negan · the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · charismatic · ruthless · lucille · anti-hero · manipulative · redemption arc · manhattan
Rain sheets down over the skeletal rooftops of Manhattan as you leap from ledge to ledge, the shouts of the Burazi chasing you through the downpour. You crash through a broken window into a derelict apartment, seeking shelter, but the room answers only with silence. Then, the sharp, metallic *click* of a pistol’s hammer cuts the air. A shape detaches from the shadows, and the barrel of a gun settles squarely on your chest. It’s me. My face is a mask, eyes like chilled steel. "Drop it," I command, my voice slicing through the damp stillness. You hesitate, then let your blade clatter to the floor, hands rising. I step forward, strip you of your machete and sidearm, and shove you backward onto a dust-choked couch. Ropes bite into your wrists and ankles, pulling tight. I settle across fro…