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GREY KINGSTON FEBRUARY 2018
"a year ago they bombed settlements in california, one down in florida a few months later. they hit connecticut and they must've hit philly during the time i was on the road, coming here." negan tells us.
"how'd you know to come here?"
negan digs through his pocket and pulls out a piece of paper, folded a bunch of ways and made into a small little square, and i know exactly what it is—the note sebastian left him in the house at hilltop.
"you went to hilltop."
"i went to alexandria, too. the way they left that place," he shakes his head and i feel the longing that comes with missing a place you once called home hit me in the chest—the people who were in your life at a certain time that are no longer around anymore. places we move on from and people we lose, the past and never being able to go back is the most painful realization, i think.
"the commonwealth, all three of their settlements, i'm positive are all caught up to speed now. all working under the same constitution that is destroy every other survivor's camps. i'm sorry to come bustin' through your doors this way, bearer of bad news—"
"aren't you always?" rick teases, though his voice is hard and steady.
negan grins at the joke. "i'm tellin' you, the only way you survive this is if you kill them first."
"we have numbers. we could fight."
"so do they. all three outposts are up to the same shit now, rick. that's three states, probably the same amount of people here. i know this place is big, but they're probably matching you in numbers right now."
rick looks down the table at ben whose hands are clasped, elbows resting on the metal surface, "keep talkin'." ben tells negan, bones of a plan already forming behind his eyes, i can tell.
"you might think you could make a deal with them, but they won't agree to anythin' unless they get what they want, which is to be the last ones standin' so they can make the world theirs; make it what they want it to be, and that's without other settlements. they see other survivors as threats. they won't let you join them and change their mind. they won't change their mind."
"how'd you get away?" daryl asks, his back to the wall, arms crossed over his chest, one leg bent at the knee, sole of his shoe propped against the wall. it'll probably leave a dirty footprint.
negan's eyes dart over to where daryl stands, "had to get creative." he grunts, pulling his left flannel sleeve back from his wrist and showing the prosthetic where his hand used to be. "i cut it off and ran. it was the only way. they had us in cuffs, attached to a wire and a solider while they sent us out to kill swarms of walkers."
