So, at the start of this story, I was just getting off of a massive TWD obsession, and it wasn't just one zombie!AU fic I started but TWO, the other being a Bellarke/the 100 one (though it never really got published, still on the WIP backburner of my mental typewriter). Point being, I drafted two fics at the same time that I decided both took place in TWD universe, so that also meant that they were concurrently happening together too. We see this happen as some characters are introduced. If you don't watch The 100, you probably won't miss much, so no worries. If you do, you may see some familiar faces ;) I really wanted to throw in a character from TWD in here too to really merge the three, but I haven't watched in years and have no idea who would realistically be up in the Midwest so oh well.
ALSO, also, I'm SOOO behind on Riverdale (last episode I caught was the Halloween one, so I'll probably wait till it hits Netflix) but apparently there were some SweetBetts vibes in the episode last night :D
Thank you to my reviewers: Chloe0x0 and Ava!
Ava: It is tough, but imagine how good the payoff will be!
Song is The Four Horsemen by Metallica
March 8th, 2019
It had been a day and a half, by Betty's estimate, since they were put in here. Her goal was to get all of them out before the next pickings by the guards.
Most of her spare time was spent plotting. She talked to Jellybean a bit, along with the other girls closest to her own cell, but nothing was as imperative to Betty as figuring out the rotation of the guards or what sort of lock was on that main door.
Picking the lock on her own cell with the bobby-pin she kept hidden? Simple. Child's play. She was confident she could teach Jellybean how to do it, and she did.
Getting past that second door was the main objective. And, past that, securing weapons or something to protect herself. Either that or they would have to escape by night.
She knew she had a higher chance of escape if she was picked by a guard, however, there were some very big issues with waiting. One; she wouldn't know where Jellybean or the rest of the girls were. Since Jug was gone, she felt personally responsible for Jellybean and would die before she left her alone in this place. Two; it probably meant she'd have to sleep with whatever guard picked her and, well, she'd rather kill herself. Three; just too many variables.
She at least could count all the variables in this situation.
She was hoping to spring her release tonight.
She knew that a lot could go wrong. She had only the foggiest idea of where she was (Minnesota, probably. Jellybean had been captured in South Dakota), and it was the middle of winter. Food wasn't an issue, she wasn't starved yet, and Jellybean had been correct. The food was decent and twice a day.
Betty was sure enough of her skills to take to the forest with Jellybean and hide it out. In a perfect world, she could probably get a uniform of a guard or find where they took the rest of the women's clothes currently.
She ran through the scenario in her head close to 1000 times. There was nothing that was going to get in her way.
Food was usually brought by different guards every day. Maybe so that the guards could see their choices as they handed out plates, maybe so that no guard got too chummy and was fooled by one prisoner. They all had stun-guns and they were all quite a bit beefier than any singular girl. One-on-one, a girl probably didn't have a chance.
Betty was zoning in her cell, trying to figure out her chances of stealing a car when someone tapped her bars. She looked up, uninterested by the carrier, only piqued by the food on the platter.
Most just slid it through the bars.
"You. Yeah, talking to you, bitch."
Betty didn't reply, she just raised an eyebrow.
This guard was younger than a lot of them. While Betty had a good guess that most were between 20-25, this one seemed like he was probably writing college entrance essays when shit hit the fan and all.
He was bruised all over. His nose was bandaged like it had been broken and reset recently. He was glaring something nasty at Betty.
"Fuck, it is you."
"Do I know you?" Betty asked tiredly.
"You were the one we grabbed at the hospital in Wisconsin," He said. Betty felt something very dark grasp her heart. She saw Jellybean perk up from the other side of the way, staring with worry at the guard. Betty's mouth was filled with sawdust. She had a bad feeling where this was going, but she couldn't breathe.
"Heard you were askin' about your partner there," the guy continued, dropping Betty's plate unceremoniously. The food skeeted over the lip of the plate, all over the dusty floor, "Gave me a real headache. Killed my partner."
"You'd better hope to god-," Betty snarled, stalking up to the bars, but the guard laughed at her. It was such a violent, despairing sound that it stopped Betty in her tracks.
"An eye for an eye, I suppose," The kid raised his chin to show his adam's apple, "Dead men tell no tales," He whispered savagely, making a slicing motion across his throat.
Betty's heart stopped. She felt like screaming. She started to shake her head, sure he was lying, that he was just fucking with her.
Then, a glimmer of something right underneath his jacket caught her eye.
Sweet Pea's dog tags.
She felt like she was being stabbed. She felt like the world swam in front of it. This was worse than when she had found Jughead's hat, worse than when she had just missed Veronica and Archie, worse than finding out her father was the Black Hood.
Sweet Pea was dead.
Sweet Pea was dead.
Sweet Pea was dead.
A rage, so uncontrollable and so unexpected, filled her. It attacked every inch of her sky, filling her mouth with blood as she bit down on her lip. Her whole body felt like it was attached to a live electric wire, and someone was pumping her through, torturing her.
Betty's fingers grasped out for his neck before she knew what she was doing and before he could jolt backward.
Her fist closed tightly around the chain, yanking the guard face-first into the bars. Her other hand grasped the chain tighter, making a garrote.
"You made a fucking mistake," She snarled, refusing to relent.
She wasn't sure what she intended to do in the first place. Scare him? But, as his face started to turn red, and then blueish, and then purple, she realized that her hands did not want to let go. As his air was cut off, his fingers tried to grasp for the stun-gun, but it all happened far too fast.
Betty wondered if this is how her father felt, watching the panic in someone's eyes as you brought about the end of their life? She wondered if he too felt this unending fury, or if there was just a sense of nothing when he had killed people.
She wondered if he derived the same sense of glee she felt as the light died from their visions. He had stopped moving. His eyes were like two twin mirrors, reflecting back the light of the hallway, but nothing from behind it.
Her hand was raw from where the chain from the dog tag dug into her palms.
With a bolt of realization, she let go.
The chain snapped free in her hand, Sweet Pea's tags suspended and clinking lightly, as the body of the guard fell to the ground in a heap.
The other girls began to whisper frantically.
"Keys! Keys, girl!" One was yelling. It took Betty a good few seconds to register any voices.
She stared at the man she'd just killed, her first, and felt her breakfast come back up.
"Betty!" Jellybean said, her singular voice snapping her out of her horror, "Get his keys! His gun!"
Betty stuffed the dog tags down her bra, re-aligning herself with her new escape plan.
There was a wild, unbridled excitement flurrying around the cages. Betty dove for her bobby pin, unlocking her own cage. She shoved the body over, refusing to look at his face, as she patted down his body for weapons and for the keys to everyone's cage. There wasn't nearly enough time to bobby-pin everyone out.
The noise couldn't have gone unnoticed. Betty had only managed to find his keys, and throw them to Jellybean, by the time that the door to the entrance slammed open. She hadn't managed to dredge his gun up yet.
"What the fuc-," One of the other guards said, taking in the scene with wide-eyes.
The cages were silent.
"She killed him!" One of the girls near the front whispered in a crooning, teacher's pet voice. Betty had never liked her anyway, mentally naming her 'Gothel' in her mind. A few girls sent her nasty looks, some looked guilty down, and some of the other girls were crying again.
There were four guards. One snatched the keys out of Jellybean's hand, slamming her fingers between the grates hard. As she yelped, Betty stood.
"Don't touch her!" She said, coming face-to-face with the guard. He took one look at Betty and slammed her face with the back of his gun. Betty stumbled, and one of the other guards grasped her arm, his fingernails digging so deep into her skin that he drew blood.
"Drew's dead," The third gasped, feeling for a pulse, "She fucking killed him!" The situation was dawning on all of them, and the four men looked at Betty with various levels of horror and deadly desires.
"He was only sixteen!"
"And I'm only seventeen, and she's only thirteen! You're all sickos," Betty replied, refusing to shut up, "You do bad things, you get shitty rewards!"
"Shut up!" One of the guards grabbed her by her hair, dragging her back into her cell. He was trying to be as savage as possible. He threw her hard and her head connected with the metal edge of the uncomfortable bed.
She saw blood on the edge of her vision.
Another guard kicked her stomach. Then again. And again.
She heard the clatter as her bucket was overturned, spilling into the cell.
"Fuck, man! What do we do? Alpha isn't back until the pickings."
"We should kill 'er! Execute her! She killed Drew!"
"Alpha would be furious if we did it without his consent. He might have other plans."
"We'll leave her, then," One said in a 'listen to me' sort of voice, "We'll leave her for Alpha's sentence. I hope he guts her."
XXxxXX
March 10th, 2 019
Sweet Pea regained his vision one by one.
First was the smell. It was the smell of antiseptics that he thought woke him, something clean and white and reminding him of awful places. Beyond that was something muskier, something woodsy. Like someone had plopped a forest of trees in a hospital.
The second was the taste. The back of his throat tasted exactly what he thought possum in a blender might be, and yes, it was as bad as it sounded. He realized how dry his throat also was, and how he ached for water so badly he thought he might vomit.
The third was sound. There were people above him, talking.
"We'll see if he wakes soon...if not...I dunno…"
"He's lucky to be alive."
A pause. The same person. Female, he thinks, "He's made of stronger stuff, I'd guess."
"Think we can trust him?" The first voice was a man.
"Hard to say. We'll see when he wakes up. He's carrying a lot of weapons."
The fourth thing that came to him was feeling. He acutely was aware of how much everything aches around him. More than that, he was just lethargic, in a sort of fashion that was like he'd had a rager and woke up half-way curled over a couch. It was like something was tying his limbs down and he couldn't find a way to move them, as hard and as desperately as he was trying.
Last was his sight.
It was fuzzy around the edges. He blinked rapidly a few times, hearing the same fuss above him as he began to wake, opening his mouth to speak up.
"Where...wha…" He was having a difficult time recalling why he'd be here and not in his house.
"Oh, good, you're coming to," The first voice said, though it did not sound quite as cheerful as his tone may indicate.
Sweet Pea was helped into a sitting position by someone. He slouched forward a bit, his head still woozy, a glass of what appeared to be water was pushed into his hands. His good sense was so far wacked out of focus that he drank it without considering any consequences. Though, to be fair, they probably could have killed him before if they so wanted. It would be a lot of effort to wait for him to wake and then to kill him.
It tasted heavenly. He drank the whole thing and then two more glasses, as someone kept replacing them.
He got a good look at his rescuers for the first time.
He was inside some torn-down abandoned hut. Something he was deeply familiar with at this end of the world bullshit. There were two adults staring at him with a piercing, calculating gaze. The woman who had given him the water had dark skin, a shaved head, and untrustworthy eyes. The man was a little less severe, with long dreadlocks and a beard that made him look exactly how Sweet Pea imagined Bigfoot might look. They both had strange tattoos curling around their eyes, something that Sweet Pea was instantly curious about.
He had his own tattoo, of course, so he wondered if it was indicative of some sort of gang? He hadn't brought his serpent jacket with him, neither had Betty-
Fuck.
"How long have I been here?" Sweet Pea asked, frantically trying to hop off the table, "I need to...do you know where...there's this group." His words were all falling out in no discernible order, making it impossible to convey what he was trying to ask. His heart thumped, his chest constricted, and his heart just fucking hurt.
"Son, son," The man said, grasping him, "Calm down."
"Calm down? I can't just...how long have I been out? Two, three hours?" Sweet Pea asked, peering outside.
"You arrived in the camp with a slit open neck, along with other wounds," The woman said, her arms crossed as she stared him down, "It hasn't been easy."
"What do you mean?"
"We've kept you in a...medical coma for the past few days. Three." The man confirmed, looking back at the woman, "We thought you might die otherwise."
"Three, err, four days…"
Sweet Pea felt ill again. He shook his head, feet falling out from under him. He felt actually sick again and turned to vomit, though only bile came up his throat.
"No, no...no…" He grasped his hair, "She could be gone by now…"
Betty could have been sold off hours ago and he'd never find her again. He didn't make it in time.
The man looked wholly uncomfortable to see Sweet Pea crying whereas the woman's expression softened just a bit.
They had to keep records, though, right? To know who was someone they could sell to, or get money from? He doubted that no one in that entire group would be clueless about where she'd gone, especially if it was recent.
It was okay. He could still find her.
He grasped the edge of the bed, forcing his unstable feet to stand.
"I need to go."
"Woah, okay, let's wait for a second," The man said, "You're hardly healed."
"Don't care."
"More than that, we have some questions," The woman said in a much more imposing tone, "You cannot just expect us to heal you and then have you walk out of here?"
Sweet Pea scowled, glaring as hard as he could at her.
"Fine. Ask," He said, crossing his arms and sitting on his bed, "If it helps me leave faster."
"Let's start with some introductions. You are?"
"Sweet Pea. Don't ask about any other name because I probably won't tell you."
"Right. Sweet Pea," The man said, "I'm Nyko. I'm the doctor of the group. I've seen some shit since the start of this, but you…" he waved a hand at Sweet Pea, "Surprised you survived."
"I'm Indra, our current leader." The woman spoke over Nyko, formalities or small talk not her speed, "You came with a lot of weapons on you, Sweet Pea." When she spoke his name, it sounded like a slur.
"Got to protect myself in this day and age. With walkers and other assholes around. Plus, I'm looking for a group. The Predators."
Nyko looked at Indra, swinging his gaze around. Indra just tilted her head.
"You said as you fainted you were looking for your...wife?"
"She was taken. By them. That's why I need to go. Before she's…" He swallowed.
"You'll be killed," Nyko scoffed.
"They tried once. Didn't work." Sweet Pea ran a finger along the gauze at his throat.
"A fluke, surely," Indra's voice was cool.
"As you said," Sweet Pea said, looking at her with a saccharine smile, "I'm made of stronger stuff. They won't get closer to this again."
"Where do you come from?" Nyko asked, trying to reign the interrogation back.
Sweet Pea looked at him, "Wiscon...sin…" He said without thinking, his words dying off a bit as he realized how easily the answer came, "I mean, to say, that's where I'm...I was born and raised around New York."
"You're a long way from home then."
Sweet Pea thought of the bodies piled up between here and the East Coast. He thought of his brothers, laying out with their serpent jackets to the skies, the entirety of the Whyte Wyrm a mausoleum. He thought of Fangs and Toni for the first time in fucking ages and something just ached inside of him.
"Yeah, well, it's all fucked out there," He muttered quietly.
"That seems to be the general consensus." Nyko agreed, "Nowhere is safe."
"Look," Sweet Pea swallowed, despite the slight twinge of pain in his throat, "I get why you're wary of me. I probably look like the poster child for a group like the Predators. But I'm not. I just want to find Betty and go home. I don't want to join them, I don't want to kill any other humans that are being actual decent people, I don't want to linger any longer than I have to. You can't agree with what they're doing, can you?"
Nyko and Indra shared a glance. Nyko looked ready to speak when Indra raised a sharp hand, stopping him.
"We will not hold anyone who does not wish to be held. We are not The Predators. We've run low on weapons of late. In exchange for saving your life, we will take most of your weapons. A worthy trade."
"Fine," Sweet Pea bit out, pleased they weren't expecting some sort of labor trade, "Leave me with my bat though. I'm sentimental and quite attached to it."
"Not a gun?"
"I'm better up close and personal," Sweet Pea growled, cracking his knuckles.
"I'm still concerned," Nyko said, "It's already nearly dawn. Even if you want to attack them, even you must know it would be foolish to do so during the day. Stay here and let me make sure you won't bleed out half-way there?"
Sweet Pea glanced outside, frustrating gnawing in him.
Nyko was correct, despite it all.
"Fuck. Fine."
XXxxXX
Sweet Pea spent most of the day holed up in the medicine hut. He caught glimpses of their group crisscrossing through and counted their numbers to nearly 200. It was incredible, all things considered. Indra left and only returned to hand him off his bat, which he pressed to his chest like it was his life-line. Nyko kept an eye on Sweet Pea as he worked on others and eventually, around three, Sweet Pea was kicked out to make room for a woman going into labor.
"Food is being served. You might want to go find some of that," Nyko said, pushing Sweet Pea out into the center of the camp.
For a second, Sweet Pea stood unsure of his motions, his fingers tracing the bandage that was applied much more expertly to his neck. It intersected his serpent tattoo. Sweet Pea wondered how horribly mangled the ink would be now. He was not as sad as he thought he would be to lose that, as it was a part of his old life.
He was glad to see that his anti-rabies medicine was allowed to stay with him and dosed himself up, figuring it was about time. If Betty could see him now, he thought with a wry smile.
It was easy to find the food hut. People were lining up, chatting with each other. One thing that Sweet Pea noticed was that the camp was predominantly male. For every one female, there were at least 20 males. Sweet Pea did not think it was entirely natural selection, no, there was some other weird situation going on.
He was given a bowl of oats and a piece of meat, some venison by the smell of it. The people handing it out did not seem put-off that he was joining the line though he was sure most were aware of his presence. He did know how to make an entrance.
He found a spot in the shade, plopping down and using his fingers to scoop the meal into his mouth.
A shadow crossed his vision.
"You're looking for the Predators."
He glanced up, shielding his eyes from the light to see a girl about his age standing in front of him. She wore a deep frown and had piercing brown eyes, ones that seemed to swim with the fury of a raging ocean. She had a leather top on along with long, nearly black pin-straight hair.
"Uhm, yeah?"
She sat beside him, a bowl in her hands, shaking her head.
"I've been told it's a bad idea," Sweet Pea said, "So, you don't have to reiterate it."
"Cowards," The girl spat. The venom in her tone shocked Sweet Pea. He frowned, glancing at her again, "Surely, you've noticed how few females are left in the camp?"
"Well, yes."
"The Predators came through two months ago and took most of them. That's why we're here and we haven't moved on. That's why I'm not with my brother and his group...but I can't leave because my friends were taken too." She gritted her teeth, "And we're supposed to be warriors. I joined this group to learn how to fight but fuck, they won't do a damn thing."
"Really?" Sweet Pea said, blinking, "This group of assholes steals most of their women and they just...let it happen?"
"Indra's daughter was taken," The girl said, "And they were warned that if they attacked, she'd be killed." The girl gave a rickety laugh, "I never thought Indra would be the type to sacrifice one for the many, but hell…"
"I'm sorry," Sweet Pea said sincerely, "It's a shit position to be in."
"But we're just sitting here, don't nothing," The girl threw her hands out, "Waiting for something worse to happen! Or waiting for...I don't know what, but it's infuriating!" She snapped her head sharply to Sweet Pea, "You're going to find them, aren't you?"
"I gotta."
The girl nodded, her face growing stony with a resolution, "I'm coming too. I'll fucking liberate it myself if they won't."
"Won't you...get in trouble?" Sweet Pea asked, brow furrowed.
"I'm not part of their group, not really," She said, her voice dropping with a nearly wistful hint, "I've never belonged anywhere, but it's finally working out, I guess. I have a lot of rage inside of me. I'd love the chance to kill a few neckbeards and try to work it through. Better than therapy."
"Huh," Sweet Pea said, "Welcome to the club. Rage and ruin? Check."
This brought out a small, fleeting smile.
"I'll find you tonight. I know there are others who are frustrated, so we might not be alone." She said, standing, leaving her portion next to him, "You'll need the strength."
"Wait," Sweet Pea said, "I'm Sweets. I haven't caught your name."
The girl turned, as though musing on whether to tell him or not. Finally, she dipped her head as she acquiesced, "Octavia Blake."
XXxxXX
March 11th, 2019
Sweet Pea was woken with a hand covering his mouth. He jumped until Octavia motioned to keep quiet, tilting her head toward Nyko, still snoring. He knew that they wouldn't let him go so easily, made even clear when Nyko suggested he sleep one more night. Sweet Pea, with the knowledge he wouldn't be on his mission alone anymore, managed to catch a couple of hours. He had no reason to think Octavia was lying. Even more than that, he remembered the fire in her eyes. It matched how he felt in his heart.
There were two others waiting outside.
"What is this, a rescue mission or a boy-band?" Sweet Pea sneered, not quite the infantry he'd been hoping for.
"Most are afraid that Gaia will be killed," Octavia said, "or they just are tired of fighting. Fighting the undead, fighting each other, fighting to survive."
"But you?" Sweet Pea gleaned.
"I don't know what I'll do without the fight," Octavia said plainly, "Sweets, meet Illian and Brad. Brad's a doctor, and all things considered, we're probably lucky." She switched gears so fast that Sweet Pea hardly had time to consider that very loaded statement.
"Yeah, I seem to run into wounds quite often…" He echoed quietly.
"We thought that, though you seem attached to that bat, you might like having this back for the raid," Brad said without preamble, handing-off a gun to Sweet Pea. It was one of his ones he'd given up and he ran his fingers over the machinery, feeling a smidgen better with more weapons in his hands.
Octavia led them behind the medicine hut where there was a path through the brambles, away from the eyes of the night watch. They walked in silence for a good half-an-hour, or until all were sure that they were far enough away.
"The Predators are about a four-hour walk from here," Octavia said, "And there's usually about 200 guards."
"50 per?" Sweet Pea joked, trying to lighten the mood and his own thumping heart, "Easy, eh?"
"My goal is at least 75," Octavia said without any hint of humor, "One for each girl taken."
She took the lead. Sweet Pea quickly learned that Brad had no intention to make friends and gave stoic one-word answers. He ended up falling next to Illian, who seemed the most pleasant to talk to. They chatted a bit about the group and all, but soon, it was hard for Sweet Pea not to be curious about the girl who led them so confidently through the forest.
"She's from a group in Chicago. She had to kill her boyfriend after he was infected and she just kept getting into fights with her brother, the leader of the group, back up there. We ended up splitting ways and she chose to be with us. We're all from a Military School, but she's…" Illian gave a cough, "She's something else. She has a lot of untapped rage and probably should see a therapist but we're a bit fresh out." Illian shrugged, "She misses her brother, but she feels tied to this cause, or so she says. I'm not sure she's ready to face him yet."
"I never had to deal with the whole sibling shit," Sweet Pea said, "but I was going to go after these jerks by myself, so I'm glad she's here. And you both too."
"I'm just tired of feeling useless." Illian said frankly, "What's your story?"
Sweet Pea blew out, coughing a bit as some cool air scratched his throat, "Shit, man. I don't even know where to begin. Grew up on the wrong side of town, joined a gang when I was like nine, got tatted when I was like twelve...ended up trying to get revenge when this whole apocalypse happened, accidentally saved a girl I was pretty sure I hated instead, ended up traveling with her, fell in love and then…" He swallowed, "I never properly got to say it."
"I thought you said she was your wife?"
Sweet Pea winced at his own lie, "I love her. She's it for me. She feels like that, though we never...talked about...it's probably stupid," he admitted after a long moment, his cheeks flushing, "And seems creepy maybe. But fuck, it's true. I'd die for her. I'd do anything for her."
"I think it's sweet," Illian said after a long moment, one where Sweet Pea was sure he was being judged horribly, "I'd like to love someone with such a sureness. I really hope we can save her. Honest."
There was a pause, one in which Sweet Pea had nothing else to say, but Illian still looked troubled.
"What would you do," He began quietly, "If we get there and she's dead or been sold off?"
"Been sold off, I'll hunt her down. Killed?" Sweet Pea tilted his head, "Make them suffer. And then I'd…" he trailed off, realizing he was completely unsure of what his next steps would be. The idea of living without Betty seemed unrealistic like there simply wasn't anything after that. It was as though the plans had been wiped away, leaving a blank and terrifying canvas.
"So I thought," Illian said, as though Sweet Pea's answer had illuminated more than he knew, "I hope she's still alive. Fucking lord knows we don't need two Octavia's around. She's ruthless, but she has no care for her own self-safety. Ever since Lincoln…" He quieted, "Anyway…"
"We're here," Octavia's voice was quiet, but it cut through with a certainty that had Sweet Pea frozen in his half-step. Sweet Pea hadn't realized they'd been walking for so long, but as he looked at the sky, the moon was beginning to dip below the tree-line in a farewell wave. Octavia made a motion right through the scrub. Sweet Pea pushed back a branch to reveal a large compound with fences and men with guns on the lookout. He was already making battle plans in his mind, already hiking his gun up, knowing that they could probably manage to take the guards out all at once and-,
"Wait."
"Why?" Sweet Pea demanded.
Octavia moved his head to an empty parking spot.
"See how there's not a car there? That's where Alpha goes. The leader. If we don't take him, and his betas out, the entire group doesn't come down."
"But-," Sweet Pea gnashed his teeth, "We walked all this way and-,"
"What day is it, Illian?" Octavia questioned, switching her attention, "Today, this morning."
"Uhm, the 11th?"
Octavia made a hum in the back of her throat, "He'll be back this morning. He will. If your partner was chosen for the premiere group, she'll still be here. If not…" She bit her lip, not a sign of anxiety, but that she was holding back something, "Either way, we can't attack until he arrives."
The group split up a mile or so back in the woods; far enough away to avoid detection, close enough to be able to see the empty parking lot.
Illian muttered something about finding berries and Brad found a tree to promptly doze against, leaving Octavia sitting with Sweet Pea. For a bit he watched her. Her eyes traced the guard rotation before they even moved and he saw that her gaze flickered between all the doors they could see, two that Sweet Pea himself would have missed had he not been so curiously watching her.
It showed a deeper understanding of this place than a once-or-twice visit. He got the acute feeling that Octavia spent most of her nights here, obsessively cataloging the guards, the doors, the weapons. He doubted she would have waited long to attack even if he hadn't shown up, but it was fortuitous that he did.
Brad was prickly and seemed entirely determined to stay solitary, Illian was nice in the sort of way that a puppy-dog was, but Sweet Pea felt a kinship with Octavia. He saw himself reflected back in her, like a terrifying mirror. It was his doppelganger of emotion because he doubted he'd act much differently from her if Betty truly was dead. It was a warning too, one he knew he should heed, but he found it impossible to imagine going any other way. He thought that Octavia would have been the sort to join the Serpents if she'd been in Riverdale and they would have welcomed her.
"Tell me about your home," Octavia said after far too long of allowing herself to match the motions of the guards, "Please."
"What do you want to know?"
"I'm unsure. Before this, I'd never been outside of Chicago. I guess New York must be pretty similar."
"If you live in the city, sure. I lived middle of fucking nowhere. The only thing of note was the Black Hood."
Octavia frowned, tilting her head, "River...moor? Something like that? My brother was obsessed with that case."
"Yeah, so was the entire world. I was just waiting for a new Netflix special. Riverdale," He corrected. He was curious about this brother that kept being brought up but he felt like she wouldn't give any more information than what she sprinkled into their conversation, "I mean, it has what every town has. Drugs, drinking, crazy teens…" He made a noise in the back of his throat, "It wasn't perfect, but it was home."
"More," Octavia asked, and thought it sounded like a command, there was a more wistful tone, "Your high school, the downtown, what you did on the weekends. I'm just curious."
So he did. Sweet Pea felt a dull ache when discussing it, but it was nice to tell his stories to someone else. Betty knew most of them and he wasn't meeting newcomers very often, as it was. At least, not ones that weren't trying to kill or kidnap him. Octavia stayed intrigued, letting soft grins lose and quiet chuckles. Sweet Pea used his hands to gesticulate, explaining the North Side, the South Side and everything in between.
"Guys," Brad said, who must have woken up at some point during the stretched hours they sat in the woods, "Car's back."
Sweet Pea shielded his eyes against the sun. He estimated it was nearly 10 AM. He wondered what Octavia's camp thought of them gone. Would they send people to collect them or assume they all perished?
"That's it," Octavia confirmed, standing and brushing the crumbling dirt from her pants. She took a knife out of her pocket, looked at it, and handed it to Sweet Pea. Before he could protest, she'd pulled two more from other pockets on her body.
"We take the guards out silently. If we move around there," She said, pointing to a tree that had fallen during a recent storm, "We'll be covered. No use using guns and drawing attention until later."
Sweet Pea inhaled, anxiety pulling at his stomach. Octavia noticed his expression.
"You ready for this?"
"Yeah, I can't imagine backing out now," He laughed, "Good luck to you, Kamikaze." He said. Octavia gave him a strange look.
"Me?"
"Yeah. They said this was a suicide mission, and nicknames are a big thing to me, so," He put his hands together, shrugging, "In my book, you- and Brad and Illian- are all worthy Serpents. If we make it out of this alive and you need a place to go, you're welcome with me. Southside Serpents are known for helping people figure out where they belong."
Octavia looked touched, an expression of gratitude so soft that it surprised Sweet Pea. He wondered if she'd ever really felt like she was meant to be somewhere and maybe the farm back with Betty was the answer.
"If we survive this," Octavia said, pulling her hair up into a ponytail, a wide and feral grin creeping across her face, "I'll keep that in mind. Now, anyone think they can top my goal of 75?"