Part Three: The Saviours

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ROUGHLY SHOVED INSIDE an open doorway, Harper stumbled into a piece of furniture. The force of being pushed into the short table caused her to trip over, sprawling onto the floor. Still facing the entrance, she began to crawl away and back onto her feet. Searching, she scrambled for something to fight back with. There was a clock on the wall, as well as a metal drying rack on the bench. Brows furrowing in confusion, she saw a large television fixed to the far wall, a small light glowing to signal that it was powered.

Nobody had access to those kind of resources anymore. You would need months of searching and hundreds of men to get anywhere near the luxuries the Saviours had, which meant the it was never just the Hilltop the Saviours controlled.

As the pair entered the room, Harper stood her ground, stance stiff. The men had taken her pocketknives from her sock and the inside of her belt upon arrival, stowing them away. While she understood their caution, it wasn't as though she could escape the facility with two measly knives against over a hundred people.

"Is that how we treat guests here?" Negan asked, entering the room and turning to the unknown man beside him. Balancing on his bat, he spoke lowly. "This woman has had a very long trip. The least we could do is show a little Southern hospitality."

Fear glinting in the other man's eyes, he turned to face Harper quickly.

"I'm sorry about that."

Negan cleared his throat.

"Ma'am." The man added nervously.

Both of the Saviours faced her, as if waiting for a response. Negan gestured for her to speak, gloved hand open and panning toward the now silent man.

"No problem." Harper said, teeth gritted.

Negan opened the door, providing the man with an exit. Following his leader's silent order, he left the two alone in the musty room. The door clicked shut, and the bat-weilding man took a seat on the couch opposite the table. Leaning into the back of the seat, he stretched an arm along the back of the cushions and inspected Lucille, a smug grin on his lips.

Harper's eyes drifted towards the door. While there was no one guarding from inside of the room, she had no doubt someone was standing guard outside.

"Don't bother trying with that. You're smart enough to know how that ends."

Gaze drifting to Negan's relaxed form, Harper began to feel the tightening of anxiety in her muscles. His blasé attitude was unsettling, to say the least.

"Sit down."

With no other real options, the Korean woman cautiously made her way to the armchair opposite of Negan. Out of habit, she sat near the edge, almost a year of driving and fighting preparing her to leave at a moment's notice.

"You look fucking tense. Relax."

Biting her tongue, she knew better than to fire back with a response. The pair sat in silence for a few moments before the man spoke up again.

"Harper, right?"

She nodded lightly.

"You know what we do here?" He asked.

Hesitating, Harper looked back to the television. She wondered who must have died to bring them back the flat screen. How many people had died to make they lives comfortable?

"You make people work for you." Harper said cautiously. "They bring you food, resources."

Bringing Lucille forward, he pointed the end towards her face and made a small tapping motion.

"Bingo." He said, smiling and placing the bat down again. "See, I knew you were the smart one. And angry, which is good. Means you're even smarter. You have to be, otherwise you would've done some dumb impulsive shit like our good friend Rick."

Harper made no response, setting her jaw. The more he made assumptions, the more angry she grew. The sheer arrogance radiated from him, the sly smirk plastered across his face just begging to be punched.

"I'm gonna be blunt with you." Negan began. "While we got off to a less than ideal start, you and I share a common goal. We both want to save people. I mean, here I am, providing unwavering protection for the people we meet, and all I ask for is a little compensation. And last night, I could see the way you wanted to interfere. When Rick opened his mouth, you were the only one with the fucking guts to try and shut him up, and you didn't even hesitate to try and stop that other guy. I appreciate that."

As Negan continued, a sickening pit began to weigh down Harper's stomach. The fact that he saw them as similar brought her fingers tightly together, squeezing until her knuckles turned white.

She was not like that monster.

"Now, I'm not going to apologise for what happened to your brother. It wasn't your fault, but it wasn't mine either. It was necessary."

A bitter taste entered her mouth, and Harper struggled not to lunge at him and beat him senseless. Everybody had killed. Everyone had done something they weren't proud of to survive. But every time she thought back to that night, all she could see was Glenn's mangled form, his dark locks matted into knots and mingling with the blood on the ground.

It was anything but necessary.

Negan paused, smirk growing and daring her to say something. The leader of the Saviours was testing her, and if Harper had any hope of avenging her brother then she would need to play by his rules.

It didn't matter what it cost, so long as she got there.

"They're a stubborn group. You did what you had to."

Taking a moment, he nodded, smile broadening.

"Oh boy do I have a good feeling about you." He said. Clapping his hands together, he stood. "Now, I'm gonna let you dwell on this little chat and have a really long, hard look at where you want to end up."

Harper was speechless. She still had no idea why she was here, and given her affiliation with Alexandria, it was more likely for her to be a threat than a friend to the Saviours.

"What do you want from me?" She asked directly.

"I'm asking you to use that big brain of yours, sweetheart, and think about who is gonna be the winner, and who will end up dead."

Swallowing deeply, she nodded. Gaze drifting to the television once more, all she could see was a dark pair of eyes, staring lifelessly back at her. There was crunching, splitting and a wet, squelching sound. It grew louder, the accusatory glare boring into her soul until she could no longer face it, looking down at her hands. Coated in a layer of thick, red blood, she ran them over one another restlessly, sucking in a deep breath.

"Okay." She responded, mouth growing tight.

Smiling, Negan opened the door, revealing the same light-haired man that had shoved Daryl into his van. A guilty expression masked his burnt face.

"Get her something to eat, and find her a room." Negan said, laying the bat across his shoulders lazily. "And keep your eye on this one, she's got more balls than half the pussies working here."

Dwight nodded, leading the way without a word. Harper followed, stiff muscles reluctantly leading her throughout the concrete halls. Saviours eyed her as she passed, and Harper struggled not to writhe under their judgemental gazes. Sticking close to the lanky man in front of her, she found her hand subconsciously drifting to where her knife once sat.

After a few moments, the pair arrived in a much larger room, the main floor of the industrial warehouse filled with workers. Food, drinks, medicine. There was so much, and it all lay waiting for someone to take it.

Alexandria needed these kinds of resources. Some days they struggled to get by, and the Saviours were living like a modern-day monarch.

Dwight collected an apple, shoving it into his mouth before grabbing another and throwing it to Harper. Catching it in one hand, she inspected it before giving in to her aching stomach. Eagerly taking a bite, she barely had time to swallow it before she bit off another chunk. The man watched her before grabbing a third, scribbling something on a notepad nearby. Collecting a granola bar, he made his way back down the hallway, handing her the third apple.

"You look hungry."

Harper didn't respond, savouring the sweet taste of fresh fruit. Finishing the first apple in a few minutes, core and all, she moved on to the next one.

As the pair made their way into another unfamiliar corridor, Dwight opened one of the doors to reveal a small living space. There was a full kitchen, with its own chairs and bed off to the side. Another television set was propped up on a table, with a door on the left leading to what Harper assumed to be a bathroom. Either they had more than enough resources to spare, so that they would give them away to even the most untrustworthy of visitors, or this was some sort of ploy to help convince her to join them. Harper felt it was a mix of both.

"Hot water works if you wanna shower." Dwight said.

Turning to the shaggy-haired man, Harper almost felt a twinge of relief on her lips.

"You want a hand with anything, I'm three doors down, to your right."

A moment of silence settled upon them before Dwight awkwardly turned, leaving the young woman alone. The door softly closed, the only sound occupying the space being the sound of her own breathing. It was eerie, and it felt unnatural to have such quiet. No walkers, no people.

Just Harper and her thoughts, dancing around one another in a cycle of avoidance and fear.

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