[TWD x Resident Evil] — Chapter 271 - False Intel — The Conversation

"Boss,"

Glenn leaned in close.

"I wanna make another trip to Woodbury."

The air around them went cold.

Shawn cracked first, looking at him like he was watching a fool volunteer to feed the sharks.

"Kid, are you out of your damn mind? You just got out of there! We just fished you back!"

"Shawn's right." Daryl was wiping down a crossbow bolt, not even looking up.

"Maybe your luck was good this time. Luck doesn't stay good forever."

Leon watched Glenn quietly.

Is this kid missing a screw or something?

He just gave me his word.

Glenn explained.

"Boss, I'm not gonna screw around this time."

"I know Murphy is way more important than Woodbury and the Highway Gang. You handle the real business. Crushing the Highway Gang — leave it to me!"

"Don't worry. I'm just gonna trick the Highway Gang into going there. The second those two start fighting, I'll head straight back to the prison. I won't get mixed up in it again!"

"Seriously, I swear!"

Leon was calculating too.

If Glenn pulled this off, those two tumors, the Highway Gang and Woodbury, would rot each other out. Save him endless work.

The most important card in his hand right now was Murphy.

That game-changing trump card needed his personal attention.

As for those two packs of rabid dogs, better to let them bite each other to death, wasn't it?

"Give me a reason." Leon finally spoke.

"Vincent sees me as his lifesaver now. His right-hand man." Glenn lowered his voice, his eyes alarmingly bright.

"He's got his guard down around me."

"The second I tell him Woodbury's an empty shell, he'll pounce."

"I want him to take everything he's got and smash it against the hardest wall Woodbury has."

Leon looked at him, silent for a full 10 seconds.

"I don't care what method you use — sowing discord, stabbing them in the back, whatever."

"I want results."

"And Glenn." Leon's tone turned deadly serious.

"This time, no more accidents."

"Finish the mission and come straight back."

"If you get yourself and the brothers tangled up again over some bullshit promise, don't wait for someone else to kill you. I'll do it myself, and then I'll plant your tombstone right next to the prison toilets."

"Understood, Boss!" Glenn nodded heavily, a relieved smile spreading across his face.

...

Outside Woodbury's perimeter.

Glenn lay flat on an overgrown hillside, binoculars in hand.

Below the slope sat that little town, tranquil on the surface, murder lurking beneath.

"Shit..." Rat Boss crouched beside him, his voice trembling.

"Glenn, look. What is that?"

Glenn followed his finger.

In a corner of the town entrance disguised as a scrap pile, a dark cannon barrel was silently extending outward, its muzzle covered by a filthy canvas tarp.

M2HB heavy machine gun.

The exact same model Leon had used to "say hello" to Vincent last time.

That wasn't all, the guard towers on the walls had doubled since yesterday.

The gunmen up there were all wearing military-grade bulletproof vests, every single one of them on high alert.

The whole of Woodbury looked like a giant porcupine, wounded, every spine bristling.

"The hell do you mean 'weak defenses'?"

Oscar cursed under his breath from the other side.

"This place is a goddamn armed fortress!"

"Vincent's crew charges in, they'll be riddled before they even touch the first wall!"

"Isn't that perfect?"

Glenn lowered the binoculars, a cold smirk surfacing on his face.

He wanted Vincent to crash headfirst into this slab of solid steel.

He wanted Vincent's elegant face ground into the dirt by reality.

He pulled out the walkie-talkie, took a deep breath, and pressed the call button.

"Mr. Vincent, it's me, Glenn."

He deliberately laced his voice with barely-suppressed excitement and urgency.

The highway gas station.

Inside the convenience store, Vincent was using a small knife, leisurely trimming his fingernails.

Hearing the voice from the walkie-talkie, his grooming stopped. He gestured for Jack, who was reporting on supply losses nearby, to shut up.

"Talk to me, Glenn. What have you found over there?"

"I saw them!"

Glenn's voice came through slightly distorted by static, but that eager, credit-claiming urgency cut right through the noise, precise and clear.

"You will not believe what I'm seeing!"

"Their defenses... it's a complete joke!"

"The guys in the watchtowers are all dozing off. There's only two guys at the front gate who look like farmers, and they're holding hunting rifles!"

"I'm starting to wonder if they sent out everyone who can fight to search for us! This place is basically an empty city right now!"

An empty city?

The first thought that flashed through Vincent's mind: impossible.

The Governor struck him as a paranoid man. Would he really leave his own lair this undefended?

But on second thought, Glenn's contributions were plain to see.

That match-deciding RPG shot, this kid fired it.

And besides, the Governor took a massive beating last night, lost men and equipment, even had an armored vehicle wrecked.

It would be completely reasonable for him to be in a blind rage, sending out his whole force to hunt for revenge.

In that case, wouldn't his lair be... an empty shell?!

And rather than wait for them to come seeking revenge, why not strike first now!

"Are you sure, Glenn?"

Vincent's voice carried a trace of excitement.

"Don't worry, I'll stake my life on it!" Glenn's voice was decisive and firm.

"Sir, this is our best window!"

"We charge in now, we'll be drinking victory wine in the Governor's office before sundown!"

That last sentence shattered the final shred of doubt in Vincent's heart.

"Ha... HAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Vincent shot to his feet, laughing toward the sky.

He shoved the table in front of him aside; maps, shell casings, and shot glasses scattered across the floor.

The flames of vengeance blazed in his eyes.

He grabbed the walkie-talkie, practically roaring.

"Glenn! Excellent work! You are my goddamn lucky star!"

"You and Oscar find somewhere to lay low and just watch the show!"

"Once I twist the Governor's head off, this, no, this entire gas station — is yours!"

With that, he slammed down the comms.

"Jack!"

"Here, Boss!"

"Get every single person who can still breathe the hell up!"

Vincent's face was flushed red with excitement.

"Fill the tanks! Load the bullets! Haul out every piece of hardware we've got!"

"Tell the brothers, we're not going to war, we're going to take over a city!"

Jack stared at the near-demonic Vincent, momentarily failing to react.

"Boss, shouldn't we... scout a little more? What if..."

"What if WHAT?!"

Vincent spun around and kicked Jack square in the gut, sending him stumbling back several steps.

"Are you questioning my judgment, or questioning Glenn?"

"Glenn proved his loyalty and his ability with a single RPG! And what about you?"

"All you do is stand here asking 'what if' like some fucking woman!"

"Now. Right now. Immediately! Go rally the troops!"

"Y-yes! Boss!" Jack scrambled out on all fours, his face filled with terror.

Outside the convenience store, instant chaos erupted.

The members of Hellfire, those thugs who had just survived the previous bloodbath, were reignited by Vincent's incendiary roar.

They mounted their bikes, racked their bolts, bloodthirsty fanaticism on their faces.

And the drug pushers being used as cannon fodder were forced at gunpoint to load crate after crate of explosives and grenades onto those rickety trucks.

Their faces were utterly numb.

Mia stood in a corner, watching all of this coldly.

She watched Vincent's face, twisted by greed, as he reviewed his army about to march straight into hell like some kind of king.

The corner of her mouth curved into a smile no one noticed.

Go on.

All of you, just go and die.

Vincent leaped onto the roof of a modified pickup truck. He spread his arms wide, like a savior embracing the world.

"Brothers!"

"Last night, that bastard Governor gave us a little surprise!"

"Now it's our turn to return the favor!"

"We're gonna flatten his turf, burn his granaries, and take his women!"

"Tonight, we drink the strongest liquor and sleep with the finest bitches in Woodbury!"

"MOVE OUT!"

Dozens of engines roared to life with a deafening blast.

The convoy kicked up a sky-high cloud of dust, surging toward Woodbury.

Vincent stood on the roof of the truck, letting the wild wind ruin his meticulously styled hair.

He spread his arms, feeling like the master of this world.

He could already picture the spectacular look on that man's face the moment he kicked open the door to the Governor's office.

And on a hillside dozens of kilometers away, Glenn put down the walkie-talkie, flashing Oscar and Rat Boss a "done deal" hand signal.

Glenn brushed the dust off his clothes.

"Now, let's just watch those two rabid dogs tear each other apart."

➤ Next: Successfully Provoking the Battle