Standard Disclaimer" Insert here."
Prologue: The Birth of Death
Clarke stood alone at the front of Mount Weather's imposing iron doors that kept her from her people, her promises.
The mountain blocked the moon's light from reaching her, obscuring her face with deep shadow, darkening her bright blue eyes to slate.
The overwhelming hurt, betrayal and rage had numbed her before the last warrior had stepped foot from the battlefield.
"It can't be over", Clarke whispers to herself. 'I won't let it be over'
Her mind churned with dark thoughts against the Mountain; so many thoughts.
Mount Weather had been harvesting people like a resource; bleed generations of Grounders and now her people, her friends.
They weren't going to stop now that they had what they wanted.
Unless she stopped them.
'Jus dren just daun …,' whispered sinisterly in Clarke's mind.
If they were dead they were not a threat to her people, or anyone else.
No one was innocent. Not the people who had been to torturing, killing and harvest her friends' morrow; nor those had who stood by and done nothing.
'Jus dren just daun.'
She would free her people, alone.
'Jus dren just daun'!
Clarke's stone face hardened even more to match the steel in her eyes.
No one of the Mountain was going to make it out alive.
"Jus dren just daun," Clarke whispered darkly before turning and disappearing into the forest like any other shadow.
Chapter One: And I Welcome Death to Into our Home
Clarke ghosted just off the path to the entrance Raven had used infiltrate the dam's power generator rooms. Her heartbeat just as steady and slow as her feet's rhythm on the ground.
She waited crouched just inside the tree line, using the darker shadows of the forest night to hide her presence as she assessed the entryway.
The metal of the door loomed ominously open, agitated voices echoing faintly from the black portal.
"Morris, this can't be right! We're the good guys! Good guys don't murder our own people; we don't murder kids!" a man's voice pleaded.
"Jacobs, I got you out of there to try and convince you to see reason. Those from the Ark are our way to the ground now; not a hundred years from now, but now. I want my son to see the sky. I don't like it any more then you, but for that I can stomach it," another man said roughly.
"I can't… I won't... There something we have to do! We can get the others to see reason. They have to," BANG! The sharp retort of a pistol cut of the man's words.
"Damn Morris, wasn't he your friend?" a third man said.
"President Wallis said any one not on board with the plan is a traitor to our people. And you know what we do to traitors." Morris said. "You're not a traitor are you Kennedy?"
"Of course not! I'll stand by the President." Kennedy retorted shakily.
"Good, get his feet. We will dump the body outside."
Clarke watched as the men carried the body down the metal stairs to the path.
The man carrying the feet, and looked up suddenly, right at Clarke's hiding spot.
He stumbled almost dropping the body.
"What the fuck Kennedy?!" Morris said harshly.
"Um I think I left the regulator inside. I'll be back in a second." He stuttered, setting the feet down and running back up the metal stairs.
Clarke looked at the man standing alone with his back to her.
Her fist tightened around her unsheathed knife as Morris glanced around the forest nervously.
'He is an enemy… he looks like prey.' Clarke tensed her muscles in preparation for attack.
"Found it!" Kennedy said from the door way running down to pick up the feet.
"Let's get the hell out of here. This place is giving me the creeps." Morris said.
The two drug the body over to the tree line not 20 feet from where Clarke was hidden, tossing it into the bushes.
Kennedy subtly nodded to the body eyes stealing over Clarke's direction.
"Let's go back in. I'm in need of a hot shower and some food. I want to do that before the President's speech in the dining hall." Kennedy said.
"Well you better get a fucking move on then. That's in less than an hour and it's in the grand hall you dumb ass." Morris scowled.
"Oh, right" Kennedy shrugs, as the men walk back into the generator room.
Morris tugs the door behind him but it doesn't budge. "Fuck remind me to call maintenance when we get back in. The damn thing is not moving."
Clarke watches as the men disappear into the black portal, listening intently as their footsteps and bickering get further away.
Moving over to where the discarded body was.
Clarke searched his pockets and suit lining, finding nothing.
She ran her fingers on the inside of his boot tops and pulled out a piece of paper.
"Clarke,
I'm so sorry about your friends. We never meant for this to happen. I can help you get in, give you the chance to save them. It won't bring back your friends we've killed, but it's a start. The blood is on all our hands. I put my gun and clips along with my entry card in a rag by the third generator. Door Code 4377 Card Code 4276#. The map on back will take you through the interior tunnel to the 2nd decon chamber. Half our guard force left before we came out here. I'm not sure how long until they get back. Hurry if you want to save your people. ~JFK"
Only the slight quiver of her chin revealed her upheaval as Clarke shoved down the ramparting feeling of emotion and doubt the letter wrought.
Clarke closed her eyes and took a long breath to settle her thoughts.
She had to stay focused; if she wavered now her people would be killed as surly as if by her own hand.
Her gaze hardened once again, jaw set firm.
She arose to her feet and approached the black portal of the door with caution.
All that could be heard was the rush of water over the damn, no electrical hum from the generators. The eerie silence in the room unnerved Clarke.
The cache left by Kennedy was easy to find and after a check for traps; was quickly added to her arsenal.
She also found the door, the tunnel and the decon room empty just as the map had it laid out.
The cameras along the way were powered off, maybe from the system being on backup generator power.
No guards along the way.
It seemed too easy.
That ease caused Clarke's muscles ached with tension as she waited for the trap to spring.