Aerrow awoke the next day from what had been a troubled sleep, the events of the previous night still fresh and at the forefront of his mind.
He wasn't sure what to feel about what he had witnessed. The way Bellamy obviously planned on running things - enforcing his will on the others - and the sadistic look on that John Murphy's face was all too familiar, and rather concerning.
They may have done nothing to physically harm Wells, but how long would it be until they did hurt someone? That was something he simply couldn't ignore…
He had seen the surprise on Bellamy's face when he realized he had been caught, that he existed. Someone needed to let the guy know that he wasn't going to have everything his own way, and the crack in his confident aura was gratifying to say the least.
What troubled him though was what Bellamy had said, not what he had done.
"I do need them to think that you're dead."
Suddenly, it all clicked into place. It was the wristbands! They must have been transmitting vital signs for all of the prisoners back to the Ark, letting them know what conditions on the ground were like and how they affected the human body, so they could determine if it was safe to follow or not. Clearly, Bellamy wanted to send a message that the ground was killing them. He knew that the Chancellor knew Wells would never take off his wristband willingly, and the only way it stopped transmitting was if its wearer died. Or if it was removed.
Quite why Bellamy wanted the Ark to not come down was unclear. Obviously he wanted the freedom, and to be in charge of this lawless society, but Aerrow had a feeling that there was another, deeper reason. Bellamy getting on the dropship, the gun, the guard uniform, and now this. It was all connected somehow.
The next question he asked himself was if he wanted to intervene, and ultimately the answer was no. He was quite happy to let Bellamy take off the wristbands. After all, he would gladly live with never seeing the Ark, or any of its members ever again-
Aerrow cut his thoughts immediately, and his head shot up straight. He never wanted to see anyone from the Ark again, except for one.
Dylan Joyce's face materialised in his mind, bringing a scowl to his face. His anger still burnt fiery hot inside him for failing to kill the guard. Or had he?
An idea began to form.
Dylan was a guard… If the Ark knew the ground was survivable, members of the guard would be the first ones sent down, to reign in the delinquents... Their numbers would be small, and the fact that they thought Aerrow dead would give him the perfect opportunity to strike...
This time, he would not fail.
Face once again hard and emotionless, Aerrow got to his feet, gathered his weapons and headed straight for the drop ship.
As he neared the landing craft, a female's scream echoed through the trees, coming from the fire the group had lit. Aerrow broke into a run, and arrived at the scene to find Murphy holding a girl over the flames. He noticed immediately not only the look of abstract horror on her face, but the wristband still around her forearm. Murphy meanwhile had the same sadistic look as he had the night before. It made Aerrow's blood boil, how similar it was to-
He reached behind him and made to draw his staff, when Bellamy and the rest of the delinquents appeared on the other side of the clearing.
"Bellamy, check it out!" Murphy told him, "We want the Ark to think the ground is killing us, right? Figured it would look better if we suffer a little bit-"
He was cut off by someone slamming into him, knocking both him and the girl away from the fire. Surprised, and winded, he rolled over to look up at his attacker.
"You can stop this!" Wells said to Bellamy as he picked himself off the ground after tackling Murphy.
"Stop this? I'm just getting started." Bellamy replied smugly.
Wells made to respond, but never got the chance as Murphy slammed his fist into the side of Wells' head. The crowd cheered as a dazed Wells stumbled back, and Murphy let loose on him.
Aerrow looked on in disdain. Wells was an idiot. How he thought acting like his father would work on a group of criminals was beyond him, but he wasn't the problem. Murphy was. The guy didn't seem to know anything other than violence. It reminded him too much of a certain someone, someone the world was better off without.
He was about to step in and give Murphy a personal, and very painful lesson, but he stopped himself when Wells counter-attacked, flipping Murphy off of him and onto the ground, where two solid punches to his face left him coughing and spluttering. Aerrow raised his eyebrows. Where had Wells learnt to fight like that?
Murphy came back at Wells, but the dark skinned boy dodged his wayward punch, before grabbing him, slinging him around and putting him in a headlock. He turned to Bellamy – who had been idly watching the entire time, an amused look on his face – and pleaded again for him to end the madness. When Bellamy refused, he hesitated for a second, in which time Aerrow watched with keen interest as to what he would do next. Finally, he let Murphy go, but only by tossing him to the ground.
Aerrow had to admit he was a little bit shocked. Wells had a perfect opportunity to end things himself. He could have easily choked Murphy to death, or even snapped his neck, but instead he let him go.
Murphy, however, had no such honor. As Wells again tried to make his point to Bellamy, he got to his feet and pulled a knife from his jacket. He muttered "you're dead." As he crept up behind Wells, who was totally oblivious to the danger.
Aerrow realised what was about to happen, and found himself with a split-second decision to make. No one else was going to act, and while he had the means to stop Murphy, that would mean revealing himself – and what he could do – to Bellamy and everyone else. What was that old saying? Hide your riches to sate the robbers. Never let your enemy know the full extent of your potential, so that when you finally engage, he goes into battle overconfident and underprepared. It was going to be his plan initially, but now things had changed. Now he needed to make himself known. If Dylan Joyce was ever going to come down, he needed to stand up to Bellamy and his goons.
So, as Murphy got to within striking distance of Wells, he made his move.
He drew not his staff, but his knife.
25 centimetres long, with a thin blade 15 centimetres in length, it was made from the left over coandite that he had used for his staff. It was exquisitely shaped, perfectly weighted, and wickedly sharp. Barely pausing to aim, Aerrow threw the knife hard and fast, with a sideways flick of his elbow and wrist, just as he had practised countless times in solitary. With pin-point accuracy, it collided with Murphy's knife and knocked it from his hand, just as he was about to plunge it into Wells' back.
Murphy turned around in shock at the direction the other knife had come from. He saw Aerrow standing there casually, staring fiercely into his eyes.
Time stopped.
Even Bellamy's eyes widened at the sight. It was the same guy from the night before. Who the hell was he? And why did his eyes look so familiar?
The gathered delinquents froze as well. Hushed murmurs went up among them. Not much of what they said was decipherable, but one word stood out from all the rest: Switchblade.
Aerrow ignored each and every one of them. He glared at Murphy, daring him to make a move. Once Murphy got over the shock of what had just happened, rage built quickly in his eyes. "What's your problem, Violet Eyes?" He taunted, "You think this son of a bitch deserves to live? After what his father did to us?"
Aerrow kept his cool, not letting Murphy's rather pathetic insults get to him. "What does it look like… Asshole." He shot back
That was the nail in the coffin for Murphy, who was by this time positively shaking with rage. "Alright then..." He sneered, "You can take his place!"
In an instant, he bent down and snatched his knife from the ground, before hurling it at Aerrow.
Aerrow didn't even flinch. He simply jerked his head to the side and let the knife sail harmlessly past him. Even though it probably wasn't the best thing he could have done, he decided to keep taunting Murphy. After all, what was the point in being free if he didn't have a little fun along the way? "That all you've got?" He smirked.
Murphy looked around himself for options. After seeing what he had been able to do from long range, he didn't really want to get up close and personal with this guy. He might have been a psychopath, but he wasn't stupid. Well, not that stupid at least, for he instead picked up Aerrow's own knife, which was lying not too far away, and threw that too.
This time Aerrow was less prepared, and the superior craftsmanship of his knife meant the throw was faster and much more accurate. He had no time to get out of the way. Murphy grinned with delight as he saw the knife headed straight for Aerrow's face. That smile vanished very quickly however, when in the blink of an eye, Aerrow whipped his hand up and caught the hilt of the knife in mid-air, halting the blade mere centimetres away from his face.
Gasps of astonishment went up amongst the crowd, along with not a small amount of fear. They recognised him now.
Switchblade.
Locked up in solitary confinement for over two years. 6 counts of kidnap and torture. 8 counts of murder.
The Ark's most dangerous prisoner ever.
After witnessing what had just happened, it was no wonder. What he had done should not have been possible, yet he had made it look almost effortless. Even Bellamy had to do his best to hide his surprise.
Even though he had spent a lifetime training to be a guard, and had spent his time in solitary building up his fighting skills, Aerrow hadn't gotten his lightning fast reflexes that allowed him to catch the knife from those experiences. No, he had simply been born with them. In fact, a simple hand-eye co-ordination test had shown he had the fastest reflexes of anyone on the Ark, ahead of his parents and a young blonde girl whose name he couldn't remember.But that wasn't his focus at the moment. His focus was on the present.
All eyes were on him now, waiting to see what his next move would be. Not breaking eye contact with Murphy, he casually flicked the knife around and lowered it to his side, so that he now held it back-handed. "Thanks." He said fiercely. "Is this over now?"
Murphy gulped. This was the last thing he had expected to happen. Two minutes ago his dream of killing the Chancellor's son was about to come true, but now he was staring into the face of a very unceremonious ass-kicking at the hands of the purple-eyed delinquent – murderer – in front of him. He finally saw sense and, very wisely, backed down.
The crowd began to disperse a little, though most people remained rooted to the spot, still trying to come to terms with the fact that Aerrow Eroxin was among them. Murphy meanwhile, sulked back to his tent to nurse his broken pride. Bellamy also remained where he was. He stared intensely at Aerrow as the killer gathered his knife from the ground, trying to figure out what his plan was. Seeing how the others had reacted to him, he was a clear threat to the older man's leadership, something Bellamy couldn't afford to have happen. If he could gain his allegiance, however... he could prove a very useful ally indeed... A small smile came to his face when he looked down and saw that Aerrow's wristband was missing. So, the fabled Switchblade didn't want the Ark coming down either… But then why did he stop Murphy?
Bellamy decided these questions could be answered later. For now, he was content to bide his time and attempt to win Switchblade's trust, and hopefully not find himself on the wrong end of his knife along the way.
Wells meanwhile, unfazed by the others' reactions to this new appearance, walked straight up to Aerrow. "You saved my life." He told him, "Thank you."
Aerrow made no movement, his face showed no emotion. He simply stared at Wells for a long moment, evaluating him, before speaking. "You didn't deserve to die." He said simply. His voice was raspy, and a slightly higher pitch than most. There was also a faint trace of a South American accent - evidently he had ancestors from either the Brazilian or Venezuelan stations.
"Where did you learn that stuff? That was incredible!" Wells pressed. He had heard the reports as well, but the same guy had murdered 8 people had just saved his life, and he was curious as to why.
Aerrow's face changed, hardening instantly. "You don't want to know, and I don't want to talk about it."
"Yes I do!" Wells urged, keeping his voice casual, "Come on, you can trust me."
In the blink of an eye, Wells stopped talking as he found the sharpened blade of Aerrow's knife pressed up against his throat. His eyes widened in fear, and he held his hands up in surrender, as Aerrow slowly backed him up against a tree on the edge of the clearing, purple eyes staring daggers into his own the entire time.
"You'll do well not to ask so many questions, Jaha." Aerrow hissed, his voice dripping with venom, quiet enough so that no one else would hear. "Yes, I saved your life, but do not presume this means I in any way like you. I need you alive, but keep asking such questions, and that will change."
Wells held his tongue, stopping himself from asking what Aerrow needed him for, and simply nodded in understanding.
Aerrow sheathed his knife in an instant and let Wells go, who simply leaned back against the tree in relief as he walked off, just as frenzied footsteps signaled the return of the expedition to Mount Weather.
Aerrow froze in his tracks, watching as Clarke and the others sprinted back into the camp. They had all made it back, except for the kid with the goggles - Jasper. He could tell from the look of horror on their faces that something bad had happened.
Bellamy raced straight over to Octavia, who was limping badly and supported by Monty. After making sure she was ok, he turned to the other three and demanded answers.
"We never made it to Mount Weather." Finn said breathlessly.
"Then what the hell happened out there?"
"We were attacked." Clarke answered. Aerrow's head snapped up instantly at her words. Attacked? By what? Now he was paying attention…
Finn answered, saying that the 100 weren't the only humans on the ground. There were survivors, descendants from those who had somehow lived through the apocalypse. Grounders.
"Where's the kid with the goggles?" Wells asked suddenly.
Clarke and Finn glanced at each other nervously. "Jasper was hit." She said, fear in her eyes as she remembered what had happened. "They took him."
Aerrow's mind raced, trying to process everything. He was about to inquire more as to what happened, when Clarke noticed Wells' wristband was missing. What followed was another argument about whether or not it was a good idea to let the Ark think they were dying. Clarke re-stated her point that the Ark needed to know the ground was survivable, adding that the 100 needed their help against the grounders. Bellamy vehemently opposed this, saying that they weren't prisoners anymore, and that the grounders should be worried about them. As the delinquents cheered their self-appointed leader, Aerrow shook his head in disgust.
They were wasting time arguing, when their situation had become more than any single one of them. The presence of grounders changed everything, but one thing was clear: They had attacked Clarke's group, and taken Jasper. That meant they were hostile.
He knew nothing about their numbers, their motives or their abilities, but if the 100 were going to survive, if he was going to survive, he needed answers.
There was another thing too.
If his plan was to succeed, he needed the wristbands to stay on, and there was only one way that was going to happen…
As much as he didn't want to, as much as he hated the looks of fear and anger, the accusations and the hatred, he had to step forward, had to press his psychological advantage over the others.
"Everyone be quiet!" he raised his voice, shouting over the arguing criminals.
Silence fell immediately, as every pair of eyes came to a stop on him.
Clarke span around, shocked, then froze when she saw who it was that had spoken. Aerrow ignored her as he stepped forward into the centre of the clearing.
"What is it Violet Eyes?" Bellamy said smugly as he folded his arms, unashamedly stealing Murphy's insult from earlier, "You obviously agree with me." He nodded at Aerrow's naked wrist and smirked.
Aerrow glared at him, before flicking his eyes to Clarke, taking in the realization on her face that – at the sight of his obvious lack of a band – he had sided with Bellamy.
He kept his eyes locked on hers for a moment, not giving away anything, before turning his attention back to the larger group.
"Regardless of what you do, you are free." he said slowly, moving in front of Clarke and Bellamy. "We didn't come down here to remain prisoners, to be Lab Rats for them. We came down here to survive, to start new lives. What happened up there, that was under their control, but not down here. Down here, the only ones controlling our actions are ourselves!"
The crowd had remained silent throughout his speech, but as he went on, slight murmurings of agreeance began to rise.
"Take the bands off if you want." Aerrow continued. "You might not want the Ark to follow, but there are those of us that do. There are those who still have people they care about up there, and those people shouldn't have to be forced to remove their bands."
He lowered his eyes to glare at Bellamy, reminding him of what he knew had happened the previous night. "Just remember: who says they'll still be in charge when they come down." He deliberately left the statement unfinished, letting the delinquents form their own ideas.
The crowd began to talk among themselves, and Bellamy almost wanted to say something as Aerrow walked past, but instead he stayed silent. Aerrow meanwhile shook his head to himself as he walked away from the group. He had said only what he needed to, and he hoped it was enough to convince at least some of them to leave their wristbands on. God he hated politics. He had bigger issues on his mind. Starting with the grounders.
He walked straight over to Clarke, who had a slight look of disbelief on her face. Clearly, she had not been expecting him to say what he had. "Not everything is what it appears to be." He said gruffly as he walked over.
"What do we do now?" Monty asked as he came over to join them.
Aerrow was silent as he glanced from Bellamy and the others in the background, back to Clarke and Monty. Something ignited in his eyes.
"Now, we go after Jasper."
Just to clarify, Aerrow will do many things that seem impossible, or unnatural. His reflexes allowing him to catch the knife is one example. This is not purely to make him so much better than everyone else. There are two very important reasons. The first is that he had two years to train in solitary confinement. Everything he does is physically achievable under the right motivation, and this is enhanced by the second reason, which will be fleshed out as the story continues.