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Blue Lock : The Spirit of The Greatest
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The BOLD font means grounder language.
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(The Military Depot)
The air was thick with fear. The massive figure in the black and orange suit, Mike, stood over the group, his sword still rooted between Finn's legs.
"You will move now," Mike ordered. "Leave the weapons. You carry only what you cannot leave behind."
Clarke was the first to regain control, her survival instinct overriding her shock. She stepped toward Mike. "Who are you? What do you want? We came here for supplies, not a fight."
Mike didn't acknowledge the question directly. He simply retracted his sword with a smooth, shink, and motioned toward the exit hatch. "I am the one who keeps order. And what I want is your cooperation. Move."
Bellamy wanted to do something, but the memory of the sliced bullet was still fresh in his mind. He glanced at Finn, who was now weeping silently, scrambling to push himself up from the wet concrete.
Mike noticed the lingering glance. "Your friend needs to be carried. And learn some self-control. His act was really pathetic."
Raven and Clarke cast a disgusted look at Finn.
They helped Finn stand, supporting his shaking body, and the four were forced to climb out of the depot, leaving the mountain of salvaged weapons behind.
Mike then marched the four of them through the dense forest, moving at a steady pace toward Trikru territory.
(Trikru Territory)
The command camp was tense. Anya stood near Lexa, both listening intently to Nia's desperate plea. The air was thick with the weight of the Ice Queen's humiliation and the impending threat of Mount Weather.
The quiet was broken by the sound of approaching heavy boots.
Mike strode into the central encampment, the four captured Sky People walking ahead of him, pale and exhausted. He stripped off his helmet, the complicated mechanism hissing as it retracted into the collar of his suit, revealing his sweat-streaked, severe face.
Both Raven and Clarke were shocked by his face. They never thought someone so scary and intimidating could have such a face.
Lexa watched him approach, a smile touching her lips.
"Welcome back, Blad-de-Trikru. I trust your 'clean-up' was thorough."
Looking at the scene ahead of them, the four did not understand what she said but figured the woman was in charge of this place.
Mike smirked and walked towards Lexa, pulling her into a kiss.
Shocking the four yet again.
'So he is the top guy?' Raven thought, as it made perfect sense. She can't imagine anyone stronger than this monster who could deflect fucking bullets with his blade.
He then turned to Anya and repeated the same thing.
'Damn,' Raven and Bellemy thought at the same time.
Done greeting his wives, he turned to the unexpected guest in the tent.
"Well, well," Mike said, his voice dropping in genuine surprise. He wiped the sweat from his brow. "What do we have here? Did the Azgeda Queen finally realize that betraying the Coalition has consequences?"
Anya cut in quickly, placing a calming hand on his arm. "Later. We have company." She gestured to the four prisoners.
Mike looked at the captured Sky People: Clarke, defiant but rational; Bellamy, hostile but controlled; Raven, intelligent and calculating; and Finn, utterly broken.
Mike turned to a group of waiting guards. "Take them. Hold them in the stockade. Do not touch them, do not hurt them. They are valuable assets."
Watching the garuds suddenly walking towards them, the group began to panic and got ready to fight.
"Relax, you will not be hurt. Just stay put in the stockade till I come back. Understood?"
Raven, sensing no malice in his words, nodded, followed by Clarke and Bellamey.
Unfortunately, how could everything go smoothly?
Finn panicked. "They're gonna execute us!" he whimpered, struggling against Raven's grip.
Mike walked past Finn, stopping a few feet away. "If I wanted you dead, kid, I would have sliced you before you even knew I existed. I said no one will hurt you, then no one will hurt you."
Mike then issued his next order, pointing to a different group of strong warriors. "You four. The man with black clothing will guide you to a bunker," he pointed at Bellamy, "he will lead you to the entrance. Bring back everything: the rifles, rations, and medical supplies. Do not stop until the bunker is empty."
"You black jacket," Mike said, pointing at Bellamy.
"You will guide my men to the bunker, understood?"
Bellamy nodded and followed after the warriors.
After the Sky people matter was settled, Mike turned to Nia, who stood stiffly, in a statue of desperation.
"Now, mind telling me what is going on?"
For the next few minutes, Nia was on her knees explaining everything, the mountain men, her people, her soon, everything.
"That's why they were kind of silent these days." Mike mumured.
His mind instantly shifted from tactical capture to grand strategy. He looked at the map, at the deep, fortified structure of Mount Weather.
Meanwhile in Mike's mind.....
The capture of Roan is a calculated move. Mount Weather is testing Lexa's authority, using Nia's people as bait. If we fail, the Coalition fractures, and the Trikru is next.
More importantly... the Mount. It's the only place on this continent that will survive the next wave of Nuclear Blasts. Which I know is scheduled in the next six months.
If we don't clear Mount Weather now, they will control one of the main safe grounds when the cataclysms hit. They will use the protection of the mountain to breed and experiment in safety while the rest of the Grounders are vaporized or asphyxiated by the fallout.
This changes everything. We need to strike the Mountain. We need to strike now.
Lexa is right. The Sky People are a distraction. Their capture serves two purposes: they are leverage against the Ark, and their medical knowledge is now ours. But the immediate priority is Mount Weather.
Mike paused, the realization of his cold efficiency washing over him. He was calculating the lives of hundreds of people with the detached precision of a general moving chess pieces.
Guess I am changing, he thought, slightly surprised. I am getting used to this. There is no sentiment in survival. No one comes above my people.
He looked up at Lexa. "The Mountain must fall. We use Nia's offer to unify the clans. We take the Sky People's weapons, and we march."
Lexa smiled slowly, a look of profound respect crossing her face. "It is good to have, Blad-de-Trikru."
Anya nodded in fierce agreement. "We begin planning the infiltration immediately."
Just as they were about to move the large map table, one of Mike's electronic alarms went off. A low beep originated from his wrist-mounted terminal, linked to the hidden surveillance cameras near the dropship camp.
Mike instantly activated the display. It showed movement. A thermal signature of a small group moving through the woods.
But the direction they were heading was not toward Trikru territory. They were heading directly toward the 100's main camp perimeter.
"We have new actors," Mike stated, showing his screen to his wives. "Lexa, Anya, look."
(The 100's Camp )
Back at the dropship camp, life had settled into a strained, organized monotony. The news of the culling and the discovery of the depot had instilled a purpose in the survivors.
Inside the perimeter, a young leader, Octavia Blake, was taking charge of camp security, ordering people to reinforce the makeshift walls.
"More spikes! We need more eyes on the South Ridge!" Octavia yelled, her posture commanding. She was embracing the necessity of being a leader.
Bellamy's guys were now following Octavia's orders, digging trenches and setting up watch posts. Even without their leader, the structure of the gang remained.
Monty was seated near the dropship, working diligently on splicing together some scavenged components, trying to create whatever he could to help the group.
The atmosphere was tense, but focused. They were working, surviving, defending.
Then, a sudden, muffled thump occurred over the perimeter wall.
Followed by another, and another. It was barely audible over the chatter of the construction work.
A thick, colorless mist began to silently drift over the walls, swirling down from the canopy. It was heavier than normal fog, settling low to the ground.
Octavia, mid-sentence, suddenly swayed. "What... what is that smell?"
Within seconds, the camp was engulfed in the silent, swirling vapor. Octavia dropped her weapon, clutching her head, and collapsed to the ground, her vision tunneling into blackness. Monty dropped his tools, his eyelids fluttering shut.
The entire camp went silent. Within two minutes, every working member of the 100 was unconscious on the ground.
Through the mist, figures emerged over the perimeter wall. They were all wearing antiradiation suits.
The silent figures moved quickly, efficiently binding and gagging the unconscious delinquents. They were then lifted and carried away, vanishing back into the forest from which the gas had come.
And within an hour, the camp was empty.
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