Jason skidded to a halt, his boots carving deep grooves into the damp earth. His head snapped to the left, his senses screaming. Out of the shadows of the towering pines emerged Lexa, followed closely by a lone, stony-faced guard.
"What are you doing here, Butcher?" Lexa demanded, her hand resting on the hilt of her blade.
"Quint," Jason said, his voice a low, vibrating hum of impending violence. "He's gone after Clarke. I'm not waiting for a council meeting to decide if she's worth saving."
He stepped toward Lexa, stopping just inches from her. He looked directly into her eyes, his expression a terrifying, blank void. "I told you what would happen if he stepped out of line. I'm going to kill him."
Before Lexa could even part her lips to command him to stay, Jason was gone. He took off with a burst of speed that defied the dense undergrowth, a shadow moving through shadows.
"Damn it," Lexa hissed, turning to her guard. "Let's go!"
———-
Clarke stumbled over a protruding root, falling hard. She scrambled to turn over, her hands scraping against the dirt, only to find Quint looming over her. His face was a mask of twisted, righteous fury.
"For my brother!" he screamed, dropping his bow and lunging at her with a hunting knife raised high.
Clarke braced for the impact, closing her eyes, but the blow never came. Instead, a thud echoed through the clearing, followed by the sound of air being violently forced out of a man's lungs.
She opened her eyes to see Jason standing over Quint. He had intercepted the man mid-air, his boot now pinned firmly against Quint's throat, crushing him into the soil. Jason looked down at the struggling warrior with the detached look of a killer.
A moment later, Lexa and her guard burst into the clearing. Lexa's eyes immediately darted from Clarke on the ground to the bow and arrow discarded in the dirt.
"You attacked her," Lexa said, her voice dropping into a deadly, low register. "In doing so, you have attacked me."
"Jason..." Clarke breathed, her voice shaking.
"Are you alright?" Jason asked. He didn't look at her. His eyes remained fixed on Quint, who was clawing desperately at Jason's leg.
"Yes," Clarke said, standing up and brushing the dirt from her clothes. "Thank you."
Lexa stepped forward, her gaze sweeping the area. "Where is your guard? Where is Major Byrne?"
"He killed her," Clarke said, her voice hardening. "She's dead back there."
The air around Jason seemed to drop twenty degrees. He reached down, grabbing Quint by the front of his tunics and hoisting him into the air by the neck. Quint gasped, his feet dangling uselessly above the ground.
"Is that so, Quint?" Jason asked with a terrifying and soft voice. "You do remember what I told you in the meeting, don't you? I told you that if you came after her, I would make you regret the day you learned you had legs. I think I was being too generous."
"No," Lexa interrupted, stepping forward with a firm stance. "The kill belongs to Clarke. It is her debt to settle."
Jason turned his head slowly to look at the Heda. "No. I told you as well, should he come for her, I will be the one to end him. My word is not a suggestion, Lexa."
"Jason, please," Clarke said, stepping forward and placing a hand on his arm. "Let's not complicate things. The alliance is fragile enough."
Jason stared at Clarke for a long beat. The tension in his arm was like coiled steel. Then, slowly, he relaxed his grip, letting Quint fall into a heap at his feet.
"Thank you," Clarke whispered, letting out a breath of relief.
Lexa gave a stiff, approving nod. "You have shown restraint, Butcher. Now, we shall—"
The words died in Lexa's throat. A sudden, wet shing sound filled the air.
Warm, dark blood splattered across Lexa's cheek and Clarke's jacket. Both women froze, their eyes widening in pure shock. Quint's expression was one of total bewilderment for a split second before his head slid cleanly off his shoulders, his body collapsing into the dirt a moment later.
Jason stood there, his sword already mid-swing to flick the gore from the blade. The movement was so fast, so fluid, that the Heda's guard hadn't even reached for his weapon before it was over.
Jason sheathed the blade with a metallic click. He looked at Lexa, wiping a stray drop of blood from his own jaw with his thumb.
"I always keep my word, Heda," he said calmly. "Regardless of who asks me to break it."
Lexa, whose face was painted with Quint's blood, looked at Jason with a cold fury burning in her eyes as she prepared to retort to Jason's blatant insubordination. But the words died in her throat as a low, guttural vibration rumbled through the earth
ROO-AAARGH!
Lexa's guard stepped back, his hand trembling on his spear. To the Grounders, it was the sound of a nightmare. To Jason, it was a sound he hadn't heard since a field trip to the Zoo in a life that felt like a dream.
"Oh, shit," Jason muttered, his posture shifting from executioner to high-alert combatant.
"What the hell is that?" Clarke whispered, her pistol raised with a shaky hand.
"Pauna," Lexa breathed, her voice uncharacteristically tight.
"What?" Clarke asked.
"A gorilla," Jason said, his eyes scanning the dense foliage. He couldn't help a dry, sarcastic quirk of his lips even now. "And by the look of this neighborhood, I'm guessing he's not interested in a banana or a photo op. By the sound of that roar, he's went full feral. Probably mutated by the radiation into something out of a King Kong fever dream."
The trees twenty yards ahead suddenly snapped like dry toothpicks. A massive, silver-backed shadow lunged into the clearing, its fur matted and its eyes glowing with a sickly, prehistoric rage. It beat its chest with a sound like a war drum and bared teeth the size of daggers.
"RUN!" Jason bellowed.
The beast didn't hesitate. It launched itself at the nearest threat which so happened to be Jason. He barely had time to bring his sword up in a horizontal block before the gorilla's massive fist slammed into the steel. The impact sent a shockwave up Jason's arms that nearly shattered his elbows.
"Go! Move!" Jason cursed, gritting his teeth as he struggled to hold back the literal ton of muscle pressing down on him.
———-
Miles away, the atmosphere was far quieter, though no less heavy. Jaha and Murphy walked through the tall grass toward the skeletal remains of the dropship.
"It's extraordinary, isn't it?" Jaha remarked, looking up at the lush green canopy. "To see what we only dreamt of for a century."
"Oh, just give it a few days," Murphy drawled, his eyes scanning the perimeter for Grounder scouts. "The 'extraordinary' wears off pretty fast once things start trying to eat you."
"I don't know everything that happened before I got down here," Jaha said with a calm voice, "But I do know what you're feeling, son."
Murphy stopped dead in his tracks, a flash of genuine anger crossing his face. "Don't call me that. I'm nobody's son. You made sure of that back on the Ark."
"I remember your father, John," Jaha said softly.
"Yeah, right. I'm sure you kept a scrapbook of everyone you floated."
"Alex Murphy," Jaha countered. "Convicted of theft of rationed medicine. He stole it to take care of you when you were sick. I remember them all. Every soul I had to sacrifice weighed on me."
Murphy looked away, his jaw tight. "We're here. Home sweet home. Graveyard's this way."
They reached the edge of the camp where several mounds of dirt sat under the shade of the trees. Jaha knelt before one particular grave, his head bowed.
"Are we about done?" Murphy asked, leaning on his rifle. "We've got to be heading back before the sun drops."
"How well did you know him?" Jaha asked, staring at the dirt. "My son."
"Well enough to be hung for his murder," Murphy said with a bitter smirk. "I'm guessing Clarke sugarcoated it for you, didn't she? Didn't want to tell the Great Chancellor that his legacy ended in the dirt."
Jaha looked up, his eyes pained. "What happened to my son?"
"A twelve-year-old girl named Charlotte stabbed him in the neck with a knife she took from me," Murphy said, his voice flat. "She was terrified and broken. Jason got there too late to save him,"
"Why would she do that?" Jaha whispered.
"Because she saw your face every time she closed her eyes," Murphy spat. "She couldn't kill you, so she killed the next best thing. You've got a lot of blood on your hands, Chancellor. Every single person in these graves, including your son would still be alive if you hadn't sent us down here to die."
Jaha stood up slowly. "If I didn't send you, everyone would have died on the Ark with the rest of us. We would have never known that Earth was survivable. Their sacrifice is why we are here. Good can come out of even the darkest acts, John."
Murphy scoffed, a jagged, mocking sound. "Good? We're only 'here' because of Jason. If he hadn't stepped up, if he hadn't turned himself into the 'Butcher' to keep the Grounders at bay and us in line, we would've been slaughtered in the first week."
"He did so much for our people, didn't he?" Jaha mused.
"Damn right he did," Murphy said. "He's the kind of person who does what is necessary. He was willing to become a monster so the rest of us could pretend to be human. You should be thanking whatever God you pray to that he was on this ship."
Murphy pointed a thumb over his shoulder. "Camp you is that way."
"We'll rest in the dropship for a while," Jaha said, looking at the charred hull. "I want to be near him a little longer."
"Suit yourself," Murphy muttered, taking a seat on a nearby rock. "But don't come crying to me when the ghosts start talking back."
————
The sun beat down on the dusty courtyard of Camp Jaha, where the air was thick with the copper tang of sweat and the rhythmic thud of bodies hitting the earth.
"Enough!" Indra bellowed, her voice cutting through the grunts of the combatants. "I hope you've saved some energy for a hunt. I'm told our hosts have no food."
The Grounder warriors began to pull back, but one figure remained in the center of the ring, chest heaving, hair matted to her forehead.
"Time for one more?" Octavia asked, her voice raspy but defiant.
Indra didn't even turn. "Step aside, Skygirl. We're hungry."
"Make me," Octavia countered.
A heavy silence fell over the camp. Indra slowly turned, her eyes narrowing with a dangerous glint. She gestured to a massive warrior standing nearby. "Fio. Give this girl what she wants."
"Sir," a guard whispered to Kane, his hand drifting toward his holster.
"It's alright," Kane said, his eyes fixed on Octavia. "Let her go."
The fight was brutal and short. Fio was a mountain of muscle and experience; he caught Octavia's first strike, twisted her momentum, and sent her sprawling into the dirt.
"Hey," Octavia spat, wiping blood from her lip as she scrambled back up. "You gonna give up that easily?"
Indra's lip curled. "She wants more. Oblige her."
Fio moved with a spinning kick catching Octavia in the ribs and sending her tumbling again. Kane stepped forward, his face etched with concern. "Indra, stop this. She's had enough."
"Finish it," Indra commanded.
Octavia was knocked down a third time, then a fourth. Fio turned away, thinking the girl was finally broken, but the sound of gravel shifting made him stop. Octavia was rising again, her legs shaking, her vision blurred, but her hands were curled into fists.
"Enough," Indra said, stepping into the ring. "Even a fool knows when to surrender."
Octavia looked at the ground, a bloody smile spreading across her face. "Jason... Jason would never give up," she whispered. She looked up at Indra, her eyes burning with an intensity that made the older warrior pause. "And neither will I."
Kane rushed forward, grabbing her arm and hoisting her up. "I've got you," he muttered, pulling her away from Fio. "I've got you. Octavia, what are you trying to prove?"
"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger," she panted, leaning against him. "That's what Jason would've said."
As Kane led her away, Octavia looked toward the horizon. An image of Jason popped into her mind. The strong, calm, arrogant, and untouchable. 'He's probably enjoying a stress-free day with the others right now,' she thought bitterly. 'Probably eating something that isn't charred root and relaxing.'
——-
He slammed into the trunk of a massive redwood, the wood splintering behind him. He fell to the forest floor, coughing up a spray of crimson, his lungs screaming for air.
' Argh, this is going to be a stressful one isn't it? Jason thought, his mind a chaotic blur of tactical assessments. 'Note to self: next time a prehistoric beast tries to turn you into a pancake, don't try to parry with a sword. Physics is a bitch.'
The mutated gorilla or the Pauna as the heda had so called it roared, a sound that tore through the canopy and sent birds screaming into the sky. It charged again, its massive knuckles tearing up the earth.
Jason didn't wait. He kicked off the tree, using the trunk as a springboard to flip over the beast's reaching arms. As he glided through the air, he drew his secondary blade, the steel singing as it caught the dappled sunlight.
He landed on a low-hanging branch, his movements fluid and cat-like. The Pauna spun, swinging a fist the size of a boulder that shattered the branch Jason had been standing on a split second before.
Jason plummeted and caught a trailing vine, swinging around the beast's flank with a burst of momentum. He lashed out, his blade carving a deep, jagged line through the thick tendons of the gorilla's right leg.
The beast shrieked, its knee buckling.
"That's for my ribs you damn monkey!" Jason growled.
He didn't stop there though, he scrambled up the creature's back, his boots digging into the matted fur. The Pauna reached back, its massive fingers snapping at him, but Jason was a blur of motion. He dived off its shoulders, spinning in mid-air to slice through the tendons of its left arm before rolling back onto his feet in the dirt.
The gorilla was crippled, but its rage was undiminished. It collapsed to its haunches, swinging blindly. Jason dodged a blow that would have decapitated a normal man, the wind of the fist ruffling his hair.
As he continued dodging, his eyes narrowed as he saw an opening.
Jason sprinted toward a tilted rock, his heart drumming a rhythmic war-beat in his ears. He leaped, his body coiling and then snapping outward like a spring. He caught the gorilla's chin with a rising knee, stunning the beast for a fraction of a second.
In that heartbeat of silence, Jason swung his primary blade with everything he had left.
The Pauna let out one last, world-shaking roar, its hot breath hitting Jason's face. Then, the steel found the soft tissue of the neck. With a roar of his own, Jason twisted his body, putting every ounce of his weight and momentum into the strike.
The blade sheared through muscle, bone, and spine.
Jason landed in a crouch as the massive head of the Pauna slid from its shoulders, hitting the forest floor with a dull, heavy thud. The giant body slumped forward as the mountain of meat was finally laid to rest.
Jason stood up slowly, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He wiped a smear of black blood from his forehead and looked down at his shattered sword.
"Damned monkey," he wheezed, looking at the carnage. "Now, where did those three run off to?"