Chapter Text
The air was rancid, tinged with the scent of gunpowder and iron. Gunfire echoed from the other hall and something squelched under Negan's boot. A trail of crimson footprints followed in his wake, his face set in a scowl as he slowly made his way down the blood-stained corridor. He peered briefly into each room despite knowing full well that everyone who lived here was now dead. Most of them were still in their beds; a thankfully peaceful end to a life of horror. Others weren’t so lucky. Their corpses lay sprawled out on the floors, riddled with bullet wounds and bite marks.
At one room in particular, Negan paused. The door was ajar, but he could neither see or hear anything within. Hesitantly, he pushed the door the rest of the way open and stepped inside. There were two bodies in this room, each laying limp in their beds. Negan stepped over to the closer one, forcing himself to stare at the familiar face. One of his best lieutenants, one the few men in the world he actually trusted. He had volunteered to come lead the satellite station while they regrouped, leaving his young kids back at the Sanctuary. In fact, many of the men here had families waiting for them at home. Oh, God.
Negan knelt, rubbing a hand down his own face as the gravity of the loss truly sank in. I sent these people here. They were here on my orders, for me, and now their kids are orphans… fuck.
“They're all dead. Every single one of them.” Simon announced, appearing in the doorway. He was filthy, rubbing sweat and walker blood from his face. Other than a clenched jaw, he seemed unperturbed, regarding the scene before them so matter-of-factly.
Negan was silent. He swallowed his disgust and sighed, letting his eyes wander around the cold, dreary room. There were lines of polaroid pictures taped to the wall across from him, and his eyes narrowed at them. Pictures of bodies, heads bludgeoned to pulp, others burned. The evidence of his crimes, of his sin, of the rage burning within his heart. He was trapped in a cycle; violence for violence. A never ending loop of trauma and death. Eye for an eye. Once he’d started down this road, he couldn’t stop. He was a freight train hurling towards a wall and there was nothing he could do to stop it; only watch as everything and everyone around him would crumble with him in his destruction.
“The guns are gone too.”
“So somebody out there now has a shit-ton of our guns. Who the fuck did this, Simon? How were they able to sneak in here and kill all my men? Without so much as a peep?”
Simon shrugged, “You can be damn sure I'm going to find out. They have to be associated with the Hilltop, but they couldn't pull off something like this. I think we might have some... friendly new neighbors.”
Negan glared at him, jaw clenched with a rage he was barely able to control, “For your sake, Simon. You better find out who they are and where they are.”
“Yes Sir.”
“Get your men to clean up this fucking mess. Don't come back to the Sanctuary until you have some fucking answers.”
He nodded and promptly disappeared around the corner. That was the one thing he liked about Simon, he knew exactly when to dip. He didn’t hover.
Negan spared another glimpse at the pictures, hatred filling every inch of his being. When he finally stood, he ripped them from the wall and let the pieces float downward onto the bed and floor. Blindly, he stormed back down the hall and out into the glaring sunlight with a knot of despair threading itself through his guts. The violence never ended.
"Rick." Negan said into the darkness, letting the name roll over his tongue. It had taken time to find the culprits. More time than he was happy with, but finally the opportunity had presented itself and he wasn’t about to miss it. It had required a lot of planning, strategy and a whole lot of manpower too. Some bloodshed as well, but that was par the course.
These people were dangerous and Negan wasn’t about to cut any corners. He had dreamt of this day. He’d fantasized about it. He’d fantasized about what these people must be like, who their leader was. To be able to pull off what they did at the outpost, they had to be intelligent and cold. Emotionless. Willing to do absolutely anything necessary to survive, no matter the cost. Just like the Saviors were.
Although Negan already despised the guy for killing so many of his men, he couldn’t help but also be… impressed. He had to be someone unencumbered by morality or empathy. Somebody who understood how the world worked now, how to use it to his advantage.
Finally someone truly worthy of Negan’s rivalry.
Simon’s voice called out orders, muffled through the wall of the RV, and a wave of impatience washed over Negan. He idly thumbed Lucille, running a finger over the barbs. Still sharp enough to nick him, even after all these years. She’d never let him down.
Two quick knocks. Show time. Negan stood, straightening his leather jacket as he let out a long, steadying breath. The rage burned within him, and he loosened the leash on it just enough for it to take control. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he stepped out of the RV.
“Are we pissin’ our pants yet?”
Before him knelt the newcomers, backlit by the glare of headlights, blinding against the dark of night. They were nothing like the people he’d expected them to be. Negan’s eyes slid over them one by one, sizing them up in turn. They were a line of the most seemingly random people made up of opposites, yet somehow connected. They seemed so fragile and pathetic kneeling in the dirt, already shaking in their terror before he'd even started having his fun.
Then there was Rick. He was up front on his knees, right in the center of the motley lineup. Locs of slick curly hair stuck to his damp forehead, his body shaking. He was staring at him with wide, wet eyes that shone in the headlights. Though something wild was hiding somewhere deep within those depths, somewhere past the fear.
Could this really be the man who slaughtered his entire outpost? Already crying, petrified in the dirt? Don’t underestimate these guys. Especially not Rick.
The group kept looking to one other for reassurance. Rick even offered himself up in their stead. With that, their weakness became abundantly clear. All you had to do was kill one, and the rest would crumble like dominos. That’s what happens when you get attached to people. They make you weak, drag you down with them when they fall.
When it came time to choose, the choices were easy. First, the only one not pissing his pants. The fierce, unafraid one. When this didn’t get his point across, one of the lovers was next; Tragedy packs a punch. These people killed his friends without knowing who they were- without knowing anything at all, really. They deserved no empathy, especially not from Negan.
When blood finally went flying, Negan was consumed by the horrific beauty of it all. Even as the gore splattered across his own face and lips. His ears filled with the screaming and crying of his those who wished him harm. He was lost in it, caught up in the extent of his own power. He had the whole world by the balls and nobody was going to fucking take that away from him.
Negan had been numb for years; that was his strength, how he stayed alive. Violence was the best teacher there was. There was no better way to drill in a message, no better way to ward off predators from attacking you and your flock, than by making an example of anyone who dared. The more traumatic, the better.
By the end of the night, the group was shattered. Even as the sun rose with the new day, their faces had darkened, permanently changed by trauma that would haunt every breath they took until the end of time. No one dared make eye contact nor look at him, nor even each other. They were broken. All except for Rick.
The fear that had gripped Rick was gone now. It had transformed into something new. Something vile and vicious, just like Negan was. Rick was glaring right up into his eyes, face streaked with blood, like his own. Negan knew what he’d discovered. A force that could stand toe to toe with him in a dance of mutual hatred and respect. The same darkness that resided in Negan was also residing in Rick.
Staring it in the face sparked something deep within him. After so many years of numbness, life was coursing through him once again. In the beat of his heart and the blood racing through his veins. The pure adrenaline rush of the darkest depths of the abyss glaring back at you, promising its wrath. It was fucking delicious and Negan craved more.
Two months had come and gone, each week passing insufferably slowly. Scavenging trips were taking longer, the miles adding up. Everything close by had been picked clean at this point. Yet somehow, they managed. Rick just didn’t know how much longer they could keep that up. With each passing day, hope flickered out more and more.
When the Saviors arrived for their offerings, Rick obeyed their orders without question. He loaded up crates of what would most likely be their final crop harvest before the cold set in. Tomatoes, corn, wheat. Basic essentials that the Saviors surely didn’t need, but insisted on just for the sake of making Alexandria weaker.
Negan watched him load the truck with his arms crossed, a grin on his face.
“That’s the last of it.” Rick said coldly, eyes narrowed in his usual glare.
“What’d I tell you about that fucking look, Rick?” But really, Negan loved it. He wanted Rick to fight back. Make his fucking day. He never did, just averted his gaze like some shy schoolgirl and continued doing his bidding. “Don’t be so fucking rude, Rick. I just gotta do what I have to to keep my people safe. I’m sure you’ve done some pretty fucked up shit for your people too, right?”
Rick’s expression hardened, a hundred different faces flashing through his mind. The people they slaughtered in the church. Shooting the legs of the cannibals at Terminus to leave them for the walkers to rip apart. The men at the satellite station they’d killed in their sleep. All the strangers they’d ignored on the road or on runs. People they’d shot on sight. Just to be safe. They could be dangerous.
None of the subtle tensing in Rick’s face was lost to Negan. His grin widened; Rick’s weaknesses were so obvious. He despised Negan with every fiber of his being and being compared to him was the worst insult he could fathom. So Negan leaned in closer, daring to violate his sense of space, “Of course you have. That’s why you’re still here. We are the same, you know that.”
“I am nothing like you.” Rick growled back, a fresh flash of anger in his eye. Everyone I killed deserved it.
Negan held the eye contact, never dropping the smile even as a wave of adrenaline flushed through him. “You’re right. You’re actually a hell of a lot fucking worse.”
Rick’s fists clenched at his sides as Negan finally turned his back on him. Another test. He didn’t take the bait. Negan whistled as he inspected the crates and slammed the back of the truck shut. Satisfied, he gave Rick one last smile and wink.
“Been fun. Catch ya next time, Prick!”
Rick was still glaring daggers at the gate when it finally shut behind them. Six days to go.