A/N First and foremost, thank you for entertaining this fic. This is my first one so hopefully, it doesn't waste anyone's time.
Before we begin, there are spoilers from the comic book as well as a couple direct scenes from it. I have taken writer liberties while trying to stay as true as I could. With that being said, there are parts that I've switched up including a death and a twist so a bit A/U I suppose? It will start several months before issue 100.
Now, the warnings. Pretty much everything you'd expect in the comics from character death to violence to disturbing content. It's a Negan fic so it goes without saying there's swearing. I deal with a lot of sensitive subjects such as self-harm, rape, and suicide. There's also some pretty explicit sex with Negan and his wives, then some scenes with him and Lucille.
This is from Negan's point of view, which frankly I'm intimidated to even attempt to write dialogue for him, let alone a look into his own personal thoughts, but he's my favorite comic book character and I couldn't help myself.
I don't own these characters other than my own.
Silence is maddening as fuck nowadays. There isn't even a breeze to rustle the tree limbs. My eye's trail every inch of Lucille. She should have been filthy by now. I don't know which one of us it disappoints more.
"Got another one." Connor hurries up ahead and rolls the undead over. "No casings on the ground or bullet entries. See the eye socket? It's definitely a knife that's killing them. They've all been like this the last mile," he informs us as he stands up. He smacks his hands together trying to rid the blood and grime, but all it does is agitate me further. We should have been picking through that warehouse two hours ago. Instead, we're chasing after what might as well be a goddamn ghost.
Mark's eyes widen, looking over his shoulder at me. "What if it's a big group?"
Connor chuckles as he leans over, slapping his hands to his knees. "What a pussy." He then proceeds to mock him.
Mark frowns like being picked on isn't a normal occurrence. "I'm serious! I have a bad feeling."
Dwight lowers his crossbow. "How many do you think there are?"
Mark repeats the same thing to me.
I grab myself in the most obnoxious way possible. "Let's just ask my crystal motherfucking balls."
Dwight looks away from me, shaking his head.
"Everyone needs to calm their tits. Look at these tracks," I point, kneeling down as they crowd around me. "Same fucking set a mile back, same fucking set here, same fucking set a mile ahead." I look up at blank faces. "It's a set of footprints." I sigh and rub my forehead when they're even more confused. "It's one motherfucker!"
"I was gonna say that," Mark stammers.
I stand up, towering over him. "Oh you were, were you?"
He nods, swallowing hard.
"Well shit, I didn't know my hand was up your ass making your mouth move."
A gunshot comes from the west.
I glare at Connor. "No casings, huh?"
Connor shifts his eyes from side to side. "Maybe it was a revolver, they keep the casings in the–"
"Find this ignorant fuck using a gun on undead before he draws any more attention," I order them.
"Could you possibly be any fucking louder?" I snap at Mark.
"I need water–"
I put my hand over his mouth, narrowing my eyes as another gunshot is fired. "Everyone stay here." At first, I thought I was going in the wrong direction until I hear three more shots. Turns out, these gunshots we've been hearing, it's between people. Actually, it's a group of men trying to kill a cop.
"Do we help her?"
"No," I callously reply.
"She's going to die."
"Connor, shut the fuck up, I don't need a narrator! Have Dwight lead the others and see if that warehouse is worth scavenging. If it is, we'll go tomorrow."
"Can't we just get it tomorrow? I want to see this!"
I raise Lucille up, patting her to my shoulder.
"Fuck, alright," he mutters, "let's go. Dwight, you're in charge."
I wait until they've left and take a few steps closer. I usually don't interfere with others, however, I'm rather intrigued by this cop.
She's killed two of the three men while sustaining a gunshot to her right leg. Even though she can't walk on it, she's not giving up.
That's not what interests me because if you're still around these days, there's usually a reason why. It's the fact there isn't a single emotion on her face while she's killing these men. Like a robot or some shit. Now me? Christ, this kind of stuff gets my dick hard. My lip curls upward when she gouges one of his eyes out with her thumb.
He cups his face, screaming. "You fucking bitch!"
She's tackled to the ground and the man starts to strangle her.
I roll my eyes. Typical, just fucking typical this is how it will end. I could save her if I wanted to, but I'm not. However, I'm just not satisfied watching it end like this. I run my hand up Lucille until I touch barbed wire. She's just as thirsty for more as I am. Lucille doesn't like to be on the ground and normally I would never disrespect her like this, but this is a rare fucking circumstance. "A little girl on girl," I growl, tossing Lucille beside the brunette.
The guy eases his grip and looks up in the direction where Lucille came from, then is smacked in the face by Lucille.
"Yeah," I moan, running my gloved hand across my mouth. Just like I hoped for, the girl doesn't stop with one hit.
Even when there is nothing left but chunks of skull and brain, she keeps going.
I haven't had gratification like this in a while.
The girl stills Lucille and hunches over.
Now, this, is very fucking pleasing to the eye.
It's as if the brunette already knows her place, on her knees, even treating Lucille like a lady as she lays her over her lap.
Though I thought for sure she'd fuck everything up by crying, but she doesn't.
She reaches for the gun by the man closest to her. Without a moment's hesitation, she sticks the barrel of the gun in her mouth.
"Whoa," I say, stepping towards her, "wait a fucking minute."
She removes the gun and looks up at me like she'll say something, but doesn't, and gestures Lucille out for me to take.
I lean over and grab the gun instead. I empty the chamber into my hand. There's only one round left. I discard the casings and put the round back inside, then spin the chamber, letting it come to a complete stop before I close it. "Ladies first," I say, handing it back.
The girl sticks it in her mouth and squeezes the trigger.
Nothing happens, which I expected. See, that's the advantage to Russian roulette when the chamber is empty. The weight of the round forces it towards the bottom. Or maybe that's a bunch of bullshit I was fed. Either way, I just wanted to know if she had the fucking balls to pull the trigger.
She takes it from her mouth and sighs.
I like that she's a little twisted.
She holds the gun up to me.
Fuck it, why not? I snatch it out of her hand and press the tip to my temple. "Guess it just ain't our time," I smirk after nothing happens, "or did you want to keep going?" I raise my eyebrows up and down.
She shakes her head no and stretches her fingers out for her bag.
I pocket the gun and get her bag, then pick up Lucille. "You by yourself?"
The girl nods, trying to stand up, but falls back down and lets out a painful whine.
"Close your eyes."
She looks up at me concerned when I take my bandana out of my pocket.
"You want me to leave you here to bleed out, fine, but if you want to come back with me, I'm blindfolding you. We don't fucking know each other and I won't risk my men's lives by leading you right to our fucking front door." She agrees and I tie the bandana. I grab her bicep, helping her up. "Hold Lucille." I probably should have just carried her because she's a foot and a half shorter than I am and it's more trouble this way, though she never once asks to take a break and she keeps the same steady pace so it doesn't take us long to make it back. "Keep your eyes fucking closed," I instruct her, taking the bandana from her face, "and act like you're unconscious until I say otherwise." She nods her head and I pick her up. She lays Lucille across her and I carry them to the factory, or as others like to call it, Sanctuary. Curious eyes look my way when I step inside the factory, followed by the usual chants and groveling that I've returned. "Carson," I call.
"What's with the cop?" he asks out of breath from his short jog to me.
"I don't know. Unlike you, she keeps her mouth shut. Find me a Doctor and catalog this gun," I grunt, giving him the gun and leaving the cafeteria. I go across the walkway, into the infirmary and set her down on the table. "You can open your eyes now," I say, getting Lucille back from her.
She opens her eyes as they adjust to the room which means she kept them closed exactly as I instructed.
"We can remove the bullet and sew up your wound, but that's it. The medication is for my men."
She nods.
"This ain't no fucking charity clinic, so don't be letting people know you're getting free handouts or we're revisiting our little game of Russian roulette. Now, act unconscious again."
I clutch Lucille tighter, leaning my head back against the chair. "Don't fucking stop this time," I grunt at one of my wives, gritting my teeth. The redhead starts to respond, but I grab the back of her head and push her farther down on my dick. I didn't realize there was such a thing as bad head. "Amber," I call.
"Yes?" she asks, walking over to me.
I lean over and take a hold of her wrist, pulling her to her knees. "It ain't gonna suck itself," I smirk. My eyes shift over to one of the lounges next to me when I see movement. I let that cop sleep there last night.
She's rolled over on her back.
I purposely try to make some obnoxious moans so she'll wake up. She doesn't and I'm becoming bored. These two aren't even trying. I circle my thumb around the handle on Lucille, closing my eyes. My thoughts quickly become polluted with perversion. Well, more than usual. I slide my hand down Lucille, feeling every imperfection on her as wood splinters my hand. Then, my favorite part. Barbed wire splits open the palm of my hand. I love it when she marks me. I dig my fingers into her and let out a deep moan. "Fuck," I grunt, opening my eyes. I look down at the two of them, disgusted. "You two are as useless as tits on a nun. Rachel, come clean me up!"
Rachel puts down her playing cards and eagerly does as she's told.
"You both could learn a fucking thing or two from her," I sneer, grabbing the waist of my pants and Lucille, going into the bathroom. After I button my pants, I dig in my pocket for my bandana and press it to my hand. Damn, I might need stitches for this one.
Sherry walks in and quietly closes the door. "That one's pretty bad," she comments, taking my hand and cleaning it for me. "You should change Lucille's barbed wire soon. She's starting to rust again."
"I don't want to talk about Lucille right now. Where in the fuck did you find that fire crotch?" I bark, displeased.
"Her name is Trixie and I didn't exactly put up flyers for number six."
"You'd think with a name like that, she could suck some dick. I've given her three fucking weeks and she ain't working out, get rid of her. The last thing I want is another Amber."
Sherry lets out a deep sigh. "Trixie will be gone when you get back."
I figured Sherry would like the idea that I'm getting rid of a wife, but I can tell by the look on her face and that irritated sigh she gave me, she ain't too happy that cop might replace Trixie. "Just fucking say it already, Sherry," I groan. We are about to have the same conversation that we always do when I bring a new girl into the parlor. Fuck only knows if she's already tried to dissuade her. I knew I should have left her in the infirmary or back in the woods.
"Don't you think she's a little young?"
"She ain't that much younger than you."
"She can't be any more than 20."
I look at Sherry unamused.
"I'll help her pick out something to wear for you," Sherry frowns.
"She's not a wife. Well, I haven't given her that option yet."
"I don't think that you should."
My laugh fills the bathroom. "You say that every fucking time I bring someone home. She'll get used to it or she'll work for points if she plans on staying."
"She cried most of the night. Whenever I'd get up to check on her, she'd just act like she was asleep."
"Some people ain't cut out for this world," I coldly respond.
Several minutes later, the bleeding finally stops.
Sherry ties the fabric around my hand.
"Moving kind of slow today," I point out.
"Just a bad day."
"Turn around." When she does, I rub her neck and shoulders. No one, except for me knows this, but Sherry has Fibromyalgia. She was diagnosed with it right before the outbreak. In fact, she was getting the results the day everything went to shit. The good thing is that it's not life-threatening, but she's in constant pain. "You need to start sleeping at night, not this two and three hours here and there bullshit."
She frowns. "I know."
I pull my keys from my pocket and set them on the counter. "I realize it doesn't do much, but there are a few pills left. Go get them before Carson wakes up," I instruct her. "I'll bring you more when we can scavenge some."
She turns around and brings her hand up to my cheek, rubbing it.
My face grimaces at her soft touch. I pull her hand from my cheek and leave the bathroom with Lucille before she says anything.
That cop has rolled over, facing the door.
I forgot I told her to act unconscious. I look down, displeased by her uniform. The patch on her arm says 'Ashland Police'. The only law here is me, but I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't let her rough me up a bit. After all, I never fucked a cop before. I hope she still has the handcuff key. "If you're waiting for me to bring you donuts, you're in for some serious fucking disappointment."
She sits up, grabbing her bag.
"Can you walk?"
She nods.
I suppose she'll want to clean up some. "The bathroom is over there. I ain't got all fucking day to wait around now." It actually doesn't take her long before she's back at my feet. Just when I think she can't cover up anymore, I'm wrong. Instead of that short-sleeved pale colored gray department issued shirt, now she put on a long sleeved one, tucked in her black pants. Perhaps even more frustrating is the tactical vest she wears. Just another reminder that says, no entry. I'm sure she's in pain because she's limping on her leg, but if she's going to try and act tough, I'm putting her to work. "Leave your shit here and follow me."
She has a rather blank look on her face as we start to walk.
"You, uh, hear all that?"
The girl nods her head and looks down.
"You could have watched, I wouldn't have minded," I smirk, "or joined in. You can always join in."
She keeps the same blank look on her face.
Well, I guess I'm not making her a wife any time soon. "Here, take this," I say, losing my smirk and handing her an ax.
"Mark, don't open that door. This area hasn't been cleared," Dwight says.
"Shit," Mark yells. An undead comes out, grabbing him. "Get this bitch off me," he screams.
The undead is hit in the eye socket with a knife.
We look back at where the knife was thrown from.
"Well I'll be fucked," I grunt, looking that cop up and down. Now we know who killed all those undead yesterday.
She goes over to the undead and pulls the knife from its skull. After flinging the blood from it, she slides the knife into her vest, then turns around and looks up at me. "I'm more efficient with knives," she finally speaks and nonchalantly shrugs.
Tara's eyes widen as she sticks out her hand. "I'm Tara."
The girl looks at Tara and then her out stuck hand. "Alice," she tells her, shaking Tara's hand.
"You're going to fit right in," she smiles at Alice. "We'll get the flank," Tara says, taking Alice as they disappear around the corner.
Connor looks at me, putting his fingers to each side of the corner of his lips. He sticks his tongue out, moving it up and down.
I guess so. "Hurry up, at this rate, we'll be lucky to pick this place clean by dark," I snap.
"What is wrong with you today?" Dwight asks.
"Nothing," I murmur, getting off the truck. "Catalog everything, distribute the points, except for Mark. Dumb motherfucker almost got killed," I tell Carson, starting for my room. Right when I open the door to the parlor, I hear someone behind me. I turn around to see Alice looking up at me. She's probably expecting me to let her stay here again. "Look, things were different your first night here. You're on your own now," I say, putting my hand against the door frame. "Unless you want to join us?"
Her eyes sink as she lowers her head.
"Your loss," I scoff, slamming the door in her face.
I close the parlor door and start for the stairs when something catches my eye. "You slept there all fucking night?" I ask Alice who's curled up in the corner.
She nods, sitting up.
"The fuck for?"
"You have my things. I was unsure of where to go."
"Well, you could have fucking asked," I mutter, going back into the parlor and grabbing her bag. "Here." I shove the bag into her. I guess I could have been a little more civil to her, but I wasn't happy about being told no last night. "Move your ass," I demand, taking her outside the factory.
Tara is sitting on one of the tables smoking.
"Tara, show her around. She doesn't have any points so she'll sleep outside, unless, last chance," I grin.
Alice shakes her head no and takes a step away from me, almost tripping.
I narrow my eyes. "Have you had anything to eat since you've been here?" I ask, noticing how pale she is.
"No."
I turn my attention to Tara. "Let her pick out a few snacks in the Cafeteria."
"Thank you," Alice says, her sapphire eyes looking up at me.
"Well, I didn't do it out of the kindness of my fucking heart," I jeer, walking off. I go around the corner and stop when I hear Tara's voice.
"I could get in a lot of trouble, but if you want, you can sleep in my room. Just don't say anything to anyone. Otherwise, you have to sleep outside until you get enough points for a room. It's just our way of protecting ourselves and making sure you're really serious about being here," Tara says.
"Thank you, but I will follow the rules so you are not questioned."
"My advice, take Negan up on his offer. It might not be the ideal lifestyle, but he takes care of his wives."
I wait for Alice to say something, but she doesn't, and when I look around the corner, they're gone. What a shit load of fuck. What's so bad about me?
"Sir, you wanted to see us?" Connor asks.
John walks into the room behind Connor, followed by Tara.
I fold my arms across my chest. "John, I need you permanently stationed at the outpost by Hilltop and don't fuck this up. I want to know why my fucking supplies have been shit. Make sure they are sending people out on runs."
"Yes, Sir."
"Don't just stand there holding your dick, get the fuck out!"
He hurries out of the room.
"Connor, scout for someplace like Hilltop. A few weeks and then I need you back here unless you find something sooner."
"Good. I don't get any pussy out there."
I let out a loud laugh. "Well, you're not getting any for a while."
"Eh, I just got some."
"Who was it?"
"A gentlemen never fucks and tells."
I unfold my arms and jab my finger to his chest. "I ain't fucking around. Who was it?"
"Jesus, calm down." He shoves my hand away. "One of the blondes in the kitchen. Since when do you care who we fuck?" he mutters, leaving the room.
"I don't care," I murmur as if he can hear me.
Tara clears her throat.
Oh, shit, I forgot she was here. I'm not really sure what I want to do with Tara. I thought about sending her with John to the outpost. She's been rather unstable the last few months, but I really need her here because of Alice. "Tara, you'll switch out with Connor. For now," I decide.
"Yes, Sir."
"Did you take care of Alice?"
"She's settled."
"Good, what side?"
"The east side."
"Think she'll sneak off in the middle of the night?"
"No, I just think she's having a hard time adjusting. We all did, but she's an amazing scavenger. All the supplies she and I found was thanks to her."
"You didn't tell me that." Now I feel guilty for not letting her eat any real food. "She request anything? Cigarettes? Alcohol?"
"She likes books."
I roll my eyes. "Of course she does."
"She said she was reading 'House of Leaves', but part of her copy was damaged."
This actually works in my favor because the parlor is filled with books thanks to Sherry. "Keep an eye on her if you would."
"An eye on her? She won't cause trouble."
"I ain't worried the book police is going to start shit. A woman that good looking, sleeping by herself, does worry me."
"The rules are pretty clear about that kind of thing."
"Just fucking do what I say, Tara!"
"Yes, Sir."
"Dwight, Mark, Tara, take that house over there," I point, "Alice, come with me."
Alice looks at Tara wide-eyed like I'm going to do something awful to her.
"Now," I bark at Alice. I want to see what her strengths and weaknesses are, unlike what she seems to think.
Alice hasn't said one word all day.
I've never been so bored in my fucking life. I watch her chuck another knife at an undead a couple yards ahead. Her precision is rather impressive. It's a good thing because she sure as shit isn't able to take them one on one. Her knives must be specifically made to be thrown because they don't look like a typical one would. She also seems to have two different types of them that she rotates between. I lick my lips watching her bend over to retrieve it from an undead. "You know, if you wanted to fuck one of my wives instead of me, I'd be okay with that."
"I don't want to have intercourse with anyone."
"We don't have to fuck, I'm fine with some foreplay."
"No."
"You don't ever get horny?"
"No."
"Bullshit. Fuck, I'm hard just thinking about that last undead you killed."
Alice kicks the back of my knee and I lose my footing, falling over.
"What the fuc—"
She presses her knife against my dick. "If you don't stop making me uncomfortable, you'll get your foreplay alright," she hisses.
Damn, she's wound as tight as the braid in her hair. "Woman, you're out of your fucking mind to threaten me!"
"Did that cross yours before or after we played Russian roulette?"
I give her a shit eater grin. "Keep talking like that, because I'm about to impale myself."
She pulls the knife away and slides it into her vest.
I sit up, rubbing myself just for the reassurance as I watch her take off. "You didn't frisk me for weapons!" I don't even get a reaction from her. I let out a sigh and pick myself up.
"Here, Negan," Amber says, giving me my plate of food.
"Well, it's about fucking time. I only sent you down there thirty-five minutes ago. Next time I'll get it my-fucking-self."
Amber puts her hand up to her mouth and dry heaves.
"What the fuck!? Get out of here!"
She hauls ass into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.
"Who are you yelling at?" Sherry asks when she comes into the parlor.
I point at the bathroom.
Sherry opens the door and closes it just as fast when she hears Amber puking.
Watching or hearing someone puke just reminds me of my father being too drunk and not able to hold his fucking liquor. "There goes my appetite. Thanks a fucking lot Sherry," I snap, flinging my plate on the coffee table.
"She's been sick to her stomach all day. I think she might be pregnant."
"You women, every fucking time one of you run to the bathroom you say that shit. First of all, I am careful where I stick my dick. Second, I don't fuck Amber, so that means she ain't following the rules, and we've got a big problem. In fact, there's an even bigger problem if she confided in you and you didn't fucking tell me. Go check on her!"
"Yes, Sir."
"Sir?" Carson asks, stepping inside the parlor.
I sigh and rub my forehead. "Please make this brief."
"I brought back your keys." He sets them on the table.
"Do you have the numbers?"
"Yes, I did a full inventory. I gave a copy to Dwight as well." Carson hands me the papers.
"This isn't good," I grumble, turning the page, "but it's a lot better than it has been."
"Today was a really good day for us."
"I see that."
"Do you want me to map out something for tomorrow?"
"No. We'll take 236 to Landmark. That fucking mall can't be completely empty."
"Alright then."
I shift my eyes side to side. "You gonna leave or did you want to jerk me off?"
"I think someone is stealing the pain medication."
I sit up and take my feet from the coffee table.
Sherry closes the bathroom door and looks nervously over at me.
I look back at Carson and clear my throat. "How much is gone?"
"It's nothing major. I only notice because, well, you know why." He rubs the back of his neck. Carson was in a major car accident before the outbreak and eventually became addicted to prescription drugs from the pain in his back. "Anyways, the odd thing is that it was like someone had a key."
"I took them. Fucked my ankle up." I put my feet back on the coffee table.
"You… you took them all?"
"Yeah, Carson, I did. Is that a fucking problem?"
"I hate to keep pressing the issue, but this isn't the first time I've noticed."
"It sure fucking sounds like you're accusing me of stealing medication because I'm the only one with a key."
"No! I… I didn't mean it like that, Sir. It just makes my job more difficult when you don't sign out the medication you use."
"You could have just said it was about the fucking paperwork."
He swallows hard. "I'm sorry," he stammers as he nervously gestures the clipboard at me.
"That's my fault," Sherry insists, "I forgot to sign it out for him." She takes the clipboard from Carson and signs the log.
"I didn't mean any disrespect, Sir," Carson frowns.
"I was just testing you. Good looking out," I tell him, putting the inventory list inside my jacket pocket.
"Thank you, Sir," he smiles, taking the clipboard from Sherry and leaving.
"I am so sorry, Negan."
"I know you get kind of spacey sometimes with this shit, but we need to be more careful."
The bathroom door opens and out walks Amber. "I'm going to get some fresh air."
"Come here," I tell Sherry after Amber has left. I dig into my pocket and pull out a flimsy box.
Her eyes light up. "These are the heating ones. Where did you find them?" she smiles.
"Alice found them."
"Alice? The police officer?"
I nod and remove the patches from the box.
"So, she's staying?"
"She doesn't want to be a wife since that's what you're really asking. Where do you want these, your neck?"
Sherry turns so her back is facing me. "My lower back and neck please."
I pull off the backing on the adhesive and press it to her neck, then her back.
"Did she ask who the patches were for?"
"No, see, the thing I like about Alice is, she doesn't ask questions."
Sherry rolls her eyes. "Ass."
I snicker at her and grab my plate off the table.
"Is she working out okay?"
"If she was working out, I'd be fucking her instead of listening to your twenty questions," I say with a mouth full.
"With arrogance like that no wonder you're not."
"It has nothing to do with arrogance, it's a fact. If Alice ain't fucking me, she's just another able body to fight against those undead fucks."
"I didn't realize a human life meant that little to you."
"Sherry, one of these days you're really going to piss me the fuck off. Don't twist my words!"
She dry heaves and covers her mouth.
"Stop! That shit ain't fucking funny."
"I had a really big dinner."
I drop the plate and hurry up, almost tripping. "Stop, you're going to fucking make me do it too!"
She dry heaves again.
"Sherry," I yell, holding my gut.
She throws her head back and lets out a cackle.
"That is so fucking gross. What the fuck is wrong with you?"
Sherry shrugs her shoulders. "I gotta get my fun where I can."
"Fuck you, now clean that shit up," I grunt, going into my bedroom and slamming the door.
"I know you're laughing in there."
I fold my arms and smirk. "No, I'm not."
"Liar. You're probably standing there, arms folded, with a smirk across your smug face."
"I don't hear any cleaning in there."
I can tell everyone is getting tired because the mistakes being made are careless.
"Sir," Marshall calls, extending his finger outward.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," I sigh, shaking my head.
"No," Tara breaths, dropping her knife.
The mall I've been wanting to scavenge has completely burned to the ground.
"Damn..." Dwight snarls, lowering his crossbow.
This just adds to my frustration because we haven't been getting anything worth a damn from Hilltop the last few months.
"Tara, Marshall, see if there's anything salvageable. Dwight, Alice, let's go north and keep clearing."
Alice is sitting on the ground cleaning her face, hands, and knives in the stream.
"The fuck is wrong with your wrists?" I ask her. It looks like she tried to slit them and damn near cut her hands off.
"It's none of your business," she mumbles.
"I guess your shit plan with the gun in your mouth didn't work either."
"Not yet."
"You motherfuckers are all the same. If you wanted to kill yourself, you'd of fucking done it already."
She stands up and takes a deep breath, then moves her wrist up, pressing her knife to it.
"The fuck is the matter with you!?" I yell, pulling her knife from her hand. I reach into my pocket and grab my bandana, tying it around her wrist to stop the bleeding.
Alice lowers her wrist and gives me this blank stare like nothing ever happened.
My brow wrinkles. "You are twisted as fuck, woman."
She shrugs and yawns.
I'm not going to lie. Living in this world, we've all thought about a shotgun in our mouth from time to time, but to actually see someone this cavalier about it, it's pretty fucking insane.
Dwight puts his crossbow up to her head.
I grab the end of it, forcing it forward as it breaks his nose.
"Shit," he grunts, cupping his face.
"Don't ever raise your weapon to her," I yell.
"I thought she was fucking bit!" He drops his crossbow, taking a knee.
Alice turns around and sets his nose for him.
I fold my arms, rolling my eyes.
"Thank you," Dwight tells her, standing up.
She bends over and hands him back his crossbow.
"I'm sorry," he says, "is your wrist okay?"
Alice nods.
"I'm Dwight."
"Oh for fuck's sake," I mumble, leaving the two of them alone.
Marshall and Tara hurry up the hill to me empty-handed.
I let out a sigh looking at Marshall.
He runs his hand across his short beard. "Nothing worth taking."
I shake my head and we start the drive back. Fuck, this means I need to come up with a better plan.
The black sky lights up, followed by a crack of thunder. It's about fucking time it started raining because it's almost impossible to breathe with this fucking humidity. Although it sucks to scavenge in the rain, it's harder for the undead to detect us.
"Morning, Sir," Tim greets, finishing up his soda.
"I don't know how you drink that shit warm."
"It ain't so bad. It's better than going without it," he laughs. Tim has been with me since the beginning. In fact, he's the one who found the factory. It was only eight of us at that time. Tim, Connor, Sherry, Dwight, Seth, Carson, Tara, and myself. "Scavenging today?"
"Yes. You're driving. Dwight, you take the other truck."
"Who are we waiting for?" Dwight asks.
"Tara, Alice, and Mike," I grumble.
"I've been here this entire time," Alice frowns.
Tim chokes on his soda startled.
"Why didn't you fucking say something?" I grunt, flinging the soda from my sleeve.
She shrugs. "Good morning?"
"Fucking smart ass. Guess who just volunteered to unload the truck by herself later?" It's not as satisfying as I thought because I can't tell what she's thinking since she doesn't show any emotion.
"I'm here and Tara was right behind me. Carson gave me an updated inventory list," Mike huffs, handing it over.
I shove it down into my pocket. "We're taking 495 South. Don't lo–"
"495 is inaccessible. That was a main evacuation road–"
"Keep fucking talking Alice and you'll permanently be unloading the trucks," I snap.
Her eyes slowly shift downward.
"Let's go," I order them.
"Mother fuck me, she was right," I grumble.
"Just make some shit up, that we found something better," Tim suggests, "but we gotta get off 495. Take exit 170b?"
"Yeah."
"This is a fucking nightmare."
"Speed the fuck up, if we get stuck we're good as fucking dead."
"There's debris everywhere, hold on."
We fishtail, clipping one of the guardrails before the truck evens back out.
Tim squints his eyes, looking at his side mirror. "Did Dwight make it? I can't tell with this fucking rain coming down like it is."
I press my boot to the glove box, leaning back in my seat. "Dwight drove semi's on solid ice up to Prudhoe Bay in Alaska, this ain't shit for him. Pay attention to the fucking road."
"Sir, look, an ABC Supply Co. We can fill an entire truck up with building supplies," Mike points out.
"Good idea. Exit up ahead, then get on 648, Tim."
"Hurry up," I shout impatiently as everyone gets out of the trucks.
"This the place?" Dwight asks.
I move Lucille outward in the direction we'll be going. "There's a shit ton of industrial type buildings here that I want to go through."
"There's a tool rental place ahead. Maybe they'll have generators," Alice suggests.
"Unlikely," I scoff.
Alice blushes and fidgets with her hands some.
"No more useless chatter from here on fucking out, I want everyone alert. There are lots of places we can be overrun. Dwight, Alice, up in front."
Alice stops and narrows her eyes.
"What's going on?" Dwight asks.
"The fuck did you stop for?" I ask.
She points down at the dirt and then moves her finger with the footprints that lead all the way to a boxcar.
"Fuck." I look over at Dwight.
"Leave it be," he murmurs.
"I ain't waiting to be ambushed. Tim, Tara, Mike, by the door. Alice, Dwight, over there. I'll open the door." I walk over to it as my men ready themselves. I use my fingers to count to three then quickly move the door back.
It's four men that look at us like a deer in headlights.
"Everybody, get the fuck out," Tim yells, stepping inside.
Tara kicks the gun away from one of the men. "Try it and I'll cut your fucking balls off."
"Move," Mike orders.
"Get on your knees," Tim instructs.
"Check them for weapons," I tell Alice.
She puts her knife away and starts with the first man.
"Been a long time since a woman has felt me up," he smirks.
I kick him in the stomach so it knocks the wind out of him.
"Stop," a voice on the end begs, "we're good people, you don't have to do this."
"Good fucking people don't disrespect my women," I bark down at him. "I want your fucking names, now!"
"I'm Dillon." He points to his left. "This is Foster." These two are actually twins. They have to be in their late twenty's. Both lanky as fuck, but none of them look like they've had anything to eat in weeks. Their blond hair is entirely too long in my opinion.
"Davis." Davis has a dark complexion, but his hair is white and dreaded. The look on his face is extremely cowardice. Might have another Mark here.
However, I'm not worried about these fucks. "I want your name," I growl down at a heavily tattooed man in his mid-forties.
He looks up at me disgusted as he catches his breath. "Vic."
"Don't talk to my women, you can deal with me."
"You don't fuckin' intimidate me."
"Maybe I should just kill you." It wasn't a question. I press Lucille to Vic's cheek.
"Fuck you, I don't beg. You wanna kill me, go right ahead."
"Vic, shut up," Foster and Dillon both say.
"You're going to ruin it for all of us," Davis adds.
"Negan, what are we doing?" Dwight questions. "These people can be assets to us."
"You have a bigger group?" Foster asks.
"Shut up," I snap.
"Please just give us a chance," Dillon begs.
"You both sound pathetic," Vic scoffs.
I hit Vic in the face with the blunt side of Lucille and knock him out. "Any-fucking-one else that wants to push my buttons?"
The three of them shake their heads no.
"They don't have any weapons on them," Alice informs me.
"Are– Are you going to kill us?" Davis whines.
"Alice, Tara, watch them," I say and pull everyone else to the side. "Here's what we're going to do. Split into 2 groups. Mike, Tim, take Foster and Dillon. Dwight, we'll get Davis and that sorry fuck Vic. They give you problems, kill them. No second chances," I scoff at Dwight. "We've got two fucking trucks to fill and we ain't leaving until then. Get the fuck to it."
Tim's group starts for the ABC Supply Co.
I motion for Alice and Tara to come to me. "I want you two to stay with the trucks."
"What?" Tara laughs.
"It's too fucking dangerous. We don't know these people and if there are more in their group, we can't risk everyone's lives."
"This is bullshit," Tara yells.
"Everyone, calm down," Alice starts, "surely you've found groups of people on runs?"
"I'm sorry, I didn't realize you two were in fucking charge."
"I didn't come out here to baby a fucking truck!" Tara puts her knife up to my throat.
I grab her by the wrist and press the knife hard into my neck. "Well?" I growl.
"Stop," Alice demands, kicking Tara on the back of the knee like she did me.
Tara falls to the ground.
Alice grabs her knife and glares up at me. "We will go by ourselves and scavenge. I think we can all agree on this."
I wipe the blood from my neck. "Fucking, I don't give a fuck if you two come back at all," I shout, leaving them alone.
"What the hell?" Dwight asks, looking my neck over.
"I don't want to fucking talk about it."
I really don't understand how Davis is still alive. Vic, however, is a different story. There are a few screws loose in that motherfucker. The only person I've ever known to get this much enjoyment out of killing these undead fucks is me.
Vic has a very thick New York accent and the more undead he kills, the stronger he lays it on. "You fuckin' see that bitch's face, Dave?" he laughs, stomping on its head one more time. "Flat as fuckin' pancakes that one."
I have a feeling something of his is going to be flat as fucking pancakes before the end of this day. Hopefully his fucking jaw. We make it to the auto parts place and much to my surprise, a lot of things are still here. "Davis, get a few carts and follow Dwight around. He'll point out the spare parts we need. Vic, you're with me, grab a few as well."
He ain't too happy about it which makes it all that more enjoyable.
"These," I tell him as I walk down the rest of the aisle looking things over.
Vic starts to load the tubs up. "How many fuckin' people you got with you?"
"78."
"I figured you was doin' well having me load up a cart of snow chains for tires. Hell, we just concerned ourselves with–"
"How about you concern yourself with what I told you to fucking do? I ain't here to chat and I ain't your fucking friend."
"Hmm," he murmurs, filling up the rest of the cart.
The chains are actually for securing the undead to our fence, but let him think otherwise. My eyebrow peaks as I turn the corner. "I'll be goddamned," I smirk. "Bring another couple of carts," I yell at Vic as I move towards a wall of car batteries. "Lucille, you see this shit?"
"Wow," Vic says beside himself.
"Load those up too."
"How many you want?"
"All of them."
Vic loads them into the carts pretty fast. The only time he stops is to take a drink from his flask, then shoves it back down in his pocket.
A drink doesn't sound too bad right about now.
"Negan, we can fill at least 20 carts with shit here," Dwight says, coming up behind me.
"You act like that's a bad thing."
"How are we going to get all this back?"
Fuck, I didn't think of that. The trucks won't come out this way because of the conditions of the road.
"Ignition wires. There are several sets we passed. I'll link the carts together using them," Davis says.
I guess he ain't completely fucking useless.
"Start on that, Davis. We'll load up the carts and bring them to you."
It's about time we catch a fucking break.
"We maybe have a few minutes until the sun sets," Mike tells us.
Alice and Tara haven't made it back yet.
"Here they come," Tim points.
Dwight squints his eyes. "What the hell are they dragging behind them?"
I let out a sigh and fold my arms. "Generators," I murmur. I never thought I'd be upset about someone finding a generator, but this is twice today that Alice has been right and I don't like looking like a jackass. I leave them alone to load up the trucks and go beside one to take a piss. I can't wait to be home and have a few pairs of titties in my face.
"Ashland police, huh?" Vic asks Alice, loading up the first generator in the main truck.
Alice doesn't respond.
I zip up my pants and walk over to them, waiting for the right moment to break his neck.
"I spent the last few days locked up in Ashland before everything went to shit. I don't remember seeing you on duty and I think I'd remember you. Still have your handcuffs?"
Right as I'm about to pull him from the truck by his windpipe, he lets out a scream.
She's dropped one of the generators on his foot. "I got your foot, huh? I don't remember seeing it there," she mocks him.
"Fuck! I think you broke it."
I make my presence known. "What happened?"
Vic looks at Alice, then up at me. "I dropped the generator on my foot."
"Alice, go help the others. I'll finish up here."
Vic sits up, rubbing his foot.
"That's strike two for you motherfucker." I grab him by his foot and slide him to me.
"Let go, fuck, please!"
"I thought you didn't beg?" I dig my fingers into his ankle when he doesn't respond.
"You had my people surrounded. What'd you expect?"
I let go of his foot and shove him back.
"We won't have this fucking conversation again or I'm going to nail your balls to the tow hitch of this truck."
His wide eyes stare back at me as he swallows hard.
"Actually, I'll let Alice do the honors. I think she'd like that. Should I bring her back over–"
"You made your point!"
What satis-fucking-faction to watch this motherfucker squirm.
I'm meeting with Vic's group to go over everything. "Alright, you fucks, I ain't got all night so pay close fucking attention."
"We got off on the wrong foot," Davis insists.
I snicker looking at Vic's bandaged foot.
Vic swallows hard.
"We're not trying to start anything, we want to contribute."
"Contribute. Yeah, I thought about that shit. Foster, Dillon, you'll be part of maintenance. Vic, once you can walk, you'll help clear. Davis, you'll be sent to one of the outposts."
"Thank you, Sir," Davis says.
I roll my eyes. "I'm going to say this once more and it's once more than I care to fucking discuss. We do not rape," I sneer at Vic, "that goes for the rest of you fucks, too."
"Yes, Sir," they respond in unison.
"You will also respect my Lieutenants. They ask you to do something, you better damn well do it." I proceed to tell them about the point system. The ones that go on supply runs or clear undead are awarded the most points, followed by our engineers, scouts and maintenance crew. If I feel someone is a danger to others, they are sent to an outpost. I'm only sending Davis because I want to break up Vic's group for now. Otherwise, if someone is unable to protect themselves, they are given grunt work within the factory. For people like Vic's group or Alice, they must use points if they want to eat because they are not considered a part of the Saviors since they still sleep outside. Everyone else is allowed one meal a day. The people who clear or scavenge get breakfast and dinner unless they use their points for more food. The ones who have rooms can also save up their points and move to higher levels within the factory that usually come with more amenities such as windows and a small wood stove for winter. On Tuesday's, anyone can use their points in the supply room where everything is kept that is scavenged. "Now go get something to eat and turn in for the night. Davis, in the morning, I'll send someone to brief you about the outpost."
"You think they'll work out?" Tim asks once they leave.
"I don't give two shits, to be honest."
"Dwight seems to think they will."
"Where is Dwight anyways? He should have been here."
"Outside helping Alice unload the truck."
"I made it clear she was to unload the truck her-fucking-self."
Tim pops the top on his soda. "You might think you're punishing her but all you're doing is endangering everyone else's lives."
I fold my arms. "How in the fuck did you come to that conclusion?"
"I have to trust these men with my life. If someone isn't focused because they're exhausted, I have to wonder if it's going to be my ass from some careless mistake. So what if she was right about 495 or the generators? Wouldn't you rather your men speak up so we're not wasting time?"
"Wasting time? You got someplace else you'd rather be?"
"The parlor," he laughs.
"Yeah. I bet you fucking would," I smirk.
"Think about what I said. In the meantime, I'm going to go help unload the truck."
I have better things to think about. I lick my lips, looking down at Lucille. "Let's go have some fun with the girls," I wink.
"Where's Dwight?" I ask Mark.
"Getting chummy with that cop," he laughs.
"What?" I snap.
"He took her some of his food," Mark points.
I narrow my eyes.
"Shall I get the iron for the other side of his face?" he smirks.
I walk away from Mark without a response and over to Dwight.
"Thank you," Alice tells him.
"It's really not that big of a deal. I'm not exactly starving," Dwight laughs.
"How much fucking longer is this going to go on? We're losing the light," I grumble.
"Oh, right, ping-pong," Dwight says, standing up, "come on," he invites Alice.
"Let the slaughter begin," I smirk, grabbing the ball. "Zero serving zero. Get fucking ready. Anyone laying down bets?"
Carson goes around and gets the bets then signals us to start.
I'm up by three before Tim manages to score. I glance over at Alice.
She's not even paying attention. Instead, she's skimming the crowd like she's looking for someone.
I smack the ball as hard as I can as it hits her on her vest and she snaps out of it.
Dwight shakes his head at me.
I laugh, getting another ball. Sometimes I wonder if they all suck this bad or if they just let me win out of fear. "Did I lose track, or is this game point? Twenty serving four."
Tim doesn't even try.
"That's game! Fuck yes, motherfuckers! Dwight, you want to jump in here, show me what you've got before you hit the road?"
He looks up from talking with Alice. "Thanks but no. I really should be going."
"Oh fine. Go. Anyone? Okay then. Bunch of wimps was getting boring anyway."
Dwight says something to Alice and she gives him a nod.
"Now if you'll excuse me." I grab Sherry by the wrist and pull her to me. "I'm going to go ping-pong my dick all over these titties. Catch you later, Dwight," I laugh, pulling Dwight's former wife up the stairs.
Sherry pulls her wrist from my hand when we get upstairs. "What the hell was that about?"
"Fuck him," I tell her, opening up the parlor door and going to the bathroom.
"Negan, aren't we going to—"
"No," I interrupt Rachel, opening the bathroom door and slamming it shut. I gently set Lucille on the counter so I can take a shower. The cold water doesn't even bother me anymore. It's all the cuts and gashes stinging from the water that does. I guess a little pain is good though. It means you're still alive. My hand has healed, but Lucille will see to that. Speaking of, she's becoming impatient.
I'm about ready to call it a day. We've been out here for almost 6 hours and haven't found a fucking thing.
"Thank you," Alice says, giving Dwight back his bottle of water.
"Hold on to it," Dwight tells her, taking the lead.
Alice stops to put the water in her bag.
"Did you tell your girlfriend about you and Dwight?" I sneer at Alice.
She blinks several times and looks up at me confused. "Girlfriend?"
"Tara."
"I don't like women like that."
"Could have fucking fooled me."
"Why, because I don't greet you on my knees half naked?"
"No, but I'll think about that when I'm balls deep in—"
"Enough," Alice shouts. "Unlike those women, I won't suffer through your insolence with a smile." She goes to say something else, but an undead catches her eye. After she kills it, Alice rolls it over and reaches in its pocket, pulling out its wallet. She grabs the driver's license and puts it into her bag, continuing on her way.
I don't understand why she talks to Dwight or Tara, yet has such a problem with me. I've even saved her life, twice.
"How much longer?" Mark whines, coming up behind me.
"Shut your fucking mouth you big pussy. Being out here is optional and a privilege. I have fifty other men that would gladly take your place."
"Optional? I don't eat otherwise."
"How stupid do you think I am? I know Amber gives you food. Just like I know the two of you are still fucking. Might I remind you what happens when I catch you, and I will." I point at Dwight's face.
Dwight looks down and walks away from Mark and me.
"I—"
"Shut the fuck up, Mark!"
He frowns. "Yes, Sir."
"Sir," Tara starts, out of breath, "Alice found a small daycare up ahead. It doesn't look like it's been picked through."
"Then what are we waiting for?"
"There's that fucking smell again." I look down at Alice. "Is that you?"
Alice pulls her bag around to the front of her and digs inside for something. "Is it this?" She holds up this pink bottle.
"God, yes. Whatever it is, don't put any fucking more on."
"It's sunblock. I need it for my skin."
She is pretty fucking pale. I let out a deep breath. "Fine," I mumble, "but walk downwind from me."
"I'm sorry," she frowns, going behind me.
I notice she's clutching a large satchel. "What's in there?"
"Toiletries, baby wipes, that kind of stuff. Is it okay that I keep them?" she asks.
"For your points."
She sighs and gives me the satchel. "I need my points for food."
I guess I never explained the point system to her, but at the same time, it's not fair because I hold her at a higher standard than I do everyone else since she won't become one of my wives. If it hadn't have been for her, we wouldn't have found that daycare. "Just fucking keep it, but don't tell anyone and use your points for food."
"Thank you," she says, easing her grip up on it.
"You did well today, Alice."
"You never realize how much you take for granted until it's gone."
"What do you miss the most?"
"I don't know," she shrugs her shoulders, "I guess, pizza."
"Pizza? The world's gone to shit and you miss pizza? God, you're easily fucking amused."
"Well, what about you?"
"Titty bars."
"You don't have enough women already?"
"I've been looking at the same tits for months, I'm bored. You should show me yours."
She stops and glares up at me.
"Right, I forgot. You're a fucking prude. Probably not even a B cup," I grunt, getting in the truck.
"Fuck that feels good," I tell Sherry.
She lets out a modest laugh and tilts my head forward some. "Relax your shoulders."
"I'm flexing for you."
She laughs for real this time. "No, you're not."
"I just have a lot on my mind."
"It might do you some good to talk."
"It ain't fucking happening."
"We can talk about anything."
"God fucking help me," I exaggerate, relaxing my shoulders.
"We've known each other for almost two years and I know nothing about you," she points out, running the comb through my hair.
"Girls, go get something to eat," I tell the others.
"Do you want anything?" Rachel asks.
"No, now get out," I demand.
"Am I in trouble?" Sherry asks once everyone leaves.
"Don't patronize me with that condescending tone, Sherry. I ain't in the fucking mood."
She lets out a heavy sigh and goes back to cutting my hair. "I'm sorry, I guess I never took into consideration how lonely this lifestyle could be," she murmurs after a few minutes.
"Lonely? There's five of you. How are you fucking lonely?"
"Amber is the only one I talk to and that's only because I fear she sometimes gets suspicious about us. I lose track of the lies I tell the girls as to why I don't join you all."
"Our arrangement is none of their fucking business."
"Yeah, I guess you're right. Hold still."
I pull away from her and twist around. "What do you want from me? You have a husband to make you happy, but you want to keep from him that you're sick so this is how we do it. I told you this wasn't a good idea from day motherfucking one. You think you're the only one that loses track of the lies?"
Sherry lets out a breathed laugh. "We created this illusion that built you a harem of women ready to drop to their knees if you say the word. I'm sorry it's so bad for you."
"How dare you stand here and throw it in my face like I don't give a fuck about you or Dwight. Goddammit, you think I don't see how much he despises me? Yet, I did it for you!"
"You didn't have to burn him!"
"You burned him, Sherry, not me! What did I tell you? Do not let anyone fucking find out about you two and you motherfucking swore to me," I yell, picking up the coffee table and flipping it over.
She bursts into tears, covering her face. "I know."
I run my hands down mine and let out a deep breath. This just makes me hate Mark even more than I already do. It's all his fucking fault. When he caught Sherry and Dwight, he made that fucking scene in front of everyone. "Look, let's just both calm the fuck down."
She nods and sniffs up her nose.
I bend over and set the table upright, then sit back down.
Sherry drapes the towel back over my shoulders.
I grab her hand and still it to my shoulder.
"I'm sorry, I know I put you in a horrible position."
Negan, please don't fucking do this. I'm sorry!
I let out a deep breath and try to silence his voice. "You're right though. I burned him. Sometimes, I can still smell his flesh against that iron." I look over my shoulder at her. "I think you should tell him you're sick."
"So everything is all in vain? Out of the question!"
I let go of her hand and look forward.
"His mom and dad both died from cancer—"
"You don't have cancer! You told me this shit isn't even life-threatening."
"He'll see the days when I can't get out of bed and overreact. You know how it is out there. If he gets distracted thinking about my health and it gets himself killed, I could never forgive myself."
"Jesus Christ, I don't want to fucking talk about this shit anymore. Finish my fucking hair so I can get my dick sucked and go to bed."
She's not as gentle as she was before and her soft crying is like nails on a chalkboard.
"Look, I'll make you a deal if you stop the fucking water works."
She sniffs up her nose again. "Yeah?"
"I ain't looking forward to shaving. Do it for me and you can ask something about me."
"Anything?"
"It's your lucky fucking day," I smirk.
"Is Lucille—"
"No," I snap, ridding my smile, "pick another one."
"You sai—"
"Pick another one, Sherry."
She's quiet for a little while, then walks around to the other side and has a seat on the table. "What did you do before all this?"
"Okay, this is a bad fucking idea. Can't you just ask me my favorite color or some shit?"
"No, and I doubt you have a favorite color," she laughs.
"It was an example." At least she was smiling. "Is that really what you want to know?"
"I don't know." She fidgets for a second and then brings her eyes up to mine. "When we were at Hilltop, before the Saviors and Sanctuary, do you remember the day you decided that we were leaving?"
"Like it was yesterday."
"What made you decide it was time?"
I lean over, resting my elbows on my knees. "It was a bunch of things," I shrug, rubbing my hands together.
"It was finding those men forcing themselves on Tara, wasn't it?"
I really don't give Sherry enough credit for being as smart as she is. I let out a deep breath and nod.
"You wanted someplace where the women could be safe."
I stare at the scissors in her hand.
"Is talking about this making you uncomfortable?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
My face grimaces. "Why do you think?"
"No, Negan, why are you so against sexual violence?"
I put my hands over my face and let out a deep breath.
"What happened?"
The air was so fucking thick I thought I was going to fucking choke. I ball my hands into fists.
"It happened to someone you loved, didn't it?"
I take my hands from my face and bite the inside of my cheek.
She stills my fidgeting hands. "Was she—"
"No," I snap, standing up, "I'm fucking done with this bullshit conversation!"
"I'm sorry, Negan," she stammers.
I snatch my shirt and put it on.
"Wait, what about—"
"I'll cut it my goddamn self," I yell, slamming the parlor door behind me.