Alterbliss: Thanks. Not sure who Luna is though.
MissRiss2005: Well thank you.
Guest: Yes
Finshadow212th: I appreciate the comment, but I'm not really sure what you're talking about. Is this a suggestion of a storyline to follow. If so let me know, because it is sort of interesting.
Hootwolf08: Thank you so much. I wish I could update more too, but right now school and martial arts take priority over writing. I really appreciate your kind words.
FriggleBerry: Well, I'm glad you like it.
DullReign82: Thanks for the review man.
Guest: Cool, and I guess I kind of see where you're coming from.
Scurra71900: Yeah that scene should be great. I'm really excited for season 2 there should be a lot of fun stuff contained in that.
PegasiJake: Thanks for the encouragement.
Hitmen101: You're welcome.
This one should be fun
"Fluid on the bottom," I reminded Octavia as we circled each other.
In the few weeks since I had accepted Octavia as my personal student, she had gotten much better. She was fierce and certainly wasn't afraid to fail. Instead, Octavia took her failures as a chance to learn and grow. It was a mature way of thinking, and no easy task to remove your ego like that. But if you really want to learn something, it's the only way.
The breath from our mouths fogged up as it hit the much colder air surrounding us. I liked the cold, though I was aware that it could be dangerous, especially considering that we had no heaters. Our only method of creating warmth currently was starting fires, which took time and effort to maintain.
Octavia responded to my instruction quickly by bending her knees slightly and shortening her footsteps. Her motions could be jerky occasionally. She needed to work on her footwork much more than she was currently. Octavia's jerky motions combined with her over eagerness to attack made her a joke of an opponent to me. Not to mention the fact that I was just stronger and faster than she was.
That wasn't the point though. My goal wasn't to show her just how far she had to go; it was to continue her improvement.
Her left foot was placed in front of her right with her hands closed into fists. Her stance was largely based on mine and my expertise in Taekwondo and Muay Thai. High hands and sideways stance, it was highly similar to mine. That wasn't surprising, as I had taught her more in depth and she would copy my motions.
Octavia came forward with a jab then another. I moved slightly in reverse in response. Her fists missed me by about six inches. I could feel the air pushed into my face by her strikes, but no contact was achieved.
I saw her body twist as she capitalized on her closeness, throwing a straight right at my chin. I took advantage leaning to my left and trapping her wrist with my right hand. I pulled on the wrist and slapped her lightly on the face. I didn't want to hit her hard. That would be disrespectful, seeing as she didn't want to hit me hard. I then switched her wrist to my left hand turned my back and threw her over my hip.
Octavia landed on the ground with a grunt. She laid there for a moment breathing hard, still exhausted from our previous sparring matches.
"Ya got sloppy that time," I said sitting down next to her.
Octavia just sighed unhappily. She placed a forearm over her forehead and wiped the sweat off her brow. She breathed in and out, trying to regain her energy. Gradually her breathing slowed, but she still didn't move to stand up.
"I guess that's it for today then?" I quipped lightheartedly.
Octavia chuckled, "I don't know how you do it. You aren't breathing hard or anything." She rolled her head to the left to look at me.
"Ya just gotta calm down," I explained. "Yer too excited to kick my ass. Don't worry about that. Relax and let your subconscious take over. Recognize the patterns I follow and the motions I make."
"Yeah," Octavia said with a sigh. "You've told me before, but it's hard."
"I understand that," I returned patiently. "I never said it'd be easy though. Just keep workin' and you'll probly be alright."
"You think so?" Octavia asked slightly unsure.
"I reckon," I responded with a slight smirk. "Yer learnin' faster than ya think ya are. Ya've come a long way already."
Octavia smiled genuinely at the compliment. She rolled her head back to look at the sky instead of me. I glanced upward as well, taking in the bright blue. It was beautiful, something about the wilderness just made it more so. I felt truly free, unconstrained by obligations, requirements, or expectations. It was liberating, but also depressing.
Leaving all responsibility behind in favor of that true freedom wasn't something that seemed meaningful to me. A life free of responsibilities was not worth living. What was the point in such a life? Were you even living for anything at all then? I wasn't a big fan of societal responsibility; I could understand running from that. But personal responsibility? Running from that was like avoiding becoming better in any way. After all, how could you become better if you didn't acknowledge there was something to improve in the first place?
"What'cha thinking about?" Octavia questioned.
I looked down from the sky to see Octavia watching me. She seemed interested, and not on a superficial level. It seemed like she actually cared.
"Nothin' really, I guess," I answered noncommittally.
Octavia hummed disbelievingly.
"What?" I asked. "Ya'd probly think it's boring ass shit."
"So, you were thinking of something," Octavia concluded a bit triumphantly.
I huffed in frustration at being caught like that. I normally prided myself on being honest enough to not get caught contradicting myself. Yet in that moment I chose to lie over nothing. It wasn't like it was that big of a deal, but still it was annoying.
"I was thinkin' about meaning and responsibility," I told her finally.
Octavia narrowed her eyes in confusion. At least she hadn't laughed out loud. Philosophical thoughts weren't exactly popular among young people in any time period. For some reason though I really enjoyed thinking philosophically.
"How do ya find meaning in yer life?" I asked.
"Is this some kind of religious thing?" Octavia questioned.
"No," I answered. "It's an honest question. How do ya find meaning in yer life?"
"I don't know," Octavia said. "I guess I find it in my friends and Bellamy. The people that mean something to me give me meaning I suppose."
I hummed thinking of her answer. It seemed straightforward, the kind of response many people would give to such a question. For most people friends and family was the most important thing in their lives. It sort of stemmed from my conclusion, a more specific version of my own description of personal meaning.
"What about you?" Octavia asked curiously.
"Ya really wanna know?" I returned with my own question. "Didn't figure ya'd care."
"You asked me," Octavia said simply. "Only seems right that I ask you."
I thought for a moment. It was kind of her to do such a thing.
"Well," I said framing my complicated thoughts on the issue. "I think a lot of it comes from finding a burden to bear. Anything that gives ya a purpose, ya know?"
"A burden…" Octavia spoke thoughtfully.
"Yeah," I said. "Like a responsibility for somethin' that isn't just you. Of course, ya need personal responsibility too."
"So, kind of like self-improvement?" Octavia asked.
"I suppose," I answered. "But it's more than self-improvement for the sake of self-improvement. Ya want to make yerself better for some reason other than just to be better. I think the better ya are, the better ya can carry yer burden."
"What's your burden?" Octavia asked.
I didn't know what to say. That was difficult to explain since it had changed so much since I had been removed from my old world.
Octavia waited patiently for my response, having no idea of what I would say.
"Part of it's you guys," I spoke finally. "Keepin' ya'll alive and fightin' for ya, 'cause there really ain't anyone else to do it." I paused momentarily collecting my thoughts. "I'd say the other part of it's fightin' for the truth," I continued. "There aren't many people doin' that either."
"You don't have a family to take care of?" Octavia questioned.
In the moment I remembered the screams of my parents from the memory I had created. It was vivid and clear, like it sat at the edge of my consciousness ruling over my mind.
I must've stayed quiet for a long time, because I felt Octavia's hand on my knee bring me back to reality.
"You okay?" Octavia asked.
"Yeah," I exhaled heavily. "And no, I don't have any family to take care of. Not even sure if I have any friends either."
"What?" Octavia questioned incredulously. "You have friends."
"Bellamy quit on me," I said dejectedly. "I'm not sure about anyone else. They probably didn't sign up in the first place." I chuckled lightly.
Octavia said nothing for a long time. I sat awaiting her inevitable criticism, but what I got wasn't criticism.
"You're my friend," She said. I locked eyes with her as she sat up next to me. "Clarke and Raven are your friends, so are Monty and Jasper."
I wasn't sure how to feel. It was a little overwhelming that she was telling me everyone who accepted me.
"Even Bellamy's still you're friend," Octavia said. "He's just got his head shoved up his ass right now. He'll come around eventually."
"I hope yer right," I said.
"I'd rather hear him explain it in his own words," Thelonius Jaha said though the low-resolution video chat Raven had set up.
Clarke turned her head to Maynard, who stood behind her. Knowing Maynard, he could probably hear every word Jaha was saying right now.
"I'm Maynard, and I promise I'm helpful," Maynard said sardonically. He projected his voice so it could be heard through the microphone on the headset.
"I thought the only way to listen was through the headset," Councilor Marcus Kane commented. "He can hear us?"
"Damn straight," Maynard answered.
"How?" Jaha asked Clarke.
"He's uh…" Clarke searched for the right word. "Different." She finally settled on. "But he is right," She continued. "He's been more than just helpful. He's been a life saver."
"That's good, but this conversation was for your ears only," Jaha said.
"Maynard's my advisor," Clarke said quickly, coming up with something to say. "I'd like to have him around in this conversation."
The council's end of the meeting was awfully quiet. Clarke heard nothing though the mic as Jaha's lips formed words. He had muted the mic to discuss something with the council. After a few moments he returned.
"Tell Maynard he has to leave," Jaha said.
"Ya can't make me go anywhere," Maynard returned obstinately.
"I am Chancellor of the Ark," Jaha reminded Maynard. "I am ordering you to leave." Clarke doubted the Chancellor's command would have any effect on Maynard. She was right.
"Unless ya come though that camera and beat the shit outta me, I'm not goin' anywhere," Maynard stood his ground. "I think it's unlikely you'll come through the camera, and I think it's even more unlikely that ya can beat the shit outta me."
Jaha's jaw clenched angrily. As fun as this was for Clarke to see the councilors squirm, it was probably doing more harm than good. Their relationship with the Ark would be crucial to their survival, and it wouldn't help to have Maynard wounding Jaha's pride.
"Maynard," Clarke used his full name, not the nickname she gave him. She didn't want to arouse any suspicion that would be shared with her mother. "It's okay," Clarke said. "I'll be alright."
Maynard cocked an eyebrow as if asking, 'are you sure?' Clarke nodded in the affirmative. Maynard huffed loudly and slapped his hands on his thighs. At least he had zipped up the fleece for this event. Going bare chested to a meeting with the council probably wasn't the greatest idea.
"Ask 'em to send shirts down," Maynard requested quietly. "I'm tired of sweatin' into my jacket."
He stepped away and glanced back at the camera, probably wanting to shoot one last insult at the councilors. Clarke made a cutting gesture with her hand in front of her throat, desperately hoping Maynard wouldn't say something too bad.
To Clarke's surprise, Maynard did nothing and said nothing, he just left. Clarke breathed a sigh of relief. Maynard's brutal honest was important to have around, but every so often it was beneficial to play politics. If there was one thing Maynard couldn't do, it was that. He wasn't really in the business of niceties and disguising opinions. Maynard was going to tell you what he thought, and that was that.
"You really should be more careful about your company Clarke," Jaha advised.
"Like I said already," Clarke repeated her words. "He's saved lives, and I wanted to keep politics out of this, but it doesn't look like that's in the cards."
"Look," Jaha argued. "All I'm saying is that some people are helpful, others not so much. Maynard doesn't seem like the guy you want to have around."
"That's your opinion," Clarke said. "I'll choose to ignore it."
The next few minutes were spent going over details of events that had taken place on the ground so far. From their landing and lack of experience with radiation all the way up to their capturing Lincoln. Clarke mentioned that it had been Maynard who had discovered Lincoln's name and thus saved Finn's life. Of course, she neglected to mention the faux hawked man's methods.
Jaha and the other councilors listened intently, interjecting a question when necessary. Jaha's face itself revealed little, he was all business right now.
"Tell me about the grounder," Jaha said. "Can he provide any insight on how to survive winter?"
"We're doing everything we can to prepare here," Clarke responded. "We're gathering nuts and berries, curing meats, digging for roots, but the truth is we'll freeze before we starve." She knew she hadn't answered the question about Lincoln, but there wasn't really anything to say about that. He didn't talk to anyone.
"There's good news on that front," Kane observed. "According to civil defense plans from before the war, there's an old emergency aid depot not far from the landing site." Kane flashed a tablet on the screen. "Here are the coordinates."
"In addition to supplies it could provide shelter for the hundred and for the citizens coming down from the Ark," Jaha explained.
"And what makes you think it's intact?" Clarke asked curiously. That depot could be the answer to many of their problems.
"It was designed to withstand nuclear warfare," Kane pointed out.
"All right," Clarke said thinking. "It's worth a shot." Maybe there would be some shirts Maynard could take from the depot. That guy always seemed to be losing his clothes.
"Chancellor," Diana Sydney's voice came over the chat. "I have to object. Project Exodus is under way. The kids should sit tight in their camp until the first dropship launches."
Great, now they were trying to keep the hundred pinned in the camp. They'd all die during the winter if that was the case. Clarke wasn't a fan of Councilor Sydney, though it was better than speaking to the person who sat in that seat before her. Clarke wanted to talk to her mother even less than she wanted to talk to Diana Sydney.
"Even if everything goes without a hitch, the hundred would die from exposure before relief arrives," Jaha's tone and facial expression made it plain that he thought Sydney's plan was bullshit. "I'd like a moment with Clarke alone please," Jaha said. "And I know there's a line of parents waiting to talk to their kids."
Just as the other councilors left, Clarke thought she had a moment of peace, but that was not to be. Jaha began speaking again immediately.
"Clarke," He said smiling. "We are all very proud of what you've done down there, your mother-"
"I don't want to talk about my mother," Clarke said meaning every word.
"Please Clarke," Jaha returned more emotionally than he had spoken when the council was in the room. "It's time to forgive. Let me schedule a time for you and Abby to sit down-"
"Look," Clarke interrupted him again. "I know you both think that betraying my dad, killing him, was an unavoidable tragedy. But I don't see it that way, and I never will. So just tell me who's next, so that someone who actually wants to talk to their parents can have a turn."
Jaha sighed deeply, "Dax Meachum is next," he said.
Clarke grabbed her notes of the conversation and stood, dropping the headset on the desk in front of her. She turned and walked out without another word.
"Dax," She called out as she exited.
She cast her eyes left and right searching for the boy but didn't see him anywhere. Instead she approached Monty and Jasper who were working with roots. Jasper tilted his head back and caught one of the pieces in his mouth chewing happily.
"You guys seen Dax?" She asked.
"Over there," Monty pointed over his shoulder. "On the meat crew."
Clarke walked off in that direction admiring the work everyone was putting into their survival. It was amazing just how far they'd come since landing. Then, they hadn't wanted to do anything, now nothing could stop the hundred.
The other thing she admired was everyone's ability to work together. That particular ability had grown exponentially after Maynard had introduced his division of labor plan. Now, everyone contributed on some level. Sure, some people still did more than others, but that was the way things were.
"Dax," Clarke spotted the hoodie wearing boy from the back. He turned and met her eyes. "You're up."
She continued past the boy looking for Maynard, who was supposed to be directing the expansion of the wall. The redneck had surprised them all with his math and engineering skills, and now he was much more than just a hunter or fighter. Clarke didn't see Maynard at the wall though, she saw Raven.
The two women had a frosty relationship at best. This wasn't really surprising since Clarke had slept with Raven's boyfriend. Clarke knew it wasn't her fault, but she still felt bad about it. She still felt partially at fault. Clarke had decided to sleep with Finn, and at the time it seemed like a good idea, but less than ten hours later Raven showed up. Clarke hesitantly walked up to Raven, not wanting to put herself in a precarious position.
"Raven," Clarke stopped just behind the dark-haired woman. "Where's May? Why isn't he working on the wall?"
"He came by earlier after he left the tent," Raven explained. "What happened? I thought he was going to help keep politics out of the meeting."
"Yeah," Clarke responded. "He was supposed to, but the council kicked him out. They wouldn't let him in on the meeting."
"Why?" Raven questioned.
"I guess it was for me and me only," Clarke reasoned. "Plus, May was making things more difficult than they needed to be. You know how he can get with people he doesn't like."
"Right," Raven nodded along. "Can't imagine the council would like him too much, or vice versa."
"Anyway," Clarke brought the conversation back to May's location. "Where'd he go? You said he came by."
"Yeah, he told me he was leaving and that he wouldn't be back for a while," Raven explained. Clarke made to ask another question, but Raven cut her off. "He didn't say why," Raven spoke. "I guess he went to clear his head or something."
"Damn," Clarke swore. "I needed his help."
Raven looked at her curiously. She didn't say anything or interrupt though.
One of the workers approached Raven wondering what to do with the particular log he had. Somehow it must've been different than the others, otherwise it would have been obvious what to do with it. Raven pointed him in the right direction then turned her attention back to Clarke.
"There's a supply depot not too far from camp," Clarke said. "Kane showed me the coordinates. I wanted someone to go with me, preferably someone armed."
"I see," Raven spoke. "Well, then you'd better find Bellamy. He's the only other guy in camp who has a real weapon."
Clarke huffed knowing Raven was correct, but not wanting to follow her instructions. For some reason Clarke had grown more uncomfortable around Bellamy. It had something to do with her feelings, but she wasn't sure why.
Her feelings were exceedingly complicated currently. Clarke was still unsure how to feel about her kiss with Maynard, but with Bellamy it was somehow different. She felt sort of fulfilled when she stood with Bellamy. Sure, the guy pissed her off to no end, but without him she felt incomplete. Plus, Finn was still around, and for some unknowable reason she still felt for him, despite everything.
Clarke shook her head, violently ridding herself of her stupid feelings. She turned on her heel and walked off towards the dropship. She attempted to push down all her emotions so she could converse with Bellamy unhindered by them. Clarke pushed aside the canvas hanging over the dropship entrance, unsuccessful in controlling her emotions.
"Bellamy?" Clarke asked seeing the tall dark-haired man walking the other way.
"The answer's still no," Bellamy interrupted gruffly. "I'm not talking to Jaha."
"Hey," Clarke stopped turning towards Bellamy. "Relax. That's not why I'm here."
"What then?" He asked still moody.
"The Ark found records that show a supply depot not too far from here," Clarke answered looking up to meet Bellamy's dark eyes.
"What kind of supplies?" Bellamy questioned further wanting more details. His moodiness seemed to be gone, or as gone as it could be for Bellamy Blake.
"The kind that might give us a chance to live through winter," Clarke responded. "I'm going to go check it out. I could use backup."
"Why don't you ask your buddy May?" Bellamy used Clarke's nickname for Maynard patronizingly.
"Well first, he's not actually around right now," Clarke returned. "And second I don't feel like being around anyone I actually like right now."
Clarke was lying through her teeth, and she hated it. She didn't dislike Bellamy, even if he did rub her the wrong way occasionally. Clarke just hoped she was lying well enough to disguise her feelings.
Bellamy snorted lightly. It was a mirthless sound that revealed nothing of Bellamy's thoughts.
"I'll get my stuff," Bellamy said not meeting Clarke's eyes. "Meet you in ten."
Clarke smiled slightly despite herself. She walked past Bellamy, in the hope that he wouldn't see her appreciation for him in the moment.
I sniffed at the footprints, trying to glean a scent from them. I was tracking a deer, and hopefully not a two-headed one infected with radiation. Ingesting a substance like that would be fatal.
The deer's footprints had little smell, indicating that they might be days old. That would've been a dead end if it weren't for the noticeably awkward placement of the footprints. The deer was walking with a limp. Hidden in the scent of the tracks was the smell of fear. It seemed that the deer had been injured somehow.
I pushed myself up from the dirt, brushing off my knees. I took in the scents around me, picking out the smell of the wounded deer from the crowded forest. The smell led in the direction of the tracks for now, so I followed the tracks at a walking pace. Disturbing the forest by jogging would be more harmful than helpful.
As I walked my thoughts were brought back to that morning. My conversation with Octavia had been illuminating. More interesting to me though was her progress in her training. Actually, the hundred as a whole had improved vastly over the past couple of weeks.
I had ordered them to fashion makeshift spears from tree limbs. They sharpened them with their knifes, making very large and pointy splinters. The splinter spears would be better than no spears at all. My greatest concern in a theoretical fight with the grounders was not our outmatched soldiers, it was our limited weaponry. The inevitable difference in numbers was a concern as well, though it could be mitigated by fighting a defensive battle. Staying inside and playing defense would force them to come to us, and if we were smart then we could use the wall to our advantage and spear the grounders from the top of the wall.
Unfortunately, though, it was highly likely that the grounders would have ranged weaponry like bows. That would be really problematic, as currently we had no method of ranged combat other than my crossbow and Bellamy's pistol, which was already empty of bullets after the fiasco with the panther.
That left the best choice for the hundred to wield long spears and make extras to be thrown. Sure, the range of the spears would be rather poor, but something was better than nothing.
After giving them some basic instruction with the spears, I had showed them how to use their knives if they ever found themselves in a close ranged situation. It seemed unlikely, even with my instruction, that any one of the hundred would survive a one on one fight against a grounder. The only people I had any confidence in were the Blake siblings. Bellamy had received combat training while he was a cadet in the guard, and Octavia was training with me currently and getting quite good.
I sniffed the air again as the tracks disappeared. It seemed that the deer was somewhere off to my left, much closer than I anticipated. That didn't make any sense. How could the deer only be a hundred yards or so to my left?
Then the smell changed. Suddenly I smelled fresh blood and internal organs, intestines it seemed. I sniffed the air again, searching for smells out of the ordinary. What I smelled was no animal, it was human. A man and not one of the hundred. He was a grounder.
I lifted my crossbow off my shoulder and loaded a bolt, preparing to fight. As I approached, I could hear the sound of a knife cutting through skin. He was skinning the deer. Not alive, because then the deer would have fought back, and there was no sound of conflict.
I positioned myself downwind of the grounder and walked up behind him in complete silence. I thought briefly about shooting the guy on the spot but decided against it. Not for any humanitarian reasons, my concern was practical. The grounder in front of me had only a knife, and he could have friends around. If one of said friends had a bow, then I needed to save my shot for him. The major drawback of a crossbow was its reload speed. Every time you wanted to reload you had to pull the string back until it locked then place a bolt in. It did make it easier to walk around loaded though.
Some sick part of me still wanted to frighten the shit out of this guy. I wanted to see him piss his pants. I needed to think of some way to do that though. After a few moments thinking my crossbow jogged my memory and gave me a great idea.
I whistled first high then low. It was a move inspired by Negan. I grinned evilly at my own antics.
The grounder stopped what he was doing and looked up from the deer. I could smell his fear.
I stayed shrouded in the trees and moved silently yet quickly to another spot. I had to weave my way through the branches carefully, one wrong move and I would be discovered.
I whistled again.
The grounder snapped his head around to where I was just a moment before, but I was no longer there. I had moved on to another shadowy location. His fear stink was growing stronger.
I whistled again.
This time the grounder stood, saying something in his language that I didn't understand. His tone however, I could understand completely. He was terrified now. The grounder walked slowly towards the place where I had hidden just a moment ago, but once again, I wasn't there. He held his knife high.
He said something I didn't understand again. His fear wafted across the clearing to my nose. I smirked and stepped out of the trees.
I whistled again.
The grounder turned to face me quickly. He held his knife outstretched and spoke quickly in his language.
"I don't understand ya chief," I said. "Do ya speak English?" I kept my tone confident, leaving no mystery as to who was in charge right now.
I pointed my crossbow at his face. If he moved in a suspicious way at all, I would shoot him in his brain. The grounder didn't lower his knife, but he didn't move either. He was skin tone was lighter than Lincoln's and his hair was long. He had the same tribal tattoos though.
"Come on," I encouraged. "Say somethin'."
The grounder's eyes flitted around over me. There appeared to be some confusion there. He probably had never seen anyone wearing clothes like I wore. He stared at my eyes, which were covered by my sunglasses, in awe. My sunglasses were dark and fairly reflective, so I wasn't surprised that he was so confused.
Then the grounder called out loudly. I didn't understand his words, but I knew he was calling for help. Maybe it was some preconceived signal to use if anyone found themselves in trouble. The call was followed by the sounds of people crashing though the woods, then a twang and a whistling.
I hit the deck as an arrow screamed over my head and buried itself in the knife wielding grounder's neck. I jumped to my feet; my crossbow lifted to my shoulder. Looking over the scope on my crossbow, five more grounders became visible across the clearing. Two of them had bows, the other three held swords.
I rolled away as the grounders fired more arrows at me. I positioned myself behind a rock, standing up I centered the crosshairs of my scope on the head of one of the bow wielders. I squeezed the trigger and sent a bolt spearing through the guy's left eyeball. That left me outnumbered just four to one. Seemed sort of unfair, for them at least.
The first grounder reached me, planting a hand on the rock in front of me he jumped holding his sword over his head. I backpedaled drawing my knives simultaneously. He stood in front of me holding his sword in one hand. I held my knives inverted up in front of my head and circled around to place the sword guy between me and the female archer across the clearing.
No longer concerned about being shot full of arrows I went on the offensive, striking out with my right knife. The swordsman moved to block my downward swing. The second our blades met I attacked with my left hand slamming the man's sword aside. Spinning I attacked with a backhanded strike to the grounder's neck. My knife hit paydirt. The sword wielding grounder's neck opened up and blood sprayed out from his veins.
I was splattered with the blood as I violently withdrew my knife. I had no time to rest however, as I jerked my head back to dodge another arrow. Then I was trapped by a grounder on either side, one man one woman.
Some warning bell went off in my head as I felt an attack from behind before I saw it. I turned and blocked a swing from a third grounder, male this time. I stabbed the grounder once in the heart, killing him instantly, then drug his body around to shield me from another arrow. I jerked the grounder's body off my knife and threw him in between me and the other grounders.
They came at me again, the female in front and to my right while the male circled around to find an angle to attack from behind. I blocked the sword stroke with my knife and threw a strike with the butt end of the knife at her face. She swayed backwards to avoid the blow but buckled at the knee when I landed a powerful leg kick on her.
I switched back to the male swordsman as he came at me from the back. He came at me with quick strikes which I had to focus on to block. I landed a sidekick on his core sending him backwards. Following with a jumping spinning sidekick I landed pretty much on top of the male grounder. I swung at his neck but was blocked. Then I was forced to defend myself from two opponents at once, blocking a thrust from the male and an overhead strike from the female. I swung my left hand out releasing the pressure on the male's sword as I landed a cut on the female's upper arm.
I ducked and spun away creating space. The next arrow from the archer I blocked with my left knife as I retrieved a throwing knife from my belt with my other hand. I held both my big knives in my left hand and threw the smaller throwing knife at the archer. I came back to my fighting stance and saw the archer drop, the knife in her thigh.
Exhaling and working to maintain complete focus, I prepared to face the two swordsmen again. Then I heard a shout coming from a voice behind me.
"Stop!" It commanded. It was female and low in tone.
I stepped backward to keep my eyes on the swordsmen and on the new voice. The voice belonged to a dark-haired woman with blonde highlights and a solemn face. I knew I recognized her, but annoyingly couldn't remember her name.
More concerning though were the ten warriors standing behind her, five of which had bows drawn and arrows trained on my body.
I did the math quickly. It wasn't hard to come to the conclusion that I would die if I fought. There were just too many of them. I could handle five or so when they had archers, but this, this was just unfair. I sighed and sheathed my knives knowing I would have to clean them later.
The woman with the highlights signaled for two of her men to attend to the archer I had taken out with a throwing knife. She was still groaning in pain.
"Take his weapons," She ordered.
The female grounder went to retrieve my crossbow from the ground, while the male grounder approached me. I briefly considered asking the woman for a truce but thought better of it. That would be totally pointless. I had literally just killed three of her men.
Instead I reached down to unbuckle my knives, as I did so I was interrupted harshly.
"Hands off," The male I had fought said gruffly.
I growled at him, internally laughing at the return of my trademarked animalistic sound. The man seemed to shrink back, then I actually unbuckled my knives and handed them over. Next came my belt of throwing knives and my quiver of bolts. Now burdened with my weaponry the man walked over to his leader, bowing his head deferentially as he passed. The woman stopped him and whispered something in his ear that I didn't comprehend.
The female followed suit also bowing deferentially as she approached the leader. The blonde highlighted leader took the crossbow from her soldier's arms.
"What is this?" The leader asked. I was still surprised by how low her voice was for a woman.
"Crossbow," I answered straight, not wanting to create further conflict.
The leader hummed looking over my weapon for another moment before handing it over to a large man who appeared to be her right hand.
"Come here," The woman ordered. Though her order was disguised by a neutral tone.
I hesitated for a moment before approaching. As I came closer, I could see clearly the face paint worn by each of the grounders. Cultural differences were wild. I wouldn't get caught dead wearing paint like that, unless I was using it as camouflage.
"You fight well for a man from the sky," She observed. I couldn't tell if that was supposed to be a compliment or an insult.
I opted not to say anything at all. I figured that would be the safest path to get me out of this pickle. After a moment of waiting the leader signaled to her right hand.
"Take him," she said.
Before I could even blink, I felt the whack of a hard object on my head. The world disappeared and in its place was only darkness.
Bellamy stood next to Clarke overlooking the ruins of a city. Something great stood here once. Something historic, but the buildings, roads, and other structures were now lost to time leaving only remnants in their place. It was desolate yet beautiful.
There was something romantic about a ruined city. Sure, it was caused by a terrible tragedy, but the history of this place would last forever. That endurance in the expanse of time was something indescribable. On a universal scale, it was irrelevant, but to Bellamy it was everything.
"The depot is supposed to be around here somewhere," Clarke commented after a moment of silence.
"There's gotta be a door," Bellamy returned scanning his eyes over the area.
That door could be anywhere though. That was the problem. He and Clarke could be out here all day searching for that door. For all they knew, it was hidden away, buried beneath the earth.
"Maybe he'll be lenient?" Clarke wondered aloud coming back to the topic of Jaha.
Bellamy was well aware of the fact that he was avoiding the Chancellor. In his opinion though, it wasn't a bad thing. Clarke seemed to think that if he spoke to Jaha then he would be instantly pardoned, but Bellamy had a more realistic view of his situation. He would be shocked if the Chancellor didn't just drop the call the instant, he faced the camera. Of all the possible outcomes, leniency seemed least likely.
"Look," Bellamy said a bit hostile. "I shot the man Clarke. He's not just going to forgive and forget."
He hated that he had to speak to Clarke that way. It bothered him the way here eyes dropped to the rocks beneath their feet, her face of pain and frustration. Bellamy stared at the blonde for another moment, taking in her features, marred by the pain of dealing with him. In that moment, not knowing why, he thought she was beautiful. She was beautiful in a strong and resilient way, but also physically.
"Let's just split up," Bellamy broke the brief silence. "Cover more ground." He walked past Clarke towards the expanse of ruin below. "Stay within shouting distance."
Bellamy reached the bottom of the cliff quickly, wanting to remove himself from Clarke's presence at the moment. He knew she was just trying to help him, but Bellamy didn't want her help right now, or anybody's for that matter. He could handle himself and make his own decisions.
He took a closer look at his surroundings, trying to think of where the door could be located. The space itself was so large that it could be anywhere. Bellamy would have to narrow down the location to certain areas.
"Probably hidden," He muttered to himself. "Might be a hatch, or beneath the wreckage of a building. Could also be in the side of a hill."
There were too many variables. Bellamy ran his hands over his face in frustration. A blonde head of hair caught his eye as Clarke passed through the edge of his vision heading for the largest wrecked building. He followed her with his eyes all the way to the entrance. She seemed so calm but so determined. Why hadn't she caught his eye before?
Clarke turned, as she did Bellamy quickly turned his back to avoid eye contact. He didn't want her to know that he'd been watching her. It sounded creepy when he thought about that way.
Bellamy drummed his hands against his thighs, then randomly picked a spot to start looking. The door wasn't going to find itself, and no amount of thinking would tell him where it was. The rubble on the ground had obviously been a building at some point. It was marble, now grayed from years of exposure to the elements.
He surveyed the wreckage, wondering where a door could be in the building. 'Probably nowhere', a condescending part of his mind thought.
Bellamy lifted up a medium sized piece of marble and tossed it off to the side. It fell to the ground with a dull thump and rolled a few inches further. He did the same with another piece. That piece rolled within inches of the first chunk, barely touching it before settling back down.
Now able to see the floor of the building in a small space, he found nothing. No evidence of a hidden depot whatsoever. Bellamy moved a few more rocks before giving up, it wasn't here. So, he moved on to the next spot.
Walking around the hill, his eyes trained on the ground for any suspicious looking lumps or rocks. The first he saw was a dark rock surrounded by yellowing grass on all sides. The rock was quite large, but not so large that it would be unmovable. Bellamy walked up to the rock and squatted down taking a moment to find good handholds. Then, he lifted with his legs so that the rock's weight rested on his straight arms as he stood. Underneath the rock were only bugs.
Bellamy dropped the rock and continued searching around the hill, but despite his attempts to avoid Clarke, his mind returned to her. He thought of her hair bouncing up and down as she planted one foot in front of the other in the most determined way possible. Her brilliant blue eyes and tight-lipped smile. He thought of her compassionate heart and strong will.
However, he also thought of her confrontations with him. The moment Bellamy remembered best, when he had nearly dropped her into the pit of spikes in front of the tree Jasper was tied to. Their first day on the ground, when Bellamy had discounted her as merely another upper-class brat. The time when he had faced off angrily against the combined force of Clarke, Finn, Raven, and Maynard in the forest over his idiotic attempt to destroy the radio.
There were an equal number of bad memories, mostly surrounding his own actions, that he deeply regretted. Bellamy wished he could do it all again and treat Clarke fairly right from the beginning. Would that happen? No. Bellamy was stuck in this moment trying to rectify the mistakes he had made.
He walked down the hill to the ground below to continue his search for the door. While walking down the hill, Bellamy spotted the most suspicious spot he'd seen so far. A pile of long grass lay bunched up like a mini hill. Whatever was beneath the grass stood about the high of Bellamy's waist.
Bellamy walked over to the grass and tore it off the object beneath it. He furiously pulled backwards hoping he'd found something, but underneath it was only a log. A log and nothing more. Or maybe…
Bellamy pulled out his hatchet and began hacking away at the bottom of the log. The door could be cleverly disguised as this log. The blade of the hatchet landed against the wood splintering it. Bellamy swung again and again totally intent on his task. After a few more well-placed hits though he was interrupted.
"Bellamy!" Clarke called out from below him.
In response to her call, Bellamy walked up to the edge of a steep decline and looked down. Below him Clarke stood, looking back up at him. Bellamy had to try hard to avoid getting caught up in his feelings.
"Over here," She said. "I found a door."
Bellamy turned his back on Clarke and started working his way back down to her. Seconds later he was down standing in front of Clarke who looked at him expectantly.
"This way," Clarke motioned for him to follow.
She led him through a barren section of the area, one he probably wouldn't have thought to check. There was a steep hill to their left and a shallow plateau to their right, each covered in the same dry yellow grass.
As they walked, Bellamy realized just how close he stood to Clarke. Their shoulders were practically touching. She was right there, so close, yet so far.
Clarke suddenly turned leading Bellamy to the edge of the hill on the left. He had the right idea in checking the hill earlier. Only problem was, he chose the wrong hill to investigate. Clarke squatted down in front of a particularly flat piece of ground and brushed aside the leaves that lay there. A hatch revealed itself.
It was an old metal object. The hatch had rusty looking hinges, and even rustier handles attached to its flat circular face. Bellamy wondered how long it had been here, certainly over a century, maybe even a century and a half.
Clarke pulled against one of the rusty handles, heaving with all her strength. The position she took was limited, as she wasn't using all the leverage available to her. Had she stood and pulled with straight arms she would have been stronger. Though, Bellamy doubted it would have made a difference if the hatch was really as rusted as it looked.
"I think it's rusted shut," Clarke said.
Bellamy looked at the hatch for a moment before noticing something. It had a small lock at the bottom left, which, just like the rest of the hatch, was covered in rust. Bellamy lifted his hatchet and prepared to break the seal.
"Watch your foot," Bellamy warned.
Clarke looked back noticing that Bellamy was going to use his hatchet to break the seal. She quickly moved to make space for Bellamy to swing unhindered. Two swings later the seal was broken.
"Ok give me a hand," Bellamy said.
Each grabbed onto one of the handles. They lifted together, and grunting they managed to open the door to the supply depot. Clarke picked up her bag in her hand and stood.
"Let's see what's down here," She commented. Bellamy just nodded, picking up his bag as well.
Clarke led the way down the metal staircase. Cobwebs stretched from floor to ceiling due to the amount of time the bunker had been left unattended. At the bottom of the stairs stood a thick metal wall with the words, Emergency Aid Depot #22, on it. Bellamy had to duck his head to descend further down the stairs, as the ceiling was in the way of his head.
"Here," Clarke passed Bellamy a flashlight, which he took gratefully.
"You really think this place hasn't been touched since the war?" Bellamy asked, curious of Clarke's thoughts. It was fairly obvious to him that it hadn't been.
"A girl can dream," Clarke remarked.
She started off to the right of the staircase, where there was another staircase, leading to lower levels. Bellamy thanked whatever god that existed right then for the flashlight he held. Without the flashlights, they would be totally blind.
Clarke started, letting out a frightened sound. She calmed quickly though. Bellamy removed his hand from the hatchet at his side, no longer concerned she was in trouble. Then he saw why she was so startled. The decaying carcass of a skeleton lay on the stairs.
"Hell of a place to die," Bellamy imagined the horror being trapped in a place like this until you starved to death.
They came to the bottom of the stairs seeing more cobwebs and walls covered in dark grime.
"So much for living down here," Clarke spoke. "This place is disgusting."
Bellamy said nothing. She was right. It was damn disgusting and would not be livable in his lifetime. Water dripped from the ceiling, clinking lightly against the metal floor. Yep, disgusting. It was like the worst muddiest cave you could imagine.
"Damn it," Clarke swore.
Bellamy knew she had desperately hoped that this place could be their salvation. Their dreams of a livable location were shattered. On the plus side though, the condition of the bunker indicated that Bellamy's hypothesis was correct. No one had lived down here for a very long time.
They rounded a corner seeing more dripping water and grimy walls. The shadows lurking just at the edge of his vision unnerved Bellamy. This was like every bad zombie movie you could ever think of. Two people go into a bunker hoping to find supplies, only to find a dark dank hole infested with zombies.
"Anything left down here is ruined," Bellamy observed.
Clarke stopped in front of him to witness water pour from a rather severe leak in the ceiling. Bellamy stepped up next to her shining his own light in the opposite direction, looking for anything useable. Even one multitool would make him happy at this point.
They were in a room full of shelves, some kind of storage area. If they were going to find anything this would be the place. It looked grim though, most of the boxes were open and covered in cobwebs.
"They must've distributed most of the supplies before the last bombs went off," Clarke said.
Bellamy stepped up to a metal boxes cracking the lid open. A loud creak came from the box, echoing through the eerily empty chambers of the bunker. Inside were glowsticks, and not the kind you saw kids waving around on Halloween. These were legit military spec glowsticks, the kind spec ops guys would through into a dark building to see if any terrorists lurked inside.
"Hey, I found blankets," Clarke said behind him. At least the trip hadn't been a total loss. Could've been a hell of a lot better though.
"Excited about a couple of blankets?" Bellamy asked condescendingly. He has wanted to find tools and weapons, but so far, nothing.
"Well," Clarke said. "It's something."
"How about a canteen?" Bellamy asked his voice rising. "A med kit? Or a decent fucking tent?"
He slapped his hand on an oil barrel in frustration. Something inside the barrel seemed to vibrate and send his energy back to him. Bellamy narrowed his eyes at the barrel, wondering what could be inside. He removed the lid, tossing it aside. Revealed inside the barrel was nothing but dark gunky water.
Bellamy roared in frustration and kicked the barrel over violently. It crashed to the ground, spilling the dirty water everywhere. In the midst of all the anger though, he heard a sound, a clattering plastic sound. Bellamy bent his knees to inspect the items that had fallen from the oil barrel. What he saw shocked and relieved him.
"Oh my god," Bellamy breathed.
"What?" Clarke turned coming over to see what Bellamy had found.
Bellamy grabbed and lifted one of the grime covered Assault Rifles to show Clarke. He looked up at her all trace of frustration gone. In its place was excitement. He smiled at the look of shock that crossed Clarke's face.
Everything seemed bleary at first. I couldn't tell what the hell was going on. It was foggy, like when I was feverish lying in Raven's bed. A dull pain ached on the back of my head. Rubbing at the spot, I tried to divine the reason for that. Then I remembered.
The hunt. The grounder. My fight. Getting caught by a whole squad of them. The leader with blonde highlights. And the big guy that had walked up behind me and whacked me on the head.
I inhaled sharply as I sat up. Everything became clear instantaneously. There was no more bleariness, only vivid focus. My senses were dialed up to eleven as I took in my surroundings.
I was in some sort of jail. The walls were made up of some kind of cinderblock, and I was handcuffed and chained to a spike driven into the blocks. I wasn't going to be able to yank on the chain and get free. The floor was dirt covered by straw and smelled of shit. It didn't smell like shit metaphorically. The floor actually smelled like shit. They probably didn't give their prisoners a bucket to take a dump in.
Outside my holding cell, I heard faint voices conversing. Very faint voices. They weren't guards at the door talking. It sounded like someone was speaking in another building hundreds of feet from my cell. I guessed one of the people was probably the woman with the blonde highlights, but I wasn't sure. For all I knew it could just be a couple of guys bullshitting.
I sat up, finding myself shirtless again. If I had lost my fleece, then I was going to be pissed. At least the grounders had left my pants on though. That was somewhat comforting.
"Fuck," I swore.
The door of the cell was made of cast iron bars jammed into the cinderblocks. There was a rectangular lock on the right side, but no keys were visible anywhere outside. I was stuck for the conceivable future.
My brain began formulating a plan to escape. If I could get a guy in here and provoke him into fighting me then I could potentially take a knife off him and pick the locks on my handcuffs. Then, I could leave. The only problem was that I had no idea what the surrounding area was like. I didn't know where I was, likely in grounder territory, but that was the least of my worries. I didn't know how many grounders were around, or where they had hidden my weapons.
I could leave the cell and get shot full of arrows. That left my only option to sit in the cell and observe my surroundings through whatever means were available to me. Unfortunately for me, a wrench was thrown into that plan.
"Well," The woman with the blonde highlights appeared on the other side of the door. "Sky man. First, I was most impressed by the skills you demonstrated. There aren't many who could face my best warriors and survive. You faced seven and killed four."
She paused awaiting a response from me. She seemed to expect something from me, a thank you perhaps. I wouldn't give the woman such satisfaction. I sniffed the air as if I was clearing my sinuses, not wanting to reveal any details about myself. The leader had no scent of fear, but there was something else there, I wasn't sure what, but I could exploit it given the time.
I grunted and shrugged.
"A man of few words," She observed. "I'd prefer you speak to me about…certain issues your people have involved themselves in."
I narrowed my eyes, "Like what?"
"Your weapons of war," The leader said like it was the most obvious thing ever. "They burned a village of my people to the ground."
"I'm not aware of any weapon launchin's goin' on," I said neutrally. I wanted to find out more of what she was talking about, because right now I was real confused.
"Don't be coy," She advised straight faced. "Your people launched fire into the sky and burned one of our villages to the ground. You killed many residents and wounded many more. Few made it out unscathed."
I racked my brain for the event she was talking about. Fire in the sky? What did that mean?
Then it hit me. The flares. We had launched the flares into the sky as a message to the Ark. Apparently said flares had landed on a grounder village and torched it. Inside I patted myself on the back for my logical deduction, but on the outside, I remained stoic and stone faced.
"No, we didn't," I wasn't sure what argument I should make. I needed to stall for time to come up with an argument. The straight truth probably wasn't advisable here, as much as I disliked that. Generally, the truth was preferrable to lying, but I didn't have much choice.
If I told the leader that we had launched the flares to tell the Ark that we had survived, then she could believe that an army of sky people was coming down to challenge her people for their territory. Plus, I wasn't sure if she'd understand the technological side of the story. I was probably best off playing dumb.
"Then what is your explanation?" The leader questioned.
"My explanation is I don't got a damn clue what yer talkin' about," I annunciated the words slowly, my accent speaking through thickly.
The woman narrowed her eyes at me, searching for signs of weakness. She was a lot like me, a predator. Only she was further down the food chain, she just didn't know it.
"You are a strong one," The leader commented nodding slowly.
"And ya only took me out 'cause ya had a whole squad of soldiers to help ya," I shot back. My goal was to wound her pride, she wouldn't take kindly to an ego bruise like that. Personally, I thought it was smart to bring a few friends to a fight. You were more likely to win that way, and that was all that mattered.
The woman inhaled loudly and angrily. Then she blew air out of her nose rapidly. Her frustration was evident. I wasn't going to comply with anything she said, though they would probably start torturing me if I acted like a jackass any longer.
"You're lucky," She said quietly. "You are lucky we haven't finished preparing the ceremony."
"Ceremony?" I cocked an eyebrow. "I guess yer not talkin' about tea?"
"No," She responded with an evil smirk. "You see sky man; blood must have blood. You have killed our people, so we have to retaliate."
"Revenge is sweet ain't it?" I asked sarcastically.
"Indeed, it is sky man," the leader returned.
Well this ended up being longer than I had planned. Therefore, I am going to split 1.8 into two parts.
Hope that's okay. Thanks for reading.