No Sanctuary For Old Men [18+] |Negan| ✔️ Complete

XLII • Ambiguous

Alexandria was quite the fortress.

A smattering of people up on the wall gaped down at the caravan of trucks with wide eyes as Negan sauntered up to the gate. Daphne and Arat flanked him, guns at the ready.

He was relaxed and cocky as ever as he banged on the gate with Lucille firmly in his fist.

"Little pig, little pig, let me in!" he bellowed, and Daphne stifled a giggle. Arat simply rolled her eyes.

The Lara Croft looking chick from a few nights back shoved the gate open, murder in her steely gaze.

"You said a week," she seethed, and Negan simply chuckled as he brushed past her, twirling the bat like a baton.

"I believe I fuckin' said 'every week', hellcat," he drawled as he waved in the convoy. "Did anybody taking fuckin' meeting minutes? What the hell am I paying you all for? Where's my fuckin' secretary?!" He grinned and leaned to the side, plopping Lucille on his shoulder. "You want to apply for the fuckin' job? That ass of yours would look fan-fucking-tastic in a pencil skirt."

The woman clenched her jaw, hand twitching over her gun holster.

"I guess not." Negan waved over a few Saviors that were jumping down out of a transport truck. "I'm gonna need that fuckin' gun though sweetheart." He opened his hand expectantly to her.

She didn't move, and both Arat and Daphne immediately raised their weapons. The woman scowled and tossed her gun in the dirt, stalking away from the situation in a huff.

"Who's in fuckin' charge here?!" Negan bellowed, wandering up the main street of what was clearly suburbia. "I bet Rick is still laid up, so who is second in command? Is this any way to greet your new King?"

People reluctantly emerged from their homes, looking disheveled from sleep in the early morning sun.

He spread his arms, spinning around to face his lieutenants. "This place is fuckin' beautiful. What do you think, ladies, summer home here? I bet Rick the Prick would give us a good fuckin' price on one of these babies."

Daphne snorted. The neighbours might have a problem with that.

"Hi." A guy with perfectly styled dark hair and business casual attire jogged down the steps of a nearby house. He offered his hand with a smile. "I'm Spencer."

Negan laughed incredulously. "You are most certainly fuckin' not Rick's successor," he said, but shook the guy's hand regardless. "Look at those fuckin' clothes. You ever even been outside these walls?"

"My mother was the mayor of this town," Spencer said, ignoring the question. Daphne almost admired his charisma, though she could see the blatant fear behind the mask. "Rick took over, and now my mother and brothers are dead. You took care of Rick. So I'd like to take care of you."

"How long you been practicing that fuckin' speech, frat boy?" Negan asked, voice low and conspiratorial.

Spencer wavered, licking his lips nervously. "Look, there are a few of us that have been tolerating Rick because of his manpower, but when you-"

"A few of you?" The leather clad man bellowed. "Are they all soft little fuckin' politicians like you? Why don't you scurry back to city hall and tell everyone Uncle Negan's fuckin' come to visit. I only want to talk to people who are fuckin' providing for me. If you and your 'few' have just been sitting around eating up fuckin' resources then you're useless to the New World Order."

His stance was relaxed but his presence intimidating enough to send Spencer rushing back into his house, tail between his legs. A seemingly endless pack of Saviors gathered in the street, and Negan whirled around to face them.