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(Mount Weather Control Room)
Cage Wallace stood, his body rigid, his gaze locked on the horrific image of his dead soldier nailed to a crude cross. A bead of cold sweat traced its way down his temple. (Too dramatic?)
He was the leader of the last stronghold of human civilization. He can't be scared.
With an effort, he unclenched his fists and relaxed. The rage, the cold, the fear that the man in the orange-and-black armor suppressed.
He smoothed his uniform. "Lovejoy," he snapped.
The pale technician, who had been trying to make himself invisible, jumped. "Y-Yes, Mr. Wallace?"
"Report. The other anomaly. The drop shit. What is its status?"
"Right, yes, sir," Lovejoy stammered, his fingers flying across his console.
The image of the crucified soldier was replaced by a thermal-infrared map. A large, blackened, and still-hot scar was visible on the far side of the mountain. "It... it landed, sir. Sector seven. Far side of the ridge. Right where we predicted it to."
"Survivors?" Cage asked, his voice flat.
"Yes, sir. That's the... the thing, sir." Lovejoy zoomed in. The map was peppered with bright, hot, human-shaped signatures. "We're counting... ninety-seven. No, wait. Ninety-eight. All... all outside. The radiation, sir, it's... it's not..."
"It's not killing them," Cage finished, his mind racing. "So, they're resistant to it. That should not be a surprise, considering they were born in space." A flicker of a smile touched his lips. "And?"
"And... a small party, sir," Lovejoy continued, "five of them. They broke off from the main group about an hour ago." He traced a dotted line on the map, a line that moved east. A line that was heading straight...
"Well," Lovejoy whispered, his own terror dawning, "sir, they're... they're moving directly toward Trikru territory."
Silence.
Cage stared at the map. He thought about the man who had just ridden from Polis. He thought about the Blad-de-Trikru. He thought about the fourteen bodies on the 'canvas'.
And then, he laughed.
It was not a pleasant sound. It was a bitter laugh, devoid of all humor. It was the laugh of a man watching a bloody joke unfold.
"Oh, those... those fools," Cage breathed, a cruel smile now spreading across his face. He pictured these "sky people," soft, weak, born in a sterile, "civilized" tube, just like him... and they were about to walk, blindly, into the monster's den. They were lambs, going about to introduce themselves to the wolf.
"Good luck to those poor souls," Cage Wallace said, turning away from the screen.
(The 100 - Trikru Territory - The River)
"I'm just... I'm just saying... that we're walking!" Finn Collins said, walking alongside Clarke.
"That's the whole point, Finn," Clarke retorted, shrugging him off, though a small smile played on her lips. The air here was... alive. It was so thick, too humid, but it was real. It smelled of pine, and damp earth, and something sweet and floral she couldn't name.
"No, the point is that," Jasper said, pointing at a massive, two-headed deer as it ran away from them. "The point is that everything here is, apparently, designed to kill us."
"At least it's not a giant water snake," Monty, his best friend, muttered, checking the glowing band on his wrist. "My dad's textbook said-"
"Forget your dad's textbook," Octavia Blake interrupted, her eyes wide with energy. She leaped onto a moss-covered log, her arms spread wide.
"Look at it! It's beautiful!"
She ran ahead, like a little rebellious spirit, and the other four just followed. Their mission: to find Mount Weather.
After another hour of walking, they reached another river.
"So, we cross?" Jasper asked.
"And we die," Monty finished. "Clarke, look at it. The current is too fast. We don't know what's in it. We don't even know if this is the right way."
"Finn?" Clarke asked.
Finn was already scanning the bank. "She's right. This... this is the way. Mount Weather is on the other side of this ridge. But Monty's also right. We're not crossing that."
"So, what?" Jasper said, his voice cracking. "We... we just go back? Tell Bellamy, 'Oops, sorry, the scouting mission was a bust'?"
Octavia kicked the log in frustration. "We are on the ground. We are breathing." She took a deep, dramatic breath. "Isn't that enough?"
"No," Clarke said. "It's not. We need to get supplies as soon as possible."
Finn, who had been wandering, suddenly stopped. "Hey... look at this." He was pointing at the vine.
"No way," Monty's eyes lit up. "It's perfect."
"It's a rope!" Jasper yelled, his excitement bubbling. This was it. This was his chance. He'd been the "comic relief" his whole life. Now... now he could be the hero. He could be the one who leads them.
"I'll go," he said, puffing his chest out, trying to catch Clarke's eye.
"Jasper, no," Clarke said, all-business. "We don't know if it'll hold."
"It'll hold!" Jasper said, already grabbing the vine. "It's nature's rope! Come on, I got this!"
Before they could stop him, he was backing up. "I'll see you on the other side!" he yelled.
And he ran. He leaped. He swung.
He flew over the roaring water, a perfect, Tarzan-like arc. He landed, hard, on the other side, rolling, and coming up, covered in mud, his fists in the air.
"WE ARE ON THE GROUND!" he roared, his voice cracking with joy.
Octavia cheered. Monty and Finn clapped. Even Clarke... Clarke was smiling. A real, wide smile. Enjoying herself.
Jasper, high on adrenaline and relief, began to jump around. "SEE?! I TOLD YOU! IT'S-"
He then stopped. He found something near his foot.
"Jasper?" Clarke called out. "What is it?"
He was pushing aside some ferns and took a look at the plate. "Guys... guys, you're not going to believe this."
He held it up. A rusted metal sign.
"MOUNT WEATHER," he read, his voice breaking with relief. "WE ARE ON THE RIGHT PATH! WE'RE SAVED!"
And in that exact moment of joy and hope.....
THWACK.
Jasper's eyes went wide. The sign dropped from his numb fingers. He looked down.
A spear... a long, wooden spear was stuck in his chest.
They all went silent.
Octavia's hand flew to her mouth, her cheer dying in her throat. Monty just stared.
Jasper looked up, his eyes meeting Clarke's, his face had a child-like confusion. "Clarke...?"
And then... he was pulled.
He didn't just fall. He was yanked, violently, off his feet, as if he weighed nothing. What followed was his screams as he was dragged into the jungle.
Silence.
"JASPER!" Clarke's scream was the first to break the terror.
"RUN!" Finn roared, grabbing her arm. "RUN, NOW!"
They didn't wait. They didn't think. They ran, the image of the spear, of Jasper's face, burned into their minds.
Hours later, they reached the camp.
They burst back into the camp, gasping for air, all of them low on energy.
Bellamy, who had been organizing a perimeter, had his pistol up in an instant. "What?! What is it?! Where's Jasper?"
"Gone!" Clarke gasped, falling against the hull of the ship. "He's... he's gone!"
"What happened?!" Bellamy demanded.
"We are not alone on this planet!!" Finn said, his eyes wild. "It wasn't a... a thing. It was..."
"It was a spear," Octavia finished, her voice terrified. "We're not alone. We're... we're being hunted. By... by humans."
The camp, which had been a buzz of happiness, went dead silent.
"Get me a map," Bellamy commanded. "We're going back for him."
(Trikru - Four Hours Later)
Mike rode his horse at max speed, the animal's black coat slick with sweat.
'They should have faced them.' Mike thought.
The 100 were a group of confused kids. Stupid. But... armed. They will have guns.
'I will not let a single clan-member die.' His resolve is firm.
He arrived at the gates of Tonas. The guards on the wall, who had seen the object falling, were on high alert.
Then, they saw him.
"BLAD-DE-TRIKRU!" the call rang out, a cry of pure relief.
Mike didn't slow. He rode straight through the open gates. The villagers, who had been huddled in their tents, came out. They saw him. And the fear... it just vanished. They didn't see a man. They saw their Shield. They saw the man who had ended the Mountain Men's terror.
The Warriors hit their fists to their chests as he passed. "Shaf-heda!"
He nodded at them.
Soon, he reached his destination. He dismounted and threw the reins to a warrior who ran up. "Take care of him."
"Understood!"
Mike moved directly to the Chief's tent, the largest in the village. He unsealed his mask and pulled it off.
He pushed the heavy hide flap aside and entered.
Anya was there, her back to him. She was surrounded by maps, her hands braced on the table, her entire body filled with tension he could feel.
"I told no one to enter, Indra," she growled. "I'm in the middle of something."
He didn't speak. He just walked up behind her, his heavy, armored arms encircling her waist, pulling her back against his chest.
She froze. For one, single nanosecond, her warrior's body tensed to strike...
And then, she melted.
All the tension just drained out of her. She let out a shuddering sigh, her head falling back into his chest. She knew that touch.
She turned in his arms, wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him.
It wasn't the slow, passionate kiss of their tent. It was a hard, desperate, relieved kiss. It was a kiss that said, Thank God you are here.
"You're back," she breathed, her forehead resting against his.
"I came as fast as I could."
She pulled back, her hands on his chest, the 'Chief look' returning to her eyes. "Welcome back, my Blade."
Mike laughed at her act and asked a serious question.
"Anything... on that thing?"
Anya's expression turned serious. She knew exactly what he meant. She nodded, her hand gripping his arm.
"Yes," she said, her voice low. "The scouts found them."
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