Calista took in both men's reactions.
Merle's blunt eagerness and Shane's caution were both exactly what she had expected.
She did not need them to like the mission. She only needed them to carry it out reliably.
She had her reasons for specifically choosing Merle and Shane to handle this instead of Carver and the others.
Carver's group was undoubtedly good at dirty work like this, and Calista did not doubt their loyalty or reliability in the slightest.
But Merle and the others were new arrivals she intended to bring into the core circle.
Daryl and Michonne's personalities were not suited to this kind of thing.
Merle might be unruly, but he clearly already felt a strong sense of belonging to her and Rock Fortress. Giving this task to Merle would only make him feel more valued.
Shane was different. She did not know how far Shane would go for Rock Fortress.
So this was a test for Shane.
"Leah will give you the details and route tomorrow. Make sure it's clean." After that final instruction, Calista said no more.
The people in the command room each returned to rest.
...
The next day, Leah quickly laid out the plan. It was very simple.
Merle and Shane were both assigned to night sentry duty at Blackberry Ranch.
Late that night, Shane knocked on the door of the dormitory where Brian lived.
The door opened a crack, revealing the dim interior.
"Brian." Shane's voice was low, carrying the weight of an order. "Get up and come with me. The western perimeter defenses need to be checked. I need someone familiar with the route to handle it."
Brian was startled awake under his blankets. He rubbed his bleary eyes, and his gaunt face immediately filled with impatience and irritation at being disturbed.
"What? Now?" he complained, his voice hoarse from sleep and thick with resentment. "It's the middle of the night, and it's freezing out there. What defenses are you checking? Can't it wait until morning? Don't you know the way yourself?"
Brian dragged himself upright and slowly put on his shoes, still muttering under his breath as if trying to draw sympathy from the others in the dormitory.
"Unbelievable... no consideration at all.
Don't we get tired from working all day?
In this damn weather, one trip outside takes half your life.
Didn't someone from my dorm get called out to work yesterday too?
Fuck, they only know how to order us laborers around. Why don't they go themselves..."
The only people who had shared his dormitory were Jack and the man with glasses.
Jack was still being punished, living alone in a small hut near the sheep pens so he could clean up the livestock manure.
Brian was referring to the man with glasses, who had been called away the previous night and had only returned much later.
After the man came back, Brian had acted even more indignant than him, seizing the chance to curse Calista and the others for a long while. But the man had not echoed a single word. Useless mud that couldn't be propped against a wall.
Now the man with glasses had also been woken by the noise, but he did not dare say anything.
He simply rolled over in silence, pulled the blanket over his head, and felt a wave of unease rise in his chest.
Shane remained expressionless, ignoring Brian's complaints. He only repeated coldly, "Hurry up. You talk too damn much."
His right hand rested casually on the holster at his waist.
Brian noticed the small movement, and his dissatisfied muttering quieted. Still, his face kept that gloomy look of anger he dared not voice.
In the end, he dragged his feet, wrapped his coat tightly around himself, and followed Shane out of the dormitory while cursing under his breath.
Brian was still thinking that tomorrow, he would have to talk this over properly with a few people. This was ridiculous. They really did not treat people like human beings.
He had no idea he no longer had a tomorrow.
The stone steps were covered in ice and snow, making them dangerously slick.
As Brian grumbled his way to the middle of the steps, Merle rushed silently out from behind him. His left hand clamped over Brian's mouth from the back, while his metal arm locked around Brian's throat.
At the same time, Shane stepped in and swiftly hooked Brian's legs out from under him.
Brian's eyes flew wide with terror, bulging so hard they looked ready to burst.
He tried to scream, but Merle's rough palm was like an iron vise. All he could force out from deep in his throat were desperate, choking sounds, like a fish thrown onto dry land.
Brian's hands clawed uselessly at Merle's arm. His legs kicked wildly, scattering snow, but under Merle and Shane's restraint, every struggle looked weak and ridiculous.
The freezing air would not enter his lungs. His chest burned, and a warm, foul-smelling liquid soaked uncontrollably through his crotch.
Just before his consciousness faded completely, Merle whispered hoarsely beside his ear, "Like playing dirty behind people's backs? In your next life, remember to die knowing why!"
Brian's body went limp, and his struggling gradually stopped.
Merle felt the strength leave the body in his arms, but he cautiously kept choking him for another minute before slowly letting go.
Brian collapsed onto the stone steps like a heap of rotten mud, his face twisted, eyes wide open, fixed in the terror and resentment of his final moment.
"Done." Merle spat, then used the blade of his axe to prod Brian's limp body and confirm it.
But the task was not finished.
Shane crouched down, looked around warily, and said in a low voice, "We need to handle the head. Make sure he doesn't 'come back.'"
Merle understood and bared his teeth in a cruel grin. "Got it."
He drew a sharp hunting knife from his gear and signaled for Shane to hold Brian's head steady.
Shane coldly pressed a hand against Brian's icy forehead, forcing the side of his face down against the edge of the stone step, which was crusted with ice.
Merle aimed, then drove the knife hard into the point where the back of Brian's skull met his cervical spine and twisted it once.
The movement was fast, accurate, and ruthless. The wound was small, but it was enough to make absolutely sure.
Dark red blood slowly seeped out, mixing with the urine from before and spreading into a small stain on the stone steps. In the bitter cold, it quickly congealed and turned black.
They rearranged the scene, making Brian's posture look more like he had slipped, struck the back of his head hard against the sharp edge of the stone steps, passed out on the spot, and eventually died of hypothermia in the freezing cold.
The knife wound, hidden beneath the ice and blood, no longer looked like it had been made by a blade. It looked more like a tear caused by impact.
Once everything was done, the two withdrew without a sound, leaving no unnecessary traces behind.
...
The next morning, the sky was gray and the cold wind still blew.
A patrol member on routine duty found Brian's frozen body on the stone steps leading to the abandoned sentry post.
"Someone get over here! Someone fell!" the patrol member shouted, drawing a crowd.
Brian's corpse was as stiff as a block of ice.
The news spread quickly.
Most of the residents, unaware of the truth, gathered around. Seeing the miserable state of his death, they could not help sighing.
"Damn, Brian... He said weird things sometimes, but that's a terrible way to die."
"He must've snuck out at night for something. In weather like this, one careless step and..."
"Guess you really can't wander around at night. It's too dangerous."
"...What an awful death."
People talked among themselves.
No one connected his death to the earlier incident with Jack. They simply saw it as an unfortunate accident.
Some even felt that for someone like Brian, who had always been full of conspiracy theories, an accident like this did not seem all that unexpected.
Only the few people who knew the truth reacted very differently.
The man with glasses became even more determined never to stir up trouble.
Jack was struggling to clean manure in the livestock pen when he heard the news. The pitchfork in his hands froze.
A chill shot from the soles of his feet straight to the top of his head. He remembered how Brian had whispered in his ear before, then thought of what happened after he had been used as a weapon. He could not help shuddering.
Jack drove the pitchfork hard into the manure pile and worked even harder, his heart filled with lingering fear and relief.
Thankfully, he had only been punished with labor, instead of having an "accident" like Brian.
Calista, Rickson, and Leah had naturally known the outcome long ago.
When they heard the report, their expressions did not change at all. They only gave the routine order.
"Find a place to bury him. Notify everyone to take this as a warning and strictly obey the nighttime rules."