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Blue Lock : The Spirit of The Greatest
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The wooden stockade was damp and smelled of wet earth and pine resin. It was a sturdy structure, built from whole logs lashed together with thick rope. It was a cage designed to hold warriors, which made it feel excessive for the three exhausted 'Sky people' currently slumped against its walls.
Clarke, Raven, and Finn sat in silence. The only light came from the gaps between the logs, casting long, barred shadows across the dirt floor.
Each of them was trapped in their own personal hell.
Finn sat with his knees pulled to his chest, staring blankly at the opposite wall. The humiliation of the depot had shattered his "spacewalker" persona. He wasn't the cool, reckless hero anymore.
Clarke was replaying every decision she had made since the dropship landed. The mission to the depot, the aggression, the assumption of superiority over the grounder. She was the daughter of the Ark's chief medical officer, raised to believe in logic and order, but she had just been checkmated by a force she couldn't comprehend.
Raven was the only one looking outward. She was studying the door hinges, the weave of the rope, the structural integrity of the cage. But her mind wasn't just on escape; it was processing data.
"I don't think they're evil," Raven said suddenly.
The words hung in the damp air, heavy and controversial.
Finn's head snapped up, his eyes widening with incredulity. "Are you serious right now, Raven?" He scrambled to his feet, his voice pitching up, grateful for an opportunity to direct his internal shame outward. "Did you hit your head in the crash? Those people speared Jasper and left him to die! And that... that thing in the suit? He sliced bullets out of the air and put a sword right next to my-"
Clarke looked up from her hands, her brow furrowed. "Finn has a point, Raven. These people attacked us. They baited us into traps. They captured us. How can you say they aren't evil?"
Raven sighed, leaning her head back against the logs. She looked at them with the exhausted patience of an engineer explaining physics to a toddler.
"You just answered your own question, Clarke," Raven said calmly.
"What are you talking about?"
"Jasper," Raven said. "They speared him. But did he die?"
Clarke paused. "No. But he was dying. If we hadn't-"
"If they wanted him dead, he would be dead," Raven interrupted, her voice gaining a hard edge. "They are warriors. We saw the traps. We saw the precision. If that spear was meant to kill, it would have gone through his heart, not his chest. They wounded him. They used him as bait to see what we would do."
She turned her gaze to Finn.
"And you," she said, pointing a grease-stained finger at him. "Do you really think a guy who has the reflex speed to cut a bullet in half with a sword couldn't solo our entire camp if he wanted to?"
The question sucked the air out of the room. Clarke opened her mouth to argue, but the words died in her throat.
"He stood there," Raven continued, relentlessly logical. "He let you shoot at him. He deflected every single round. He disarmed us. He terrified us. But did he hurt us? Did he kill anyone in that depot?"
Clarke sat back, stunned. The realization hit her.
"No," Clarke whispered. "He didn't."
"Exactly," Raven said. "If he wanted us dead, we wouldn't be sitting in a jail cell. We would be corpses rotting in that bunker. He captured us. He restrained us."
Raven pushed herself up to a sitting position, her eyes dark. "I know it looks bad. We're scared. But try to think about it from their perspective. We fell out of the sky in a warship. We burned a hole in their forest. We trespassed on their land. And then, we walked into their territory and talked loudly about 'killing' his people."
She looked at Finn, her expression hardening. "And worse... that guy in the suit? He walked in with the two women we thought were the chiefs. He kissed them. That means he isn't just a soldier. He's a leader. Maybe even the top leader. And the first thing we did was scream insults and try to shoot him in the face."
Raven let out a bitter, dry laugh. "We didn't exactly leave a good first impression, guys. We acted like invaders. If roles were reversed... if Grounders broke into the Ark and started shooting at the Chancellor... we would have floated them immediately."
Clarke closed her eyes. The logic was undeniable. They had been arrogant. They had treated the Earth as if it were empty, as if it belonged to them by right. They hadn't considered that they were invading a sovereign nation.
The silence that followed was heavy with guilt and fear. They weren't the heroes of this story. They were the aggressors who had been mercifully spared.
Suddenly, the heavy wooden bar on the outside of the door scraped against the wood. The door swung open.
Clarke and Raven scrambled to their feet. Finn pressed his back against the far wall.
Mike stepped into the cell.
The transformation was jarring. Gone was the terrifying, bulky, black-and-orange armor. Gone was the featureless mask and the synthesized voice. In their place stood a man. He was tall, powerfully built, wearing simple black combat fatigues that fit him like a second skin. His face was severe, marked by faint scars, but his golden eyes held a sharp, terrifying intelligence.
He looked... human. Handsome, even. But the way he moved reminded them instantly of the monster who had deflected bullets.
"I hope you weren't too comfortable in here," Mike asked, a small, polite smile playing on his lips.
The disconnect between the "demon" and this man left them reeling.
Raven was the first to recover her voice. She stepped forward, instinctively shielding the others slightly. "We... we were fine."
She took a breath, deciding to test her theory. "Look. We didn't mean to enter your territory. We didn't know the boundaries. And we didn't plan to attack you. We only went to the depot because we thought you had our people. Murphy and Charlotte went missing. We thought you kidnapped them."
Mike's smile didn't waver, but his eyes locked onto Raven's. He seemed to appreciate her directness.
"You thought correctly," Mike said, his voice deep and smooth. "We do have your people."
Finn let out a strangled gasp. "I knew it! You kidnapped them!"
Mike's gaze flicked to Finn, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. "We did not kidnap them," he corrected calmly. "They entered our territory on their own. They were running. We found them at the border."
He looked back at Clarke. "And don't worry. They are safe. In fact, they seem quite comfortable. They have requested asylum. They do not seem to want to go back to your camp."
Clarke's jaw dropped. "Murphy? And Charlotte? They... they want to stay?"
"It seems your leadership style leaves something to be desired if your people prefer the company of 'savages,'" Mike noted dryly.
Clarke flinched, the barb hitting home.
"But that is a conversation for another time," Mike said, his demeanor shifting. The polite host vanished, replaced by the military commander.
"That is not the reason I came here."
He raised his left arm. With a mechanical click, a sleek, rectangular device detached from a hidden mount on his forearm.
"You need to see this," Mike said.
He tapped the screen and held it out for them.
The video feed was grainy but clear enough. It was a high-angle shot, looking down into a clearing. Clarke gasped as she recognized the dropship.
"That's our camp," she breathed.
"Watch," Mike commanded.
On the screen, the camp appeared normal. Octavia was directing the reinforcement of the wall. Monty was tinkering with electronics. Then, silent puffs of white mist began to roll over the walls.
"Gas?" Raven whispered, horror dawning.
They watched in helpless silence as their friends, their people, began to sway and fall. They watched Octavia collapse. They watched the entire camp drop into unconsciousness in under a minute.
Then, figures appeared.
People in bulky, white, and gray hazardous material suits swarmed over the walls. They weren't fighting; they were collecting. They bound the unconscious teenagers, hoisted them onto their shoulders, and carried them into the forest like sacks of grain.
The video ended.
Clarke stared at the black screen, her hands shaking. "Where... who are they? What is happening?"
"Those," Mike said, his voice grim, "are the Mountain Men."
He looked at the three terrified teenagers. "They live in Mount Weather. They are the descendants of the pre-war government. They survived the bombs in their bunker, but they have a problem. Their bodies cannot handle the radiation on the surface. If they are exposed to the air for even a few seconds, they burn and die."
"So they wear the suits," Raven deduced.
"Yes. But if the suits leak. The radiation seeps in. To survive, to heal the damage... they need blood."
Mike's golden eyes bore into Clarke's. "For years, they have hunted my people. They take us into the mountain, hang us in cages. They drain our blood to keep themselves alive. We are their blood banks. Their livestock."
Clarke felt bile rise in her throat. The image of Octavia, of Monty, hanging in cages, being drained...
"And now," Mike continued, "they have taken your people. The Sky People have unique blood. Resistant to radiation. To them... you are a gold mine. They won't just drain you. They will keep you. They will breed you. They will use you until there is nothing left."
The silence in the stockade was absolute. The petty conflict over territory, the fear of spears, it all seemed insignificant now. There was a true monster in the woods, and it had just swallowed their entire group.
Raven looked up at Mike. She saw the weapons on his belt. She saw the intelligence in his eyes. She saw the man who commanded an army.
"You can help them," Raven said. It wasn't a question. "You have the tech. You have the warriors. You're going to fight them, aren't you?"
"I am," Mike agreed. "I was planning the strike when my surveillance net caught the attack on your camp. The Mountain Men have grown arrogant. They believe they are untouchable. I intend to prove them wrong."
Hope surged in Clarke's chest. "Then help us," she pleaded. "Please. We can help you. I'm a doctor, I know anatomy, and I know how the blood treatments work. Raven is a mechanic; she can help with tech. We know things about the mountain from the old maps."
Mike nodded slowly. "I know you can be useful. And I intend to save your people. I do not like seeing humans used as cattle."
He took a step closer, his presence filling the small room.
"But," he said, and the word hung heavy in the air, "there is a condition."
Clarke straightened her spine. "What is it?"
"If I march on that mountain, if I spend the blood of my warriors to save your people, things change," Mike said, his voice hard as iron. "From this day forward, the 'Sky People' cease to exist as a sovereign power. You are under the protection of the Trikru."
He looked from Clarke to Raven to Finn.
"You will answer to the Commander. You will answer to me. You will live in our lands, you will follow our laws, and you will become part of the Coalition. In return, we will rescue your friends. You can live here in peace. No clan will attack you. You will have food, shelter, and protection."
He paused, letting the weight of the offer settle.
"That is the deal. Subjugation and survival, or independence and death in the mountain."
Clarke looked back at Mike. She thought of Wells, safe in the dropship, but now likely captured. She thought of Octavia.
She took a deep breath, the mantle of leadership settling heavily on her shoulders. She looked Mike in the eye.
"We agree," Clarke said clearly. "We are with you."
Mike smiled, a genuine expression this time. He reached out and offered a hand to lift Clarke from the floor.
"Good choice," he said. "Now, let's go get your people back."
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