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

XXXVIII • First Day on Earth

Nineteen trucks. Twenty four motorcycles. Seven packs of Saviors armed with enough artillery to take over the White House. Every single one of them with white hot adrenaline ravaging their veins.

The enemy was on the move, seven males and four females in an RV. One of the females hadn't looked very well, needing to be supported by two others to get into the vehicle. They were heading northwest, suspected to be going for Hilltop.

The first roadblock on the main road was led by Arat, who sat calmly atop the roof of her truck, munching on an apple like she'd stopped for a family picnic. The rats saw themselves out manned and slowly turned tail to flee down another route.

The second roadblock was Regina's, and she greeted them with a flamethrower and a walker barbecue. The tires of the RV squealed as the rats backed away from the flaming undead shuffling towards them, arms outstretched for an extra warm hug.

The third roadblock, and the one that would really turn the tide for this excellent little game, was Simon's. His leg neatly bandaged beneath his slacks, he stood tall to show no weakness as he smirked beneath his signature moustache. The lead rat got out of the vehicle this time, flanked by a dread-locked woman with a sword and a teenager with an eye patch and a ridiculously large sheriff's hat.

"You treating your people good in there?" Simon drawled, arms crossed. "What if this was your last day on earth?"

The clicks of thirty seven rifles accentuated his point, and sweat dripped from the lead rat's nose. They stared each other down, the Saviors a formidable wall versus the three lone figures on the road.

"What if it's one of theirs?" Simon nodded to the boy, who's visible eye narrowed. "Go on, little mice, get where you're goin'." His face broke into a massive grin, and the mice obeyed, heading back through their maze.

Meanwhile, groups of Saviors sabotaged every single road behind and ahead of the RV, with trees and walkers and cars and anything they could find. The little mice in their rodent ball were successfully corralled, yet still they plotted to outsmart their overlords.

The mice took their sick comrade on a stretcher and took to the woods on foot, sending the RV out as a decoy with a lone driver. It was Letty, the ever watchful scout, that witnessed this, and then the game stepped up to the next level.

It wasn't difficult to subdue the one squishy and afraid mouse driving his vehicle and swing it around right where it was supposed to be. He folded like cookie dough, nose breaking like butter.

Radio silence.

The first whistle was Regina's, as the last rays of sunlight disappeared over the horizon, satisfied with the panicked breathing of the little group stealing through the trees. They scurried as fast as they could with the stretcher.

When more whistles floated through the woods, they gave up on being quiet and bolted, stumbling over roots in the dark, shouting encouragement at each other.

Arat's shriek of a whistle startled them in just the right direction, and the group burst into the clearing.

The end of the maze.

Only there was no cheese here. When the lights came up on ten terrified faces, trapped by the whistling Saviors, they stared into the mouth of justice.

Daphne sat perched on the pilfered RV, legs crossed, leaning on one hand to look down upon the successful experiment below. Rick, the bearded leader, looked up at her with desperation in his eyes, and she returned it with icy calculation. He looked like a man who had tried everything, had believed so hard that he could pull through, only to find that he was well and properly fucked.

She watched them, unable to stay still, banding around the stretcher in a protective bubble, heads darting around like startled chickens.

"Welcome, welcome!" Simon bellowed, spreading his arms in a very Negan-like manner, and the whistling abruptly stopped. "I hope you've all been super fucking nice to each other on your little excursion." He grinned. "Now we'll kindly take your weapons."

"Please," Rick pleaded, voice breathless. "We can make a deal."

"Oh, you already sealed yourself a deal when you snuck into our outpost and murdered a bunch of our men in their sleep." Simon's voice hardened at the second half of his sentence, but then he laughed loudly, causing more than one of Rick's group to startle. "It's hilarious, actually, that you thought taking out that little building would get rid of us. That there weren't more of us." He motioned to the fortress of men and women surrounding them. "Take a look around at all of the faces staring at you right now. I'll give you a pro tip - this still isn't even close to all of us."

Some of them did look around some more, wide eyed. Three of them even had the intelligence to look regretful. One giant of a man with flaming red hair, however, had the audacity to glare at his new captors as if he had something to prove. He caught Daphne's eyes and she winked at him, bouncing her crossed leg casually. His gaze was challenging but he broke it first, continuing to assess his enemies.

"That isn't to say that each and every Savior you killed didn't have a special place in our ranks," Simon continued. "And regardless of how many people stand before you today, and how many are scattered across this great land of the New World Order, we are deeply saddened by the loss of our friends. You have made a fuckload of enemies with your actions, and now you're going to have to deal with the consequences of your actions." He crossed his arms. "Now, if you please. Hand over your weapons."

Rick looked like he was trying not to visibly shake as he removed his gun from its holster. The group gently lowered the stretcher to the ground, and followed his lead, reluctantly pulling their weapons. Saviors swooped in to pluck every last gun and knife, leaving them defenseless to their fate.

Daphne got a good look at the woman on the stretcher, noting how pasty she looked. When she put a protective hand over her belly, the blonde clenched her fist, realizing that this was the pregnant chick. None of the other women looked older than thirty five, so the other hostage Paula had taken must have been back in Alexandria. But this was certainly one of the two.

"Excellent work!" Simon clapped his hands in applause. "We're off to a great start! Now let's see how you do on your next task. I'll need you all over there with your mulleted friend, on your knees." He motioned to the lone driver who'd tried so hard to be a good decoy, blood running from his nostrils and tears shamelessly running from his eyes.

The group hesitated to move, nonchalantly looking to Rick for guidance. Daphne rolled her eyes. Was there even a question that they could make a stand at this point? He was stubborn, for sure, but were they that stupid?

"Come on now, let's make a nice semi-circle," Simon urged, waving them backwards. 

Rick let out an almost inaudible moan, turning towards the pregnant girl on the ground. He and a little Asian guy lifted her to her feet, and the group slowly shuffled over to their failure of a teammate. 

A line of Saviors spread out behind them to direct them where to kneel. Arat was among them, and she positioned herself directly behind Rick. He was the last one standing, and she cocked her gun.

"On your knees, there," Simon sounded almost gentle. "The lovely lady behind you won't hesitate to strangle you with your intestines, be sure of that." 

Daphne snorted, earning more than a few bewildered looks from the kneeling Alexandrians. She wondered how often Simon and Arat did the good cop/bad cop routine.

Rick lowered himself to one knee almost in slow motion, and she studied the helpless desperation in his eyes as he did so. When the second knee hit the dirt, there was a palpable sense of triumph amongst the Saviors. These eleven men and women, the ones responsible for killing so many, on their knees in the dirt ready to be served up on a silver platter.

"Right then, we all comfy cozy?" Simon asked, clapping his hands again. "Okay, let's meet the man!"