Prisoner 83 | the 100

chapter twenty-five

Two men traipsed through the woods, one bound with ropes and the other pulling him along. They were heading towards the stench of smoke, reaching their destination as the ground went from green and brown to black under their boot-covered feet.

The man captive was tall and lanky, not nearly fit enough to even try to escape. But that did not stop him from looking longingly at the discarded, charred weapons that scattered the burnt ground.

From where they were entering the once-used camp, they could only see a piece of junk metal standing. Everything else had fallen, dead.

So when the man ordered his prisoner to wait outside while he went in, he expected it to be dead in there, too. He approached the form of a bleeding figure. There was so much blood. It gathered in many small pools around the body. Whoever the woman was, she had to be dead.

Oh, but she was still very much alive.

The ponytailed brunette used her remaining strength to aim her automatic weapon and fire at the newcomer. The man's eyes widened in surprise before they dulled. He was now lying three feet away from her on the floor.

Raven let out a sigh before looking around. Great, she thought. now I've got a dead Grounder to keep me company during my final breaths. The mechanic cursed her luck.

But then, the flaps of the dropship door moved as the prisoner made his way inside. He moved cautiously, especially when he saw the older teenager pointing a gun at him.

He held up his tied hands and yelled, "W-whoa! It's okay. It's okay, Raven, don't." The female did not lower her weapon. "Don't shoot." She glared at the male in front of her, disgust clear in her brown eyes. "Please," he begged.

"Why not? You shot me."

The standing male flinched as Raven lined up the shot. He was going to die. The lanky male was going to join his best friend. Raven was going to bring him to his best friend, but he was not so sure if he wanted that anymore. The click of the trigger sounded through the dropship, though no bullet escaped. Unfortunately for Raven, the gun was out of ammunition.

Murphy sighed before taking a few straggling steps forward. The mechanic watched him warily, under the impression that he was going to hurt her defenseless self. But he did not. Instead, the male took a seat a couple of feet away from her and leaned against the wall, defeat laced in his voice she said, "Yeah, I would've shot me too."

The female regarded him with disdain, watching as he cut through his binds by using scrap metal in the dropship. Although the weapon was unloaded and useless, Raven still gripped it tightly as she inquired, "What are you doing here, Murphy?"

"Dying. Same as you." He spoke as if it were obvious, which to him, it was. The lanky brunette had nowhere to go—no one wanted him—and he was practically a dead man walking. He at least found comfort in being in the mechanic's company, though she did not feel the same.

Raven, however, was not giving up so easily. She was determined not to spend her last moments with Murphy and a dead Grounder. The ponytailed brunette set the gun down as she said, "Speak for yourself." She readjusted herself and let out a pained grunt before asking, "How many more are out there?"

"None. You fried them all." Murphy continued, "The only reason this one survived is because they left him behind to guard me."

The female then began to cough, blood spilling from her mouth as she choked on it. Murphy watched the violent scene for a moment before rushing to her side and saying, "Raven, lie on your side." Of course, she was not going to listen to a psychopath. "Lie on your side," Murphy ordered again. "Come on." Raven pushed him away, not wanting his help even though she desperately needed it. She had felt bad for the man because he was mourning his male dead best friend, but then he shot her. All sympathy Raven had for the lost cause kneeling beside her was gone. "Fine, then. Just roll over yourself." It was because Raven wanted to live that she finally allowed the delinquent to assist her. "Get down on your side. You're okay," Murphy reassured the female as he used a discarded piece of cloth to wipe the blood from her mouth. He thought that was the first sign of possible trust, but he should have known better. "It's all good."