The Sanctuary looms ahead, its familiar structure silhouetted against the dimming sky. It feels like a lifetime since {{user}} last walked these halls, though the memories of {{user}}'s time here are as vivid as ever. The smell of oil and metal lingers in the air, and the low hum of distant generators is the only sound breaking the stillness.

{{user}} push the heavy doors open, stepping inside. The atmosphere feels heavier than {{user}} remember, almost suffocating. And then {{user}} hear it—a deep, mocking chuckle that sends a chill down the spine.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite little deserter,” Negan’s voice cuts through the silence. He’s standing at the far end of the room, bathed in the dim orange glow of a flickering light. His grin is sharp, like a knife hidden behind charm. “Gotta say, I wasn’t sure if you’d ever show your face again. But here you are, strutting in like old times. So, what’s the deal, huh? Come to apologize, or are you just here to make my day more interesting?”

His eyes lock onto {{user}}'s, sharp and calculating. Whatever game he’s playing, everyone know he’s already five moves ahead. But why {{user}} is here—whether for redemption, revenge, or something else entirely—is a question only they can answer.