SUPPOSITORTURE: THE NEVER-CEASING NEGATION OF NEGAN
By Quillon42
Ironically there were a couple of instants, in this reality at least, in which a glimmer of grace and mercy would prolong the torment of a tyrant indefinitely.
All the more ironic, though, was the fact that this despot's despairing plight would produce the panacea sought after by every individual who wasn't lurking, roaming, walking, biting, skin-eating, or otherwise engaging in some kind of name-dubbingly life-threatening habit.
The point of drastic deviation in this reality occurred not long after the first shots were fired in the official war between a nomadic hamlet-crashing cadre under the command of one Rick Grimes and a neighboring resource-sapping cancer under the charge of one nullity by the name of Negan. In the actuality of which you are aware, around this time, a headstrong young lady known as Holly commandeered a car to careen into Negan's factory fortress, only for the fervent femme to be taken prisoner and eventually peddled back to the people of Grimes…in a rather less-than-living condition. This the diligent Doctor Denise Cloyd discovered too late, as she unhooded the Holly-hostage only to find a necrotic ghoul in place of the heroic girl; the physician was chomped upon, her former ally and present attacker cut down summarily, and the Hilltop defenders deprived of two illustrious ladies for the remainder of the rotten conflict.
But let us imagine an instance of increased grace on the part of the negligibly-human Negan, one in which, as with the fairness with which he foisted the protagonist's son Carl back upon Rick after the former sallied forth into enemy territory…let us suppose that here, too, that base biker-looking bastard delivered Holly into the arms of Cloyd and the others, all safe and sound. Let us suppose as well that, with the additional reserves of energy Denise derived from, oh,…not being effing nastily nommed upon, she were to have enough time and womanpower to concoct a certain kind of drug, with the same resourcefulness by which Earl Sutton smithed melee weapons, or that by which Eugene Porter manufactured either powerful bullets to combat reckless warriors or political bullshit to catch rides to Washington.
In other words, What If, should we ask in the Marvel Machine way, a cure was found for everyone's walker worries…and it happened right at the very moment of Negan's defeat and capture?
It all begins in the brig in which that mound of man-manure is imprisoned. The now-nugatory Negan is visited upon by the presence of a Double-D—one, for once, which does not involve the chesticular bounty of his bevy of concubines.
No, this Double-D is comprised in fact of the aforementioned Denise…as well as a half-faced horror whom Negan would never want to be around—not without a rainstorm of reinforcements flanking him, that is.
"Not sure if you've heard about it yet, 'Boss,'" started said half-face, he pronouncing the italicized portion just now as a reproachful taunt rather than a respectful title. "Doc Cloyd here's found a cure…for the condition of all the stragglers and other shitheads're out there.
"It's great, you know? She says it can regenerate any kind of dead tissue…whether on someone's leg, or arm…or face…"
"The only thing," offered Denise, just as the other started to seem to lose it a bit, "as I'm sure Dwight here would tell you, too…we need a test subject. Someone to run several, several clinical trials."
"Yeah, we wanna see the short- and long-term effects of the pill on a person," cut in Dwight again, he letting drop to the floor what appeared to be a bowling-ball bag. It struck the surface of the grimy cell ground with a lighter aural impact than Negan expected.
"It's gonna take a lotta lotta experimentations."
Others from the Grimes group started to file in, with shinily-sharp syringes and the same patient's table upon which that bullying booger had been handcuffed, right at the time Rick told him he was "fucked."
"Rick told you, out on that field, that you could be productive, for once in your insignificant shitpiece existence," said Doc Cloyd, as she gratefully accepted a needle from her husky lover Heath, he whole and not obliterated by ordnance in this reality.
Just as she shot a syringe into the side of the man, quicker than his prison-inhabiting-inform bones could respond…"This is the quintessential chance for it."
…
…
Five to ten minutes past and everything was put into position. Dwight of the divided facial features was the first to administer the essential…experimental stimuli, upon said shitpiece subject.
"Yep, I go first…and I go most…and I go best," said the new Deputy Leader of the Saviors. "Before you're even given the pill, to restore you, see…I'm gonna hafta take your perfect physique (if put out of shape a bit by imprisonment, heh heh)…and deliver a bit of damage to it."
By now Dwight held in his hand the contents of the bowler's sack…and it was essentially the last thing his former taskmaster had wished to lay eyes upon.
For soon, it would be itself laid upon his eyes…or at least one of them.
"You know, I've taken to reading a bit, in my efforts to decompress here, after the War and such," the semi-countenanced survivor said, as he primed his instrument of experimentation some more. "There's this pretty damn good Twentieth Century writer, name of Tillie Olsen."
He raised the item up, so that Negan could notice all the notches and other frills along its bottom edge. "She had this one story anthologized, in a lot of…community college readers, and shit, God knows I could never get that far in my own education.
"But like I said, I've been doing a lot of nonrequired reading, of late."
The thing in Dwight's hand hissed, like a viper readying to vampirize its prey.
"You know, Boss…I think I'll recite at least the first few lines of her work…while I go to work on you."
And then Negan noted the underside of the hovering, homemaking tool of torment as it began to settle most searingly upon one side of his face.
[HSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS]
"YEEEEEAAAAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHHH!"
"'I stand here ironing, and what you asked me moves tormented back and forth with the iron.'"
The item was lifted up, pumped to breathe out its murderously-burning breath, applied again.
[HSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS]
"NNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!"
"'I wish you would manage the time to come in and talk with me about your daughter. I'm sure you can help me understand her…'"
Again, the thing taken from Negan's now-infernally-imprinted-upon face, fifty percent of his features suffering fifty shades of fifth-degree burn.
"And by the way, Boss," offered Dwight, in the midst of his experimentation and his Olsen recitation, "like I said, I go most, and I go best. Intermittently between the others following me…I'm going to do passages from Tillie's tale here and there. There's about another thirteen models we have of these suckers, sorta somewhat like the one I got in hand here—and between pills and regeneratings of your sad sack self, I'm gonna give you a…makeover, of sorts, a half-facial, anyway, on one side—then the other…then back to the first half, and so on. 'Cause yer face is kind of…asymmetrical, you know? We need to run repeated trials, to make absolutely sure that the drug can afford complete facial reconstruction. We need to be sure…so ever-fucking sure.
"I gotta tell you, anyway…I was really down on the way I looked, the way you made me look, before…just like a Post-Holocaust Harvey Dent. But now…
"This all is doing so much for my self-es-STEAM! Get it?!"
[HSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS]
"AAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHHH!"
…
…
The first interval trial between Dwight's initial ironing/interpretation of Tillie was a man who originally appeared to Rick and his rough-its as an ominously-innocent newcomer…but as the comic-book crew would find out soon thereafter—and as hopefully its televised team counterpart would discern as well, the scrappy scout was only a harbinger for a haven of promised society and security.
(Of course, said haven didn't hold up, in time…but it was something, for the survivors, at least for a spell).
At any rate, in a way this trial administrator was the most critical…as he would be the individual to introduce the drug into Negan's system, in a most special manner.
"I have good news!" said the man, somewhat mulleted yet not nearly as roadkill-coiffed as Pseudo-Professor Porter. "And no, it's not whatever the TV-me has to tell Sasha, in a universe beside us, this evening." (NB: This story was posted on 2/22/15).
"Nope…this good news is so superior to whatever my other self has to tell. …Well, like him…er, me, that is…?...I do have a gift for you, Negan; something from a friend."
The maven of the minor mullet then brought forth a set of water bottles similar to the one his cable-series counterpart left out for the Grimes gang in the "Them" episode. But the harbinger, in taking out the much-touted miracle drug of which Dwight and Denise were carping before, he wasn't aiming to serve said pill and potable to the mouth of this man-monster.
"Actually, I should tell you, you rugged greaser gobstopper of smegma…all this really isn't from a friend, after all. It's for a friend.
"Well, it's for someone who was really…more than a friend, to me."
Negan found that he was too tuckered the fuck out to fight back as his most recent and most hipster visitor veered forward, grabbing the bastard by the ass with an upsurge of adrenalin and inverting the imbecile so that he now faced downward.
"Now don't you fight old Uncle Aaron," said the latest trial administrator, as he pulled down Negan's knickers most viciously and uncapped one of the plastic flasks he brought with him. The former Alexandrian found a second later that he was encountering an end which he would never, ever want to approach otherwise.
"Christ, Eric, the things I do for your memory."
[SLAPLAPLAPLAPLAPLAPLAPLAPLAPLAP]
"UUUGGGHHHEEEEEESSSSSHHHHH!"
"Oh, stop your whining! You're so much more of a man than the rest of us, Neegy. Surely you can take a bit of what queer little me's pushing upon ya."
In these past ensuing seconds, see, Aaron administered the clear fluid into the back passage of the pushed-over persecutor…
…clear fluid that was anything but water.
"See, the neat thing…well, two neat things about this cure the Doc's concocted. One, it dissolves, alright…but only in natural human-produced acids, not anything else, such as the pure hydrochloric I just put a helping of, into your now-wrecked rectum!
"Two, well…you might have guessed by now. It's not a pill ingested orally. Nope…
"I'd say I suppose this suppository is the spiciest thing to enter your ass in all your shitstained existence. Other than that comment…beyond that I'd have to say…I got nothin'."
And through this, Aaron had only begun to become satisfied in light of what the Saviors had made waste away from him.
…
…
…
On came the zookeeper turned zealot whose Biblical patter was only a put-on—at least to everyone save Michonne and a certain giant tabby who was taken away from him, not too long ago…
"I say, my craven cur of a captive," began the ebullient Ezekiel as he strode out proudly into the prisoner's pen. "I have never borne witness to such a…pathetic poltroon, in all of my years. What foul fortune has visited itself upon my countenance this day!"
Filled with a fury most righteous, the dreadlocked dignitary made to mince not too many more words…but rather proceed with the dispensation of justice as he and others deemed proper.
With a kingly flourish Ezekiel flashed out that same stave he'd brandished before, whether in battle or just in bluster…but now the shaft was sheened over with brilliant, bleached white.
"The teeth of my most beloved babe…now fused into the stock of this stick!" cried the testy Old-Testamenty potentate. "…
"…I lost her. She was lost to me, in the course of my campaign against your endless, ever-unctuous legion of louts and lummoxes. But she is made again, courtesy of our saintly smith Sutton, her presence, her essence is with us once again!
"But it shall be you, of all people, most detested of dastards named Negan…it will be you, who shall know her kiss more than the whole of us. I give you…
"The SHIVA SHIV!"
And now, positioning said (oversized) shiv over Negan's neck, just as a gregarious Governing entity once did over a non-televised Tyreese so many volumes ago…Ezekiel endeavored to dare to dial down his character…call it temporary insanity.
"I must thank you, as well, you locust, you louse," gritted Ezekiel, now in a somewhat more subdued tone, "you have singlehandledly revised history…brought black and white together, we all free at last, in so many more ways than one. You have, through your very being, established an "N" Word so far more sordid, so far more despicable than any other in our country's chronicle."
Hoisting the tooth-encrusted stave high over the punk-philistine's neck, Ezekiel one more time:
"MAH NEEEGAAAAANNNNN…!"
[SHHHCHHHOKKKKK]
…
…
The saucy young hellion Holly, whom Negan ever so judiciously decided to spare, was up next. The oversized asshole's reward for his generosity would certainly be acknowledged and answered in this instance. By about now, the Neegs had his head sheared off by the precision execution of Ezekiel, then reattached and reironed several times over, the latter courtesy of the deadly D here who wasn't Denise.
"I know it wasn't by your own hand that my 'Ham was taken down," she started, the oh-so- gracious girl decked out only in a t-shirt and jeans—hardly the heady leathery war wear that Negan himself enjoyed ending legions of lives in.
What was on her, though, was something that the whoring warlord wished she hadn't been brandishing.
"Yeah, it was that literal two-face Dwight, I get it. Still, respondeat superior and such…"
[THUCCCKKKKKK]
[URRKKKKKK]
The crossbow bolt broke through Negan's recapitated, repeatedly-seared features, striking at the eye socket just as Dwight's own shot cut short the brash, ebullient existence of one Abraham Ford.
"What's that? 'Urrrk'?!
"My 'Ham managed an entire paragraph after he had his own brain busted open! From you, I expected a longer monologue than Mr. Tillie Olsen and shit over here.
"It doesn't matter." Holly hoisted the other bolts she had at the ready.
"One bad turd deserves another."
[THUCCCKKKKKK] into one nostril.
"And another…"
[THUCCCKKKKKK] up the other nostril, both most forcefully.
"And another…"
[THUCCCKKKKKK] into the mouth, through the tongue and into the back of the throat.
"And one more, for luck."
[THUCCCKKKKKK] finally into the other eye socket.
"Luck luck luck lucking luck luck LUCK LUCK LUCK," Holly shouted, again and again aping the cussing sprees she heard Negan utter while in his captivity.
Just for feces and funnies, she decided as a coda to whisk off what she wore from the waist up. She'd dismissed everyone else from the cell before doing so…just so it would be a private show, for herself and for the now-unseeing eyes of her enemy.
"A shame you couldn't drink from these cups…ever so heftier than any of the hoes you've ever had…"
For a minute she gallivanted about the modern-day dungeon, massaging herself, she boasting breasts that Negan could never even see, much less experience in any other way. All the while Holly danced and frolicked, she oohing to the melody of her cell co-occupant's misery. Then when she'd decided she'd had enough with Negan's pathetic, varied ejaculations—both of which Holly could hear from his punctured throat and which she could see from his trousers—she made off, satisfied.
…
…
"You think Holly was the best you could have ever had…
"Well, you're about to be in for a threesome."
Following the hellion now was a woman markedly worse for the warrior. The one…well, ones really…who ushered in now were none other than the loves and soulmates of Glenn…as well as of Negan himself.
"Yep, yer in for a visit now by the lady behind your first victim of our group…and your own ball and chain. …Or should I say, bat and wire…
"I don't know who misses who more, honestly," said the hoyden of the hacked tresses, as she held that brutal weapon, which was also Negan's wildest nooky fantasy, in her hands. "Me, with Glenn…or you, with Glennsealle, here."
Hershel's haughtiest, gutsiest daughter took in a long, sarcastic sigh. Slowly, measuringly, she paced around her prey as she spoke. By now, again, the basic veritable healing factor brought on by Cloyd's cure, her psycho suppository, had made the man whole again…and ripe for another picking upon.
[THCRRRACCCKKKKKK]
As Negan endeavored to try and hear his latest harasser, over the din of the blood rushing through his slightly-bashed-in head:
"Yeah, I took it upon myself to rename Lucille, Neeg. Kind of like the old film Glen or Glenda, you know? I rechristened her in Glenn's memory…
"But rather than just make her a Glenda, well…I added the "Sealle," spelling it with "S-E-A-L," for two reasons. One, to distance the name all the more from the one you gave her.
"Two…'cause a 'seal''s about right for the animal that comes to mind…
[THCRRRACCCKKKKKK]
"As I'm clubbing the shit out of ya."
[THCRRRACCCKKKKKK]
[THCRRRACCCKKKKKK]
The past three Thcracks all struck home in the back, the spine of the shit who shucked Glenn off his mortal coil with the same instrument. Murderously, Maggie wished to take her time with her target.
"Daddy always thumped that Bible, right? Told me I was too soulful to ever go clubbin'…"
[THCRRRACCCKKKKKK]
[THCRRRACCCKKKKKK]
"I guess you could say…"
[THCRRRACCCKKKKKK]
"I'm just makin' up for lost time."
[THCRRRACCCKKKKKK]
These last few strikes against the arms and legs of Negan, rendering him this turn into a polyplegic right well.
[THCRRRACCCKKKKKK]
"Lemme…lemme just…turn you right the fuck over a second. There.
"Lots of jurisdictions, they abbreviate 'battery' and 'assault' as 'bat' and 'ass.' Funny."
[THCRRRACCCKKKKKK]
[THCRRRACCCKKKKKK]
[THCRRRACCCKKKKKK]
"I've no idea why that random thought just popped into my head just now."
[THCRRRACCCKKKKKK]
Thus through Maggie's last thrashings did Negan realize some of the anal action he'd always ever so perversely pined for, with that length of pine and wire once known as Lucille.
With the end of said weapon, Maggie prodded the object of her aggression back to his original supine position.
"You said your Lucille's a vampire bat. Well, Glennsealle's an umpire bat.
"And she's just about to officiate a very fair, line-fuckin'-driiive…"
[THCRRRACCCKKKKKK]
…
…
It took several, several minutes for Denise and Heath to find all the pieces of Negan's noggin
after Maggie's last swing shattered his skull into more pieces than the number of people whose lives he'd loosed from this world. When the man was restored once more, the final experimenter of the evening was upon him.
"I told you I'd fucking kill you.
"…
"Whatever Dad said about sparing you, it always kind of went in one ear…and out my open eye socket…you know?"
The precocious pipsqueak skipped right up to the enervated archenemy of Rick's crew, the boy
with a small, seemingly innocent fragment in hand.
"Don't know if you noticed, while Maggie was bashing you to pieces over and over…your lady Lucille, or whatever Mag calls him now…she was still missing an eye, so to speak."
A now more-cruel-than-callow Carl Grimes held up the fragment of that barbed bat that the boy had shot off, while the war between the factions was still at the March phase and not quite yet All Out.
It was the same piece, sanded down a bit from the bullet that bit into it…
…but it had been treated with something else as well…something doughy, which was smeared all over the surface
"No, it's not Play-Doh," Carl said snickeringly. "I know you'd take me for that, still.
"Nah…it's just a smidgen of Semtex…with a microdetonator kinda…baked right in. It's brilliant…can't tell who the bigger genius is, between Doc Cloyd coming up with the cure…or like Eugene and Earl putting their heads together, to cook this baby up.
"Here…I don't give a crap about the whole pill experiment…I just want to see if this sucker works!"
And then, just as his father had flicked a knife right up the jugular of the same enemy, while the latter was off his guard…so too did Carl cram the piece of C4-Lucille/Glennsealle into Negan's maw before the subject could begin to shun it.
Quickly Carl scampered from the once-leathered leviathan, now reaching out for him but too gagged by the plastique to really reach his feet.
"NOW!"
[BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMM]
Veritably, not since the resolution of Raising Arizona, not since the climax of Child's Play 2 had a human…or at least a humanoid been blasted so beautifully out of existence.
(Sorry…spoilers for Raising Arizona and the second Child's Play).
But what was quite the kicker here had been the happenstance that…just as with the constant reconstitution of an uber-annoying, clawed Uncanny Canuck warrior-whore in the Marvel Universe…so too did Negan knit himself back together, this time without the assistance of anyone to find fragments of his skull or otherwise.
This was a fascinating step forward. A frightening one as well, as now it appeared that the Neegs had a bit more control over the compiling of his noxious, obnoxious self.
No matter, though. All survivors from Dwight to Denise would designate this project the primary aim of their settlement, from the Hilltop to the humblest hollow.
Because, after all, this was a series of experiments for the end of furthering a cure that could rebuild, repopulate the State of Georgia and beyond.
And finally, as Rick had suggested near the end of the second installment of their All Out conflict…Negan was, for once in his feral-fertilizer existence, contributed, done something productive. Even if he was to be the modern-day Sisyphus, the Tantalus of today, the post-apocalyptic Ixion to eke out the remainder of his days serving an excruciatingly unending punishment, experiment by experiment by experiment.
