Walking back through the camp after burying the two kids who died in the fall filled Wells with a sense of sadness at the pointlessness of all this.
Everywhere he looked, the hundred were wasting time. Some were banging on scraps of metal like drums. Others played tag, shrieking with laughter. A couple stumbled out from behind the dropship, flushed and half-dressed.
'Two kids are dead. We should be organizing, building, surviving. Instead, they're pretending this is some kind of festival.'
"Move," Wells ordered, pushing through a cluster of kids blocking his path.
"Yeah, move, Chancellor!" one of them jeered back.
Wells ignored them, clutching the bundle of clothes he'd recovered from the bodies.
"Hey, where'd you get those?" a boy asked, stepping out of the dropship.
"Buried the two who died in the landing," Wells replied curtly.
"Smart. I'll take it from here." The boy reached for the bundle. "Always a market for…"
Wells pulled back sharply. "We share based on need. Same as the Ark." The boy's lip curled. And then Bellamy appeared. Shirtless, casual, a girl draped off his arm. He kissed her, sent her away, then turned to Wells with a smirk.
"This is home now. Your father's rules don't apply," he said, plucking a shirt right from Wells' arms. "Hey!" Wells snapped, moving to snatch it back only for Atom to shove him hard in the chest.
"Oh, no, no, Atom," Bellamy said lazily. "If he wants it back, let him take it." Wells glared at both of them. He could fight for the clothes or prove their point. Instead, he threw the bundle onto the ground.
Like carrion birds, a mob of kids surged in, fighting over shirts and boots. "Get those boots!" someone yelled.
"Is this what you want? Chaos?" Wells demanded, pointing at the frenzy.
Bellamy's eyes glinted. "What's wrong with a little chaos?"
A scream split the air.
"AHHHHH!" Bellamy threw on his shirt, and both he and Wells ran toward the sound.
The sight made Wells' blood boil. Murphy had a girl in a headlock, dangling her dangerously close to the fire pit.
"Bellamy! Check it out," Murphy laughed. "We want the Ark to think the ground's killing us, right? Thought it'd look better if we suffered a little first."
"Let her go!" Wells barked, sprinting forward and shoving Murphy down. The girl scrambled free, sobbing.
"You can stop this," Wells said firmly to Bellamy. Bellamy opened his mouth but Murphy was faster. He surged up and slammed his fist into Wells' jaw, sending him stumbling back. Pain flared up in his, but Wells braced himself. Murphy charged, throwing wild punches.
Wells blocked one, slipped another, and sent a counter straight into Murphy's stomach. The boy staggered, and Wells hammered a right hook into his jaw, dropping him to the dirt.
The crowd roared.
Murphy spat blood, eyes blazing. He pulled a knife. "You're dead," he growled, stalking forward.
"Wait." Bellamy tossed a smaller blade at Wells' feet. "Fair fight." For a heartbeat, Wells scanned the circle of faces. No one moved to help. He bent, picked up the knife. Murphy lunged, slashing at Wells' shoulder. The blade ripped through fabric and skin and hot pain streaked across him.
"Ahh!"
"This is for my father!" Murphy screamed, raising his knife again. Wells blocked, twisted Murphy's arm, and forced him around, his own blade pressing hard to Murphy's throat.
"Drop it!" Wells shouted, eyes blazing as the camp fell dead silent.
—————
The camp alive with noise long before Jason and the others reached the dropship. Not the usual chatter of kids trying to forget the reality of their situation, but they were greeted with the shouts, jeers, a chant that rose and broke like waves.
Jason's jaw clenched as they moved closer. He could already tell it wasn't good.
"Shit…" he muttered under his breath. "We've been gone how long? And they're already at each other's throats?"
As they rounded the corner of the clearing, the scene came into view. The teenagers stood around, like spectators around a clearing. At the center of the circle, Wells had Murphy pinned, a knife pressed to his throat. Murphy's face was twisted with fury, but Wells wasn't much better with his grip white-knuckled, his breathing ragged, as if a lifetime of resentment and pressure was bursting out all at once.
"Wells! Let him go!" Clarke shouted, her voice breaking the chant. Panic cut through the crowd's bloodlust.
Jason's eyes narrowed. 'Damn… this feels familiar. Like some half-remembered street brawl. Or maybe one of those stupid underground fights I used to sneak into… Wells vs. Murphy, though? Never seen this off-shot before.'
"Wells! Let him go!" Clarke repeated, more desperately this time.
After a tense moment, Wells finally pulled the knife back. He shoved Murphy away, chest heaving with frustration. "Whoa, hey!" Bellamy barked, pushing forward. But before he could stop anything, Murphy lunged right back at Wells.
But he never made it as Jason was already moving, cutting through the crowd. He grabbed Murphy from behind, hauling him down and slamming him into the dirt before the others even registered what was happening. The crowd gasped as Jason straddled him, pinning Murphy with ease, one knee grinding into his chest.
"Easy there, hothead," Jason said dryly, his voice carrying just enough sarcasm to sting. "You done with your temper tantrum, or do I need to rock you to sleep?" Murphy thrashed under him, teeth bared in hatred. But Jason's weight didn't budge.
"That's enough. Chill out." His tone left no room for argument. Bellamy, trying to look tough as usual, stepped in. "Enough, Murphy," he ordered, pulling him back. Murphy spat into the dirt, but backed off with a glare that promised revenge.
Bellamy didn't even give Jason a glance. His eyes shot straight to Octavia. "Octavia! You okay?"
"What? Yeah, I'm fine," Octavia replied, still catching her breath. "Where's the food?" Bellamy demanded, impatience bleeding into his voice.
"We didn't make it to Mount Weather," Finn admitted, his tone heavy. Bellamy's frustration flared up at that. "What the hell happened out there?"
"We were attacked," Clarke answered bluntly, her voice raw with the memory. "Attacked? By what?" Wells demanded.
Jason cut in flatly. "Not what. Who. Grounders. Survivors." His tone was matter-of-fact, but it landed like a hammer.
Clarke stepped forward, voice louder now as she addressed the crowd. "It's true. Everything we thought we knew about Earth is wrong. There are still people here. That means the ground is survivable."
A ripple of relief spread through the onlookers only for Finn to crush it.
"Yeah. Survivable. Until the grounders kill us."
The crowd stirred again, panic replacing relief. Clarke's eyes scanned the group and caught Wells' bare wrist.
"Where's your band?" she demanded.
"Ask him," Wells snapped, nodding toward Bellamy.
Octavia's face fell as she turned toward her brother, the conflict plain in her eyes.
"How many?" Clarke pressed.
"Twenty-four and counting," Murphy said smugly, daring Jason with his stare.
"You idiots," Clarke snapped, fury in her voice. "Life support on the Ark is failing. That's why they sent us down here. They need to know it's safe and we need their help against the grounders. If you take off your wristbands, you're not just killing them. You're killing us!"
Her words hit like a slap, but before they could settle, Bellamy stepped in.
"We're stronger without them—"
He didn't finish. Jason's boot slammed into his back, knocking him flat. The crowd gasped again, shocked at how easily he'd taken down their self-appointed leader. Jason pressed his boot into Bellamy's spine, leaning in with a glare that dripped venom.
"You need to shut. The fuck. Up." His voice was low, dangerous, every word like a gunshot. "Jason!" Octavia cried out, panic flashing across her face.
Jason looked at her, softer for just a moment. "Relax. I'm not hurting your brother," he reassured. Then he turned back to the rest, his expression twisting with disgust.
"Everyone—BE QUIET!" Jason roared, his voice cracking across the clearing like thunder. The noise evaporated. Dozens of eyes snapped to him, silence falling heavy as a noose. Jason let it hang for a beat, then spat the words like fire. "Two kids are already dead. We barely survived our first night. And what do I come back to? You clowns fucking around like it's a summer camp. Playing games. Beating drums. Knife fighting for fun? Are we serious?"
He bent down close to Bellamy, his voice sharp enough to cut glass. "Are we fucking barbarians?" The question hung heavy. Heads shook, some reluctantly, others shamefully.
"Thought so." Jason straightened, eyes sweeping across the circle, burning into every face. "Listen good. You're free now. No more cells. No guards. No floating. But freedom isn't a toy it's a weapon. You point it the wrong way, and it kills us all." He stepped off Bellamy, watching as his lackeys scrambled to pull him up. Bellamy's face burned red with rage, but Jason didn't so much as glance at him.
"We didn't come down here to rot like lab rats. We came here to survive. To build something new. Up there, the Council had the power. Down here? It's ours. And every choice we make decides whether we live or we die."
The murmurs returned, softer now, more thoughtful.
Jason pressed the point home, his voice iron.
"Take off your bands if you want. Maybe you don't care if the Ark follows. But some of us still have people up there worth saving. Worth fighting for. Don't strip that chance away because you're scared, or selfish, or too stupid to see past tomorrow."
His glare finally cut back to Bellamy, pinning him in place until the older boy actually stepped back. Jason's dominance wasn't in question anymore.
Jason didn't linger. He turned and walked through them, shoulders squared, head high, the disgust plain on his face.
He'd said what needed to be said.
Whether they listened or not? That was on them. Jason had bigger problems to worry about. Because if the hundred didn't get their shit together, the grounders wouldn't even need to kill them. They'd tear themselves apart first.
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