JOIN MY P@TREON FOR JUST $5!!! (Info in author's notes)
.
BEFORE READING THIS CHAPTER, PLEASE CHECK OUT MY NEW FANFICS
Blue Lock : The Spirit of The Greatest
One Piece: Sol Ragnarok
.
.
.
.
.
.
NEW SIVER MEMBERS:- Emmanuel Mercado, Micheal Santiago, Serkan, THEREAL_UB94
NEW GOLD MEMBER:- Michael Thomas
(THIS CHAPTER DOES NOT HAVE 2000+ WORDS AS THIS CHAPTER WAS WRITTEN BEFORE I MADE THE ANNOUNCEMENT)
--XXXX--
(Mount Weather - The Dormitory)
They were dead.
All of them, just like that.
The silence that followed the massacre was suffocating. It was like a heavy blanket pressing down on the chests of the survivors.
On the screens surrounding the room, the carnage had ended. The feed from the dining hall showed a sea of still bodies. The feed from the nursery was a static image of unmoving cribs. The screams that had echoed through the mountain's ventilation system had faded into a ghostly quiet, leaving only the low, rhythmic hum of the fluorescent lights.
The 100 sat frozen in their chains. They all were still staring at the TV screen, not being able to believe what they had just witnessed. They forgot about everything: their pain, their life, their freedom. The 100 just sat there processing what had just happened.
They were alive. The drill hadn't touched them. The marrow extraction hadn't happened. They should have been relieved. They were relieved.
But that relief was killed by the horror.
They had just watched a single man exterminate a civilization.
He hadn't used an army. He hadn't fired a shot. He had simply pulled a lever and watched three hundred and eighty-four people — men, women, and children — melt from the inside out.
Monty sat on the edge of his bunk, his hands trembling violently. He looked at the screen, then at his own hands, struggling to swallow the fact that he was breathing while the people who had fed him that morning were dead. Miller looked sick, his face pale and sheen with sweat. Harper had pulled her knees to her chest, hiding her face, refusing to look at the digital graveyard surrounding them.
In the center of the aisle, Roan, the Prince of Azgeda, looked around with a cold, detached satisfaction. To him, this wasn't a tragedy. It was the end of a war. After years of struggles against the mountain men, the Grounders had won.
Roan looked down at the dead body of Cage Wallace and grabbed Cage by the collar of his expensive grey suit and effortlessly threw him to the side. Cage's dead body hit the floor with a wet thud and didn't move.
Roan reached into Cage's pocket and fished out a master key-card. He turned to Octavia Blake, who was watching him with fear.
"Hand," Roan grunted.
Octavia hesitated, then held out her shackled wrists.
Beep-click.
The heavy steel cuffs sprang open. Octavia rubbed her raw wrists, the sensation of freedom rushing back into her limbs.
Roan tossed the key-card onto the mattress beside her. "Free the rest," he commanded. "Be quick."
Octavia picked up the card and looked up at the cold face of the Azgeda prince.
"Why?" she asked, her voice barely audible. "Why are you helping us? Who... who is that guy?"
Roan looked at the screen, at the empty control room where the Ghost had stood. "He is the only reason any of us are breathing."
Just as Roan was about to say more, the hydraulic hiss of the main door engaged.
The sound acted like a gunshot. Octavia flinched, backing up against the bunk. Roan spun around, his hand went to the pistol he had taken from the guard, his body tense.
The heavy steel door slid open.
Roan relaxed instantly, lowering the weapon, and offered a respectful nod.
Mike walked in.
He was still wearing the black tactical suit, but the orange-and-black mask was clipped to his belt.
There was no blood on him. There was no sign of the massacre he had just orchestrated, save for the cold, hard look in his golden eyes.
The 100 froze. The air left the room. This was him. The butcher. The man who had turned the mountain into a tomb.
Mike walked to the center of the dormitory, his boots echoing on the clean tile. He stopped and looked around at the terrified teenagers. He saw their fear. He saw the way they shrank back from him.
"You all must be wondering why I saved you all," Mike said.
The silence stretched. No one dared to answer. They were wondering if they were simply being saved for a different kind of execution.
"The reason is simple," Mike continued, his gaze sweeping the room.
"While you were captured, I captured your leaders."
Hearing this, a ripple of panic went through the group.
"Bellamy?" Octavia choked out.
"Clarke?" Monty whispered.
They started to panic. If this monster had captured Bellamy and Clarke, were they dead? Was this a hostage exchange?
Before the panic could spiral into shouting, Mike raised a hand.
"They are fine," he said, calming the crowd. "I spoke with them. I showed them the reality of your situation and then gave them a proposal."
He paused, letting the words sink in. "And they agreed."
Octavia stepped forward, her defiance warring with her fear. "What proposal?"
Mike looked at her and the fire in her eyes.
'This one was a warrior in the making.' Mike thought.
"The proposal," Mike said, addressing the whole room, "is that you will now be under MY command. You are now under the protection of the Coalition."
He began to pace slowly down the aisle.
"By doing this, you forfeit your independence. You are no longer the 'Sky People.' You are a clan under my watch. In exchange, you will not have to worry about the Ice Nation, the Tree People, or any other clan attacking you. You will have land. You will have food. And you can live peacefully... so long as you follow our ways."
The offer hung in the air. It was safety. It was survival. But it was also subjugation. The freedom they had just gotten was gone, and now they were being told to kneel to a warlord.
For most, the trade was worth it. They had seen the alternative in the harvest chamber.
But not for everyone.
"Why the hell should we follow you, freak?!"
The shout came from a bunk near the back. A tall boy named Jones stood up, his face red with adrenaline and misplaced bravado. He pointed a shaking finger at Mike.
"You just murdered hundreds of people!" Jones yelled, his voice cracking.
"You're a monster! Who the fuck are you to tell us what to do? We will have guns soon! We have... "
Hearing this, some of the 100 nodded. The rebellion was instinctive. They were delinquents. They hated authority. And this man was the ultimate authority on the ground.
Roan's eyes widened. He looked at the kid with genuine disbelief.
Is that kid crazy? Roan thought. He just watched this man empty a mountain, and he decides to insult him?
Octavia noticed the shift in Mike's posture. She saw the slight tightening of his jaw. She knew, instinctively, that the idiot had just made a stupid mistake.
"Jones, shut up!" Octavia yelled, lunging forward to cover the idiot's mouth.
She was too late.
Mike moved. It wasn't a step; it was a quick blur.
In one swift, fluid action, he drew his sword and threw it in Jones' direction.
The sound of steel biting into the metal bed rang through the dormitory.
Jones froze, unable to breathe, unable to blink.
The sword was dug into the metal pillar of the bunk bed, exactly one millimeter from his ear. A few strands of his hair, severed by the passing blade, drifted slowly down to his shoulder.
The vibration of the blade hummed in the silent room.
Jones turned his eyes slowly to the side, looking at the razor-sharp steel that had almost taken his skull off.
The entire room was paralyzed with terror.
Mike stood perfectly still, his hand still extended in the follow-through.
His face hadn't changed. He didn't look angry. He looked bored.
"I'll say this one final time," Mike said, his voice dropping to a whisper that carried to every corner of the room.
He walked over to Jones, gripped the handle of the sword, and ripped it out of the metal with a screech. He sheathed it in one smooth motion.
"You are under my protection," Mike stated, looking Jones dead in the eye. "Which means you follow my rules. If you don't..."
He leaned in close.
"I won't miss next time. Is that understood?"
Jones couldn't speak. He just nodded frantically, tears of terror springing to his eyes.
"Good," Mike said, stepping back.
The message was received. It wasn't just a threat; it was a promise they understood now. The man standing in front of them had just wiped out an entire population because they harmed his people. Now, the 100 were "his people."
That meant he would kill the world to protect them. But it also meant he would crush them if they crossed him. They realized, with a heavy, sinking feeling, that they didn't want to mess with someone like this.
Mike turned away from the terrified boy and looked at Octavia.
"Free them," Mike ordered. "Get them organized. Wait here. My warriors will come to escort you out once the air clears."
Octavia nodded, her throat tight. "Understood."
Mike turned toward the door. He motioned to the Prince of Azgeda.
"Come, Roan. We have work to do. We have to free your people from the cages."
Roan stepped over the body of Cage Wallace and followed Mike into the hallway.
As the heavy doors hissed shut behind them, leaving the 100 alone in the silent, tomb-like dormitory, the reality settled in.
The war with Mount Weather was over. The war on the ground had changed forever. The Sky People were no more; they were survivors under the banner of the Blade.
From this point, a new chapter of the 100 was about to start, something different, something unseen.
*********
END OF VOLUME 1😁😁
---XXXX---
Hope you would like it.
Plus I got +5 early access chapters for it up on my P@treon. If you dont want to pay you can be a free member and get a sneak at the upcoming chapters. Along with my other works.
This link is below
Just search up Joe_Mama p@treon on google.
....