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What If...Negan Didn't Kill Abraham (616-701, not canon)

Pee Pee Pants City

(3rd POV)

Negan couldn't begin to express the joy he felt as he sauntered down the RV steps, setting eyes on a collection of trembling figures. They were lined up in a neat little row, the group that caused him so much hassle in just a few short weeks, ready and waiting for him.

The cold beams of light illuminated the beads of sweat dripping down each of their faces, fear so clearly displayed on the Alexandrians features.

All of them, except one.

Some of these people didn't even try to hide the terror they felt as they knelt in the dirt, others doing a damn good job of it- just not good enough. But there was one face in particular that seemed so set in rage that Negan didn't think there was an ounce of horror in this girl's heart.

She even dared to meet his amused gaze as he addressed the unwilling crowd, Lucille hanging lazily over his shoulder.

"Pissing our pants yet?"

Negan was a self proclaimed 'funny guy', although he would understand if this group didn't see the humour in the scene before him.

It almost baffled him to see such a strong force weakened like this, all the reports of their horrific actions being brought right back to him in the Sanctuary. Murdering his people in their sleep, infiltrating outposts that didn't even have them on their radar. He didn't even need to mention the puddles of blood left behind in the middle of the road, the only thing remaining of T's group being a few singed shoes and motorcycle parts.

All the excitement Negan felt at the possibilities opening up to him were slightly dampened by this little girl's glare. She couldn't have been any older than twelve, but then again the man had no idea just what a twelve year old looked like nowadays. He didn't consider age to be an important factor anyway, because he could see in her eyes that she was wise beyond her years.

It took everything inside him to draw his curious stare away from her, choosing to direct it at the man he knew to be the leader. The one who advised this entire group, the one who made the decision to attack his people.

"You're Rick, right?" Negan grinned, looking down on the shivering man. There was fear, sure, but not submission. Fear meant nothing to him unless it was acted upon. "I do not appreciate you killing my men. Also, when I sent my people to kill your people for killing my people, you killed more of my people. You have no idea how not cool that shit is, but I think you're gonna be up to speed shortly."

Negan would be the first to admit that he enjoyed speaking. In a situation like this, where his power was practically surging through his veins, he was desperate to make that last as long as humanely possible. Hence, the overly graphic, colourful speeches.

It didn't matter what he said or how he said it because these people wouldn't listen to his words, what mattered was the thing that came next. The punishment. That was the thing that really excited the tyrant.

This was a dangerous group if he didn't handle them correctly, but fortunately he knew exactly how to do that. It was a common fact throughout the Saviours that people were a resource, and killing all these people wouldn't help anyone. Sure, it would've brought a smile to his lips for short while, but he would much rather take that happiness in the form of half their shit. There was just one thing he had to do first.

"I'm gonna beat the holy hell out of one of you."

There was no denying Negan was a violent man who took pleasure in killing, but every death needed to serve a point. This time, the point was that this group was pegged. Probably more pegged than they had been in their entire lives.