Day 162 – Feb. 21
Two small, rough, scratchy paws press against Myles' cheek and neck, causing her to groan sleepily and red eyebrows to twitch down groggily. Myles is asleep in her bed, lying on her side with her back to the wall and Max lying beside her. Both dog and human are facing each other, bodies stretched out comfortably. The arm pinned beneath Myles' side and the bed is bent in a 'v' shape, the hand covered by the calico-coloured dog's shaggy fur and weight. She drapes her other arm across Max's belly, her hand absentmindedly scratching gently at the dog's fur when her mind dips in and out of consciousness.
Just as the redhead is slipping back into the deep, undisturbed slumber the paws interrupted, they suddenly push against her skin with all of Max's might. Scrunching up her face and rolling her head away, Myles can't help the exasperated breath she lets out.
"Max," Myles scolds the stretching dog sleepily, "must you?"
Max relaxes again from his strong stretch, leaving his front legs still out straight over the redhead's chest and face. Before Myles can get the chance to let out a big sigh, Max does it first, his small body rising and falling dramatically as a gust of breath expels from his mouth. Cracking open her hazel eyes, Myles turns her head against the dog's paws to glare at Max through the pitch black dead of night.
"Really?" Myles asks sarcastically, using the hand that's not pinned underneath Max to move his paws off her face so she can sit up. "You're the one sighing?" The combination of Myles sitting up and talking to him makes Max wag his tail excitedly against the bed, lifting his head towards the red-haired teen lovingly. Gently patting and fondly brushing her fingers against his face, Myles continues. "You punched me in the face, you know that?"
The calico-coloured dog rubs his face against her hand before reaching up to rub her face with his wet nose and propping his upper body up on his front legs. His new lying position frees Myles' other hand, and after a moment of excitedly accepting the fuss the redhead gives him, he flops his head down and rolls over to expose his belly. Scratching gently with her fingernails, hazel eyes look up from the dog to glance around the room with her slowly adjusting eyes. It's the middle of the night, the cool late winter air breezing in through the window to chill the house.
Lying back down, Myles brings both her hands to her temples as a loud yawn wracks her body. Stretching out her legs and bending back her crooked elbows, Myles' whole body slumps down in relaxation once the yawn is over. Hazel eyes stare at the wooden logs that make up the ceiling, the layers and sloped debris on top of the roof to make it blend it with the treetops not even a thought in her mind. She's tired, but her eyes don't drop closed, instead staying wide open and Myles sighs, turning her head to look over her room once again.
Licking her lips, the redhead sits up, pulling her legs out from under the blankets and carefully manoeuvring herself to climb over Max. The dog perks up at her movement, happily accepting the rubs she gives his back once her sock-clad feet are on the cold floor.
"Alright, bud," the red-haired teen mutters, softly tapping her hand on his side twice. "I'm gonna get some water."
His brown eyes watch her walk across the room, but he doesn't move until he registers she's leaving. Quickly getting up and jumping down, Max trots over to her as she opens the door. Myles steps out to head down the short, winding stairs when she halts. Coming from the door directly across from hers is one of her best friends quietly murmuring to himself. It's not like he's sleep talking, but a more purposeful sound, as if he's trying to not make any noise.
Jasper's words are indistinguishable, soft mutterings that's understanding gets swept away in the chilly breeze wafting through the house. Stepping up to his door, the redhead knocks lightly before pushing it open.
"Believe me," Jasper sings to himself quietly. "I know what to do." Myles peers her head in, seeing him lying on his bed with the white headphones connected to Maya Vie's iPod in his ears. "But something won't let me make love to you."
Slowly pushing the door open even further drags Jasper's attention away from staring out his window to look at his bedroom door. Jasper pulls his headphones out and picks up the iPod to pause it, and Myles takes this as an invitation to enter. Slipping through his door, the redhead waits for Max to follow in behind her before shutting it silently and padding over to her best friend's bed.
"Hey," the brown-haired teen greets quietly, shifting over as Myles goes around Finn's bed.
"Hey," Myles echoes just as quietly, climbing into the bed beside him and laying down. Max jumps up, stepping on top of her legs to lie down across both of their shins. "Oof."
"Making yourself comfortable, hey?" Jasper utters under his breath, reaching a hand out to scratch at the dog's head.
The words are meant fondly, but they're empty and his tone quivers with emotion. Turning her head to look at her best friend, Myles waits until he meets her gaze to say something else.
"You okay?" Myles enquires lowly, her hazel eyes switching between his two brown and finding nothing but pain in them.
"No," he answers honestly, the simple syllables wavering on their way out.
Jasper doesn't elaborate, so his best friend does.
"Nightmare?" The red-haired teen implores knowingly, and Jasper shifts his eyes away.
"No," Jasper supplies simply, the answer nothing like what Myles was expecting.
"No?" Myles echoes in confusion, staring at her best friend and waiting as his brown eyes flick around absently, trying to sort through the turmoil he feels inside.
"I didn't dream of her at all," the brown-haired teen divulges, his words wet with tears and pain. Myles stays quiet, empathy cloaking her delicate features while her best friend breathes harshly. "Not tonight, or yesterday, or the day before."
Jasper Jordan fell in love with Maya Vie in Mount Weather. The beautiful black-haired teenager had done all she could to help the Arkers, even after it led to her own father's death, and eventually the death of everyone in that mountain. She had died alongside them all, burning in her excruciating last few moments. Jasper had been there to see it, holding her as she finally died. It haunts them, a painful scar on the hearts of everyone who was in that mountain that day.
Tear-filled, wide and horrified brown eyes turn to his best friend, his expression nothing but mortified and heart-broken.
"I'm forgetting her, Aggie," he whispers in horror, self-loathing and grief tearing him apart.
"No," Myles refuses softly, lifting her eyebrows up and shaking her head in little motions as mirrored tears fill her eyes. "No, you're not."
"I am," Jasper insists in a broken voice. "I don't know if those are the only nights I haven't dreamt of her. What if there's more, and I didn't notice? What if I keep forgetting her more and more?"
"You're not forgetting her," she whispers back, her voice breaking. "You're moving on."
"It's the same thing," the brown-haired teen informs her, his wavering tone bitter. "I didn't even realise. I woke up, and I didn't even realise I hadn't dreamt of her."
Watery hazel eyes flick between overflowing brown, both searching for an answer and a cure to their own self-loathing. Swallowing after a pained pause, Myles opens her mouth, the promise sitting heavily on her tongue.
"I won't let you forget her," Myles vows sincerely, her quiet voice shaking. "I promise."
Jasper stares deeply into Myles' eyes, finding only pure honestly and care for him in them. Nodding and sniffing to himself, Jasper rolls his head to stare out the window again. His hands shake when they pick up the white headphones and hand one to his best friend. Myles doesn't hesitate in accepting it and placing it in her ear as he does the same, picking up the iPod again to play the music.
"Why can't I get just one fuck," a man's voice sings, his tone oddly relaxed against the fast beat and hectic rhythm of the drums playing to it. "I guess it got something to do with luck." Myles shifts her head when the beat falls almost silent, leaving only the man's voice and both best friend's lift a hand up as they wait for the drums to kick back in. "But I waited my whole life for just one."
"Day after day," Myles and Jasper whisper the lyrics, dragging them out like the man singing does and swinging with a hand each to match the beat in the background and the timing of his voice. "I get angry and I will say. That the day is in my sight." Jasper tilts his head to look at Myles and the redhead easily meets his gaze, both of their faces screwing up over-dramatically as they continue to sing along to the song quietly. "When I'll take a bow and say goodnight."
To the red-haired teen's left, Max sprints off towards Jasper, weaving around the trees and bounding over bushes with pure energy and playfulness.
It always seems like such a good idea in theory, but as Myles, Jasper and Lincoln walk spread out amongst the trees, Myles allows herself a moment to doubt it. Their plan for supply hunting is always the same; using old records and salvaged papers, locate an old building with an underground parking garage or structure. They always look for a new one, instead of going to one they already know the location of. Which sounds stupid and like a waste of their time, and it certainly feels like it right now, but it's not.
By finding and using a new location every time, they're setting themselves up for an easier solution in the future. The last complete world census results in 2051, a year before the nuclear war started, had the total human population on Earth as 9.8 billion people. Large structures, both above ground and underground, had to be made to encapsulate all they could, needing enough space to park all their cars and still hold people under their roof. Unluckily for them, however, most of the records they have readily accessible to them and those that are able to be read by the Ark aren't exactly accurate.
Scientists all over the globe had predicted the planet's death as soon as the population first hit 7 billion half a century before the bombs dropped. Having that many people just living on the planet had crippled it, but then factoring in every piece of un-recycled waste, any gas emissions, millions of cut down trees and constantly disrupted water sources… the last few decades were chaos. Universities tripled in size to teach more people so they could come up with a solution faster. Tourist attractions were repurposed for military training and civilian evacuation points, homes were packed almost wall to wall, leaving no space for trees to get replanted after being chopped down.
All the reports those living on the space stations that made up the Ark got in the last ten years before the war was how increasingly unliveable the Earth was becoming. The air was so dusty young children were growing up having to cart around an oxygen tank with an expiry date on their lungs because of how damaged they developed to be. Most of their food had to be artificially made, like the ration packs they had on the Ark, simply because there wasn't a sustainable environment to breed animals or grow crops. They rationed their water due to a lack of drinkable water sources, and the human race was becoming desperate.
Now, though, after two hundred years of weather and scavengers, there is hardly anything left of what society used to be. Everything that is still moderately intact with abandoned supplies is deep underground, but armed with only out-of-date records and faded pictures, narrowing down where to look is frustratingly hard. They could never clean out an entire parking garage in one week, not even with Lincoln's help, so dipping into places here and there is incredibly valuable.
If they're ever in a tough spot and they need supplies fast, they've already done all the legwork. Their maps will have confirmed supply points with varyingly accessible entrances. This way, they're set for life, as long as they're smart about this.
"How sure are you we're in the right place?" Jasper calls out somewhere to her right, and Myles doesn't look up from the ground she walks over to reply.
"Pretty sure," the red-haired teen answers loudly, "this is where the Atlanta Panola mountains were. Can't've changed that much."
"What are we looking for?" Lincoln queries from a couple metres behind her, Max sprinting back over to their left, chasing and biting after a bug too small for them to see.
"Old concrete," Myles lists off distractedly, crouching down when she thinks she sees something in the grass glistening in the early morning sun. It's nothing but a wet patch, so she sighs and stands again. "Ruins. Cars."
"Really deep hole in the ground," Jasper muses, kicking a rock and letting it go flying off to the side.
"Like if Polis were to go crashing down," the redhead breathes out, "and people took everything they could from the wreckage."
"How sure is pretty sure?" Jasper asks again, stopping and looking over at the other two. "On a scale of blueberries."
Myles stops, ignoring Lincoln's confused echoing of the fruit to think it over in her mind.
"They might be a little bit sour," Myles decides on after a moment, "but they're not squishy or wrinkly."
"'Cause you were sure about the last two places," her best friend starts, and the redhead looks exasperatedly at him.
"And I am still sure about them," the red-haired Arker defends, moving forward and continuing to check the ground for any sign of ruins. "I didn't really expect Ouskejonkru to be hostile."
"Obviously," Lincoln interjects seriously, "you haven't had much experience with them."
"I know even less about Blue Cliff," Myles elaborates, "than I know about Floukru. I know they like to chuck dead peoples ashes off the cliff and they worship shiny stones. That, my friend, is where my expertise ends."
"All I'm saying," Jasper continues, "if you were sure-sure about them, pretty-sure doesn't rank much higher."
"I'm not sure-sure about them," the redhead announces with a shrug. "I'm just sure."
"You're sure on the sure scale," the brown-haired Arker points out, "that's sure-sure in short."
"That sounds redundant," Myles counters, "how is that in short?"
"Because it's on the sure scale," Jasper repeats confidently. "What are we doing?"
"Looking for the old university," Lincoln answers factually, not looking up from the ground.
"No," the brown-haired Arker denies, stopping and talking with a sarcastic wistfulness in his voice. "I mean existentially." Myles sighs, shooting her best friend an unimpressed look with a mischievous smile sneaking across her delicate features. "Well, there's always alcohol and an old university… but beyond that."
"You two seem to have it figured out," Lincoln offers, looking to Jasper in confusion. "Bridging the gap between us and Sky People. Giving us all peace."
"It's mostly by accident," the redhead reveals, shrugging halfheartedly. "We do things like this and it matters to some. The only time we really do something is when it's life and death."
"Ah," Jasper huffs out in faux relaxation, "the familiar sound of modest denial." Hazel eyes look to him with a halfhearted glare, and her best friend continues. "Hey, don't look at me like that. You can't spell denial with 'i', but you can with 'u'."
"That makes even less sense than the 'sure' thing," the dark-skinned grounder relays quickly.
"Yeah," Myles agrees, "that's not right. Like, at all."
"It works better if it's the other way 'round," the brown-haired teen explains, "not my finest moment."
Myles goes to roll her eyes with a bright smile on her face when her hazel eyes halt on the mountain to her right. Red eyebrows twitch together and her feet stop in their tracks, her gaze scrutinising the slope.
"JJ?" Myles calls distractedly, not taking her eyes off of it.
"Yo?" Jasper shoots back cheerfully, spinning in his spot to look at his best friend.
"Is that concrete coming out of that mountain?" Myles enquires, lifting a hand to point to the chipped and crumbling greyish block peeking out amongst the grass. "Or a rock that's been blown up and is stuck in the ground?"
"Don't know," he provides, changing his course to go up there and check. "Let's find out."
Lincoln and Myles didn't need the invitation, their boots already walking them over to the slope. It starts out steep, the edge of the mountain almost standing vertically up. The sight makes the redhead pause, redirecting her steps over to the almost flat wall. Reaching her hand out, the red-haired teen palms the mossy wall, trying to feel if it's a concrete wall under the thick, slimy green coat or if it's just stone. Scratching at a spot with her finger fruitlessly, Myles pulls a knife from her belt to scrape it away with her blade.
Hidden under the moss and nest of vines is jagged, grainy stone. Natural grooves and dips decorate the cold dark stone, and the disappointment bubbling up in Myles' chest disheartens her.
"Yep," Jasper calls from up and to her right. "Definitely concrete."
"Is it a parking garage?" Myles shouts back, stepping to the side and feeling along the mossy rock for a point she can use to heave herself up and check for herself.
"Don't know," her best friend replies, and the redhead props her boot on a sliver of rock that juts out slightly.
It's so slim Myles wouldn't have been able to see it under all the moss, but she can feel it with her hand. With her boot firmly resting on it, her hand reaches up to grip close to the root on some vines to give her enough time to find a new hold. Jumping up with the leg still on the ground, her fingers curve and frantically brush over the moss and vines, searching for a more stable hold as the vines start to tug loose from the dirt. Myles copies the scratching motion her fingers did with the boot she pushed off the ground with, keeping her knee bent high so she can make some progress climbing.
All she can find is a nest of vines that can hold some of her weight, so her hazel eyes scan up the slope that slowly becomes less of a steep edge. Her eyes find a sharply shaped rock she can grip onto above her, and she decides to wage her bets with the vines. Breathing deeply, Myles pushes off the small sliver of rock to leave her whole body weight on the nest of vines and she moves quickly. Replacing the hold her hand has with the boot she just pushed off with, the other slips from the vines as they snap under her weight and her hand reaches for the rock above her.
The rock Myles had thought was large and deeply imbedded into the earth comes tumbling out down towards her face, and she ducks her head to the side, letting the heavy rocky bash down her body. Without a hand hold, her upper body sways and she quickly shoves her hand into the cold and damp soil that was under the rock. The mountain's slope isn't as dramatic now, angling itself so Myles can use the tips of her boots to scale the slope without needing to have a hold on anything.
Stepping up the slope slowly, her boots slip and slide and Myles keeps her hands on the dewy grass, moss and vines to stop her from slipping flat on her face. Lincoln reaches a hand out when Myles gets close to them, helping pull her up from the steep side onto much easier terrain. The top layers of the concrete corner protruding from the dirt is crumbling off, leaving the shape rough and bumpy. It's obviously the top corner of a wall, but Jasper's hands scraping at the dirt around it reveals nothing, as if it's been encased into the earth.
"We can't get in from here," Jasper announces gruffly, pushing himself back up to his feet.
"How can we get in?" Lincoln implores, trying to brush some of the dirt underneath it away with his boot.
"Well," Myles tries, leaning her head to follow the edges of the concrete corner. Lifting her hand to gesture across the mountain one edge points to. "One wall went this way, the other that way. We walk it until we find an entrance."
"A hidden door," Jasper describes, walking off to follow one edge and looking back to look for Max. "Big hole. Small hole we can chip away. Max, come here!" Somewhere behind them, the calico-coloured dog bounds through the bushes to scale the side of the mountain and join them. Max barks twice, letting them know he's heard them and is coming to obey the brown-haired Arker's command. "I'll take this way."
"See you on the other side, dude," Myles tells him, sliding back down the ridiculously steep slope she climbed.
Lincoln follows behind her, copying her movements of having a hand out behind her against the ground and crouching down as they slip down carefully.
"Is this how this normally goes?" Lincoln queries, pausing when Myles stops at the bottom to walk along the edge of the mountain in search of an entrance.
"Kinda," the redhead replies, moving forward and brushing her hand off on her pants. "Sometimes we get lucky."
Myles' eyebrows barely shift as her eyes scour the slope beside them, only a slight expression twisting them up to make the one crease on her forehead appear as she concentrates. Dark brown eyebrows are pulled together, equally dark eyes staring at places in the mountainside unsurely.
"And you normally find doors?" Lincoln questions, easily following behind the red-haired Arker with similarly silent steps.
"If we know where the wall is, yeah," Myles supplies, stopping to lean up on her toes and reach a strange jut in the steep mountainside above them. It doesn't shift with her forceful pushing on it, and the redhead continues answering Lincoln with a strain in her voice. "It's where people used to park their cars. There's always a door in case of emergencies."
Dropping back down to stand on the ground properly, Myles huffs a sigh. Walking forward and continuing to follow the large curve of the huge mountain, their eyes continue to search out any kind of remains from an old civilisation.
"It's hard to believe there were many cars," Lincoln admits, and Myles looks back at him, leaning over a little to run her fingers along the mountainside when it becomes ridiculously steep again. "The rover seems like a dream to me."
"Me too, dude," the redhead agrees, gesturing around. "You've seen Arkadia. It was hard for me to believe a colour that wasn't grey existed. Cars? That's insanity."
"You grew up with technology," the grounder insists calmly, "if it's insanity to you, I don't know how to explain what it's like to us. It's witchcraft."
Myles stops, turning around to look at him while pulling her hands back from the steadily evening slope beside them.
"Do you want a rover?" Myles asks, "is that what this is about? Because you can have one. All to yourself."
"You want to give me a rover?" Lincoln all but rebukes, his tone perplexed and expression twisted up in incredulity.
"If you want one," the redhead defends loudly, unsure why his demeanour shifted so suddenly at the offer. "You can be the king of witchcraft." Myles quirks her eyebrows playfully, turning back around to continue walking forward. "The top dog. Big kahuna. Gian – "
"I get it," the dark-skinned man halts her amusedly, "I don't know. I think I need to get used to the idea of them first."
"I think anyone would need extra time getting used to it," Myles relays jokingly, "if Jasper's the one driving. He's a madman."
"We're all madmen," Lincoln reveals, a smile in his voice, "some show it more than others."
"There's an old saying," the redhead muses, reaching her hands up high to try to brush the greenery off the sudden vertical drop the dirt does again above their heads.
It's unnatural, the way this large mountain suddenly has a metre or so of straight vertical wall of rock. Myles is almost convinced after finding the corner of concrete a decent climb up the hill that some of these are concrete walls of the underground building. It wouldn't be the first time they've seen that the bombs have pushed the dirt oddly to hide the relics like a tomb. Two-hundred years of people and animals walking over the regrowing Earth only aids in disguising the remains of a technological society.
"It's the people who think they're sane," Myles finishes distractedly, readying her fist on the scratched, slimy wall hidden underneath the moss. "That you need to worry about." Knocking a few times produces a thick metallic sound, rather than the solid tapping noise knocking on rock and concrete makes. Looking to Lincoln with sparkling hazel eyes, her delicate red eyebrows raise excitedly as she lifts her walkie to her face. "Found it, JJ. Can you bring the rover over?"
"On our way," Jasper immediately replies through their earpieces, and Lincoln's hands join Myles' as they pull the moss and greenery off of the double doors.
"We need to set aside time for Emori," Jasper calls from inside of a car in the row across from Myles. "Instead of trying to squeeze her in around everything else."
"What is this?" Lincoln asks, popping out from the car beside Jasper's and holding up an inhaler into the light provided by the rover's headlights.
"Inhaler," Myles answers, looking from the beautiful opal necklace she holds over the open trunk of a short red car to see what he's talking about. "The medicine in it is expired, but Arkadia can put new medicine in it and reuse it."
"Why are we avoiding the Emori situation?" Jasper quizzes, standing up from the back passenger door of his car and looking at his best friend without a trace of judgement in his tone or eyes.
"We're not," the redhead denies defensively, pocketing the necklace and picking up an umbrella, a textbook called 'Food Science and Technology – Volume 35' and two notebooks filled with school notes before closing the trunk. "Even if she's not a nomad, the way she survives is by stealing shit and selling it. We'll go to the villages we gave her sketch to tomorrow, and, if they haven't seen her, we'll keep an eye on the markets. She won't risk going to Leygeda with stolen goods, but – "
"But she'll go to the Capitol's," Lincoln finishes for her as the redhead bends down to place the items in her arms inside of a crate, "quick food."
"You're in Polis, then," Jasper announces, and Myles doesn't even need to look at him from the hood of her car to know he's talking to her. Levelling the brown-haired Arker with an exasperated stare, the redhead lifts the already popped hood up and hooks the rod into place to hold it up. "You're not squirming out of this one, Aggs."
"I haven't squirmed out of anything," Myles refuses slowly, her tone unconvincing.
"Aggie," her best friend starts as she pulls out the alternator, continuing when she places it on the ground by her feet. "I know you," the redhead grumbles under her breath, her hands trying to unfasten the battery and charging ports from the car. "If you keep avoiding Lexa, you'll keep believing it's your fault."
"I don't believe it's my fault," the redhead mocks, yanking out the battery and charging port before dumping them on the ground and tugging frustratedly at the small chains, gears, pipes and hoses still in the car. "It is my fault." Wrenching a hose aggressively, the part comes out from the mess of mechanical junk under the hood with a graceless thunk, and Myles drops it to clatter on the ground. Unwinding a series of small gears and chains from the engine over-dramatically, the red-haired teen grinds out. "I pissed off Ontari and Nia."
"Then I orchestrated the assassination of Nia," Myles reminds them bitterly, throwing the gears and bearings on the concrete by her boots and continuing to yank at the car parts. "I left before Ontari's trial, and she escaped. She's god knows where, doing god knows what. Probably killing someone else's kids. All because I got Nia killed."
"You saved the Commander," Lincoln recalls, "a challenge from Azgeda was only going to end one way. You saved us all by making sure it was Nia dead instead of the Commander."
"And look at where that's left us," the red-haired teen grumbles, giving up on trying to yank loose something grimy and slamming her hand down on the engine. "No Nightblood kids and a crazed murderer on the loose."
"Aggie," Jasper tries again, and movement in the rover's bright headlights makes dejected hazel eyes flick up from staring at the mechanical junk in front of her. Max has stood up from by Jasper's car, stepping forward slowly and cautiously with his wide eyes locked on something behind Myles. "It sucks." The calico-coloured dog's ears twitch as if straining to hear something, his mouth twisting in a sneered growl that keeps stopping and starting. "And there's no hope or saving them now," Myles twists her head around to try to look through the darkness to see what her dog is growling at. "But that's not – "
"Shh," Myles orders quietly when she hears a small noise, taking her hands off the car to stand up straight and turn to face the dark rows completely.
"What?" Jasper questions immediately, his tone hard with anxiety and no longer muffled from being inside of a car.
An arrow whizzes past Myles, her hazel eyes catching sight of the blue and white symbolic fletchings a second too late. Ducking to the side, the arrow nicks her upper arm, the sharp arrowhead not fazed by the material of her long-sleeved back shirt. Falling to a crouch and diving behind a car, Max bounds to her, barking loudly at the darkness.
"Heya!" Jasper shouts as Max skids to a stop beside Myles, her two friends ducking behind cover to avoid the arrows shot towards them. [AN: "Hey!"]
"Hod op," Myles calls out, her voice echoing with Max's barks and a small amount of thick blood bubbles up against her shirt sleeve. "Osir nou gaf sich in." [AN: "Stop. We don't want trouble."]
"Osir gouba ogonzaun kom Heda in," Lincoln shouts, another arrow with black fletchings flying into the glass windscreen of the car he's crouched behind and shattering it. [AN: "We observe the Commander's truce."]
"Yo jaka na ge skrud op gon kom op hir," a man's voice bellows back, rumbling threateningly and with the slightly rounded vowels indicative of an Ouskejonkru accent. [AN: "We don't take kindly to thieves."]
"Osir nou ste jak op yo ouska spak," Myles calls to them, "osir nou na bash yo op." [AN: "We're not stealing your Blue John crystals. We mean you no harm."]
"Osir wocha na sad in daunde," another voice to Myles' left announces, and the redhead sighs, looking over to her two friends. [AN: "Our chieftain will decide that."]
"Kei," the red-haired teen declares, standing up and holding her hands up to show she won't try to attack them. "Osir'a gyon au kom yo, sha? Osir na gyon au kom chilnes." [AN: "Alright. We'll come with you, okay? We will go peacefully."]
"Ona, uhh…," Jasper interjects, stuttering unsurely, "won ris." [AN: "on one condition."]
Hazel irises flick to the corner of her eyes, but Myles can't see Jasper while he's to her back. Breathing deeply, she locks her gaze back on the two warriors slowly approaching in front of her with bows drawn and aimed at them. Max continues barking, moving to lunge forward at the attackers when Myles quickly reaches out to grip the shaggy fur on his back. The dog halts, his barking dying down as he looks back at her with guilt-ridden confusion, growls vibrating from his throat as he steps backwards to stick by Myles' heels protectively.
"En chit daun bilaik?" A man asks, a scoffed laugh in his voice. [AN: "And what's that?"]
"Fetcha-de ste set raun," Myles requests, already knowing that this is what her best friend was worried about. [AN: "The dog stays."]
The tight grips on their arms is unnecessary, but Myles understands it for what it is. It's a power play, a demonstration to every person they're being dragged past. Everyone wears the exact same shocked and judgmental stare when they're brought past them, curious eyes watching them be escorted to the chieftain's tent. A small amount of dried blood cracks and pulls uncomfortably on her right upper arm as Myles is tugged through the sea of judging gazes.
Rolling her hazel eyes, annoyance and aggravation flares up inside of her. She's been down this road too many times before, both metaphorically and literally. Hauled out past every prying eye and curious glance to be humiliated, like a pet cat bringing its owner its latest kill.
In front of a large tent almost directly ahead of them is two warriors, and one of them disappears in through the flap of material. A few metres in front of the tent, the men tightly holding Myles' arms both tug her gracelessly to a stop before shoving their boots into the back of her knees. Falling roughly to her knees in the dirt path winding throughout their village, Myles scoffs, turning to share an exasperated look with her best friend as he and Lincoln fall to their knees beside her.
The tent material flicks aside and a man covered head to toe in armour struts out, the gems sewn into his clothes, weaved throughout his long hair and dangling off tassels glisten in the bright late morning sunlight.
"Shit," Jasper mutters under his breath, and Myles can't help agreeing with him.
There are hundreds, at the very least, of villages in each clan. Each village has a chieftain, a leader to guide and protect them like a shepherd guides their flock. The two Arker's don't even know every chieftain in Trigeda, the Woods Clan, let alone a whole other clan's list of leaders. Hell, they only know the name of one of their ambassadors. The chieftain in front of them is a stranger. He's a man wearing everything that symbolises his clan, while also dressed as if he's always ready for battle, but that's all they know of him.
"Wanheda," he greets, eyeing the group. "We were not expecting Skaikru to march on our lands."
His words make the gathering crowd of village-folk murmur to themselves, the Arker's clan name repeating several times around them.
"We didn't mean to impose," Myles respectfully placates, the itching feeling of being looked down on and being vulnerable eating away at her mercilessly.
"Yes, you did," the chieftain instantly refutes, the faux hospitality falling from his features, leaving his expression stony and cold. The sharp change of course makes the redhead still, her delicate features freezing as she presses her lips together. "You went to Big Stone first and left. You had the opportunity to announce your peaceful presence, and yet, you didn't. Tell me, Skaikru, how does that look?"
"Not good, chieftain," Lincoln answers politely, "but we didn't see the need to for this visit."
"They were stealing from the caves, wocha Einri," a man proclaims loudly from behind them.
"No, we weren't," Jasper snaps, "we were retrieving old supplies."
"We haven't touched any of your gems or crystals or stones," Myles finishes earnestly, her fingers twitching with the anxious need to be on an even playing field. Hazel eyes never stray from the chieftain's, Einri's, disbelieving brown eyes as angered mutterings of Skaikru echo around them. "I swear it."
"Oso nou strech au kom jaka," Einri scoffs, gaining encouraging chants and applause from the growing crowd. "Ogeda telon kom Skaikru bilaik kwelen flufgiva ona pakstoka pakkru." [AN: "We don't walk with thieves. The words of Sky People are worthless."]
Hearing the praising shouts from the crowd around them makes Myles' gaze leave Einri's for a moment to flick around them as the static crackling in her veins turns to ice. Her resolve hardens, and by the time her stony expression turns back to the chieftain's smug eyes, she's already moving.
Kicking her leg back and swiping it around the side her two friends aren't, Myles trips up one of the men holding her by her arms as she yanks down with the arm the other warrior holds. The grip on the redhead's left arm falls as the warrior does, and, without wasting a second, Myles reaches up with her freed arm to grip the long braids of the other man.
Using the leg she swept around her to place her boot on the ground, Myles pushes herself to her feet as she smashes the warrior's head into her bent knee. Some dirt from the trail smudged over her jeans rubs off onto his face, leaving a streak of damp dirt where Myles kneed him. The commotion doesn't just jar the warriors behind them into action, but those from the crowd.
Everyone with a weapon on hand yanks it out, surging forward to the redhead with loud roars. One man behind Jasper turns to her, reaching for a dagger in his decorative armour and swiping it up. Myles copies the action, bringing a large blade of her own up to his throat, halting his small approaching steps as her other arm swings the pistol from her belt up to the crowd. The crowd don't immediately stop or slow, so she fires a warning shot into the dirt by her feet, sending dark soil splattering and leaving a small crater in the earth.
The angered crowd stops, their chests heaving and weapons still eager to attack, ready to die fighting the Arker.
"Taim ai don gaf emo stedaun," Myles calls out darkly, taking a slow step backwards towards the chieftain, tilting her weapons in the air. "Emo na bilaik stedaun." [AN: "If I wanted them dead, they'd be dead."]
To show the sincerity of her words, Myles lowers her weapons and turns her back on the crowd, staring at Einri. Distaste floods his brown eyes as he looks over the Arker, the show of power she holds and the adamance to one-up his warriors leaving a sour taste in his mouth.
"And what is it you want," the chieftain implores bitterly, "if not for them to be dead?"
"To talk," Jasper calmly answers, and a delicate blood-red eyebrow quirks at Einri in silent agreement.
"Talk?" Einri repeats in a scoff, "you come on our lands and threaten my people. Steal our goods."
"We mean you no harm," Lincoln restates. "We came to observe the commander's coalition, not to disrespect it."
"We have touched none of your possessions," Myles states, "or crystals. All we want is the supplies encased in the old vehicles. We won't touch anything else."
Einri watches them for a moment, tipping his head back as his eyes scrutinise them.
"You can collect the supplies," the chieftain allows, "but they must be brought here for us."
Myles blurts out a disbelieving laugh, looking away from the man while the searing feeling of agitation scorches her veins.
"No," the redhead denies in a hard tone, "we'll give you a fair share."
"It is on our lands," the man mirrors her hard tone, raising his voice with every word. "You will give it all."
"Fine," Myles relents, shrugging one shoulder stiffly and turning around dismissively. "I think we'll leave, then. Good luck getting those supplies out without us."
"Kru-de gada in ogeda daun ste ona em tof," Einri bellows, earning encouraging shouts from the crowd. "Eintheing yo gaf in sis op, osir na sad klin fos. Osir na kof raun gon yo gran thru, ba em na laik kom chit osir sad in." [AN: "This clan owns all that is on its land. Anything you wish to take, we get the first choice of it all. We will pay for your labour, but it will be of what we choose."]
"Ou, ha solias," Jasper snaps frustratedly, huffing to himself. [AN: "Oh, how gracious."]
Hazel eyes watch her best friend with twinkling delight before they focus elsewhere, and her mind whirs. Whipping back around to face the chieftain, Myles straightens her posture to stand tall again, confidence oozing from her pores.
"Lid ai in bandrona Wilko," the red-haired teen demands, making Einri smirk amusedly. [AN: "Bring me ambassador Wilko."]
"You are in no position to make demands, skaigada," the chieftain denounces, maintaining the same amount of self-assurance as the Arker.
"Osir laik bandrona kom Skaikru," Myles refutes, "en osir gaf telon in kom yo bandrona…" Seeing an opportunity to twist the power back around to her, the redhead takes it as she steps toward him again. "Sef bilaik yu nou fig raun em gada in taida-de sad klin chit radon gon dison kru?" She can see the second his eyes switch from enjoying winning this battle to recognising his defeat. A dark glare livening up his pinched expression. "O kongeda kom Heda?" [AN: "We are the ambassadors of the Sky People, and we want a word with your ambassadors. Unless you don't think he has the right to decide what's best for this clan? Or the Commander's coalition?"]
Einri swallows, tilting his head up and sparing the crowd a quick glance.
"Hon op en lid in bandrona Wilko," the chieftain orders the warriors to his left, not turning back to Lincoln and the Arkers until after they turn to follow the command. "Until our ambassador makes his decision, you will wait as prisoners of this clan." [AN: "Find and bring ambassador Wilko."]
Another sparkle lights up Myles' eyes as she turns to share a glance with her two friends.
This village's prison is underneath their banquet hall, the building they use to honour the Commander and celebrate special occasions. Myles paces back and forth in front of the jail bar gate separating her, Lincoln and Jasper from the two warriors going through their pile of weapons and weapon straps. The thick, rusted metal bars hang from the bare concrete ceiling and the brick walls by chains. Leaning weight on the gate and tugging on it makes the chains rattle, sharp, noisy clanging echoing in the room.
The door is cut out of the same metal framework that makes up the jail bar wall, and they made the lock on it out of carefully carved wood. A thick wooden bar with small holes in the top of it is firmly attached to both the door and the bit of bar wall beside it, stopping the door from opening in either direction. When the guards had shut the door behind them and slid the long wooden block into place, small wooden pegs fell down into the holes.
To unlock the door, a much smaller and longer block slides into the groove dug out in the side of the wooden block that is farthest from the door. That small block acts as a key, having spikes cut out on one side to press up and hold the wooden pegs out of the way so the bar can slide from the door.
It's a rather simple design, and while it's difficult to pry open or pick, it's definitely not impossible. That's not the route she's going for, though. Instead, Myles paces back and forth in front of the jail bar wall with her hazel eyes glued on the two warriors shifting through their weapons, walkie-talkies and ear pieces.
"Myles," Lincoln calls blandly from his place sitting on the floor behind her. Myles doesn't respond, doesn't look in his direction, only continuing to pace. "Sit. There's nothing to do but wait."
"Nah," Jasper refutes, lying on the ground with his knees raised. "This is what she got famous for on the Ark. She's figuring out how to get us out."
"Already figured it out," Myles drawls back lowly, trying to keep her words from reaching the guards.
Rustling echoes sharply as Jasper sits up suddenly, matching her low and quiet tone.
"Great," her best friend beams. "What's the plan?"
"To wait," the redhead answers her pacing ceasing as Jasper huffs in disappointment and the guards pick up one of their radios. "Daunde laik oson." Turning to face the jail bar wall, Myles holds two vertical rusted bars, pulling them down so the chains holding the wall up don't jostle too much. The small gap from the bottom of the jail bar frame wall and the floor is too short to slide her boot under it without lifting it up. The chains running down the side of the jail bar wall to keep it attached firmly to the wall stops her from lifting it up, knowing it'd make too much noise. So, Myles rests her boot on the top of the bottom bar of the metal frame, pushing it down to help silence the chains as the toe of her other boot presses up against the same bar to keep the wall from pulling in and jingling the chains. "Kom yo biyoufou meika of em." [AN: "That's ours {and not yours}. Get your sweaty hands off of it."]
"Shof op," the woman disinterestedly snaps, not sparing a glance toward the three prisoners. [AN: "Be quiet."]
"I'm just saying," Myles rambles, taking her boots and hands away from the wall of metal bars to pace in front of it again. She's reverting to basics, talking their ears off and being as annoying as possible to either drive them insane or divert their attention. "You're all talk of how thieving is so unforgivable, but we didn't steal anything and here you are; stealing." Neither of them seem interested, but the whispers they were sharing with themselves have become silent, the two of them not speaking a word. "Isn't that ironic?"
"Quiet, prisoner," the woman snaps again, this time turning her head to glare at the girl with blood-red hair.
"Ah-ha," Myles exclaims over-dramatically, "I've got you there, my friend. You can steal my shit, and my friends' shit, and my freedom, but you can't take my voice."
"Myles," Lincoln warns quietly, "don't tempt them."
"We can gag you," she snarks back, and Myles twists around to look at her again.
"That's never stopped me before," the redhead assures the warrior, stepping up to the vertical bar wall. Myles grips the rusted bars with her hands, placing a boot on the horizontal bar that runs along the bottom of the wall and presses the toe of her other boot into the small gap under the wall to rest against the bar, stopping the chains holding it up from making a noise. "But it is very kinky." The woman slams down an ankle brace with a pistol, extra bullet magazines and knives onto the table in aggravation. "I didn't take you for the kinky type, but I applaud you. Life is too short to not do something kinky."
"I mean," the red-haired teen continues to chatter, ignoring the man's barely concealed chuckle, and the spiteful looks the woman tosses over her shoulder with angry mutters. "Life is too short to not do most things. Like steal all of our shit, apparently. But especially doing something kinky."
The man picks up Jasper's fawb glove, looking the contraption over and Myles' gut sinks. Ouskejonkru love their arrows, the little arrow darts they use in the fawb glove are sure to capture their attention.
"I would say you haven't lived until you've done something kinky," Myles converses, trying to chip away at them. "How many kinky things have you done besides gagging, plangona?" The warrior in question slams a gun down, spitting out words Myles can't hear to the man beside her before turning and stalking to the stairs. "Hey, where are you going? I wanna compare notes." She doesn't stop, continuing up the stairs with fast thumping stomps. "You're dooming us to boring sex lives!" [AN: "plangona" = warrior woman]
"She really doesn't like you," the remaining warrior huffs out amusedly, pulling the dart cartridge off of the glove.
"But I'm so likeable," the redhead quips, watching his expression and trying to formulate a plan.
His attention is drawn away from the prisoners, instead focusing on the open side that clicks onto the dart trolley. As he lifts the cartridge away from the glove to inspect the open flap, the wire that hooks around the mechanism to shift the darts gets caught, and he unhooks it. This allows the wire to be pulled back to the cartridge, resting against the nail that's designed to stop it from being sucked into the container.
"Heka," he murmurs under his breath, staring in awe at the arrow darts peeking out of the open flap. [AN: "Wow."]
"You don't need to steal that one," Myles offers, trying to keep her voice light and carefree. "You can have it."
"That one's mine," Jasper begrudgingly utters behind her, shifting where he's seated as his anticipation increases at the odd exchange.
The fawb gloves are Myles' babies. She's spent countless nights tweaking and designing them to get them where they are now. Handing one over as if it's nothing and as if he couldn't use it to kill a bunch of people is absurd. Jasper knows his best friend well enough to notice this, and he sees it for what it is: a cue.
"What is it?" The warrior asks, fleetingly dragging his amazed eyes from the cartridge up to the red-haired teen.
"I'll show you how it works," Myles encourages gently, motioning half-heartedly with a hand around the rusted metal bars.
It works, the man casually walks the glove and the cartridge over to her. With the redhead's two friends sitting at the back of the cell and her repeated replication of this exact position at the wall never leading to anything problematic, the warrior is at ease. What reason would he have to be otherwise, Myles is just relaxing against the bars… right?
"You clip that back onto that," the red-haired teen instructs, barely lifting her hand away from the bar to gesture between the glove and the cartridge. He moves to do as described, holding the open flap to the clips he had pulled it off of. "Yeah, but clip this back first."
Myles reaches a hand out as she corrects him, pressing the flap into the clips under where the cartridge is held. In truth, it doesn't matter if the flap is clipped down, it's only an inconvenience if you're wearing long sleeves. What Myles wants is to get him used to seeing her arms through the bars and not see it as a threat.
Pulling back her hand, Myles casually lets her other hand let go of the bar. Both arms hang outside of the vertical bars, her elbows bent to clasp around the rusted metal and hold the wall still. The warrior presses the cartridge like she had pressed the flap, light clicking echoing as the clasps lock together.
"Good," Myles praises, nodding. "Now you just have to wear it like a glove, and you're ready to go."
A self-satisfied smile turns up the man's thin lips, his hands pulling the glove on. With his eyes and hands distracted temporarily, Myles snaps into action. Reaching up with both arms quickly, one reaches around the back of his head to clasp a hand onto the collar of his shirt and yank him to her, turning him slightly in the process. Her other arm hooks around the front of his neck, turning him completely to hold his back tightly to the vertical metal bars.
Instantly, the distracted warrior's moment of shock wears off and he tries to wrench his body forward and out of her hold as a hand grips her arm to try to tear it away from him. It does nothing but help Myles apply more pressure to his throat, awful strained choking sounds bursting from his mouth. Myles' arms are burning, the dried blood over the deep gash from an arrow ripping apart from itself and her shirtsleeve. She clamps her upper arms around the bars of the wall, her boots steadying the rusted metal as the warrior's struggling becomes more violent and desperate. The chains holding the wall up clink and rattle lightly, a quiet sound that's muffled by the redhead's tight hold on it.
One of the man's boots kick back as an arm reaches for a blade of his, the bars width too narrow to fit the athletic man's ankle through to deter his attacker. His blade swings up, however, moving to swipe down at Myles' arms. A brief flutter of panic bubbles in the redhead's gut, until the arms of Jasper Jordan come into view as they reach through the bars to stop the warrior's hand. Lincoln hovers behind Myles, on her other side, his strong, muscular arms too thick to fit more than his hand and wrist through the bars to help. Instead, one hand helps Myles steady the wall, muffling the chains even more as the other hand grasps onto Myles' hand to help her apply pressure on the man's throat.
The addition of Lincoln and Jasper arriving to thwart his violent struggling and help suffocate him only makes his thrashing become harsher. Wet and guttural choking sounds suddenly dwindle down to nothing more than panicked squeaking, a sound that Myles' rough grunts overpower easily. His nails dig into the long sleeve of her shirt, scratching and pinching down on her arm to make her let go. Deep red blood bubbles from the cut on her upper arm, the redhead able to feel the warm, thick blood drip around her arm before sticking to her sleeve.
Myles can feel his fast heart thundering against her skin, meeting her booming heart beats. The skin of his face feels hot and sweaty, a bright red tint painting over his features for only a moment before it fades to a sickly colour. His hands claw at her and Jasper's arms desperately, the actions becoming rougher and unhinged for a short second before everything stops. The warrior's arms fall to his sides limply, his weight dropping as his legs give out. Everything is still under Myles' touch, his skin is no longer tensed, the muscles of his back, neck and head relaxing deeply.
Slowly, Myles releases her tight grip on the unconscious man's throat, keeping her arms around his neck and head to gently and carefully guide him to the floor. Once she's crouched down and his limp body is as far down as Myles can get him, she slowly lets go so he can slump to the cold floor. Before standing up, Myles hastily tugs undone her shoelaces, pulling off her boots and bolting to one edge of the jail bar wall.
"Not to sound unappreciative," Jasper quips, as out of breath as his best friend. "But what now?"
"This," Myles pants, shoving one of her boots between the skinny gap of the bare concrete brick wall and the jail bar wall.
Once that's done, Myles rushes over to the other side to do the same thing with the other shoe. While she walks in her sock to the middle of the bars, Myles reaches a hand out and tugs on the bars, testing its noise. Her boots against the walls stop the chains on the sides from rattling and the tension it creates restricts the chains hanging from the ceiling from making too much sound. Standing in the middle, Myles grips the bars and reaches her left leg through the bars, barely squeezing her knee out. Hooking her leg to clasp around the bars makes the muscle in her thigh bulge, becoming painful against the bars. Reaching her other leg out, the redhead copies the action.
"You're climbing it?" Lincoln quizzes, staring up at the small gap at the top of the wall in perplexity.
"Yep," Myles chirps breathily, heaving herself up with her hands and sliding her legs up. "Rule number sixteen, Lilo."
"Rule number sixteen?" The grounder repeats, looking to the brown-haired Arker.
"'If someone thinks they have the upper hand'," Jasper recites, meeting the dark-skinned warrior's gaze. "'Break it.'"
Sliding her legs up burns, the tight constriction of her clenched skinny legs rubbing uncomfortably on her thick pants. With her legs high enough to hold most of her weight, Myles reaches her hands up to grip higher on the bar, and pulls herself up, ignoring the drops of blood the movement causes to leak from her arm. She continues these movements until she reaches the horizontal bar that runs along the very tops of the vertical rusted metal bars, outlining the edge of an old wall. Edging herself up slightly, Myles is forced to hunch over with her slouched shoulders pressing roughly to the bare concrete ceiling.
"You good?" Jasper enquires, looking up and her and standing underneath her with his hands on the metal bars to help silence her escape.
"Uh-huh," the red-haired teen replies distractedly, reaching one arm through the small gap at the top to grip the bars on the outside of the cell.
It's a very tight squeeze, and Myles releases a breath, carefully unhooking the leg furthest down and swinging it up quickly to hook her sock-clad foot over the top of the wall. Her back and the back of her head scrape harshly against the ceiling, her blood-red hair and dark clothing getting snagged by the coarse surface. The fresh scrape and bruising on Myles' back from slipping in the rain yesterday stings and aches under the bandages covering it from the rough movement against the ceiling. Slowly sliding her leg bit by bit through the gap, Myles' arms shake slightly from the weight they hold up to balance her.
Her knee barely squeezes through, and a string of curses float through the red-haired teen's mind. Forcefully pushing her leg through burns and scrapes at her skin under her pants, vivid ripping and tearing sounds echoing sharply in the silent room. The strength Myles puts into shoving her leg in the gap suddenly eases before halting altogether. After squeezing her thigh through, the brief sensation of relief that floods her senses from the crushing pressure ceasing is rudely interrupted with her hip bone slamming into the metal.
The burn Myles felt in her thigh is nothing compared to her back. Deep purple, almost black bruising is decorating her side and back, a large, unpleasant scrape giving the tender skin texture. Her fall onto blown up shards of asphalt in the pouring rain was hard and brutal, and having it pushed up against the concrete ceiling makes it scream.
"You got it?" Jasper quizzes in concern, staring up at her.
Pushing up with all of her body weight, Myles hooks the lower leg of the leg already over the gate around a bar to catch her weight when she goes over. Having all of her body weight squashed up against the ceiling gives her hip bones enough space to scrape over the bars. Once her hips, head and boobs are over, Myles reaches the hand still grasping inside of the cell wall over the metal gate, gripping the bars on the outside.
Keeping her leg held straight, Myles harshly jerks her body back, making the chains clink lightly. Her thigh gradually pulls through the gap, the threads of her pants fraying slightly from the rough surface of the ceiling. With her other thigh completely on the outside, Myles swiftly pulls the rest of her leg through before lightening the grip of her hands and knee to slide down immediately. The second her sock-clad feet hit the hard, cold floor, Myles turns and crouches as she silently rushes over to the staircase.
"Key," Lincoln whispers, and Myles shushes him quickly.
Turning her attention back to the doorway, Myles slinks forward, keenly listening for signs of anyone upstairs. Nothing but silence as the very distant buzz of villagers living their day-to-day lives wafts down the stairs. Content, Myles whips around and dashes to a rusted nail jutting out of a crack in the wall that holds a flat wooden stick with spikes. Tugging the rope loop over the nail, the redhead dashes to her two friends and wastes no time in shoving the stick in the hole and pushing up.
It takes a silent moment of Myles scraping the top of the slot for her to find the spikes that had fallen down. Lifting the stick as high as it'll go with one hand, Myles slides away the bar locking the door closed.
"And you doubted me," Myles jibes quietly, turning to grab her boots as Lincoln swings the door open.
"Somehow," Jasper jokingly shoots back from hastily strapping on his weapons with Lincoln, looking back at the teen tying her shoelaces. "It's more impressive now that you're not small."
"Like you could fit through there," the redhead playfully remarks, tugging the knot in her laces tight as Lincoln moves to the staircase, listening to the floor above them while slipping the last of his knives into place. "You're just jealous my ass hasn't gotten any bigger."
"At least when I put on weight," her best friend teases, stacking Myles' weapon braces in his arms to carry over to her. "Some goes to my boobs."
Lincoln expels a shocked breath in amusement as Myles' hazel eyes stay locked on her best friend, her hands stilling. Her delicate features are blank and her rosy lips are held apart, sparkling hazel eyes switching between the pure ecstasy dancing in Jasper's brown gaze. His steps are cocky when he walks up to bring the teen her weapons, knowing he's just won whatever friendly battle they were just having.
"I want that engraved on your tombstone," Myles tells him through a giggle, a bright smile lightening up her frozen expression and her hands tugging tight the last knot in her shoelaces. "That's peak, my dude."
"I know," Jasper agrees with a chuckle, handing the teen's weapons over and bending down to pick up his fawb glove. "I'm never gonna beat that."
Quickly yanking up her pants legs, the red-haired teen straps the braces around her ankles, pushing the straps through their buckles just enough to hold them to her legs before moving to her arms. Her stomach and back are too sore for her waist brace, so she hasn't been wearing it, instead doubling up on what she holds on her belt. Repeating the half-assed securing of their straps, Myles moves her knees down to kneel on the floor as she clips everything onto her belt. Grabbing what she can carry, Myles holds knives and extra bullet magazines against her stomach with one hand, the other shoving her ear piece up under her shirt.
Standing up, Myles presses it into her ear as she comes to stand beside her two friends at the bottom of the staircase to leave, listening intently and slowly stepping up the steps when no nearby movement is heard. The staircase leads up to what once was a small room, meant only to access the downstairs cellar they were just in. Now, most of the walls around the top of the staircase still stands, the only damage is the large holes from where the handrails were forcibly ripped from the wall.
Bright sunlight spills into the staircase through large chunks of missing brick, and as their heads get closer to the floor of the main floor, they're able to get a good look at the building they're in. Slowing down, Myles clips on the fabric pocket with two extra bullet magazines in it, leaving her hands empty. Leaning her head back slightly and carefully creeping her head up with a hand grazing the chipped and crumbling exposed brick wall, her hazel eyes scan all the large open room they can see. Lincoln steps up behind her, craning his head over her shoulder to get a look around the room.
Ducking her head down, Myles slinks up the stairs, being leant down enough that her head can't be seen through the pieces of missing wall. Reaching out, the redhead presses her fingers onto the dusty stairs, gritty with dirt and dead plant life that's been traced in. When she gets to the top of the stairs, Myles stops, moving to peer out the holes in the concrete. Two fingers tapping her shoulder stops her.
"You're good," Lincoln murmurs, "go."
Without hesitating, Myles steps up the last few stairs and slips around the decaying brick wall. Keeping her side against the wall, Myles silently walks along it, her hazel eyes scanning the room for people that could see them. At the back of every banquet hall, there's a discreet exit.
In great celebrations or convened meetings, a large amount of people come in, a number that's only multiplied if the Commander visits. Only the main door is ever used for incoming and outgoing guests, the back door serving as a dignified escape for high-ranking officials. This way, they don't need to struggle just to leave, and if there's a crisis, the political figures and leaders who need to survive or keep the village safe can do so efficiently.
On occasions where these gatherings are taking place, it is incredibly uncommon to find anyone lurking around the back of the building. Today, however, people who are looking for a shortcut around buildings or who just don't want to walk through the whole village could be outside. Teenagers and kids looking for a quiet place to hang out could be back there, and it could jeopardise the plan that's going so smoothly.
Myles follows the brick wall that encases the staircase until it ends, stopping against the wall of the building. Old walls that separated rooms have been knocked down, leaving thick jagged and textured holes in the ground. Above them, horizontal support beams, bent and grimy from age and wear, hold up a slew of chopped logs and a woven hay blanket. Small slivers of sunlight rains down onto them, casting a tiny streak of bright light on their dark-coloured clothing as they continue to sneak against the wall.
A window ahead of them doesn't deter their speed or falter their quiet footsteps, the three of them easily bending over and continuing forward. Bending over and crouching her knees slightly causes the healing wounds on Myles' side, back and abdomen to pinch and ache. One of her hands reaches out to brush her fingertips across the grit-covered floor, as if to help steady her or to ease the uncomfortable pain tingling over her.
The red-haired teen doesn't stop until she reaches a door, straightening in her stance and leaning forward to listen intently to the other side. Gentle rustling, probably from wildlife and wind, is the only thing she can hear over the distant chatter and metallic tings of blacksmiths. There're no sounds close to them, so Myles pulls up the bar that's directly connected to the wall, opening the door a fraction.
One hazel eyes peek around the swollen and mouldy wood, scanning the green grass and tree line surrounding the village borders. When nothing but wilderness appears in her line of vision, the redhead gently pushes the door open, a loud cry coming from its hinges. Stopping with the door open enough to squeeze through, Myles exits the building with her back against the wall. Shoulder-length blood red hair whips around as the redhead scans the edge of the village she's just entered.
Lincoln slips out beside her, quickly followed by Jasper and Myles slinks forward, crouching close to the ground. Her steps are fluid and silent over the long grass and weeds, the dead leaves and twigs under her boots rocking quietly with her carefully placed weight. Ducking behind the first thick-trunked tree she sees, Myles wastes no time in holding her hands up high and jumping.
"What are you doing?" Lincoln queries in a low, murmured tone.
"Waiting for bandrona Wilko," Myles answers simply, her teeth gritted together from the pained sting in her arm as she heaves herself up onto the base of a branch.
"We should go," the dark-skinned grounder insists, watching the red-haired Arker clamber onto a higher branch.
"We'll never get the supplies from the University," Jasper explains, gripping onto a branch and pulling himself up.
Myles reaches for another branch beside her, bringing her leg up to hook over it when her shifted weight makes the branch dip. The leaves rustle loudly as they move, a few loose leaves and broken twigs falling down to the ground. Stilling, Myles awkwardly inches her way onto the branch, moving slower than time itself. Somewhere down below her, Lincoln sighs heavily, reaching up to climb the tree.
It's not long after the sun reaches its highest point in the sky that their demands are met. Movement to her right makes Myles' head turn towards it in a tired and bored fashion. Ambassadors Wilko and Nadi rush through the open gate on their horses, their guards coming in after them.
"Show time," the redhead states, pushing off the branch she sits on to get lower on the tree.
The group's horses come to a sudden stop when they're immediately met with chieftain Einri and the warriors that were tasked with guarding them in their cell. As Myles steps down onto a lower branch, the village's structures block the whole group from sight, and it stirs her to go faster. The second her boots are holding her up on the branch, Myles crouches down and grips it with her hands as she hops down towards the grass below them. Dropping to the ground, the cool breeze is stopped jarringly when Myles' boots land on the ground.
Straight away, the redhead darts around the back of the structures surrounding the village's new guests. Stepping into the gap between hand-erected buildings made from a mash-up of scavenged materials from the world before the bombs, Myles doesn't wait until they're within sight to call out.
"I was hoping that aide of yours would accompany you," Myles tells the group loudly, turning around the corner so she's within sight of them.
Lincoln and Jasper are right on her heels, following closely behind her. Her announcement of their presence jolts the warriors into action, their weapons being drawn as they surge towards the group. Myles and Lincoln don't falter in their steps, not even as Jasper does, instead continuing on undeterred and unfazed.
"I was told you asked for me specifically," Wilko states, his words vague and tone strong.
"I did," the redhead confirms, "we need to talk."
"You were caught stealing on our land," Nadi, the fierce and beautiful black-haired woman to his left, reminds them. "There is nothing to talk about."
"Not with you," Myles concedes, squinting her eyes condescendingly at the warrior and continuing to step forward with the swords pointed at her.
"And you do with me?" The blonde-haired man scoffs, distaste dancing in his blue eyes. Turning his attention to Einri, Wilko swings the metaphorical mallet on his judgement. "Teik emo au en ron emo op zodon kom jaka." [AN: "Seize them and give them the fate of thieves."]
"I'm sure Delfikru has more to talk to you about," Myles instantly presses, stopping to stand still and stare down the man to add pressure to her thinly veiled threats. Wilko looks at her, his eyes squinting over her two friends behind her before casting over the group surrounding them. "But considering their price for thieving is blindness… I think you want to talk to me."
"Dison fotoplei," Nadi spits out, pushing one of the warriors aside so she can step right up in the redhead's face. Myles doesn't flinch, barely meeting her fiery stare with disinterested hazel eyes before locking her gaze back on the blonde-haired man. "Oso na gada in yu teisa gon spichen." [AN: "This is contempt! We will have your tongue for such lies."]
"Do what you must," the red-haired teen relents sarcastically, holding her open palms in the air to surrender. "Ba taim yu fig raun dison nou na hon Heda op… yu obz nou get ai in kom tri." [AN: "But if you think this won't reach the Commander… you obviously don't know me at all."]
"Yu nou na menis ai op," bandrona Wilko announces surely, his tone confident. "Yu nou na dula eintheing gon ai." [AN: "You can't threaten me. You can't do anything to me."]
"Sha, em na," Lincoln calls, his loud voice booming authoritatively. "Em laik Wanheda, Pramblida." [AN: "Yes, she can. She is The Commander of Death, the first Red-Blooded Commander."]
"Now," Myles interjects when Nadi looks ready to speak up again, her hard hazel eyes locked on Wilko. "Do you want to talk, or do you want your sheer stupidity and utter incompetence to get four clan ambassadors dead in one day?"
The red-haired teen stands her ground, searching his eyes for any sign that he's caught onto her bluff of Lincoln being a clan ambassador. Fiery bitterness dwindles down quickly, far too quickly to have realised her lie, and resignation takes its place. Ambassador Wilko clenches his jaw, his silence and suddenly tense posture causing ambassador Nadi and chieftain Einri to stare at him in complete shock.
Pressing her lips together to try not to smile, Myles raises a delicate red eyebrow.
"What are your demands?" Ambassador Wilko inquires dully, not lifting his blue eyes off of the table they sit at in the village's banquet hall.
"I don't have demands," Myles supplies, her hazel eyes twinkling. "I have two options."
"Stop with the games," the blonde-haired man snaps bitterly, fixing his hard gaze on the redhead.
"Fine," she accepts, leaning forward to rest her weight on her elbows on the table. Her pale skin rocks against the wood with the change of position, pinching her slightly. "Option one; you let us get what supplies we need so we can leave, unbothered. Or you can give us the fate of thieves, and when I don't check in with my favourite blonde princess tonight, she delivers a notebook to the Commander. A notebook that details your plan of stealing the gotstrecha from Delphi and selling it."
Jasper leans to the left and reaches behind him to pull out a scratched and blotchy grey rectangular box. Pressing down on one of the thick buttons on the side, voices fill the air.
"I was hoping that aide of yours would accompany you," the recorder repeats, ambassador Wilko's wide eyes locking onto the device in amazement.
"I was told you asked for me specifically," at hearing his own voice from moments before echoing back at him, the blonde-haired, blue-eyed ambassador switches his stomach-dropping expression to focus on Myles.
"I did," the redhead had confirmed, "we need to talk."
"You were caught ste – " Jasper clicks the button again, cutting off Nadi's fierce and abrupt reply.
"With proof," the brown-haired Arker finishes victoriously, setting the recorder down on the table. "That you were the mastermind behind it."
"I wonder what Heda will think of that?" Myles implores sarcastically.
The man's blue eyes leave the redhead, finding the device on the table and staring at it as his mind whirs and whirs with the predicament he's found himself in. Wilko flicks his eyes up, glancing over them and peeking his tongue out to lick his bottom lip. His eyes land on the recorder, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip for a second before he opens and closes his mouth unsurely.
"And all you want," the Blue Cliff ambassador recounts finally, his voice dry as his eyes flick up to glance hesitantly between the three sitting across from him. "Is immunity?"
A red eyebrow twitches up, and a pleased smirk turns up a corner of her rosy lips. Her head turns, hazel eyes locking on Lincoln's dark brown.
"That's it," Lincoln confirms, his posture straight and tall.
Their swarm of horses settle their thundering gallops down to calm trots as the base of the mountain comes into view. The warriors guiding them back have stopped throwing disgruntled looks back at them, their hard gazes focussed pointedly on the beautifully overgrown wilderness in front of them. A brief dip of disappointment pulls at Myles' gut when she realises they're taking them around the huge, tall hill's curve to reach the double emergency doors.
While the three of them had entered through them and had been dragged out through them by the Ouskejonkru warriors, that's not where Myles wants to go. The warriors had been in the mountain when they encountered them, signalling to Myles that there's another way in. Lincoln and the redhead had to pry open the doors they had used to gain access to the underground parking garage, so the Blue Cliff clan members hadn't snuck in through there before they had arrived.
Myles doesn't say anything, knowing they're already on the clan's bad side at the moment because of her. Slyly looking to Lincoln out of the corners of her eyes, the dark-skinned warrior sits tall on the hand-stitched leather saddle he mounts, his cool composure steady from years of practice. Jasper shifts in front of her, his antsy and jittery demeanour continuously forcing Myles' mind back to the land in front of them. Their turbulent allegiance with the clan surrounding them itches at the back of his mind relentlessly, every fibre of his being begging him to turn back and run.
Finally, the horses in front of them come to a stop with a huff as their reins are tugged and their riders dig the heels of their boots into their sides. Jasper and Lincoln follow their lead, obediently stopping behind them and keeping their gazes locked on them as they turn to face the group they're dropping off.
If they wanted to kill the Trikru warrior and two nosey Arkers, this would be the perfect time to do it. They're out in the wilderness, their chieftain and clan ambassadors nowhere to be seen.
"Disha laik weron osir hod op," a warrior informs them, his body tense, as if expecting a fight. Jasper shifts once again, but this time he hooks his leg up and leans to the side to let himself slide from the spotted white horse they ride. Lincoln's boots hit the Earth not a second after, waiting for Myles to take Jasper's outstretched hand and slip to the ground before moving forward. "Osir gon we nau, en ai tizpeit yo na dula daun op, seintaim." [AN: "This is where we stop. We leave now, and I expect you will do the same."]
"Sha," Jasper replies gruffly, his spirits much more worn down than his best friend's as he walks the reins over to the warrior closest to them. [AN: "Yeah."]
"Mochof," Myles smiles, trying to fight the bubbling giddiness clawing its way up her throat. Her hands fidget before she catches herself doing it, and she places them awkwardly at her hips with her elbows pointed behind her. "Gon don lid osir in hir nodotaim." [AN: "Thank you. For bringing us back here."]
"Nou komba raun hir," the same warrior warns, pulling his reins to turn his horse around. His eyes cast over the group, hovering over the red-haired teen for a moment longer than he did the others, making Myles cease her impatient rocking on her heels. Leaves rustle noisily to their left, the sound of something sprinting through the bushland jarring the otherwise tranquil woodlands. "Yo nou na kom au dison lottau." [AN: "Don't come back. You won't be as lucky."]
As the last word leaves his mouth, the man tugs his reins back and pushes his heels into his horse to get the steed galloping again. The two who rode with them follow instantly, not a word being uttered by either of them, with the reins of the last two horses in their hands. Jasper turns, starting to walk to the door with an agitated lull in his steps, but the redhead stays with her hazel eyes on the Ouskejon clan members. The sound of the bushland rustling comes to a halt with a burst once the horses' hooves start making the same sound as they leave.
"Hey, bud," Jasper greets dully, barely bending down to scratch at the excitedly panting calico-coloured dog. "I hope you like it in there, we'll be there for the rest of the damn day."
"Myles," Lincoln calls, stopping with his body turned towards the frozen redhead while Jasper's annoyed mutterings get further away. "You coming?"
"Nope," the red-haired teen chirps, rocking on her heels and tapping her fingers on her hips. "I'm waiting."
"For what?" Jasper interjects in frustration, lifting his arms in the air to drop them down heavily as he spins on his feet to stare at his best friend's back. "We've already lost the whole fucking day!"
"They came in a different way," Myles answers distractedly, staring after the warriors retreating horses.
"Who cares?" Her best friend explodes, spinning on his heels to stomp through the overgrown grass and fallen leaves to get back to the double emergency doors they pried open. "We're s'posed to be doing the dropoffs by now."
"There might be more," the redhead calls back to him as the Ouskejonkru disappear entirely, contentedly turning away with an excited spring in her steps.
"If they haven't already been raided," the brown-haired teen continues to bicker, looking back at his best friend as she walks in the opposite direction. His footsteps stop abruptly again, both of his arms raising sharply to point at Myles condescendingly. "We need to hurry up, or they'll be stayheres instead of dropoffs."
"Then hurry," Myles tosses over her shoulder dismissively, her hazel eyes scouring the large expanse of the huge mountain's side. "Lilo can help you. I'll be back in a few minutes."
Leaves crackle and shift behind her lightly, Max's happy panting and trotting steps quickly catching up with her. Jasper turns with a huff, only to stop again.
"You're taking Max, too?!"
Myles is forced to drag her hazel eyes down when the feeling of her stomach dropping accompanies the sudden lack of ground under her right foot. Snapping her gaze to the ground below her, the redhead's right boot finally touches the dirt. Confusion tugs her red eyebrows together, the expression making one crease appear on her forehead.
A step down, about as deep as her boot, stretches across several metres in front of her, getting a little bit deeper the closer it gets to the edge of the mountain. The dirt side of it is once again sporadic, small, completely vertical stone walls with tops that curve inwards before the natural shape of the mountain makes another appearance. On either side of this one, however, is something different than anywhere else that she's seen.
Another chunk of flat, textured stone that's base is deep into the mountain, the top end jutting out of one side of the vertical wall. Dirt and rocks have been washed down, clumping on top of the thin, solid wall and filling up the 'v' the stone created. Large, jagged blocks of balled concrete and stone have meshed together, lining the base of the mountain where the ground slopes down. The red-haired Arker glances away from the mountain, watching the ground to see where the decline starts.
It's a ramp.
The realisation makes wide and excited hazel eyes flick back to the mountain, her gaze zapping around the dirt at the base wildly. A thin, dark gap between two parts of the flat vertical wall grabs her attention. Her eager hand grabs her flashlight, clicking it on the instant her fingers graze the button. Stepping close, Myles shines the light inside, peering in to get a good look.
Grimy, light blue scorched and scraped walls make up the small room. Glass windows have been smashed, leaving only the frames and tiny shards of the reflective material on the floor. Large, dark scrapes along both walls of the rectangular box show something was once attached to the walls and has been dragged out. There's nothing left inside of it besides barely visible shards of glass and decades old dried, crinkly and unreadable pieces of paper.
Ducking her head down, Myles squeezes into the booth easily and shines her light out the empty window frames, trying to hear if anyone else is around. Jasper and Lincoln's distant voices echo as they float to Myles' ears, skittering bugs, bats and rodents filling up the quiet voices inside the underground parking garage. Still not yet satisfied that there isn't anyone who could be a threat around, Myles reaches the hand not holding her flashlight to her belt to hold onto the pistol strapped there.
"Max," the redhead whispers, looking back quickly to check that he can fit through the gap before stepping forward.
The ground crunches quietly as she walks forward, the small shards of scattered glass crackling under her weight. It makes Myles hesitate, her boots ceasing their actions as her ears strain to hear anything. The back door to the booth is gone, the empty hole the shape of a door all that's separating her from the parking garage. Spinning her flashlight's white beam around doesn't greet her with anything, her two friends continuing their mindless chatter as Max tramples over the few glass shards undeterred.
"Found their entrance," Myles calls out to them, keeping her attention elsewhere to see if the sound of her will jar someone out of hiding.
"Sweet," Jasper answers, his voice echoing loudly.
"Anything over there?" Lincoln queries after something heavy drops onto the concrete floor.
"Don't know yet," she responds slowly, looking around her carefully. Myles' hazel gaze halts on the empty frame of another set of emergency doors, the doorway leading to a pitch black hallway. "Wait," the redhead retracts her statement, surging forward to reach the hallway. "I've got a doorway into the University."
Shining her flashlight into the darkness illuminates the barren hallway in front of her, ending abruptly a few metres down. A single red strip lines the peeling and blotchy cream linoleum floor, the colour peeking out from underneath the thick dirt and muddy shoe prints covering the ground. Things have been torn off the walls violently, doors and lights are eerily missing, only vacant dark scrapes marking up the spaces where they once were. Scraps of cloth and leftover chunks of food and animal bones lay carelessly across the dirt glazed floor.
Fallen support beams block the hallway in front of her, the ceiling above her and the floor from the level above this hallway collapsed down and sealing off access to the rest of the building. Junk and cupboards from immediately around the piercing hole have been sucked down, clogging up the hallway and the hole in the ceiling. Stepping up close to inspect the blockage, Myles hears Jasper and Lincoln's steps echo close to her, searching her out in the pitch black underground structure.
Large gashes and scrapes on the walls tells Myles people have tried to pry the heavy metal beams and thick chunks of floors and ceilings away, to no avail. Reaching a hand out, the redhead grasps onto the thick, cold metal and yanks towards herself. Max huffs inside one of the two available rooms at the high-pitched screech the beam makes as it pulls against another piece of metal, but it doesn't shift in its place.
"Toni," Lincoln breathes out, two white flashlight beams swirling around the short piece of hallway with hers. "It's like Arkadia." [AN: "Woah."]
"Everything's been taken," Jasper states the obvious, his voice echoing inside the empty room with Max.
"We should bring the rover over to this end," Myles suggests breathily, stepping back from the blockage and scouring it with her eyes and flashlight. "Everything else might be untouched."
"Yeah, 'might'," her best friend repeats, "and that's if we can get through here."
"If we can," Lincoln agrees, eagerly following the redhead as she quickly walks out of the short hallway to jog across the parking garage to the rover. "We can get more faster."
"I hate that you're both right."
"Okay," Myles says loudly after yanking on the chain tied around one of the fallen metal support beams. Looking back for a second, Myles steps backwards into a door-less room and waits just inside of the doorway. Hazel eyes flick to Lincoln waiting patiently with Max in the room a bit further down than she is when she continues. "Send it."
The rover revs loudly and its tires squeal for a second before the deafening sound of metal screaming as it scrapes together blasts through the air. After a long, agonising few seconds of cringing at the sound, the metal gives way. It slips forward, only slightly, causing the chunks of floor and ceiling at the back of the blockage to slide against the linoleum and slam into the mash of broken metal braces. The sudden ease in pulling the metal beam makes Jasper take his foot off the accelerator and the forceful shaking of the obstruction jars him to slam on the brakes.
"It good?" Jasper calls out, and Myles peers out of the doorway she hides behind.
A small gap in the ceiling has opened up from the small stretch of floor that sunk down into the hole when the beam shifted, but the beam and mash of junk still firmly stands in place, blocking access to the rest of the hallway. Shining her flashlight up into the gap, however, lets her see the ceiling of the level above them.
"Hang on," the red-haired teen requests, stepping forward curiously and furrowing her eyebrows in scrutiny.
The ceiling transitions into a floor for the level above her, and the thickness of it is three palm-lengths high. Metal framework covers and braces pipes and a chaotic slew of wires and cords, stretching deep inside the ceiling. Placing her flashlight in her mouth, Myles crouches down an inch before jumping up and gripping onto the very bottom row of metal framework, her muscles tightening painfully. Shifting her hands to get a better grip, the redhead dangles for a second before reaching up with one hand to grip onto the floor of the level above her.
Heaving herself up and onto the dusty but smooth and glossy linoleum, the broken floor starts dipping down from her light weight. Quickly scrambling away from the edge so she doesn't slip back down or make the floor sink into the hole any more, Myles grabs her flashlight from her mouth. Whipping it around curiously, she takes note of two things immediately.
It's stiflingly hot up here, whereas down in the parking garage, it was cool in the late winter air. The second thing that catches her attention is that this part wasn't raided, and hasn't been touched. Doors are open and papers lie on the floor, a map hung on the wall beside the set of elevators to her left. There's three large boards right beside each other along the wall down the hallway in front of her with dozens of papers pinned to them. Down there is an 'A' shaped stand filled with papers, flyers and brochures tucked into dozens of slots.
They're untouched.
"Okay," Myles breathes out in astonishment, reaching to press the transmit button on her walkie-talkie as she stands from the ground. "It's untouched up here." Myles hears herself on Lincoln's radio directly under the hole in the floor, echoing in the small hallway with her. "When you're clear, Lilo, tell JJ to send it again."
"I'm clear," Lincoln obediently calls to Jasper after a short moment. "Send it."
Myles steps cautiously around the hole, hearing the rover roar and the metal scream under her. Her sights are set on the map on the wall, and she wastes no time once she gets there. It's large and convoluted, the University huge with multiple floors. A slender, pale hand reaches up, following her eyes on the map so she doesn't lose her place. She stops her fingers on a red dot, 'YOU ARE HERE' written in bold letters above it.
There are four wings; the East, the South, the North and the West, all holding specific blocks that are labelled after every letter on the alphabet. Above her is another 'below ground' floor, with the ground floor three floors above that. The level she's on now is B3, under her is B4 and P1, with another two parking floors under that. The only thing on B4 is Block Z, with rooms for Management, Human Resources, Billing, Staff Recreational, and the Staff Resource Department. B3, Blocks Y1, W1, X3 and Y4, looks more promising with the Gymnasium, Bookshop, Community Centre, Counselling Centre, Health Services and the Notice Boards. Directly above her, though, makes her veins shiver and crackle with eager excitement, because it holds the Advanced Science Studies, Structures, Technology and Robotics Laboratories.
Suddenly, a loud clang shakes the floor Myles stands on as the beam slips from the ceiling of the level below her and collapses onto the ground. Turning around, the rover falls silent and shuts off before Jasper's voice shouts loudly.
"And we're in!"
All of their crates are full, and they've resorted to filling up their backpacks and dumping the contents in the back of the rover to cram in with Lincoln. Myles sprints up the staircase, refusing to re-block the hallway before seeing the laboratories. Max bounds up with her, speeding ahead as her excitement and eagerness rubs off on him. Lincoln and Jasper's steps aren't far behind her, but they're laid back and only moving in a curious jog.
The door labelled 'LEVEL B2, WEST – BLOCK U2, V2, AND T3' comes into sight when Myles swings her flashlight up, and it only stirs her hasty steps to go faster, like she'll run out of time and they'll all disappear before she makes it up there. Reaching the top of the flight of stairs with a victorious huff, the redhead only slows down a fraction to push open the door. Max turns around in confusion, not understanding why Myles didn't keep going up and pauses a moment before sprinting after her. Spinning on her heel and skidding to a stop, the white beam of her flashlight swings around only the ceiling of the hallway.
Her flashlight stops on the first sign she sees, starting towards it as she pants and tugs at her sweaty shirt in the heat of the underground building. 'WST – BLOCK V2 – TECHNOLOGY LAB' is written on the dark grey sign in white lettering, taunting the red-haired Arker with possibilities. Myles beelines for the first door in the hallway, a similarly coloured sign that's much smaller and skinnier greeting her on the decaying wooden door.
Hazel eyes light up excitedly as they quickly scan the words 'MECH TECH LAB V2-LD04' on the plaque, pushing the handle down and door open with one hand. Flicking her flashlight around, her steps and her breath stops, her flashlight moving around slowly. Myles is still frozen when Jasper and Lincoln reach her, Max's distant breaths echoing down the hallway behind them. Jasper stills when he looks into the room, gently pushing past his best friend to enter the room with the same amazement as the redhead.
The desks are paired in two's, each desk with a laptop built into the table and a desktop processor case under the desk. Each desk extends, the light grey table stretching out to hold the students tools, textbooks and notebooks. Small rounded blocks are in parts, wires sticking out and fraying in seemingly random places. It's not the first room they've seen today where all the desks hold the open notebooks and textbooks of the students who studied there, giving the sense they all had to leave very abruptly. The lack of bodies and the fact that there's a full parking garage under them begs the pressing question: what happened to them all?
Stepping into the large classroom distractedly, Myles swings her light over in front of her to see the front of the room. Two large whiteboards with writing too faint to read is scattered over them, and a large white screen is rolled up above them for the projector on the ceiling in the middle of the room. A large white desk, almost twice the size of the student's desks, sits in front of the chair and the whiteboard.
On it are several differently sized drives, in various conditions, with the same tools and wires carelessly placed down around it. Under them are small piles of papers and an array of stationary.
"I've never seen anything like this," Lincoln mutters, his dark gaze soaking up the pristine room.
Myles walks up to a desk, shining her light behind the computers to see if she can pull them out without damaging them. The laptops are only connected to the desktop processor cases under the desk by a slew of cords in the ports, their plugs plugged into the power pack stuck on the underside of the table. Pulling all the plugs from the ports in the computer grabs Jasper's attention, and his head snaps to her.
"How many are we taking?" Jasper asks, moving to follow her lead at another desk.
"As many as we can carry," Myles answers with a shrug, bending down to pull the plug from the power pack. "Aim for all the books and their notes. Rule number 8: first and foremost, always go for knowledge."
"Do you have a rule for greed?" Lincoln quips, shoving the textbooks and notebooks into his backpack.
"Nope," the redhead sings, smiling victoriously when the laptops easily slide from inside their nooks in the tables. "For good reason."
"Good reason?" The grounder echoes in confusion, barely pausing in his actions to look at the Arker as she dumps the books in her bag.
"If she had a rule against greed," Jasper supplies for her, "she'd be out of a job."
Slowing the rover down at the usual place, Jasper flicks the headlights off and waits for his eyes to adjust to the midnight darkness.
"Fucking long day," Jasper utters tiredly, and Myles rolls her head exhaustedly towards him before tipping her head back to address Lincoln.
"How you holding up, Lilo?" Myles enquires blandly, ready to finish the day and lie down.
"More action than you see in Arkadia," he answers easily, his tone dull as he sits with his eyes closed and leans against the side of the rover.
"Bore-kadia," the brown-haired Arker remarks, starting to inch the rover forward again.
"Jerk-kadia," his best friend shoots out, and she can feel Jasper pull his head back as he makes a face.
"Work-kadia," Lincoln follows along quickly, making Jasper refuse.
"Woah, woah, woah," Jasper refutes. "I didn't know we were rhyming!"
Myles rolls her head back towards him again, even though he can't see her through the pitch black night.
"It doesn't rhyme with Arkadia," the red-haired teen corrects, furrowing her eyebrows.
"It does with each other," Jasper defends. "I didn't know that's what we're doing." Myles lifts her head, staring at the darkness where a vague shape of her best friend can be seen through her adjusting eyes. Nothing else is said, so Lincoln shifts quietly in the back and Myles raises a delicate red eyebrow. "I can't think of anything with you watching me." The redhead snorts, turning her head away from Jasper. "Irk-kadia."
"That's a good one," Lincoln replies with a smile in his voice and a wide smile breaks across Myles' delicate features.
"Eh," she teases, "I wouldn't go that far."
"Shut up, jerk-kadia," the brown-haired teen chuckles, reaching a hand out blindly to swat at her shoulder.
"Strong words," Myles declares over-dramatically, "coming from 'bore-kadia'."
Lincoln huffs a short laugh, and the redhead can almost feel him shaking his head behind her.
"Hey," Jasper jokes, flicking the wheel to turn the rover around. "I was gonna do a pig one, but I didn't want to boar you to death."
"Boo," the redhead drawls out, sitting up straight as her best friend whacks the rover into reverse.
"I knew you'd swine at that one," Jasper states, "'cause you're really piggy when it comes to puns."
Myles looks over at her best friend, silent laughs bubbling from her gut as a large smile threatens to tear the skin of her cheeks.
"Please stop," Lincoln implores, his voice light with amusement.
"It's snout looking too good for that request," the brown-haired Arker continues, making the redhead fall back in her seat as her giggles spill out of her rosy lips. Jasper stops the rover, yanking up the handbrake and pulling out the keys with his eyes on his best friend. "Hoof figured you'd find that funny?"
"I'm getting out," Lincoln states, sliding over to the back door and opening it.
The redhead giggles loudly, opening her door and sliding out as Marcus Kane greets Max adoringly.
"Hey, Max," Marcus gushes, scratching at the small calico-coloured dog's fur while Myles shuts her door, calming herself down, and Jasper opens his. "How are you doing, boy?"
"You've got a dog," Bellamy Blake muses airily, and Myles hesitates in her steps.
Dull white light flicks on, illuminating the two Arker men at the back of the rover, crouched and patting the best friends' dog. Marcus stands to walk around the rover to Myles and hug her fondly.
"Hey, sweetheart," Marcus smiles, her arms wrapping around him, "how'd you go?"
Jasper's door finally shuts, his footsteps walk to the back of the rover slowly, heavily, making the redhead worried. Their emotions have been frayed from trauma since Mount Weather. Low lows always follow high highs, their emotions taking on exaggerated versions of themselves and switching and changing in an instant. Neither of them remember exactly what emotions felt like before everything happened at that damn mountain, all they know is they don't experience simple and basic emotions like everyone else.
It's almost like their emotions have been swapped around, and they're stuck watching everyone else experience something almost the same. Like it's on the tips of their tongues, but destined to remain out of reach forever, and everyone around them can see them struggling to get it. The only thing they're sure of is each other, feeling that the other is the only one left in the universe who could ever understand and know. It's why they're so in-tune.
"Good," Myles answers, squeezing the man tightly before pulling away to meet the others at the back door. Going past them a few steps, the redhead grasps the handle of the pallet trolley and swings it around to line it up with the back of the rover. "Found a University. Six and a half completely intact floors."
"We ran out of room," Jasper finishes, his voice thick as he climbs into the back to slide the crates out.
"It took a while," Lincoln adds, grunting as he helps the others lift the full wooden box to the trolley. "But there's enough there for thousands of Arkadias."
"Holy shit," Bellamy breathes out in shock, looking inside the crate at all the supplies they've brought back. "There's more of this stuff?"
"Yeah," the red-haired teen nods, sighing. "It's in a real tough place, though."
"Tougher than usual?" Marcus quizzes in a strained voice, helping drop down the next crate.
"Ouskejonkru land," Myles supplies unhelpfully, hooking her shoulder-length blood-red hair behind her ears.
"Ouskejonkru?" Bellamy repeats, utterly lost from being sheltered in Arkadia the last three months.
"Blue Cliff," Lincoln translates, "they don't like visitors on their lands."
"That's the understatement of the century," Jasper huffs, scooting the last crate forward to the door and panting for a short moment. "If you think Trikru take the 'warrior's-way' to heart, then you don't wanna meet these guys. I'm pretty sure they sit on the borders just to make sure people aren't getting close to their land."
Once the last crate is plunked down on the trolley, Myles steps around Lincoln to step on the back tyre and pull herself up onto the roof of the rover.
"Is this it?" Marcus asks tiredly, tapping the wooden crate and looking up at the three visitors.
"Nope," Jasper answers with faux excitement, "we have brought food, y'know, just so no one can go around saying all we do when we're in charge is let people starve to death."
"Jasper," Myles warns, untying the bundle of towels they got from the University that have fresh kills in them.
"No, it's…" Bellamy reassures her, standing under her and lifting his hands when she climbs down. "I deserved that."
Myles takes the Blake brother's outstretched hand and accepts his help sliding down to the ground safely.
"Thanks," the redhead says airily, placing the wrapped up dead animals on top of the crates.
The bags full of books and supplies from the laboratories are already resting on top of their overfull goodies, signalling to Myles that they're finally done. It makes her take a deep breath in, feeling the tension in her body from the rough day ease away as she breathes out.
"The next Leygeda is seven days before our next drop-off," Myles informs Marcus, standing next to him as she gets ready to say her goodbyes. "We'll go to that and drop in whatever you need. Could you ask around and let me know in a few days?"
"Of course," Marcus instantly agrees, pulling the redhead in for another tight hug. "You guys did great, we really appreciate it." The interim-Chancellor pulls back, rubbing his hands up and down Myles' upper arms for a moment and continuing. "You all take care, now."
"Always do," Jasper agrees as Myles smiles, and Lincoln shakes Marcus' hand.
The three of them turn to get into the rover when Myles swings her gaze over to Bellamy Blake and stops. His deep brown eyes are soft in the low-light, staring lovingly at the redhead with undecided words on his tongue. Myles stops, watching the tall man shift his feet anxiously.
"When will I see you again?" Bellamy eventually decides on, the air around his words echoing his tone with the hollowness of the words he still wants to say but can't.
Myles doesn't know if it's his words, his voice or his fidgeting, but something makes her switch. Something makes that fragile, fraying sense of emotion turn, and she decides to roll with it. Jasper and her had a bad night, they've had a long, bad day… she deserves to be a little selfish and roll with it.
"Actually…" Myles starts, but the words die out on her tongue.
And just as quickly as the confidence came, it's gone again. Myles still wants to, she didn't realise how much she truly, desperately did until she decided to do it, and she can't bear to tell him otherwise. Blinking and opening and closing her mouth wordlessly for a moment, her hazel eyes turn to Jasper.
Jasper Jordan may be furious at the Blake brother for how he's treated his best friend recently, but he's still the only one who truly understands her. His brown eyes are already watching them, knowingly, as if he had read her mind.
"We've gotta find Emori in the morning," Jasper reminds her, his subtle words making Bellamy straighten and his sharp features brighten. "How are you getting home?"
"I can go by Boui," Myles answers immediately. "Get there with plenty of time to dig out Rover 4 and separate before sunup."
Her best friend nods, eyeing the eagerly waiting Blake brother with distrust before shrugging stiffly.
"Alright," Jasper nods, stepping up to the driver's door and opening it. "G'night, Aggie."
"Goodnight," the redhead smiles at them, stepping to the back door with a gentle hand on Lincoln's arm. His kind hand grips hers before he steps around to walk to the passenger's side and Myles crouches down to say goodbye to Max. "Hey, buddy. Goodnight to you, too." Standing up, she taps the floor of the rover once and says the word 'up', and the small calico-coloured dog obediently does as told, wagging his tail excitedly. Scratching at the shaggy fur around his face, Myles kisses the side of his nose. "Good boy."
Stepping back, she grips the back door and shuts it, making sure Max's paws are out of the way. Turning to Bellamy and Marcus with a small smile, the red-haired teen grasps the handle of the pallet trolley with Marcus to help pull it forward.
"I got that," Bellamy insists with a blinding, toothy smile, prying her and Marcus' hands away.
"And here we are," Bellamy guides, opening the door to his compartment in the guards sector and letting her walk in first.
"It's weird coming in here through the front door," Myles jokes, smiling easily and turning to face Bellamy as he shuts the door behind himself.
"You can come in any way you want," the dark-brown haired man offers, shrugging off his guardsmen jacket and hanging it on the back of the chair beside the door. "How's that?"
"I am very good at doing that," she matches his light-hearted tone, shrugging off her jacket and moving to hang it up when the Blake brother stops her to do it himself.
"I've seen it," Bellamy acknowledges with a carefree laugh, as if her awkward and unsure demeanour is all he's wanted the last three months.
"How was your day?" Myles asks, trying to replicate some form of what a relationship is supposed to be like.
"It was good," he smiles softly, pleased and appreciative surprise dancing in that look, that loving look, in his eyes. "It's back to what it was like before Pike was elected. Mostly. Tomorrow will be our first mapping mission in three weeks."
"That'll be good," the redhead nods, her eyebrows lifting sincerely as her expression and voice become more serious.
"Yeah," Bellamy agrees, stepping closer to her. "We've done a bad job of not looking like the enemy… not looking at them like they are. Seeing us outside the walls and keeping the peace truce will do good."
"It's important," Myles readily adds, "not just to them but to you guys. It's important to know what and who's around you."
Something shifts in his eyes again, his deep brown gaze going soft, as if the words he's just heard are the most meaningful that's ever been said. A fond smile crosses his face, and a hand reaches up to cup her face.
It's only been a day since Myles was last touched this adoringly, this lovingly, but she feels like it's been a decade, a decade that she's been starved for this feeling. Her face turns into the sweet feeling of his warm hands on her face before she can tell herself not to. Bellamy swipes his thumb over her soft skin, sliding his hand down to her neck and finally stopping on her back to gently guide her to his bed.
"Come on," Bellamy murmurs, "let's go to bed."
The words make her stop, an embarrassed tinge of pink creeping on her skin as the addictive warmth in her veins becomes burning hot with self-loathing. How could she forget?
"I, uh…" Myles stammers, reaching a hand up to rub at her collar bone. "The University was underground." The Blake brother only looks at her blankly, not understanding her sudden urge to pull away. "And it was really hot." A mischievous smile lights up his face, amusement swirling all over his sharp features as he steps towards her. Instinctively, with the memory of her sweat coated body fresh in her mind, Myles steps back. "Like, really hot."
"So?" Bellamy counters gruffly, taking another step towards her with a strange smile on his face, as if he's a hungry animal stalking his prey.
"So," the redhead echoes with a smile, taking another step back with her hazel eyes stuck on the alluring and intoxicating hunger overwhelming his deep brown. "I'm smelly, and sweaty, and gross."
"I can fix that," he promises her smugly, stepping forward again.
"Oh, can you?" Myles teases with a short chuckle, stepping back, "and how can you do that?"
"By making us both smelly," Bellamy repeats her words, flicking his loving and lustful deep brown eyes to her rosy lips and leaning down slowly. "And sweaty, and gross."
The fact that he doesn't recoil away and instead eagerly searches her out, knowing that she's smelly and sweaty and gross, makes her lean up to meet his lips. Myles is blinded by the soft touch of Bellamy's lips against hers, drunk off of the musky smell of sweat and pine. Their mouths against one another's control time, slowing it down and making the world around them stop. Bellamy parts her lips slowly, expertly moving like calm waves rolling onto the seashore. It's slow and deep, drowning everything that isn't Bellamy Blake and Agniészka Mylinski in its depths.
His hands cup her face, softly holding her in place like he's terrified she might pull away and end this heavenly moment. Myles is drunk, mimicking and easily replicating the symphony the Blake brother's lips sing so perfectly as if its second nature. A subconscious skill she's had all her life that only ever wakes up whenever Bellamy Blake is around. Her hands snake up between them, sliding around his neck like their bodies were moulded specifically for each other, and her slender fingers find their favourite home in his dark brown curls.
Myles knows Bellamy enough, remembers every kiss with him so vividly, and dreams about this so much that she knows what to expect the second one of his hands slips to cradle the back of her neck. Because Myles expects the change the sudden shift ignites, she's ready and eager to match Bellamy's movements and use their mouths to fight for control. It's a motion that always lights a match inside of Bellamy, and it's the point where controlled urgency becomes uncontrollable.
A battle that she can feel tingle through every bone of her body, every part of her arches into Bellamy Blake as every nerve screams pleasure at her. It's fast and sloppy, urgent and desperate, needy and greedy, a cocktail of passion and lust boiling inside them. Noses squish against their faces, their teeth clash together and scrape their lips, and their tongues swirl sloppily, an anxious energy rattling inside of their bones and begging them not to stop.
Bellamy's hands don't stay there long, they never do, both sliding down to grip her waist and tug her flush against him. They stay there only a moment, before slipping further as his head ducks down. His hands hook around the backs of her thighs and he scoops her up off of the ground, causing a shocked squeal and bright smile to distract her rosy lips. Straightening, Bellamy turns, only stuttering in their inebriating kiss to smile at the sound before stepping forward blindly and dropping them both down on the bed.
Myles giggles and Bellamy laughs fondly at the innocence of it, lifting his body from hers only slightly so he can yank off his shirt. In a daze, the redhead leans up as the shirt slips over his head, crashing her smile against his again. One of his hands rests flat on her back, holding her body to his as his other hand tugs at her shirt, his bare abdomen and his fingers brushing against her skin and electrifying her senses, sending a wave of goosebumps after his touch.
It's only a few hours later when the quiet musings of guardsmen start leaving their compartments. Myles, having been familiar with the guard rotation on the Ark, knows that the early morning shift is about to start. She's also familiar with Arkadia's guard rotation times and knows that they're going to their 03:45am briefing for their 04:00am shift.
Letting out a slow breath, the redhead allows herself a moment of hesitation to enjoy having her body and Bellamy's wrapped so closely together that it's like they're one person. She can't stay, and she doesn't want to spend more time in Arkadia than she needs to, so, slowly, Myles slides her legs out of the tangled mess of limbs under the blankets. Bellamy doesn't twitch, doesn't move, and his heavy deep, slow breaths don't stutter or change. Her hand stops doing light patterns absently on his back and she pulls her arm back to herself, carefully leaning her body back to lay on her back.
A soft, disgruntled groan escapes from the dark brown-haired man's throat at the loss of contact, and his arms that are still wrapped around her drag her front against his again as he rolls toward her. Fighting off a laugh, Myles bites her lip an waits a moment, planning her escape now that they're not lying on their sides, but Bellamy is sprawled on top of her. Patiently, the redhead waits for a couple of breaths before gently lifting the arm he has wrapped across her and trying to slide out.
Bellamy mumbles incoherently, making Myles pause with her hand frozen on his arm. Nothing else happens, so she lifts his arm a bit more and finally pulls her other hand from his soft dark brown curls. Sliding out from under the Blake brother uneventfully, Myles carefully places his arm back onto the thin mattress and sits up, pressing down on the bed to ease her weight off. Bending down, the red-haired teen scoops up her underwear, tugging them on hastily as she collects her belongings without making a sound to wake Bellamy.
Once fully dressed, Myles slips through the door and silently makes her way down the halls.
Rule Number 16: If someone thinks they have the upper hand, break it.