CONQUEST • Negan

Let's Meet the Man

I was gonna cleave that stupid, shit-eating grin from his face.

God, he was so fucking dead; not for forcing us to submit and holding a bunch of guns to our craniums—that shit was understandable—but because he was so goddamn annoying.

Every ounce of my will power was focused on staying down on my knees and not doing anything stupid that could result in my group and I getting pulverised by a storm of bullets. Our odds here were looking pretty shit. We were majorly outnumbered, majorly outgunned and majorly fucked.

My gums were torn to shreds, warm iron coating my tongue as I desperately tried to distract myself from the natural, baseline urges zipping at my nerves. At this moment, those instincts were screaming at me to rip Negan's throat out with my bare teeth. So, I chewed on my gums instead. It didn't help.

If my pride wasn't so near and dear to me, I might've allowed myself to feel fear when the haunting whistling echoed from the road, the lights blared and we were forced the ground at gun-point. But fear had never served me before and I sure as shit wasn't going to let this asshole see me scared; I'd die with some goddamn dignity.

I centred myself, drawing slow, measured breaths through my nose and releasing them from my mouth, desperate to claim clarity beyond the raging haze battling for dominance. The rage would not serve me either, I had to be calm. I was going to do something very, very stupid if I didn't chip the fuck out right fucking now and so, I shutdown, blocking out his voice, and the annoying, obnoxious monologue he was spewing.

My hands bled, clutching the gravel so hard, the stones pierced my palms. The pain anchored me, gave me something to focus on.

Still, the sound of him breached my fragile peace.

"I don't wanna kill you people. Just wanna make that clear from the get-go." I rolled my eyes, huffing beneath my breath. "I want you to work for me. You can't do that if you're dead, now can you?"

I swiped my hands on my knees, wiping away the sweat and blood soaking them.

Negan didn't cease his prattling. Between the lights beaming into my skull and the aggravating noise of him, I was staring to develop a fucking headache.

I glanced to my friends, my family, kneeling beside me in the half-circle we were forced down into. Rick's frightful gaze of a man who'd toppled off his throne. Maggie's pallid complexion as she fought to keep herself upright and lucid. Daryl's shifty eyes searching desperately for a way out of this.

Our sight collided, my stare clashing hard into his with warning. Daryl's shoulders dropped as he read my face, instantly understanding what was silently conveyed to him. We'd always shared a strange mind-link, a sharp perception of each other, allowing us to communicate beyond words. And so he knew what I was telling him, what I had already learned: there's no way out of this. It's the end of the line.

"So now." My attention snapped back to the irritating prick with the bat, "I'm gonna beat the holy hell outta one of you."

My stomach plummeted, rage fizzling away into a timid spark.

He promised to only end one of us. I had to take that as the best case scenario here. The better case scenario? He would choose me as the sacrificial lamb.

I was the merciful choice. The expendable spare.

Maggie and Glenn had eachother and a baby on the way. Rick and Michonne and Carl were one big family unit and Judith needed them. Abraham and Sasha were starting a future together. Eugene and Rosita cared so damn much for one another, an outsider would believe they're adopted brother and sister, even if it was a love-hate relationship. Aaron had Eric waiting on him back home. And Carol wouldn't function without Daryl, those two were platonically each other's lifeline.