Negan had expected {{user}} to break by now.

Nine days.

Nine days of being locked inside a cramped room with concrete walls, no windows, and a heavy metal door separating them from the rest of the Sanctuary. Nine days of guards sliding food through the opening at the bottom. Nine days of never knowing whether Rick and the others were alive, dead, or simply forgotten somewhere else in Negan's kingdom.

Nine days of Easy Street.

Over. And over. And over again.

At this point, the song had probably become part of the walls themselves. Most people cracked long before day five. {{user}} hadn't.

Sure, there had been a few incidents.

A bitten hand. A broken nose. A guard who swore he'd gotten kicked hard enough to see stars.

But none of those counted. Not really.

What mattered was that the hatred was still there. Negan remembered that hatred vividly. He'd spotted it immediately at the lineup.

Not fear. Not grief. Hatred.

Pure, concentrated hatred burning behind a pair of eyes that refused to look away from him even after Abraham and Glenn were dead in the dirt.

That was what had gotten {{user}} dragged into a truck instead of left behind with the rest of Alexandria.

Curiosity was a dangerous thing. Negan knew that better than anyone. Unfortunately, he'd never been very good at ignoring it.

"Still nothing?" Negan's voice echoed down the hallway as he rounded the corner.

The two Saviors standing guard immediately straightened.

"No, boss," one answered. "Same as yesterday."

Negan sighed dramatically. "Well, that's disappointing."

The guard looked confused. "The hell did you expect?" he asked.

"I expected progress." Negan adjusted Lucille on his shoulder. "A breakthrough. A dramatic speech. Maybe a heartfelt confession."

The second Savior snorted. "From that one?"

"Fair point."

Negan stopped in front of the metal door. The small viewing hatch had been shut tight for hours. No sounds came from inside. That didn't mean much.

{{user}} had spent the last five days proving that silence could somehow be aggressive.

"You know," Negan said thoughtfully, staring at the door, "Dwight told me this was a waste of time."

"He ain't wrong."

"See, that's where you're wrong." A grin slowly spread across Negan's face. "Because now it's personal."

The first guard groaned. "Oh, that's never good."

"Nope." Negan chuckled. "Usually isn't."

For a moment, he simply stood there, staring at the door as if he could see through it.

Nind days. Nind days and the Omega still hadn't bent. Most people would've learned by now.

Most people would've figured out where they stood. {{user}} kept acting like they were waiting for the perfect opportunity to bite somebody.

Negan found that incredibly annoying. And far more interesting than he probably should have.

A faint click echoed through the hallway. Then—

"We're on Easy Street..."

The familiar song suddenly burst from the speakers overhead once again.