There is a lot of us,
and we are strapped in chairs,
strapped on the walls surrounding the circular room,
and the televisions mounted on the wall are fizzing with black and white streaked static.
Creepy Shit.
The drop ship shakes, turbulence makes it all the more scary, and the screams of the passengers make it all the more real.
I give my own scream,
and out of nowhere, someone grabs my jeaned thigh, "Little Nia is so afraid," a snide voice says, and I know who it is, "Roth," I curse him and the former Cadet's pale hands wrap around my olive-toned arm, already prepared for my retaliation.
He pulls my arm hard over his chest, twisting it unnaturally cruel angle, and I scream again,
but this time it is for the shooting pain going up my shoulder.
My drowsiness dissipates quickly as the pain increases,
and an enraged Cadet Roth waste no time as he attempts to harm me while I am strapped next to him.
He is doing a good job,
because I can no longer feel my fingers and his triumphant smile at the sound of my bones breaking,
his hold makes me groan in my own fury, "what Nia? Not so strong anymore?"
"Fuck you," I throw my head back, my curls getting in the way, and growl with my teeth into his alarmingly happy freckled face.
Slater would be ever so proud of his baby Cadet.
One of his cronies found me first, and his follower Jake Roth is doing what he was trained to do.
I groaned in pain,
Cadet Roth was so close to popping my socket,
he already broke two fingers, my elbow was cracking, and the sound made the freckles on his cheek stretch with his smile, and I know this would not end well.
The people around me scream, finally realizing how serious this is going to get, "someone help her."
I have to save myself, so I pull Roth closer.
My other arm loops around and I crash my boney fist into his face. Crunch.
I broke his nose. "Fuck," he says, but I don't stop, I punch two solid times, and he is out cold.
I have probably twenty pounds on him, way heavier than I was before, and my muscle index only increased since I have been pressing 240 in my three years in confinement. There was only so much things I could do in a tiny cell.
Unfortunately, Roth doesn't have a chance, and so I tear limp fingers away from my own arm, wiggling my elbow, and inspecting my fingers with my other bloody hand.
"Oh my gosh! What is she doing!"
"What? what did I do...oh," yeah, I just now understand what I did, I punched a undercover Cadet... in a room of Delinquents, fuck.
Father had always said aggression was not safe in closed spaces, my seat buddies start freaking out, "get away, don't kill us too, she is crazy help us!" Damn.
I was already scaring the juvenile offenders that are forced in my close proximity.
Others were listening in and craning their heads, and my shifty eyes do not help my situation. Now there is more screams, screams about me, and the person on the side of me is trying to get out, "what is happening, someone was fighting!"
"You killed him!" said the girl next to me, fighting to get out, her hands slipping on her straps.
"Oh I did not, I was defending myself," I shush her, "calm down, calm down. Everyone calm down. It is self-defense," self-defense my ass, "he is breathing," I show her, "see he is still breathing, now you have to relax, okay? Okay?"
She nods her head quickly, her eyes still fearful, the atmosphere calms to an acceptable place after my false reassurances, but I can tell my seat partner doesn't believe me.
I don't blame her.
If they weren't here I would have broken Roth's neck and have been done with it. I would have dragged his dead corpse and used it as bait for other animals to come and feed on once we landed. He would have served me better that way, than having his crazy knocked out ass next to me. Now, I would have to watch him to make sure he didn't wake up.
I put my hand up to his broken nose, "he's breathing," I tell the freaking out girl next to me, "see?"
She doesn't want to see him, she looks sickened by the thought of looking at his bleeding broken nose.
It doesn't change what I think.
Paul Slater and his cronies were my enemies since day one of my confinement.
A guardsman mass murderer of two people had only had one place on the Ark, with her throat slit.
Now whoever knew that truth was going to finish what Slater ordered.
I was a dead woman if his groupie had joined the 100.
Maybe I should have told that to Chancellor Jaha before he sent me on this little suicide mission.
Maybe,
but we still had to land first.
