It had been days since the argument of Jason's kill and speech, and already things had changed. What was once a camp of frightened, starving kids had begun to resemble a settlement. The once-idle chatter, aimless wandering, and fights over scraps had turned into coordinated movement. Jason had made sure of that.
Under his direction, the remaining ninety-eight were divided into teams. Some went into the forest to chop wood, others scavenged scraps of metal and wiring from the wreckage around the drop ship. The clang of hammers, the thud of makeshift axes, and the crack of falling trees echoed through the forest each day. Piece by piece, they were building a wall that was a promise of safety, even if temporary.
Now, Jason stood nearby, a long stick balanced in his hands as he watched Clarke wipe sweat from her brow, her arms trembling from exhaustion. She dropped to her knees, panting.
"Can you give me a hand?" she asked, half joking, half desperate.
Jason grinned. "Nope."
Clarke frowned up at him. "Why not?"
Jason tapped the stick against the dirt. "Because what if one day you're out there, and a Grounder spots you alone in the woods? You start running, he's right behind you, and no one's around to help. What do you do then?"
She scowled. "That's not exactly helpful motivation."
Jason tilted his head. "You're right. Let me paint you a picture." He crouched down, eyes meeting hers. "You trip over a root. You look back and he's maybe ten feet behind. You can hear him breathing. If you can't get back up and run again, Clarke… that's it. You're done."
She sighed, dragging herself up reluctantly.
"Come on, Clarke," Jason said, voice softer now, but teasing. "You've got more in you."
She rolled her eyes and started jogging again, muttering, "You're insufferable."
Jason just smiled, twirling the stick as he watched her go.
————-
The camp had transformed under Jason's command. Grueling morning drills became routine. Every sunrise, he had them running laps, climbing trees, carrying logs, anything that built endurance.
"Well at least If you can't fight," he'd told them, "you damn well better be able to run."
And run they did, until their legs burned and lungs felt like fire.
When they weren't training, they were building. Their once chaotic clearing now had form: a sturdy foundation of a wall taking shape, crude but functional outhouses, a large open area for meals, and a dedicated training ground marked with a ring of dirt.
Weapons were scarce, so Jason improvised with wooden sticks for knives, broken metal scraps for clubs. Even the youngest weren't exempt. Wells, Octavia, and Clarke had all protested; Finn had been the loudest.
"They're just kids," he'd argued once.
Jason's response never changed: "So are we."
He trained them all the same. Knife handling, disarming drills, quick dodges, and basic grappling nothing fancy, just survival.
Now, as the sun climbed high, Jason stood in front of the assembled group. His voice rang clear.
"What happens when all that stands between a Grounder and you is the air in between?"
No one answered. Sweat glistened on their faces as they held their stances, panting hard. Jason paced slowly between them.
"You freeze, you die. You hesitate, you die. You drop your weapon, and you what?"
Before he could finish, one boy collapsed with a groan, clutching his side. Another followed, falling backward into the dirt. Jason exhaled sharply through his nose.
"I think that's enough for now," he said, glancing down at Finn, who was bent over his knees, gasping for air. "Finn, what do you think?"
Finn didn't respond, too winded to speak. Octavia, beside him and equally out of breath, straightened with effort. "We die."
Jason smirked. "Exactly."
He stepped back, surveying the exhausted group. "Alright! Everyone, practice is over. Go get some food and do your duties!"
The 100 groaned in unison, a sound of relief and complaint mixed together, before trudging toward the crude dining area.
Clarke, sweat-soaked and exhausted, came up beside him. "Well… today was better than yesterday," she said between breaths.
Jason nodded, watching a group of girls passing by. They threw him a few too-long looks, giggling as they went. Clarke rolled her eyes.
"They're only doing that because they think you're in charge."
Jason smirked. "Maybe they just like my charming personality."
Clarke snorted and turned toward the drop ship. "Right."
Jason watched her go, then walked to the far edge of the clearing. He crouched, scanning the terrain with his mind racing. The wall wasn't done yet, not even close. Every hour mattered.
'If they hit us before it's finished… we're screwed.'
He rubbed his temples. 'Why the hell couldn't that damn entity freshen up my memory of this show?' There were gaps—huge holes—in what he remembered about future events. It wasn't random; he realized that it was deliberate.
A soft crunch of boots behind him pulled him from his thoughts. Clarke approached, standing beside him.
"We still need to get that wall up," Jason muttered, eyes on the forest.
"You're always thinking," Clarke said, shaking her head with a faint smile.
Jason snorted. "Yeah? And all you've been thinking about since we landed is Mount Weather."
She punched his arm lightly. "That's not true."
He arched a brow. "Sure."
Clarke smiled despite herself, but her gaze softened as she looked back at the camp. They were improving. People who once argued over food now worked together. They moved with purpose. The drills, the training, the routines it all made them stronger.
Even she felt it. She could hold her own now in sparring, even against some of the boys. When Jason sparred with her, she could tell that he was holding back. He held back against everyone. Only once had he fought seriously, when one of the bigger boys had challenged him for leadership. Jason had ended that fight in seconds with three clean strikes, a throw, and the boy was eating dirt. No one had challenged him since. Not even Bellamy.
"Clarke," Jason said suddenly, waving a hand in front of her face.
She blinked. "Ah! Stop that!"
"You alright? You looked deep in thought."
"Yeah, sorry. Just tired. I'm gonna grab food," she said, backing away.
"Alright," Jason replied. "Be careful. I'll need you up and running after breakfast. I've got a special errand for you, Wells and Finn."
Clarke gave him a curious look but didn't ask. She joined the others at the rough tables, where Finn, Wells, and Octavia waved her over.
Jason, meanwhile, made another round. He checked the perimeter, ensuring the guards had eaten. He would have joined them, but his body didn't need food like theirs. His enhancements kept him sharp, strong, and tireless for days.
"Go eat," he told the two boys on watch. "I'll take it from here."
They hesitated, then nodded gratefully and ran off. Jason leaned on the rail, eyes scanning the treeline. He noticed it again, there were faint impressions in the dirt, movement that didn't match any of the 100's patrol routes.
This were of different gait and heavier steps.
'Grounders scouts?' he thought grimly. 'That's why we need that damn wall up, fast.'
He was grateful it had only been scouts so far. If they'd landed deeper, there'd be a hundred warriors at their doorstep by now if they were lucky.
A knock at the base of the watch stand broke his thoughts. Jason looked down to see Clarke, Wells, and Finn waiting with packs on their backs.
"There's a river not far from here that grows red seaweed," Jason said, pointing into the forest. "It's good for treating wounds. We'll need a stockpile. Clarke, learn what it looks like. Wells can probably spot it, he aced botany on the Ark. I'll follow from behind and make sure nothing happens."
He frowned slightly. Something inside him, his instinct, gut, call it whatever. It was whispering that something was going to happen soon. He just couldn't remember what.
"Finn, you're on protection detail," Jason added.
The trio nodded, and Clarke gave a quick, "We'll be fine."
Jason watched them go until they vanished beyond the wall's frame. He exhaled through his nose and turned back toward camp just as the two returning guards climbed up. Instead of using the ladder, Jason simply stepped off the ledge and dropped.
He landed silently, knees bending with perfect balance. A few nearby kids froze mid-bite, staring.
Jason brushed himself off like nothing happened and strode toward the drop ship.
Inside, he spotted Jasper and Monty hunched over a pile of metal scraps.
"Jason, hey," Jasper greeted, looking oddly excited.
Jason gave a wary nod. "What are you two up to now?"
"Okay, okay, hear me out," Jasper said, gesturing animatedly. "I know you've got me and Monty digging holes for the wall posts, but we had this idea. We can build a still."
Jason raised an eyebrow. "A still? As in… moonshine still?"
Monty grinned. "He never stopped thinking about it."
Jasper jumped in. "But not just for drinking! We can disinfect wounds, clean surfaces, and—"
Jason held up a hand.
"And relax at the end of the day?" he finished dryly.
Jasper grinned sheepishly. "Exactly!"
Jason sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Fine. Do it."
Both of them lit up with excitement until Jason fixed Jasper with a deadly serious stare.
"Do. Not. Blow. Us. Up."
Jasper's smile faltered. "Y-yeah, got it."
Jason pointed at Monty. "You. Watch him."
Monty nodded solemnly.
Jason turned to grab his pack and a makeshift spear from a nearby rack. As he slung the bag over his shoulder, he gave them one last look.
"If I come back and smell fire or smoke," he said, "I'm making you two dig the rest of that wall by hand."
And with that, he sprinted into the forest—silent, fast, and focused.
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