While Rick expresses his distrust of Ezekiel, Michonne learns more about their host at Kingdom. Negan continues to show his disturbing philosophy of life while Carol and Daryl learn what Dwight has to tell them about Sanctuary.

The Eye of the Tiger

It's the eye of the tiger
It's the thrill of the fight
Rising up to the challenge of our rival
And the last known survivor
Stalks his prey in the night
And he's watching us all with the eye...
...of the tiger...
- Survivor, 1982

Kingdom

"I don't like him." Rick said sullenly, taking another big swig of the local hooch, a fermented apple cider with a bit of a kick.

Jesus gave him a serious look of consideration, using some of the garlicky lavash flat bread to clean the savory drippings of the rabbit stew out of his bowl. Kingdom had an excellent woman in charge of the community kitchens, a former elementary school cook who rivaled Carol's ability to make delicious meals out of assorted canned foods, the herbs and veg they grew and the game they could hunt.

"That wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that your girl there, Michonne, does?" the cook asked Rick, offering him more stew, which he declined, sullenly refilling his mug instead.

"Now Ruth, man's got a right to his opinions. Don't stay alive long in this world trusting everyone you meet." Ben, Ezekiel's right hand man drawled with equanimity. "Might not have anything to do with the fact his gal took a romantic evening stroll with his majesty."

Ruth, a small round Italian woman with graying black hair secured in a tight bun at the back of her neck, chuckled knowingly.

"What?" Rick snapped. "Michonne is her own person. None of my business what she does."

"Or who?" Ben snarked under his breath. The stunning woman visitor with the dreadlocks wouldn't be the first to fall for Ezekiel's charms.

At that Rick stood up, none too steady on his feet and then leaned forward, planting his hands on the table to rebalance himself, and then his head slowly tilted to the side while he stared Ben down with narrowed eyes.

"Fuck you." Rick growled in a low menacing voice and then lurched backwards, stopped from falling off the bench only by Jesus' strong arm around his back.

"Hey now, buddy, take it easy." Jesus said soothingly, helping Rick stand until the other man angrily pushed him away.

"I came here to get help taking down the bastard... the monster that has my son and some of the most important people in the world to me." Rick seethed at them all, "I haven't seen anything yet that tells me your puffed up excuse for a king has any idea how to help me do that. So no, I don't like him."

Then he carefully stepped back over the bench and drew himself up to his full height. Fighting the wave of dizziness that passed over his face, he turned to go, but at the last second turned back to the people at the table and added,

"And if he screws around and hurts Michonne, I'll beat the shit out of him."

"Shiva was in the National Zoo, almost starved to death. I found her there, nursed her back to health. Guess she thinks she owes me. She's not tame, but she listens to what I tell her n' she's hell on dead ones... seems to hate them as much as we do." Ezekiel told Michonne while looking fondly at the big cat.

"You were from D.C.?" Michonne asked, watching as the tiger paced back and forth in the large metal barred enclosure that took up half the space in the Kingdom leader's quarters.

"Baltimore." he said, looking over at her, "My group went to D.C. looking for answers. Mostly found the city abandoned. We went to the big stone cathedral there to shelter—there's a basement crypt—the zoo wasn't that far so we went there scavenging for supplies—thought they'd have vet supplies, antibiotics and the like."

"Good thought—we found anti-virals and other meds at a vet college." Michonne nodded.

"Where you're from? Georgia?" he asked shrewdly, giving her a calculating look.

"Yes... Atlanta..." she said slowly, giving him a raised eyebrow look, "How'd you know?"

"I listen; I know accents." He said, looking pleased with himself.

"So just what were you...before the Turn?" Michonne asked him, wondering if she could hear truth or just more B.S. in his explanation. After the kiss he'd tried to convince her to come to his room with the excuse of needing to check on the cat, but she knew a line when she heard one. He wanted her in his bed or wherever else he could have her. Out of curiosity she went, but had no intention of sleeping with him.

Ezekiel tilted his head in a move so like Rick's signature look that Michonne chuckled and had to put her hand in front of her mouth to keep from letting the smile devolve into a full out laugh. Men.

The other man frowned at her.

"You aren't as smooth as you think you are, Zeke." Michonne smiled.

"Damn." Ezekiel said, his voice lighter than she'd heard it before, more than a trace of humor in it. He crossed to the bedside table and offered her a drink, which she declined, before pouring himself one from the decanter of wine there. "You're hell on a dude's ego, baby."

"So what's with all the King Arthur crap?" she asked him, "You work at a Medieval Times? Before?"

He looked at her for a long moment as if trying to decide which version of his life he would spin out for her. Something told him her sharp bullshit detector was already tuned in tight to him, so he did something he rarely if ever tried. The truth.

"I was an actor." he told her, "Mostly local theatre in Baltimore and Philly, but a little off-Broadway—kind of a poor man's James Earl Jones..." he held out his arms, showing off the fancy robe. "People like the pageantry, the show, you know?"

"So what about now? Is this all show?" Michonne asked him pensively.

"No—it's ridiculously real. These people follow me, believe in me." He sighed, rubbing his hand over his face, making a decision. "I'll do what I can to help your friends... your family... as much as I can... but Negan? People find themselves doing what he wants because to do otherwise is too frightening to contemplate."

"My friends are strong and I believe in them." Michonne told him. "We've made it through worse."

"Anyone who's still alive at this point is either strong or lucky or both." Ezekiel gave her a sad smile, "Negan's both. He's also a vicious smart son of a bitch convinced of his own righteousness. You go against him and he will do his best to destroy you."

"And anyone who helps us?" Michonne asked, tilting her head at him.

"And he'll make it ugly." Ezekiel nodded.

Sanctuary

"Do you know the difference between them and us, Wade?" Negan asked, sounding contemplative, both of them sitting in lawn chairs atop the RV they used as an observation stand at the edge of the arena, watching the walkers milling about in the stock pens.

"You mean besides the obvious?" his second in command asked with a snort, spitting a stream of chew out over the edge of the RV's roof.

"What? They move, they consume, and they congregate in large numbers giving them greater power..." Negan said. "They bring fear with them... and death, just like us."

"They are death—got no souls—just husks that forgot they ain't supposed to still be moving." Wade scoffed.

"You gettin' philosophical on me there Wade?" Negan chuckled and then he picked up the sniper rifle with a big silencer on the muzzle that he had laid across his lap, sighted it and quietly put a round into the head of a female walker that was missing both arms. When it crumpled and dropped, its place in the milling crowd immediately occupied by another shambling shuffling form.

"There's an endless supply; none of them any more special than another. There's no spark of individuality left in there anymore." Wade shrugged.

"So you think that's the difference? I snuff one of them and it makes no never mind." Negan took aim again, his head shot picking off a second walker missing part of one leg that was limping in confused circles. Then he turned in his chair to where a group of people were working, unloading a truck and carrying supplies inside one of the warehouse containers. One man was noticeably limping, having a hard time keeping up with the rest.

Before Wade understood what was happening, Negan raised the silenced rifle sight to his eye, took a deep breath and fired again. A red spot bloomed over the limping man's chest and seconds later he pitched back and then forward and fell to the ground. The rest of the workers looked confused, two of them kneeling beside the fallen man and turning him over. When they saw the wound in his chest they looked around frantically, staying low.

"Have to cull the herd." Negan said definitively, "No room for the weak. They just hold us back." then he rose and handed the rifle over to Wade, gesturing to the fallen man. "See to it that it goes in the pens before it comes back."

Wade sat silently, his face blank.

The men kneeling by the dead man crouched lower, relaxing when they saw Negan stand and hand Wade the rifle.

Only after he had climbed down off of the RV and walked all the way across the compound, the door closing behind him did the men surrounding the man Negan had just murdered move. One of them looked up at Wade, raising his knife, silently asking permission. Wade nodded yes and the other man swiftly gave mercy to Negan's victim.

"Gerry. His name was Gerry." Wade muttered to himself, angry and sickened. "He was a carpenter and had two kids he loved more than anything. And that's the difference."

"We need a diversion—something to get Negan away from here for a few days—some emergency." Carol said. "But we don't want to send him back to Alexandria or Hilltop..."

"Can't we just kill him?" Dwight asked, impatient with plans and plots. He just wanted to be done with it; to be done with this place.

"What happens then? With no one here to control the rest of them?" Daryl scowled. He was under no illusions about what would happen if the rough men were given free rein to do as they wished. "No, we need him gone, but expected back."

While they all pondered that, Daryl stared at Carol, his brow creasing in worry.

"You gonna be able to travel?" Daryl asked her. He knew it was at least two months too soon for her to have the baby safely. Erin had warned them both about the dangers of preterm delivery. The incubator and supplies that Glenn and the others had been looking for on the trip to Bethesda were supposed to have given them some breathing room.

"If we go today, probably." Carol told him, "There's an OBGYN specialist at Hilltop so that's where we should try for."

"That's at least 30 miles from here—we're gonna need a vehicle." Daryl looked expectantly at Dwight. "Big enough to carry seven people."

"Nine—maybe ten people." Dwight said. At their looks of confusion he elaborated. "Me and Sherry are goin' too. And probably Carson—especially when he finds out his brother's been at Hilltop this whole time and Negan didn't tell him."

"What?" Daryl asked. Carson had said he was looking for his brother when he came to the area. This might be just the leverage they needed to win the doctor over to their side. He could tell the man was already uncomfortable with the situation they were all forced to live under here.

"Yeah—boss knows we need a doctor for his big baby making plans and didn't want to take the chance that Carson would bolt." Dwight confirmed. "He swore me 'n the other guys who went on the runs to Hilltop to silence about the brother; know what they say... blood is thicker..."

Carol looked to Daryl, remembering how he'd left them, left her at the prison, to go off with Merle after Woodbury. He met her eyes and she saw the unspoken guilt and apology there and gave him the barest smile of understanding. He had come back, that was all that mattered now.

"We need to talk to Carson." Carol said.

"Maybe we can kill two birds..." Daryl said. "We need to get Negan outa here today, right?"

"Yeah, so?" Dwight asked, his tone suspicious.

"He'd do just about anything for you, right?" Daryl asked Carol and she frowned at him. "What if Carson tells him he thinks you n' the baby need some special sorta medical equipment that they ain't got here? I can tell him some story about the stuff we were goin' after in Bethesda."

"What if he wants you to go with him, to show him where?" Carol asked, troubled. "Or Carson, to make sure it's the right stuff?"

"Neither one of us can leave your side." Daryl shook his head. "He said as much hisself. Told the two of us you're our responsibility. He don't trust nobody else to be your body guard n' he won't trust any of the rest to go on such a vital mission—he'll go."

"Right—first we get Carson, then when Tara and them are here for the meeting Carol has a spell and we send Negan off on his special mission." Daryl told them. "I signal Aaron and the others and they take care of the rest." The diversion that they'd planned to get Daryl and the others back out of the complex and safely away was risky, but they hadn't had a whole lot of time to plan it. Its main value was that it had worked before for them.

"What about Carl?" Carol asked.

"Your kid? Told you he's fine. Got him stashed in a safe place for now. Too many questions if anyone sees him." Dwight griped.

"I need him with the rest of us— you have to bring him to us; when they bring Rosita and the others." Carol ordered him.

"And Sherry." Dwight stubbornly insisted.

"Are you sure she's gonna be down with leaving? Seems like she's pretty well adjusted to the high life here." Daryl said dubiously. The woman had stripped down in front of him and a room full of Negan's guards, ready to have a threesome with him and another woman while everyone watched. She didn't seem to be exactly pining for her husband.

"That's coz she don't think there's any other way." Dwight said, bleakness underlying his voice. He raised his hand to his scarred face and the tears that constantly flowed from his damaged eye increased. "After Negan did this... I ... I hated her for going back to him... but I know she did it to save me too..."

"You really think you can ... that we can trust her not to give us away?" Carol asked.

"If you promise her a way out... yeah, I do." Dwight said.

"What about the rest of them? Kayla and the other wives?" Carol pressed.

"I don't know... I don't think any of them really want to be here." Dwight said, looking at both her and Daryl. "Do you?"

Daryl grunted at the obvious answer, but Carol looked troubled, placing her hands over her abdomen and looking down.

"We can't take everybody, Carol." Daryl said gently, regretfully, sitting down on the bed beside her and putting his hands over hers.

"We can if we kill him... Negan..." Carol said, her head coming up, the look in her cold blue eyes steely.

AN: Oh Rick.

Negan believes a ruler needs to be feared by his subjects to maintain control, apparently never imagining how easily it turns to hate.

Go Carol.