Okay, so I don't think Pete's storytelling would've given you this much. Pete himself probably won't KNOW this much, no matter how well the gossip runs at the Sanctuary. So we'll stick to limited omniscient 3rd person variable focus.

SEE THAT HOUSE'S STILL WON'T GO FAR

When Negan reached the base of the hill and drove out from between the two rusted-out cars that hid the driveway entrance, another biker was waiting. "Hold this asshole, Oak. Fitz! Start up for Dozer's hog." Negan ordered. A second biker started up the hillside on foot. The big biker standing nearby seized Pete and cleared his throat as Negan dismounted. Negan glared at him. "What, Oak?! What is it?"

"I almost told Fitz to shoot the new sniper, but we couldn't tell what she was shootin' at. Aimin' all over the place. I'm sorry."

Pete cringed. "Ann Gee can't shoot. She's House's hooker."

Negan glared at Pete. "And she didn't have a kid named Jacob or a boyfriend named Mike either, did she?"

Pete looked at him, shocked. "Not that I know of. He kept me workin' in the kitchen when they went at it. Said he was always hungry an hour after. She was pretty hot; I guess he thought I'd peek."

Negan blinked. "You weren't there for it when he said. . ." Negan shook himself. "Why did the two old ladies turn on us? He say a code word?" He frowned hard.

Pete blanched and shook his head. "House had a code using different states but didn't say one. Florida was trading partners, Maine meant people who would be sneaky about killing us, Kentucky was people who would rape us all and kill us when they got tired of torturing us." He saw Negan grit his teeth. "Did he say Kentucky? I didn't hear him give a code, though! I figured we were really splittin' up! I wouldn't have come to be raped, Pharaoh Negan. Let me cook for you instead."

"You won't be raped, and why are you calling me Pharaoh?!" Negan looked at Pete in annoyance.

"You smiled when House said it earlier. He told me once that was code too. It means you have a pyramid scheme, but he never said what that was."

Negan snorted. "No titles. Get on." He mounted his bike.

"Is 'Mr.' a title?" Pete climbed on.

Negan blinked, then smiled. "I believe it is, Pete." He turned back to Oak. "I'm gonna head over to Viper's place. This guy can make possum spaghetti taste good."

Pete nodded. "You got oregano over there?"

Negan grinned. "Yeah. Take down that fence and run the herd straight uphill, Oak, 'cause there's not but three of 'em left. Then find a truck and take their still. Don't touch the water tower till Viper gets here. Booby traps. House WAS tellin' the truth about that, wasn't he?"

"Yeah. I saw the bombs and spring-load knives."

Negan nodded in approval. He drove away, signaling one biker to follow him. The remaining thirty of Negan's men, carrying mangled chain link fences, chairs, cracked riot gear, and rusty metal roofing, drove the small remaining herd through the fence as they downed it and straight toward the steep embankment—

. . . and a tsunami came down the hill, crushing everything in its path. Nearly a mile away uphill and to one side, well clear of the destruction, Negan, Pete, and the other biker stopped to turn and look. Negan's eyebrows twitched. "Shit, House." He turned and motored away.

Nine days later, a man in a muddy vest walked over the dried silt to the edge of the road where Negan sat on his bike, frowning. The man shook his head. "Nothing intact up there, Negan. You were lookin' for a still?"

Seeing Negan nod, the man shrugged. "Nothin' bigger'n a flat cooking pot; I never seen one of those before. I've never seen anything like this. Why'd you blow up the water tower?"

Negan shook his head. "Don't ask me about that. What happened here was because they weren't properly respectful. Remember Steph?"

The man licked his lips. "I do. She was with me a couple times."

"They killed her."

The man nodded grimly. "I get it. You want no survivors. You got 'em all, then?"

Negan frowned. "I kept one. They didn't have him in on their plans. He makes a damn good cook, if you just watch how much he samples. Clear it out, everything useful. Be careful. I hear you had to put down a couple a guys."

The man thumped his chest. "Two guys fell in a mud-covered pond. Six heads with barely more than an arm attached each crawled on 'em like demon snakes. One of the guys was eaten alive, the other almost got out. One bite. He told us to put him down when the fever hit. We did."

Negan nodded. "Bring it all to the Sanctuary." He rode off.

The man with the mud-covered vest turned to see a small red-haired man with a neck tattoo smiling at him. "What?"

The small man pointed. "They found something! It's right against the road on the other side of the truck! We never would've found it under the broken stuff but for the noise. Seven plastic barrels lashed together. Four full of ratty Styrofoam burst, but the middle three got a hose between 'em. They're about to get the moving one's lid off."

The man with the mud-covered vest blinked. "Moving one?"

"Yeah."

They trotted around the truck. Two men were cursing over their work with two rusty pairs of pliers, one bent. The barrel was on its side, jerking a bit every second or two. Finally, one of them tore loose a critical piece of metal rim. The lid came away forcibly, pushed by two decaying feet wearing high-heeled shoes with the high heels missing. The undead awkwardly climbed out feet-first and struggled to its feet. It was wearing a closed, dirty yellow raincoat and a dirtier blonde wig, and it had a bank envelope taped to its front with the words, 'Negan's tribute' written on it in black magic marker. Unnoticed, a dirty, greenish, translucent tube ran from inside the barrel up the raincoat out of sight. One of the men stepped forward with a knife and ended the undead figure, gracefully snatching the envelope. "It's empty!" he called as the body fell. There was the sound of a striker. Three half-empty oxygen tanks blew up, shrapnel killing seven of the ten people scavenging nearby.

Yeah, House has come to terms with killing indirectly, and has even become skilled and efficient at it. Setting booby traps is just an extension of pranking your enemy to death if they're stupid enough to fall for it. Thank you for reading. I am pleased to announce that I've come in second so far on Hairy's metrical title challenge.