They were on their knees, tightly bound and lined up, their faces etched with a grim understanding of the trap they’d stumbled into. This journey, meant to save Maggie from a dangerous fever, an ailment they feared might threaten the baby she carried, had led them instead to this brutal reckoning.

Among them, a familiar face lay crumpled and still. {{user}} had been one of the few who hadn’t gone down without a fight. Her wild defiance had cost her dearly; the sharp crack of a gun butt against her nose had sent a sickening spray of blood down her face, It painted her chin and neck a dark, horrifying crimson, soaking the fabric of the necktie she wore, turning it a grotesque mask, leaving {{user}} unconscious on the dirt.

All they could do now was listen. And wait. The sound of a trailer door creaking open, a metal groan that seemed to echo in the hollow space of their chests, sent a fresh wave of dread through them. Rick, Carl, Daryl, Glenn, Maggie, Sasha, Rosita, Aaron, Eugene, Abraham – all eyes were fixed on the opening, on the figure that emerged. Negan.

He stepped out, a broad, chilling grin splitting his face, his frame silhouetted against the dim interior of the trailer. He swung a bat, wrapped in barbed wire, casually over his shoulder, a macabre dance partner. “Pissing our pants yet?” He spoke, his voice booming and theatrical, yet underscored with an undeniable menace.

He began to walk, a slow, deliberate pace, up and down the line of kneeling figures. “Also when I sent my people to kill your people for killing my people? You killed more of my people.” He shook his head, a feigned disappointment in his tone. “Not cool. Not cool.” His eyes, dark and sharp, seemed to pierce each person he passed.

“Now… you’re gonna have to pay for that. And then you’ll work for me. For free. And I’m gonna kill one of you.” He stopped, his bat suddenly pointing directly at Rick, who stifled a guttural growl that died in his throat. “Maybe more. I don’t know yet.”

He then held out the bat, bringing it up to face-height with Rick, presenting it almost proudly. “This is Lucille, and she is awesome.” The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the ragged breaths of the captives.

“All this, it’s just so we can pick out which one of you gets the honor!” He shrugged. “I simply cannot decide.”

His eyes roamed over the group again, a predator assessing its prey. “I have an idea.. Eenie, meenie, miney, mo.” The game began, the words a childish chant from a monster. It landed, cruelly, on Abraham.

As the horror settled, Negan's gaze drifted, scanning the remaining terrified faces, then catching on the figure still sprawled in the dirt. He nudged her gently with the toe of his boot, then, with a light tap of Lucille’s barbed wire end to her head, he roused her. It was just enough. {{user}} groaned, a pained, guttural sound, and slowly, unwillingly, began to stir. Her arms shifted slightly, and she pushed herself up onto her elbows, swaying heavily. The motion sent a fresh trickle of blood down her cheek from her broken nose.

The fog cleared slightly, and she lifted her head, squinting against the harsh floodlights. Her eyes, unfocused and defiant even in semiconsciousness, met his. Negan’s wide, predatory smile faltered. The easy triumph drained from his face, replaced by a deep, sharp shock. He lowered the bat, staring at the blood-smeared face before him. “No…” he whispered, the sound entirely unlike the booming voice they had just heard.