[TWD x Resident Evil] — Chapter 774 - Audacious Beyond All Measure
Negan knelt on the ground, both knees down, both hands locked tight behind his head.
Textbook perfect.
Every Savior around him stood frozen, jaw hanging open.
They were used to swaggering through the apocalypse, following Negan as he looted camps from one end of Georgia to the other. When had any of them ever seen their boss like this?
A few seconds ago, Negan had been hoisting his baseball bat like he owned the world.
Now he was on his knees faster than anyone.
Simon still had his assault rifle up, the muzzle trembling as it pointed at Leon in the center of the settling dust cloud. Even his jaw had stopped working on his gum. Eyes bulging wide. Mind completely blank.
From the corner of his eye, Negan caught Simon still holding the gun up.
Cold sweat broke across him instantly.
He snapped his head around and screamed.
"Are you brain-dead?! Simon!"
Negan's voice cracked on the last syllable.
"Throw that piece of shit down right now!"
"You want to die, don't drag everyone else with you!"
Simon's whole body jolted like he'd been shocked.
He snapped back. Looked up at the clear, cloudless sky.
Falling from that height, was this thing even human?
Simon swallowed hard. His hand went slack.
CLATTER!
The assault rifle hit the pavement.
The men around him woke up like a switch had been thrown, one after another hurling their rifles and pistols away. Throwing them wasn't enough, they even stretched out their feet and kicked the guns across the asphalt, putting real distance between themselves and the weapons, just to make the point absolutely clear.
A clattering racket rolled down the highway.
Over a hundred fully armed hardened criminals. Less than half a minute. Every last one of them disarmed and docile.
A few of the more cowardly ones followed Negan's lead and dropped straight to their knees.
Leon watched it all with cold eyes. In the end he gave a single, unhurried nod.
Not bad.
Not completely stupid.
Right now, standing in front of these ordinary people, he was an elephant in a colony of ants.
Kill them?
Too easy.
So easy he couldn't even muster the desire to lift a hand. One thought was all it would take, and everyone on this road became pulp.
Atlanta Prison was still expanding. The fields needed hands. The walls needed hands.
Killing them all would only waste several hundred perfectly good laborers.
Negan was being sensible. He could follow orders. That saved Leon the trouble.
Carlos was sprawled on a chunk of sheet metal nearby, just finishing retching up the last of his stomach acid. He wiped his mouth and stared at the scene in front of him, eye twitching.
He'd been ready for a bloodbath.
Instead the other side had slid straight to their knees?
Then again, what other option did they have?
Leon walked up to Negan.
Negan held his position. Knees down, hands locked behind his head, face pointed at the ground. He didn't dare look up.
He was a smart man. Always had been. He knew exactly how to read a room.
In a world where even the dead got up and walked around, what was so strange about one superman? Going up against someone who could drop from the sky, that wasn't bravery. That was brain damage. That was being a complete fool.
"Your name is Negan?" Leon looked down at him.
Negan nodded quickly, forcing the most accommodating smile he could manage onto his face.
"Yes, sir. Everyone calls me Negan."
"You're a smart man." Leon's tone was flat.
"Thank you, sir." Negan gave a dry laugh. "In this godforsaken world, anyone who wasn't smart is already dead."
Leon looked at him and cut straight to it.
"You and all your people belong to me now."
"Any objections?"
"Go ahead and speak up if you have conditions."
Negan's whole body stiffened.
Conditions.
What conditions could he possibly raise?
He had absolutely no doubt that the moment he said one word of refusal, his head would pop like a watermelon.
Negan shook his head so fast it looked like a rattle-drum.
"None! Zero objections! None whatsoever!"
He even released his hands from behind his head, threw both arms wide, and made the most exaggeratedly enthusiastic gesture of agreement he could produce.
"Sir, I give this decision two thumbs up with both hands!"
"From this moment on, the Saviors are your most loyal people!"
"Wherever you point, we go — no questions, no detours!"
He spoke with every ounce of conviction he had. The sheer, naked bootlicking of it made Simon's teeth ache just watching.
But it was the best way to stay alive. No question about it.
Leon looked thoroughly satisfied. He gave an approving nod.
Dealing with smart people really did save time.
He'd absorbed over a hundred able-bodied workers without spilling a drop of blood. This trip hadn't been wasted after all.
He turned and looked toward Deanna Monroe and Aaron.
"I heard about what happened to your community." Leon said.
Deanna Monroe's eyes went red. She started to kneel again.
"Enough." Leon waved her off. "Stop with the kneeling."
"Since we've run into each other — come back to Atlanta with me. Don't stay in Washington anymore."
Deanna Monroe nodded over and over. Right now, as long as she could follow Leon, she would go anywhere he said.
This so-called leadership role. She didn't want it for one more second.
Jessie Anderson let out a shaky breath.
She sat slumped on the ground, still not quite back in her own body.
Then something crossed her mind. She jerked her head toward the roadside drainage ditch.
"Ron..." Her voice trembled.
When that chunk of sheet metal had come down, Ron Anderson had taken the full force of it and been sent flying.
Jessie Anderson hated what her son had become, the madness, the rage, but he was still flesh of her flesh.
Right at that moment.
A splashing, thrashing sound erupted from the ditch.
A hand, caked in filth and mud, clawed over the edge of the road and held on.
A bedraggled figure dragged itself out.
Ron Anderson.
Soaked through. Face plastered black with mud. The shockwave had thrown him hard into the ditch and rattled every bone in his body.
But he wasn't dead.
Ron Anderson swayed to his feet.
He hauled in great heaving lungfuls of air, eyes locked onto the center of the highway.
He saw Reg was still alive.
He saw Deanna Monroe was still alive.
He saw the man in the black trench coat standing with his back turned, talking to her.
Ron Anderson's eyes went red.
Reason?
Gone. There was nothing left of it.
All he knew was that he had been this close. This close to his revenge. This close to caving that old woman's skull in.
And this bastard who'd dropped out of nowhere had ruined everything.
He didn't stop to think about how Leon had fallen from the sky. His head was too full for that, packed solid with hatred and madness, down to the last cubic centimeter.
There was only one thought left inside it.
Kill him.
Anyone who stands in the way of my revenge has to die.
Lucille had been knocked somewhere out of sight, but Ron Anderson still had a pistol on his hip. Simon had been busy collecting weapons and never got around to patting him down.
Ron Anderson bit down hard and yanked the pistol free.
Both hands on the grip. Arms shaking. But the muzzle was dead-locked on Leon's back.
From the corner of her eye, Jessie Anderson caught it.
Her heart stopped.
"No! Ron! Stop!"
She screamed and scrambled forward, half-crawling, throwing herself toward him.
Too late.
Ron Anderson was gone. Completely, utterly gone.
He couldn't hear his mother screaming. He couldn't hear anything.
All he could see was Leon's back.
"Go to hell! Every last one of you bastards — die!"
He howled it. Raw. Hysterical.
Negan heard it.
He turned, saw Ron Anderson with the gun up and pointed at Leon's back, and every muscle in his face went rigid.
What the, are you out of your goddamn mind?! The words detonated somewhere inside him, never making it to his mouth.
He had groveled. He had scraped. He had played every card he had just to keep everyone on this road breathing, and now this little son of a bitch was drawing on the man who'd fallen from the sky?
Was this a death wish?
➤ Next: Look at What Your Dear Son Has Done