Inside Anya's command tent, the air was thick with tension. Her right-hand man who appeared to be broad-shouldered, armor still smeared with soot stood rigid before her.
"…and that's everything we recovered from the survivors who returned," he finished cautiously.
Anya's jaw twitched.
Then—
BAM!
Her hand slammed onto the wooden desk so hard the bowls and maps rattled.
Her right-hand man stiffened immediately with his lips sealing shut.
Anya hissed through her teeth.
"He's a problem."
Silence.
Her fingers curled until her knuckles whitening.
"The boy is the reason our ambush failed in the first place and he almost killed me in the process." Her voice dropped low and dangerous. "And now he's killed a dozen of our best fighters?."
Her right-hand man stepped closer, lowering his voice.
"I thought the sky people were just children… untrained, soft… far out of their depth." His eyes narrowed, anger simmering under the surface. "But the way the boy killed our warriors suggested otherwise. Perhaps he is one of the guards the girl mentioned?"
He gestured toward the smoke cloud visible even from their camp.
"The explosion on the bridge… the flares that burned the outer village… and now…"
He clenched his fists.
"Now the Smiling Butcher."
Anya's head snapped toward him.
"What?"
He blinked, surprised by her tone.
"I—" he swallowed, choosing his words. "That's… what the survivors called him."
Anya straightened, eyes sharpening.
"Why? Why that name?"
The right-hand man took a breath.
"Because of the he fought and slaughtered our men, he butchered them, cutting them apart like animals without fear, mercy or hesitation." His voice dropped to a shaky whisper. "The ones who saw him said he fought with a… with a smile on his face. Like he was enjoying himself and the thrill of the kill."
Anya's expression hardened.
The Smiling Butcher…
A boy who fought like a monster, moved like death and laughed in the face of bloodshed.
'Jason… this one will be a problem for us in the future.'
She turned her gaze toward a smaller adjoining tent, the one containing the wounded girl that had been caught in the blast of the bomb.
Her eyes narrowed.
But first… she needs help.
————————————-
Drop ship Camp — Jason
Jason stood shirtless inside his small tent, fresh bandages wrapped tight around his torso. The blast had kissed his back hard and seared skin. The shrapnel cuts weren't so bad and he was healing already.
He winced slightly as he stretched.
Then a grin crept over his face.
He thought back to the bridge.
To the screams of the grounders, the blood, the rush and the clarity he felt after letting loose.
"Marcus… Deshawn…" he whispered, voice low and amused. "You should've seen me. I was marvelous."
The grin faded slowly.
Reality pulled him back. The strange sickness from the grounders finally lifted.
And then—
His expression darkened. Charlotte and Connor were dead.
He had carried Charlotte's small, cold body to bury her himself.
He clenched his fist so hard his knuckles popped.
The worst part wasn't grief.
It was the look on Murphy's face, that was the problem it wasn't smug nor did it show any signs of guilty. It was just… wrong.
Wrong in a way Jason couldn't articulate.
His instincts whispered something was off.
Very off.
Jason exhaled sharply, pushing those thoughts aside.
He stepped out of his tent fully dressed, rolling his shoulders.
"James!"
James looked at Jason and jogged over.
"Yeah, Jason?"
"How're things looking?"
James straightened quickly.
"Security's tighter now, just like you ordered. Double patrols. No one goes outside the perimeter alone. Bellamy's still circling the east line checking for any signs of Grounders."
Jason nodded once.
"Good. Keep it that way."
James dipped his head and hurried off.
Jason inhaled slowly, eyes drifting toward the treeline beyond camp.
The world was growing darker.
And apparently so was he.
——————————-
Jason crossed the clearing, heading toward the perimeter, exactly where Clarke and Bellamy were already stationed.
Clarke stood rigid at the edges of camp, eyes sharp, scanning the treeline. Bellamy stepped up beside her.
"Anything?" he asked.
Jason reached them at the same moment, folding his arms. "No sightings?"
Both Clarke and Bellamy turned toward him.
"No," Clarke breathed. "It's been two days. Maybe the bomb at the bridge scared them off for good."
Bellamy huffed. "You believe that?"
"No," Clarke answered immediately, tension pulling at her jaw. "They're coming."
Jason nodded once. "You're right about that. They are coming." His eyes swept across the scattered kids on watch, they were all half-alert and half-exhausted. "It's just a matter of time."
Bellamy shrugged. "At least we bought some time. Jasper thinks he can cook up more gunpowder if we get sulfur. And Raven says she can turn that into landmines." He leaned forward and tapped the ground. "So be careful where you step."
Jason immediately looked down, then exhaled a soft laugh.
"Raven is terrifying with her inventions."
Bellamy chuckled. "Jasper and Monty said the same about you."
Jason blinked. "What?"
Bellamy exchanged a glance with Clarke, then back at Jason, this time with a little more respect than before.
"Nothing. Just… you held the Grounders off by yourself until we got there. Long enough for Raven to blow the bridge."
Jason shrugged. "Wasn't easy. But it wasn't too hard either."
Clarke stared at him like he'd grown a second head.
"Wait, you held them off by yourself? How? They had the numbers—"
"Proper combat," Jason cut in casually. "And lots of luck."
He walked away before she could question further, leaving Clarke's eyes lingering on his back.
"He's always strange… but holding back a full attack force?" Clarke murmured.
Bellamy said nothing and only watched Jason go, jaw tightening in thought.
Clarke exhaled. "Hopefully she gets those bombs ready on time."
Bellamy scoffed. "What I really need is a thousand more of her tin-can bombs so I can roll them into the Grounder village and blow them to hell."
Clarke eyed him sharply.
"Well, that's what they want to do to us," Bellamy shot back.
Clarke looked away, her voice softening.
"We didn't survive a hundred years in space just to start slaughtering each other. There has to be another way."
"Any word from the Ark?" Bellamy asked.
"Radio silence."
"Finally ran out of air."
"Maybe my mom was lucky being on the Exodus ship…" Clarke muttered.
"No one is coming to save us," she finished quietly.
————————————
Jason moved across camp, tension building like static under his skin.
The Grounders were coming. He could feel it.
He spent hours checking each station, rearranging guard patterns, pointing out blind spots the kids didn't realize were exposed. He knelt and touched the soil near the perimeter.
"If they attack in hordes…we are as good as dead" he murmured.
David approached with a rifle slung over his shoulder and noticed Jason looking around randomly and finally at a particular tree. "What?"
Jason tapped the tree line. "Just thinking how easy it'd be to swing something heavy down from up there."
The guards exchanged glances as he kept analyzing the terrain like a soldier instead of a delinquent teenager. Jason suddenly chuckled.
"Oh, the irony."
They stiffened. Jason announced, "Alright, everyone listen up. I have a splendid thought. But first we need woods. Lots of wood."
Emma frowned. "Why do we need—"
Jason gestured at the forest. "Oh yeah, right. We have that already. Perfect."
He clapped his hands. "Gather everyone you can now, I have a plan."
————————-
Later, Jason approached one of the storage tents and immediately paused.
'Why the hell is the fire that big?'
He stormed inside. Flames roared too close to the hanging meat racks.
"HEY! Who the hell added extra wood?! Do you want to roast the whole place?!" Jason barked.
Murphy turned lazily toward him. "Relax, man."
Octavia walked in behind him. "It was some stupid kid. Thought more fire meant faster drying."
Jason stared hard at Murphy, who held up his hands innocently. Jason tilted his head like he was examining something foul, sighed, then walked toward the entrance but stopped.
He didn't even look back when he spoke.
"Murphy. Reduce the damn wood."
Then to Octavia, "Tell the kid Jason said 'try to burn the meat house down again, and he'll burn with it."
Octavia shook her head but nodded. "Got it."
Jason started toward Raven's tent right as he overheard voices inside.
"I'm not keeping busy, Finn," Clarke snapped. "I'm keeping us alive."
Finn sighed. "You're right. That was dumb. See you later."
Footsteps approached the exit.
Jason pushed the flap open and stepped in.
Finn nearly collided with him and froze.
Jason's eyes were sharp and unreadable.
Finn swallowed once.
"…Jason."
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