The students and teachers still didn't fully grasp Zhang Xiaowen's caution. To them, survivors were allies in this apocalypse. But Zhang's visor told a different story—hidden blades in sleeves, knives tucked at waists. These men weren't here for shelter.
"Xiaowen, let me check. We can't judge them without proof—" Teacher He began, but her words died as the leader, Dong-ge, and his crony suddenly whipped out cleavers and hurled them at Zhang.
*Whoosh!*
The blades flashed through the air. Before anyone could react, the Cube transformed mid-sprint. It leapt, metallic body intercepting the first cleaver with a *clang!* The second blade struck its chassis, sparks erupting as it skidded across the pavement.
*Phut-phut-phut!*
Zhang's suppressed PDW barked. Two rounds punched through Dong-ge's chest, a third shattering his accomplice's collarbone. The men crumpled, blood pooling on the asphalt.
The remaining thugs dropped to their knees, hands raised. "We're innocent! They forced us!" one wailed, snot dripping.
"Shut it." Zhang kicked their weapons away, eyes cold. "Hands on your heads."
She turned to the van. The stench hit her first—semen, blood, and fear. Inside, a naked woman lay bound, her skin mottled with bruises. A stained gag muffled her whimpers.
"Sometimes," Zhang muttered, chambering a pistol round, "violence *is* the answer."
The kneeling men froze as her shadow fell over them. "Face the sunset. It'll be your last."
"Please! We'll do anyth—"
*Crack!*
The gunshot echoed across the golf course. The Cube's sensors flickered—a minor coolant leak, easily repaired. But the students? They vomited in the bushes, their idealistic view of humanity shattered alongside the thugs' skulls.
As dusk deepened, Zhang dragged the traumatized woman toward the clubhouse. Behind her, the flag fluttered—its red hue darker now, stained by twilight and blood.