I think I liked you better when you didn't have a knife in your hand, Peaches

Big, Bad Reputation

"...'Cause I'm Negan."

Just three words. That was all the dark-haired man had to utter for the sound of panicked whispers to surround them suddenly.

The man named Charles stared quickly around at his people who all seemed to be shifting on their feet, looking agitated.

For Blake knew that Negan was a notorious spectre even in these parts. Known to everyone for what had to be, hundreds of miles around.

Just his name alone uttered in hushed tones was a thing of grotesque legend, and everyone here had obviously heard what he was capable of.

But while Charles stared around wild eyed, Negan and Blake kept their eyes fixed on him...ready...waiting...

"Stop it!" he hissed out to the couple of men nearest to him. But it was no use. There even came a sudden cry from one of the women behind them as Charles stared her way, lips parted, watching in horror as the integrity of his group fell apart around him.

But he tried to keep his cool as best he could, merely turning back to Negan with a sneer, giving Negan's chest a hard shove with the barrel of his gun.

"Never heard of you," he said, grimacing. "And I really couldn't give a fuck who you are. You see, we're taking your van-"

He nodded towards Lucille, still in Negan's hand.

"-your weapons, and anything else you've got. Now either you hand it all over, or I'm gonna be putting a bullet through both your skulls'."

"Charles!" came a sudden pleading voice from behind them.

Blake glanced around to see a woman in her late fifties, with sand-coloured hair, step out of the surrounding circle of people.

"Please," she continued, her brown eyes full of despereation. "You dont know who this is-"

But Charles cut her off angrily.

"I don't give a fuck who this is, Martha!" he yelled suddenly. He was breathing hard now, his cheeks looking pink. "They either give us what they have, or we kill them. Fair and square. This was the plan."

But Martha wasn't looking at Charales anymore, instead she took a step forward, her eyes darting back and forth between Negan and Blake.

"Please," she said, entwining her fingers before her in a gesture of prayer, and shaking her head. "I am so sorry. If we'd have known who you were we'd have never-"

"Martha, what the fuck are you doing?-" Charles shouted again, sounding furious.

But again the woman ignored him, and this time another man, far younger, with red hair and glasses, nodded feverently, came to stand beside her.

"She's right," he said too, in a pleading voice. "We are so sorry. Truly. Charles...H-He doesn't speak for all of us, I swear. W-We were just desperate. We thought up this stupid plan, and-"

"ENOUGH!" cried Charles, his voice echoing through the clearing, stopping the young boy mid-way through his sentence.

He was breathing hard now through his nose, looking enraged.

He turned back to Negan, wrinkling his nose and baring his teeth.

"Look I don't care who you are, Asshole," he snarled out. "This was supposed to be just a simple grab and go, no one had to get hurt, but, hey, you had to mess things up for yourselves."

Charles looked down at the gun in his hands.

"Now...well....now you haven't given me a choice," he said, his adam's apple sliding down his throat as he gave a hard swallow, before he stared back up at Negan, his beady eyes meeting with the Saviour's dark and angry ones " I guess I'm going to have to kill you both, AND take your shit."