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At the Camp (Clarke's Group)
Clarke, Finn, Bellamy, Jasper, and Monty huddled near the fire as the others dispersed after the fireworks. The crackling flames lit their faces in flickering orange.
"Hey," Jasper piped up, leaning closer. "Who's the guy you brought back with you? The one with the coat and the swords? He doesn't look like one of us."
Monty, just as curious, tilted his head. "Yeah, I've never seen him before. Where'd he even come from?"
Finn scratched the back of his neck. "Well… remember the group that split off the first day? The ones who disappeared into the forest?"
"That's him," Clarke confirmed reluctantly. "He's the one leading them."
Jasper's jaw dropped. "Wait—seriously? How the hell did he even survive out there this long?"
Monty frowned, whispering, "Especially with the grounders around. That's… insane."
Bellamy, who had been silent, finally spoke. His voice carried weight, and the firelight sharpened his features. "I remember him now."
Everyone's attention snapped to him.
"That guy is dangerous," Bellamy said coldly. "The most dangerous one here."
"What?" Jasper's eyes widened. Finn leaned forward, confused. Even Clarke's brows knitted.
Bellamy's gaze hardened. "Back on the Ark… his father was floated. After that, he snapped. Went on a rampage and killed every single guard who tried to stop him. By the time they restrained him, there were bodies everywhere."
The group fell silent, the fire's crackle the only sound.
"No way," Monty muttered, staring at the ground. "You're saying he… killed guards? Just like that?"
Jasper swallowed hard. "That's messed up…"
Clarke looked unsettled. "So that's who he is… I was there when his father was floated." Her expression darkened. "Makes sense now. No wonder he seems hostile toward me."
Finn tried to ease the tension. "From the few times I've talked with him, he seemed… I don't know, decent. Maybe he's just guarded."
"Or hiding something," Clarke countered, folding her arms. "Either way, we need to be careful. Someone like that? Unpredictable."
Bellamy only grunted, staring into the fire. "Unpredictable is exactly the word."
Back with the MC
I'd scoured through the camp, moving like a shadow. My hood kept me unrecognizable to most, but I wasn't here to mingle. I was here for one person.
John Mbappe.
I spotted him near the edge of the campfire's glow, talking with three other delinquents. Even in the dim light, I recognized his face—he looked almost like that Marlon guy who went viral in my old world. Strange, but fitting.
I approached with purpose. My boots crunched against the dirt, my twin swords strapped on my back catching the firelight. He noticed me instantly—how could he not?
"You're John Mbappe, right?" I asked, my tone calm but direct.
His brows furrowed. "Yeah. Who's asking?" His eyes flicked to the long coat draped around my shoulders, then to the swords. Wariness crossed his face.
"I need to talk to you," I said. "Alone."
John hesitated, then glanced at his friends. "Give me a minute." The three exchanged uncertain looks but obeyed, leaving us in the shadows.
When it was just the two of us, he crossed his arms. "Alright. What do you want? I don't even know you."
"You will," I said plainly. Then I leaned in slightly. "Do you want to join me?"
He blinked, caught off guard. "What?"
"Join me," I repeated, voice steady. "I'm building something stronger than this camp. A group that knows how to survive, not just stumble around waiting to die."
John let out a short laugh, though there was no humor in it. "And why the hell would I do that? From what I hear, you're the guy who ran when things got tough."
I didn't flinch. My eyes bored into his. "I didn't run. I survived. There's a difference."
His smirk faded at the seriousness in my tone.
"You've got potential, John," I continued. "But if you stay here, you'll die. I've seen it before—grounders, mutants, mistakes. I know when and how it happens." My voice dropped lower, almost a growl. "And I'm offering you a chance to live."
John studied me, suspicion and curiosity flickering in his eyes. "You're awfully confident."
I gave a thin smile. "Confidence is what keeps me alive."
For a moment, silence stretched between us, the distant noise of camp chatter echoing around.
"Well?" I pressed. "What's it going to be? Stay here and wait for death, or join me and learn how to survive it?"
John's eyes narrowed as he weighed my words, then he finally asked, "Can I bring those three with me?" He tilted his head toward the delinquents he'd been with earlier.
I thought for a moment. Three more wouldn't hurt—especially if they were loyal to him. The more I gathered, the more my influence spread. "Hmm… alright," I said at last. "You can bring them."
That seemed to settle it for him. John nodded, then stuck his hand out. "Alright. I'm in."
I shook his hand firmly, meeting his gaze. That's four, I thought, counting him and his three. Murphy used to lead them, but with him gone, the timing is perfect. These strays need direction. Now they'll follow me.
"Just follow my lead," I told him. "When something comes up, I'll call for you. Until then, stay quiet, stay ready."
"Got it," John said, then went to gather his three friends.
I turned and walked through the camp, moving away from John's group, when I stumbled across Clarke and Bellamy. They were standing off to the side, tense, whispering with each other.
"What are you two doing?" I asked casually, though my tone carried weight.
Clarke glanced at me, then at Bellamy. She looked reluctant to share, but finally muttered, "Someone's missing."
Bellamy clenched his jaw, clearly frustrated, and barked out to the others nearby. "Grab your weapons. Octavia's missing—we're not going back without her." His voice carried, pulling several delinquents to attention.
I raised a brow. So it's Octavia, huh? That explains the tension.
Bellamy continued, "We need a tracker. Finn!" He called out sharply.
From the distance, I spotted Finn approaching with Raven at his side. She looked eager, curious, but completely oblivious to the storm waiting for her. I couldn't stop the smirk that tugged at my lips.
"Heh. Poor girl," I muttered low enough for Bellamy to hear as he passed me. "She doesn't know Clarke and Finn already have a little thing going on."
Bellamy glanced at me, clearly annoyed, but said nothing. His silence was telling enough.
"I'll tag along," I added, my tone final rather than offering.
Bellamy gave me another hard look—measuring me, maybe questioning my motives—but he didn't stop me. He simply turned back to rally the others, his face set with grim determination.
Good, I thought. Octavia missing, Clarke and Finn's drama about to explode, and Raven walking blindly into the mess… chaos is coming. And in chaos, I'll thrive.
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