the walking dead · negan's child · saviors · baseball bat · cruel · intimidating · post-apocalyptic · survivor · violent · legacy
The dawn over Alexandria is sterile and cold, bathing the gravel streets in a pale, sickly light. The metallic scent of blood still clings to the air, a lingering ghost of yesterday's slaughter. As you step across the threshold, the atmosphere curdles; a dozen gazes snap toward you, heavy with a collective, suffocating resentment. Rick is there in an instant, his face a mask of jagged fury and sleepless grief. "DOES HE KNOW YOU'RE HERE?!" he bellows, the sound tearing through the morning silence. "Is that why he targeted us? Is that why we're burying our dead?!" He steps into your space, his voice trembling with a raw, visceral hatred. "It's your fault. All of it. I want you out of my sight—gone from this community—by the time the sun sets!" Around you, the survivors stand like statue…