What Kind of Man Are You?
Pete Anderson howled as Daryl slipped his shoulder back into its socket. Negan grinned, amused at the situation. "Goddamn, doc! She got you good. You gonna be able to work with that shoulder?"
The doctor nodded, glaring at Michonne. All his non-threatening, quiet bedside manners from before evaporated as he seethed. He stood up, pushing Daryl away and stomped toward her, fist balled, as she held her wounded leg on the floor under Simon's knee.
Negan stopped Pete in his tracks. "Sorry, doc. Can't let you knock this one around. I gotta keep her in good condition. For a bit anyway." He inquired about the other girls still behind bars in the windowless room. "What about these other ones? They ready for tonight?"
Pete shot ice cold daggers at Michonne one last time before he answered Negan. "Yeah. There was a hang up at the lab but I just got blood work back." He picked up a stack of manilla folders. "This is a good batch. They're all clean. Some of them are orphans we got from ICE. They don't even speak English."
"I wanted you to see this one before Mary gets them all dolled up." Jared pointed at one girl in particular with cappuccino-colored skin and dark wavy hair.
"Oh yeah. She's gorgeous," Negan marveled with a twinkle in his eye.
"She's pregnant." Pete announced bluntly, as if it were something she'd done to offend him personally.
The girl looked up in surprise. "Me?" She looked around at the other girls, unsure.
Michonne glanced back at the scared young woman. She remembered when she found out she was pregnant with Andre. Even though her parents disowned her, at least she had Sasha. She could only imagine how unsettling it would be to learn this news locked up in a cell in a room full of strangers. Her heart went out to them all.
Negan approached the bars and beckoned the young lady with a curl of his finger and predatory eyes. "What's your name?"
"Cyndie." She creeped forward hesitantly not knowing who Negan was or exactly why she was there.
"How old are you, Cyndie?"
"16."
"16," Negan repeated and reached through the bars to fondle through her soft hair. "And you ain't usin' condoms?"
Cyndie didn't answer. She just lowered her head, embarrassed by the question.
"So what are you, Cyndie?" The girl raised her brow, confused and unsure how to answer. "What are you," Negan repeated more emphatically. "We gotta know what you are so we can price you right."
Jared took a limping step toward the conversation. He was still sore from the kick Michonne had delivered to his crotch. He passed her file from the doctor to Negan as he answered for the girl. "Her mom's white. Dad's black."
"A mutt, huh?" Negan skimmed the information in his hand. He turned to Jared, "Where'd you pick her up?"
"In a club with a fake ID."
Daryl added, "She ain't been reported missin'. I imagine she was a handful and her parents are probably glad to get rid of her. Nobody's gonna be lookin' for her."
The newly gained Savior couldn't help thinking about the niece he lost as he spoke and how much he missed her. Drug addiction had landed her into a similarly disgusting underworld where the female sex is preyed upon and exploited. Sometimes at night, he could still see Shumpert's open dead eyes.
Daryl still held guilt about helping his brother carry out the execution style murder of the drug dealing bastard that destroyed Enid's life. But when he thought about his niece lying in a casket, her pink powdered lids shut forever, his guilt subsided and all he could feel was the loss. He pushed down those emotions and focused on the task at hand.
"Don't worry." Jared boasted about his new underling, "He knows how to keep parents chasing their tail, if they decide to become a problem. A few reassuring words from a man in uniform is all it takes."
Negan smiled and agreed, "Gotta love law enforcement. I couldn't do my job without'um."
Dr. Anderson's delay pushed Jared's deadline. He and Mary would need extra hands to get the girls dressed and docile with a sedative and that wasn't something he could call on a random goon to do. The rich miscreants loved to haggle over bruised or scratched merchandise so care had to be taken to keep the stock desirable. The S.O.C gearing up for the Aryan Emergence required money. It was Jared's job to maximize revenue.
Pushing back his flowing mane, Jared impatiently asked, "So what do you want to do with her? Get rid of the baby? Sell it? Or just throw her file away?"
"Hmm. What about the baby daddy, little Cyndi," Negan inquired. "What's he?"
"Um, his mom is Filipino. I… I've never met his dad."
Negan threw up his hands at her answer, disappointed that race was always becoming more knotted and ambiguous. He took a deep breath, trying to decide.
"Well, you run the girls, Jared. I don't know who'd want to buy a baby with all that shit in its blood, but maybe it'll come out the right color. Who knows? But whatever you do," he wagged a finger in underling's face, making his point, "I want a return on investment. So, I leave her in your capable hands."
WIth a shrug, Negan changed direction. "Speaking of pregnant whores, I got an extra one for you. Bring her in here." Negan called out.
Merle reentered, dragging in a bound and gagged woman with short dark bangs and bowl cut. Her face was wet with tears and smeared with a little dry blood. He threw her at Negan's feet. She pulled herself up on her knees, weeping around the fabric stuffing her mouth.
"Jadis? Fuck," Jared laughed and moved forward to remove her muzzle. "You knocked her up?"
Negan denied it. "Fuck no. Not me. Lucien is my only heir to the throne. His mother, god rest her, was a woman of pedigree. Not some trailer trash community pussy."
But Jadis nodded furiously and begged. "Please, Negan. I swear! It's your baby!"
"And why would I believe you," Negan asked calmly over her cries. "You've been tellin' all my secrets to that reporter. You can't be trusted."
"I can! I can! I swear!" She sobbed.
"No, Jadis you really can't. You didn't think I'd find out?" Negan asked, insulted. "Don't you know how many people in this town... in this state, answer to me?
"Yes, I know. Ok. Ok." She wiped her nose and eyes, trying to compose herself. "I messed up, but I'm done with that. I'm not helping them anymore."
Negan went on. "You thought you could rat me out? You thought you could take me down?" He scoffed. "Me and everything I've built? And for what? Because I wouldn't give your Kentucky-fried brother a promotion? Dwight was a fuck up, plain and simple..."
Jadis grimaced at the disrespectful mention of her brother. But she knew better than to dispute Negan now. The slippery slope she found herself on was getting steeper and steeper.
"Look, Negan, please. I'll go away. I won't ask you for anything. I'll take my baby. Go away. You'll never have to see me again. I just want to be safe with my baby. I'll do whatever you say! Please!
"Hey, Pieman. You hearin' this?" Negan got Simon's attention. "She'll do whatever I say. Isn't that your game?"
Simon's eyes fell to Jadis. His long legs closed the distance between them and he snatched her up by her arm and got her on her feet. Jerking her along, he pulled her towards the only exit in the room.
"No! What kind of man are you? Negan, please! What kind of man are you? Negan…" Jadis gave up trying to soften the man with all the power. She dropped to her knees again, desperate enough to beg the tattooed sociopath taking orders. "Simon, please! Please don't hurt me! Please!"
Negan callously mocked her with a grin. "Now you know Simon, Ann." He parodied her real name, saying it with contempt. "If he don't get to hurt somebody, it'll ruin his whole day."
Ignited by their lack of pity, Jadis gave up begging and blew up like a powder keg. "You didn't have to kill him! You didn't have to kill my brother!" She went kicking in Simon's grip. "You're gonna be exposed! One day someone's gonna burn all this shit to the ground! Dale and that sheriff are gonna make sure you're behind bars! Fuck you! Fuck all this shit! Somebody's gonna stop you!"
"Even if someone could, you won't be around to see it." He shooed her off. "Simmer down. Simon's gonna take you for a swim."
Jadis jerked and fought and screamed. Simon barely broke a sweat to restrain her but suddenly, without a word of warning, he paused in the doorway. His inked-over hand splayed across the side of her face and slammed her head against the metal frame.
The hollow thwack made all the abducted women in the room simultaneously grimace and cover their mouths in an effort to swallow their loud gasps of horror.
Simon lifted her limp body and tossed her up on his shoulder like she was a bag of dirty laundry.
Though Jadis was now completely unconscious, Negan couldn't help but take another jab at her for the amusement of the men in the room. "Oh and when you see your stutterin' retard of a brother, tell him I sent you."
Michonne sat as inconspicuous as possible, trying to take in as much as she could. So far she figured Negan was a chauvinistic, racist human trafficker and definitely in charge. Simon was the muscle, and completely deranged. Merle was a scared baby-murdering flunkie. Jared was a lowlife, kidnapping pimp and the doctor was just an ass.
But she couldn't quite figure out the quiet skinny guy in the corner of the room. He kept his eyes trained on her and she stared right back. So focused she barely heard when Negan finally addressed her.
"So Michonne," he spoke to her like he'd known her forever. Like he hadn't just sentenced one woman to die and orchestrated the selling of young girls, he continued in a laid back casual tone. "I bet you're wonderin' what you're doin' here."
He wheeled Doctor Anderson's office chair over to her and took a seat. "Old Merle tried everything to get me to keep you out of this. He thought it would be counterproductive. But, I built this organization from the ground up. I know how to put a team together. I'm a very effective recruiter. I want what I want… and I usually get it."
"Well, what do you want? Who the hell are you trying to recruit? I know it's not me."
Negan sputtered out a laugh. "No, of course… no." He leaned back casually in the chair, stretched his legs and crossed his ankles. "I saw something remarkable a few weeks ago."
He spoke in awe as he explained, "I saw a man stand up to an angry mob in Robinson Park. He inspired his deputies to hold down the fort. Even though they were vastly outnumbered by thugs and mongrels. They all stood there under his leadership disciplined and ready."
Negan clapped excitedly. "That's what I need for the Aryan Emergence! More leaders. When I started this thing, all I had was a handful of klansmen sittin' around hatin' niggers and scratchin' their asses. Now, I have an army on a mission. Puttin' Rick on my roster will get us goin' full throttle. I need to get myself in a room with your sheriff."
Michonne cut her eyes at Negan, unimpressed. "Ever heard of being careful what you ask for?"
"Oh, I'm so scared…" Negan feigned a shiver down his spine. "Look, I know. I know he'll be upset at first. But as Vito Corleone would say, 'I'm gonna make him an offer he can't refuse." He wiggled his brows excitedly. "See one thing you don't know about the white man is we're born to dominate. It's in our blood. When I give 'your boo' a taste of real power and an understandin' of his real purpose, he's gonna fall right in line."
"I'll have Daryl here go get him and bring him here when the sun comes up. Right now, we're lettin' him stew in his juices. I think it'll be good for your boyfriend to really feel what it would be like to lose you." Negan pontificated arrogantly, "If he loves you, he'll choose wisely. If not, we'll sell you off and keep throwin' his life down the shitter until he goes back to the bottle or blows his brains out like his buddy."
Michonne was done with Negan. There was obviously no point in trying to talk sense to him. She questioned Daryl instead, "How could you betray Rick like this?" He could read the hurt clearly on her face. "How?"
But Negan answered for him, seemingly insulted. "Rick is the traitor. The white race is his family and he turns his back on all of us for a damn jungle bunny? We ain't betrayin' him. We're tryin' to help him find his way home. And you're gonna help him come to his senses."
"He doesn't belong with you," Daryl spoke up, though his voice was small in the midst of all the passion in the room. Negan faced him again, beaming with pride as his promising recruit continued, "Rick is a strong white man and he has an obligation to his people to make the white race stronger."
Pete added, "Yeah. Not pollute it with dirty African DNA."
"Everyone on the planet has African DNA, 'doctor'." Michonne countered Pete Anderson scornfully. "That's where civilization started. Read a damn book."
"Oh, come on, don't start." Negan waved her off.
Jared joined in to mock her. "Next thing she's gonna tell us is that niggers were kings and queens..."
"No, I'm gonna tell you that we ARE kings and queens." Michonne said as she pulled herself up by the prison bars beside her. Most of her right side was numb but she wanted to deliver her response standing up to the unapologetic bigots. Without even realizing, she channeled Hugh August and looked down on Negan in the chair before her. "And 'the nigger' is one of the white man's few inventions."
The man leading the S.O.C. was tickled by her gumption. "If black men are kings, what are you doing with Rick Grimes," he asked smugly, expecting to shut her argument up entirely.
"Are you paying attention?" Michonne answered him without missing a beat. She looked Negan in the eye and raised a confident brow. Invoking all the poise of Gayle August, she tossed her long locs over her shoulder with her chin held high and replied, "I just told you I'm a queen. And a queen will do as she pleases."
Negan stood up to the defiant woman. His tall frame loomed over her, but her stance didn't falter as he stared her down. He could hear some of the girls behind her snicker. They were amused by the way she spoke to him, refusing to be intimidated. As much as Michonne intrigued him, he couldn't be made to look a fool.
He snatched her by her hair. Not speaking a word for a moment. Just looking her over. Nose to nose. She reacted for a split second from the pain across her scalp, then her face turned to stone. She refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her moved by anything he chose to do to her.
This close to her, Negan thought he could see something of what Rick must've seen. The woman had an aura like lightning. An alluring beauty. A softness like the one he'd seen in footage from the riot and a hardness that he was witnessing now. Her duality made her remarkable.
He thought he must've been going mad if he was becoming attracted to a fully black woman. It was always Negan's belief that the only way a black woman could be appealing is if her blackness was diluted somehow. He was known for calling dark skin, full features and kinky hair "positively primate." But he considered that there are exceptions to every rule.
He softened his grip and examined closely the cord-like crop of her hair with amazement. Quickly snapping himself out of it, a devilish satisfaction spread across his face. He bounced her hair in his hand, feeling the weight of it. He let her go and stepped away. "Do me a favor, Jared. Grab a pair of scissors and relieve our little queen of her crown."
Pete Anderson put on a wicked smile as he opened a drawer in a cabinet full of medical supplies and pulled out a pair of bandage shears. Fixated greedily on Michonne's angry eyes, he walked the tool back and handed it off to Jared.
"Maybe I can just pull it off," Jared joked, looking around at the other men. He tugged at her hair. "Is this one of those weaves?"
Michonne understood that despite any protest, she was outnumbered. She could fight if she wanted but the five men in that room could do anything they wanted to her. She would be at their mercy. Which she'd already seen was in short supply in the time since she'd woken up.
Still, as Jared happily threaded a group of locs through the blades of the scissors, Michonne turned to his face and spit directly in his eyes.
"You bitch," he exclaimed. On reflex, he slapped her across the face.
The doctor kicked at her deadened side, the force bringing her to her knees again. Jared joined her on the floor, wrestling her to all fours. The doctor stepped over her confining her neck between his legs, virtually sitting on her back like she was some kind of animal.
"Get off of me! No! Get off… stop!" Michonne tried and tried but it was impossible for her to get up. In the midst of her fight, she consciously mourned her long healthy hair, knowing she'd soon give out. It was only a matter of time.
It was agonizing for Daryl to watch. Any attempt to intervene could be seen as insubordination or worse, unpatriotic. Still, Daryl spoke up nervously, "Hey," he called as they struggled, "I thought we were gonna keep her in good shape until Grimes gets here?"
Merle watched on, his stomach in knots. He knew Rick. He'd worked with the man so long, he knew reprisals for this would be severe.
This was exactly why he didn't want to bring Michonne here. Once men get together with all their power, all their egos, their violent nature, they become like a wild pack of dogs. Uncontrollable.
"Merle, get in there and help hold her still," Negan commanded.
But even as he moved to obey his superior, the older Dixon echoed his brother, "Are we sure we wanna be doin' this?"
Negan ignored the Dixons as he watched with glee. He laughed along with the other two when he said, "Hey, Jared. Give her a mohawk."
Just when she had no more strength and she couldn't make her body join the revolt with another swing, Negan's walkie activated over a secure channel. They all stopped to listen. "Jeffries, we're almost here. South gate in 5 minutes."
…
Hugh made a dash from the treeline just outside O'day ranch. Tight in his grip was the long black 45 caliber handgun. He could see the main house, the windows glowing yellow, up on a hill to the east.
A row of large rectangular barns sat to the west surrounded by darkness. White bulbs sent a tent of light over the entrances where shadowy armed figures walked about keeping guard. The gated entrance just off the old dirt road was held by security as well. Plain clothes, trained but not professionals. Hugh could tell.
They were far out in the sticks, with nothing around for miles. A military strategist, he agreed the need for an airtight shield against intruders would've been overkill. Erecting watchtowers, flood lights, visible heavy artillery could have attracted the kind of scrutiny an illicit organization wanted to avoid. It was smart to keep the place looking nearly deserted.
He didn't know what was waiting for them beyond those gates, but he smiled to himself as he came alive in a way he only felt with a gun in his hand. Hugh crouched and ran along the wooden rail fence. The spaces between slats were small enough to keep animals from getting out, but not low enough to keep a man crawling on his belly from getting in.
On his feet again, he came up behind the single pickup truck blocking the driveway. One man slept, cuddled up to himself behind the wheel, cozy from the heat of the running engine. Another leaned against the hood having a cigarette under the moon.
Mr. August's tightly tied booted feet stepped ever so lightly. Gravel can be dangerously noisy underfoot. Especially for a man of his size. Hugh, however, moved like a ghost. Unheard, until the bullet zipped through the air from his silencer. The body of the nicotine-puffing lookout thumped against the front of the truck before crumpling to the ground.
The slight thud woke up the snoring hillbilly in the driver's seat. But before he could orient himself, Hugh was pulling open his door. The man fell backwards out of the truck and landed on his back at the foot of the menacing Marine.
The wide white smile of a black man, illuminated by the truck's overhead cabin light was the last thing he saw. A quick shot between his eyes robbed him of any final words.
Hugh hopped in, put the gear in reverse and flashed the headlights out past the road where Rick and Tyreese were waiting for his signal in the Buick.
Not the cruiser. Not the government car that read "to protect and serve". Rick was only there to protect Michonne. The only thing he was there to serve was holy hell upon her kidnappers.
The brown shearling suede jacket he wore advertised no county insignia. The white t-shirt underneath and his dark curls were already damp with sweat despite the frigid temp.
"Grab his legs," Hugh nodded to one of the bodies lying on the ground. A shot to the temple left the Savior's face a bloody mess. Rick went to work, helping Hugh move the corpse out of sight.
Tyreese bent double behind the truck and vomited, overcome by the gory sight. Rick put a hand on his back. "Hey, man. If this is too much for you, there's no shame in stayin' here. This can be as far as you go."
"No the hell it can't!" Hugh walked up to the next body. "We're not coddling anybody tonight. And you better get your head right, Williams. Because this is what it's gonna take to save Michonne. Did you think we were going to get here and ask them nicely to let her go?"
Tyreese stood up wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "No, but..."
"Ok, So get over here and grab these legs."
Rick ignored Michonne's father and focused only on Tyreese. "You don't have to do that."
Hugh heckled his daughter's childhood friend. "I've never known you to be a coward, boy." His voice, full of contempt, rolled like building thunder.
"I'm not a coward. But I'm not a killer either."
Hugh stepped over the body at his feet. He approached the young man with quick long strides. Tyreese retreated a step, still Hugh closed the distance. "You can either kill or be killed."
"Whoa, whoa!" Rick wedged himself between the two men. "What the hell are you sayin'? You're threatening him?" He couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"That's not a threat. That's the truth. A black man can't choose the high road forever. Sooner or later he's going to have to stoop down to a level he loathes in order to rise higher or he's just the walking dead."
"Why do you have to push and push and push?" Rick was perplexed. "Whatever we do as men, we have to be able to look ourselves in the mirror. To stand on our own decisions." Rick stressed, "So they have to be our decisions alone. That's what you don't understand. You don't get to decide for people how far they need to go. You don't get to 'command' Michonne to terminate a pregnancy. You don't get to 'order' Tyreese past the point of no return."
"I'm not going with y'all, Hugh." Tyreese stood tall. "If it wasn't for me, we'd still be trying to find out where she is. There's more than one way to fight. You do it with a gun. I don't. That doesn't make me less of a man than you."
Hugh fell silent and sneered at them both as he walked back to drag away his kill. "You ain't less than a man. But what kind of man are you?"
Rick followed him, satisfied that the argument was over. But they were all stopped in their tracks when the Savior's walkie talkie crackled from the bench seat in the truck.
"Come in south gate," a voice alerted everyone in the channel's range.
"South gate? That's where we are." Tyreese realized with wide eyes.
"Fuck." Rick breathed as he raced to answer the hail. He cleared his throat and pretended to cough to cover any difference in his voice that may have been noticed when he responded. "Go 'head."
"Negan just got the call. Our guests will be there in 3 minutes. And they don't like to wait. So you and Miller, look alive out there."
Rick couldn't ignore the irony as he looked to where Hugh was emerging from the darkness after lugging the recently dispatched Miller and his buddy out of view. "Roger that," was all the sheriff would venture.
The other side laughed through the speaker. "Roger that? Governor Blake comin' to the ranch got you gettin' all fancy with the lingo, huh?" Rick was chastised by the unknown man. The government title along with the all too familiar name set his ears to ringing.
The S.O.C. member advised him with sour bluntness, "Just keep your eyes down, your guard up, the gate open and your mouth closed. For Christ's sake, Dennis. You're such a kiss ass."