Disclaimer: Do not own Marvel or The 100
Warnings for attempted sexual assault, murder, abduction, child abandonment and homelessness.
Kill them
Clarke understood that there were all types of people, no matter what demographic. That was just how humans were. It was what made the world interesting. But it could sometimes also what made the world cruel.
Clarke knew this too, and knew it from personal experience.
And she knew that it didn't matter how many homeless people there were in the world. Many were good and kind. Many were just trying to survive. Like she had just tried to survive.
But others?
They could be vile. Vicious.
It was why, when she and four of the people who had more or less taken her in, had become her family, were her lovers and were her mates, apparently, a group of vampires; and when Clarke saw two men walking down the street across from her and the four lovers with her, she felt her blood turn cold.
Clarke Griffin, age twenty-two, had been taken in by her vampire mates, when she was twenty. True, technically speaking, they abducted her. But in a way she was grateful for it, since she'd been living on the streets when they had found her.
They gave her a home, love, a family and a life, essentially.
And they didn't tell her thing like she should be grateful to them or anything like that. They wanted her to have as much of a choice as she could have, within the situation.
But Clarke had lived for six years on the streets since she was fourteen. And she remembered everything from that period of her life.
So, when she was walking down the street with four of her lovers and she recognized two figures across the street from them, she felt a cold chill run through her.
She knew those two men.
The four vampires with her; Carol Danvers, Natasha Romanoff, Tony Stark and Bruce Banner, followed her gaze to look at the two men across the street.
"Clarke?" Bruce asked, "Are you alright?"
Clarke slowed down as her disturbed eyes remained on the two men.
She knew those two men.
One of them was big, round and white, with shaggy brown hair. The other was slim and was light brown-skinned, with almost no hair.
The white man had a round face that could almost be called sweet. The other man had a more pointed and distinguished face. His face could also appear sweet. But Clarke knew better than to call either of them such a ridiculous word.
"Clarke?" Tony asked, "Baby?"
Clarke swallowed as she said, feeling her legs shake, "Those two men…,"
"What about them?" Natasha said, her voice suddenly taking an edge.
Clarke felt a shiver run down her spine as she watched the two men walking, neither man seeming to have detected Clarke's presence, or the presence of her companions. Or if they had noticed her? They didn't recognize her. Not like she recognized them.
It had been two years since Clarke had been grabbed off of the streets of San Francisco. They moved around a lot after that.
But Clarke and her mates decided to go back to San Francisco, just for a week. And here they were, in San Francisco, and Clarke could see two men who she had encountered before.
Even if she severely wished she had never laid eyes on them.
Clarke felt the whisper leave her weakly, "They tried to…both those men tried to…,"
Six years ago:
Sixteen-year-old Clarke Griffin, having spent two years on the streets, courtesy of her mother, Abby Griffin, having thrown her out on her ass at the age of fourteen, had learned to survive on the streets as well as she could.
Unfortunately, that meant often begging and scrounging through trash. And yes, it also meant stealing, as much as she disliked doing it.
She one day, pulled out a plastic bag full of bread. The bag was transparent, and she could see that the bread wasn't moldy at all.
She smiled and carried it down the sidewalk.
Now, anyone who looked at her, would have known that she was most likely homeless. Her clothes all looked worn out of color and had small tears on them. The bottoms of the cuffs of her pants were stained with dirt. The hood of her jacket was ripped. And her face and hair likely had some dirt accumulated on them.
You could just look at her and know she was homeless.
Even without smelling her.
Clarke had bought some soap that she had gotten from the money she had stolen. She would try to bathe herself soon, as well as she could, anyway.
That was the plan. Until she heard a laugh behind her.
A man's laugh.
The man yelled, "Hey, Raul, lookie here! Looks like we have one of ours here, and she's alone. Imagine that!"
Clarke whirled around, startled. A shiver ran through her at the threat in the tone of the man's voice.
She spotted two men. One was big and round and white, with a filthy gray T-shirt on and baggy green pants.
The man had a round face and matted brown hair.
The other man was thin and had light brown skin. His chin and nose were more pointed than the other man's.
He had shorter, black hair and had a ripped brown and green checkered flannel shirt on, as well as filthy looking white work boots and light blue jeans with torn knees.
Clarke suddenly glanced around her, as she observed the way the white, chubby man and the thin, light brown-skinned man were looking at her.
She saw almost no one around.
In fact, she saw one person across the street from her, turn the corner. But saw no one else.
Clarke shuddered.
She'd had bad encounters with other homeless people before. But never to the extent where she was starting to suspect she was currently in the situation of now.
She'd often have to protect her belongings from being stolen. And would be driven out of a place she was staying by a group of angry homeless.
But nothing quite like this.
She always had been careful about that.
But it looked like she just hadn't been careful enough this one time.
She felt her right leg step back. She knew she would need to get ready to run.
And that thought was confirmed a second later, when the large white man said, "Time to have some fun, huh, Raul?"
Clarke tore down the sidewalk, running fast, keeping a strong hold on the bag of bread.
She heard another male voice, which she assumed must have been the other man speaking, say, "Rick! I say we both fuck her ass! Bet her cunt's already loose from the rest of men like us having their fun with her pussy!"
Clarke ran as fast as she could, almost darting out into traffic several times.
She ignored the blaring horns around her. She knew no one would help her. No one helped homeless people. No matter what the situation.
No one would try to do anything.
She was on her own and that meant she'd need to keep running.
But she didn't doubt that both men would catch up. She'd gotten a good look at them.
They both had pretty long legs. Longer than hers.
They'd catch up to her soon.
Thinking of only one thing to do, she remembered where she was. She was close to where the train station was.
She ran fast to the left, knowing where the train rails were.
She knew she was betting a lot. She was betting on the possibility of there being a train coming and being able to make it across in time before it ran by.
But she had to hope.
She felt her heart thundering in her chest as she gasped for air as she ran.
Up ahead, she saw the train tracks.
And she grinned, when she heard the loud honking of a train coming.
She ran faster, hearing Raul and Rick both laughing at her back.
But she made it. She raced right across the train tracks, and with enough space between her and the two men, and the train shot between her and the two men, keeping the men from pursuing her.
Clarke looked behind her, her lungs burning as she ran.
She felt a weak laugh leave her as she kept running, as soon as she saw the train go along the train tracks.
She had time enough now to get away!
And she kept running, feeling her lungs continue to burn.
Present day:
Clarke stared at the two men.
She shivered.
She hadn't said a word, but her mates must have figured out what the two men had tried to do.
Because a second later, she heard her mates growling.
Clarke felt Natasha get closer. And Clarke shivered when she heard Natasha growl, "Say it, Clarke. Say what you want."
Clarke closed her eyes.
She knew what she was doing was horrendous.
What she was about to do was evil. Wrong.
She was allowing, no, not just allowing but ordering murder. But she saw no other people around, just like last time. And she saw no cameras. And during these past six years? How many people had these men sexually assaulted after what they had tried to do to her? And she likely hadn't been the first person they'd attacked.
There were probably hundreds of women who had suffered from these two men's assaults. Who knew how many women they raped.
And they'd never been stopped.
Why would they be? They were homeless. And they likely had attacked homeless women. Women no one would listen to.
Clarke felt the words come out. She knew what she was about to order was wrong. But she didn't care.
She wanted these men to suffer.
She recognized them. It wouldn't matter how many years went by. She'd recognize the two men that had tried to assault her, anywhere.
She felt the words come out, remembering that there was an alleyway right near where the men were walking, "Kill them."
She hadn't yet opened her eyes, but heard deep growls around her and felt them move away from her and she fought a shiver.
She knew what was going to happen next.
She heard a pair of men screaming, and heard the sound of flesh tearing.
And as horrific as it was, she felt a smile cross her face.
