmed by blinding intensity of pain. My breath caught, and my limbs seemed to lose their strength. The world around me blurred as all I could think was the intense agony originating on my gut. A metallic taste filled my mouth as I gasped for air. It didn't take long for my limbs to fail me as I collapsed to the ground, clutching my wound.

The door of the warehouse burst wide open, and the four soldiers who had been inside stormed out. The sergeant turned to look at them, his lips turned into a snarl. "You fucking useless cunts can't do a simple job can you?!"

"I'm sorry Badger." One of them murmured.

'Badger….' The name echoed in my mind despite the searing hot pain surging through my body. It ran reverberated like a broken record stuck on repeat. The motherfucker who sold us out. The damn traitor within. The fucking rat!

'I'LL KILL HIM!' My mind screamed for revenge.

Unaware of my own seething intentions, Badger confronted the four soldiers, he noticed that one of them is missing. "Where's Lazlow?" He demanded, he then noticed the other one bleeding from his arm, "and what the fuck happened to you?"

One of them pointed a finger at me.

Despite the excruciating pain, a faint smirk tugged at the corner of my lips.

Badger scoffed at them. "Fucking amateurs. If you can't handle a simple job, I'd say he deserved it. What about the other two?"

"One's dead, and we nicked the other one real good. He ain't gonna last long."

'Shit. Did they mean Charlie? I hope he's alright.' I thought to myself.

"They better be. Fucking amateurs." Badger muttered, shaking his head. "Come on. There's bound to be a few stragglers around, let's get moving." He ordered them to follow.

With his back turned, it given me an opportunity to strike. My mind demanded my body to move but failed. I can't do it. The pain was too excruciating. Summoning what little strength I had left, I pressed myself against the wall, one hand clutching on my bleeding wound.

One of the soldiers noticed what I was doing and elbowed their friend to get their attention. "Hey. How long do you think he's gonna bleed out?" gesturing to me.

The friend, who wore a ballistic helmet and sported a thick beard, pondered at the question. "Ehhhh…. I'd say thirty? Twenty minutes?"

The first guy turned to look at me, then back to his friend. "I'll bet ten minutes. Give or take."

'Really? I'm already dying here and they're making a game out of it?' I snorted in disbelief.

The soldier with the thick beard paused, squaring his jaw as he considered the wager. "Alright then. Two rations, ten minutes."

"Deal."

Without uttering another word, he raised his rifle and fired a single shot directly into my shoulder. A jolt of searing agony coursed through me, and I screamed in intense pain. "AHHHH! FUCK!"

The bearded guy let out an exasperated breath. "Oh, come on! That ain't fair!"

"Shut it loser. Pay up."

I gritted my teeth against the searing pain. To think, they'd play a game over someone else's life… Just how low can some people go? My vision blurred, the world growing ever more distant. I was losing too much blood, and consciousness was slipping away. I don't think I can-

Darkness consumed me.

My eyes flickered open and was greeted by a softly illuminated room. I shifted my gaze to the side, revealing a metal barrel ablaze with burning wood, its gentle glow offering me as the only source of light and warmth. I don't know how much time has passed but judging by the complete darkness of the windows outside, I can only assume it's night time. I tried to get up but was halted abruptly, my head snapped towards the restricting appendages and saw a pair of metal handcuffs tethering my hand to the metal bar. They clinked and jangled at my every move.

"You're awake."

I jerked my head towards the direction of the voice, fear held on to me like a vice grip. The figure slowly materialized himself from the shadows, revealing himself as Lieutenant Davis.

I inched closer towards him, momentarily forgetting the handcuffs still fastened to my wrist. "Lieutenant! I- "My movement was abruptly ceased, the handcuffs reminded me of its presence and a surge of irritation coursed through me.

"Easy there, Brooks." He cautioned, his arms poised at the ready to catch me if I suddenly fell. I eased myself back down onto the bed, his posture relaxing as I did. "I managed to remove the bullet out of you and gave you some morphine. You wouldn't feel too much for a while." he said.

I suppose that would explain why it doesn't hurt too much to move considering I've been shot twice.

The lieutenant came closer and unlocked the cuffs restraining my hands, then he placed a hand on my forehead. After a while, he emitted a satisfied hum. "The fever went down at least. I thought you were a goner."

I felt an overwhelming relief at the sight of another familiar face, but that relief was tinged with slight horror as I got a clearer view of him. Several cuts and bruises marred his face, and a minor burn stretched across the left side.

My mind could only think of one question at that moment. "What happened?"

The lieutenant, previously tending to the fire, stopped abruptly and exhaled heavily. "The reserve force turned against us. While we were busy hauling in supplies, they seized the opportunity to launch their attack. Most of us died by the trucks, and the rest made a stand in the armory. They… didn't last long."

I asked with a heavy heart, "Did anyone else make it?"

"I managed to save a few," he replied, "They're on their way to the F.O.B as we speak."

My head tilted to the side. "Why didn't you join them?" I questioned.

He scoffed bitterly, his hand reaching towards the burnt side of his face. "A damn grenade went off near me."

'That explains the burns and cuts.' I thought.

"I'm glad you survived that lieutenant."

He waved me off. "I just got lucky that's all."

I couldn't help but ask, my curiosity piqued, "How'd you get away from that, though?"

"Charlie managed to pull me out to safety."

"Charlie? He's alive?" I asked in disbelief. The way those soldiers had spoken of him, I had thought he was done for.

He nodded. "He's just in bad shape, is all."

I scanned the dim surroundings, puzzled by Charlie's absence. "Well, where is he?"

"I sent him to gather a few things," he replied succinctly.

After a moment of silence, I asked him, "How long was I out?" I asked. My eyes then wandered around our dimly lit room, prompting me to add: "And, where are we?"

The lieutenant glanced at his watch before responding, "You've been out for about twelve hours."

'Twelve hours?!' My mind reeled at the revelation.

However, he didn't stop there and continued to address my second question. "We're still in the compound within the warehouse," he explained. "Charlie and I did our best to create a makeshift hideout against the cold and the walkers."

"Walkers?" I asked in alarm. "I thought there won't be any walkers?"

The lieutenant's response was grim as he explained, "They're… one of ours. Those bastards left them to turn. We've taken down a few of them, but there's still plenty lurking around."

My heart sank, and a heavy sense of sadness washed over me as I grappled with the gravity of our situation. It was supposed to be a straightforward raid, and we had won too! But how the hell did it come to this? This-This unjust situation we were stuck in? The sacrifices we made to ensure this victory, the amount of meticulous planning done to minimize risks, and yet only to be betrayed in the end. A bitter lump formed in my throat.

Amidst these solemn thoughts, the betrayal kept replaying in my head. How they managed to do it so fast. How they separated some of us to dispose quietly then rounded the rest into the center like a huge shooting gallery.

'Badger.' The name resurfaced to the forefront of my mind. The wretched sergeant who shot me, the very individual who had betrayed us to the enemy. The fucking traitor! Unable to contain myself any longer, I raised my voice abruptly, startling the lieutenant. "Lieutenant!" I exclaimed, my voice laced with urgency. "I remembered!"

For the next few minutes I recounted the bastard 'Badger' said to me. How he had grown sick and tired of our leadership, planning to wipe us all out during the raid in exchange for amnesty.

"I don't know what happened next after he shot me. That's all I could remember."

The lieutenant's eyes narrowed as he processed this revelation. "Badger," he muttered under his breath, as if testing the name on his tongue. Then, his expression hardened with determination. "I don't remember anyone using that name. It's probably a fake alias. In any case, we need to get to the F.O.B. and find out what's going on. If he's turned against us, he could have fed them false information about what happened here."

"Or worse…." I added, my voice trailing off. The myriad of potential dangers weighed heavily on our minds. The longer we stay here, the greater the risks.

Suddenly, Charlie entered the room, carrying two rucksacks which he dropped to the floor haphazardly. The first thing that caught my attention was his missing left hand, and a surge of guilt washed over me.

"Charlie… I-I'm sorry," I began, my voice filled with regret, "I'm sorry I couldn't help you a-and I'm sorry for letting Williams die." My gaze fell to the floor.

Charlie didn't respond immediately, and for a moment, I thought he might not want to talk about it. But then he sighed, his gaze softening. "Ce n'était pas de ta faute. Je suis également désolé de t'avoir quitté. (It was not your fault. I'm sorry as well for leaving you.)" he said, speaking in his mother tongue. He followed it with a small smile.

I didn't understand what he said but I took it as a sign of mutual understanding and returned the smile, nodding in thanks.

After a moment of contemplative silence, I turned to the lieutenant. "What's our next move?"

"Now?" he raised an eyebrow at the question. "Now, we go home," he declared with unwavering finality.

AN: Yes. It's the same Badger from season 3. For this storyline, before badger ended up working for the New Frontier, he was first a sergeant in the US military with the skills and knowledge to boot. Also, while it wasn't really mentioned in the story, Brook's group is mostly composed of military and police personnel who managed to survive the initial outbreak and instead of disbanding, they utilized whatever order and law they have left to create their own thriving community (Either through force or diplomacy). There's still a huge number of civilians present in their community, mostly ones who managed to reach the evac zone in time and joined them as time progressed or ones they deemed useful enough to join. Over the years, they're still working on looking for a cure or find someone else who knows (like the scientists), and if they're not busy doing that, they're mostly enforcing everyone else to follow the law. Now, you could already tell by now that some settlements (and some people within the group) don't like that whole arrangement which leaves up to you guys on how you interpret it ;)

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