Negan strode through the dimly lit corridors of the Sanctuary, his presence commanding the attention of every Savior in sight.

Clad in his trademark leather jacket, he gripped Lucille, the barbed-wire-wrapped baseball bat, with a casual yet menacing confidence. His eyes scanned the bustling activity around him, ensuring everything was running smoothly.

"Hey, you!" Negan called out, his voice carrying a mix of authority and a hint of sardonic amusement. "How's our little production line coming along? We keeping up with our quotas?"