GROUNDER - The 100, B.B

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐ 014 - The bridge

Sylva

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

I was sitting near the back of the tent, my eyes darting nervously between the guns and bullets that Harper, Jasper, Monty, Raven, and Bellamy were meticulously working on. The faint sound of metal scraping against metal filled the small space as they crafted ammunition for the upcoming battle. The atmosphere was thick with tension, but my anxiety wasn't just about the fight. It was about the weapons themselves—the guns, the bullets, the very tools of destruction that I had spent my life avoiding.

The others were focused, hands steady as they worked, but I sat there, hands idly picking at my nails, feeling utterly useless. I should have been helping, contributing in some way, but the idea of touching those cold, deadly pieces of metal made my stomach turn. I had seen too much destruction caused by weapons like these, and no matter how much they could help in a fight, I couldn't bring myself to join in.

As I watched, Raven suddenly broke the silence, her voice casual but her eyes sharp as she turned her attention to me. "Why don't Grounders use guns?" she asked, her tone filled with genuine curiosity. "You'd be a lot stronger if you used gunpowder."

The question caught me off guard, and I shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. My eyes flicked to the half-assembled bullets on the ground before returning to meet hers. "We just don't like them," I said flatly, trying to keep my voice neutral. Inside, though, I felt the familiar pang of unease. "I'm one of the best warriors, and you haven't seen me fight. We don't need guns." My words were confident, but what I didn't say weighed heavily on my mind. If we used them, something very bad happens. Something ancient and dangerous. But that was a secret I wasn't about to share.

I could see Raven swallowing, her curiosity tempered by the intensity in my voice. She nodded slowly before turning back to her work, her fingers deftly assembling another round. Bellamy glanced over his shoulder at me, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he shook his head slightly, but he said nothing.

The tent was filled with an uneasy silence once again, broken only by the occasional click and scrape of the bullet-making process. I resumed picking at my nails, trying to shake off the tension that was building inside me.

"There's five to a clip," Bellamy announced after a while, his voice cutting through the quiet. "Let's go. We need to get these guns on the wall."

"Why just five?" Jasper asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"We're running out of gunpowder," Raven replied bluntly, her focus still on the task at hand. Jasper's mouth formed an 'oh' as realization set in, and the room seemed to grow even heavier.

"Oh, we're so dead," Harper muttered under her breath, her voice filled with a hopelessness that echoed my own thoughts. The weight of it all—being outnumbered, outgunned—felt suffocating.

"Don't worry," Jasper said quickly, his voice taking on a heroic tone as he glanced at Harper. "I got your back." His attempt at reassurance felt more like a desperate attempt to be her savior, to play the hero in a story that had no happy ending.

I scoffed softly, but Monty's louder scoff drew Jasper's attention. The shift in energy between them was palpable, and I could sense the tension simmering beneath the surface. Jasper's eyes narrowed as he snapped at Monty, "Got something to say?"

I frowned at the sudden hostility between the two, wondering what had caused this rift. From what I'd seen, they had been inseparable when they first landed—like brothers. Now, something had clearly changed. I stayed quiet, not wanting to pry into something that wasn't my business, but the tension was hard to ignore.

"Hey, guys, stay focused," Raven interrupted, her tone firm but not unkind. "We're doing good. We need as many rounds done by dawn as we can." Her voice had that edge of authority that demanded attention. Raven was sharp, always one step ahead, and I admired that about her. Even in the middle of chaos, she had a plan.

Before anyone could respond, the tent flap was thrown aside, and Finn rushed in, his face pale with urgency. "It won't matter if there's no one left who can shoot," he blurted out, his words laced with frustration. His sudden entrance made me tense, and the shift in his demeanor immediately put me on edge. What was he planning?

"What do we need to build a bomb?" His question hung in the air, sending a jolt of fear through me. Bombs? The thought of them blowing up anything—especially my people—made my heart race. I could feel the blood drain from my face as I tried to keep my composure.

Raven's eyes darkened as she considered his question. "Depends on what you're trying to blow up," she said, her voice calm but with a dangerous edge. I held my breath, praying silently that Finn wasn't planning something catastrophic.

"How about a bridge?" Finn's words hung in the air, confusing the others but instantly making sense to me. I knew the bridge he was talking about—the one that led toward the Grounders' territory. It was a key point, a natural chokepoint for any attack.

Bellamy was the first to voice the confusion in the room. "What are you talking about?"

"Murphy says he crossed a bridge on his way back here from the Grounders' camp," Finn explained, his voice steady as he outlined his plan. "Sound familiar?"

"Yeah, so what?" Bellamy asked, still not fully understanding where Finn was going with this.

"So, the virus is fast," Finn continued, glancing at me as he mentioned it. "Sylva's already in great condition again, and Murphy's feeling better." At the mention of my name, everyone in the tent turned to look at me. I shifted uncomfortably, my eyes lowering to the floor as I felt their gazes on me.

"Blowing the bridge won't stop the attack, but the longer we can delay it, the more of us will be able to fight," Finn concluded, his eyes determined.

Bellamy held out a hand, stopping him before he could get too far. "Even if Murphy is telling the truth—and that's a big if—that bridge has survived a nuclear war and ninety-seven years of weather." His words were sharp but realistic, and I nodded in agreement. The bridge was ancient, standing the test of time in a way that few things had.

But then Raven spoke up, her voice carrying a dark, almost ominous tone. "It won't survive me." There was a finality in her words, a promise that whatever stood in her way, she would destroy. The determination in her voice sent a chill down my spine, and I couldn't help but believe her.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

A/n: So sorry for the delay and the short chapter (chapters are probably going to be this short from now on), but I have some news.

Okay, so long before I even started this story, I made an other book about the hunger games. I think I made a lot of it in 2022-2023 but I was too scared to post it. But because of the support I've gotten on this book, I can't help but want to post it.

So please check out my book; "Here's to never growing up - THG, F.O" it's a Finnick Odair Hunger Games fanfiction so if you're interested in that (or just want to support me) go read it! It would mean so much to me.

Also I'm not giving up on this book, updates are just gonna be very slow and because I have 45+ already written chapters on my Finnick book, there'll be more updates there!

<3