Hi all! Welcome to what is my first attempt at writing fanfiction, and my first ever story of any great length. This was originally written because I was looking to exercise my literative curiosity, and the world of The 100 intrigued me with the possibilities of what could happen if another character was placed in the show. I had a few ideas for a character that I had built up in my head, and The 100 was a perfect match for the story I wanted to tell. This was the result.

Note: this story has been heavily re-written. I got a lot of feedback on the original story, and not too much of it was good, so I finally got around to using what I've learnt as an author from this story and it's season 2 and season 3 sequels - 'Closer To The Edge: Into Oblivion' and 'Closer To The Edge: Identity' - and changing this one to make it more realistic, more consistent and just better all-round. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own The 100, just the original characters and their plot points.

Closer To The Edge

The sound of the door opening drew him from his sleep. The familiar hydraulic sound of metal sliding over metal and the accompanying pneumatic hiss echoed off the solid steel walls around him.

His eyes snapped open immediately, though he made no other movement. It was more out of habit than anything else. By now he knew by heart every noise made by the world around him as it moved onwards, time doing its very best to leave him behind, forgotten and discarded.

Where he was, there was no time. No comfort. No freedom.

Solitary confinement was a lonely place.

But not today, he thought as four members of the guard entered his cell, their stern faces betraying their disgust at the sight of him. He sat up slowly and purposefully, fiercely eyeing one of them in particular: a thickly built man with short, cropped hair by the name of Dylan Joyce. He was unable to hide the scowl that crossed his face at the sight of the slightly older man. He had not forgotten what Dylan had done to him. The guardsman was a friend in the past, but not anymore. Not since-

"Your time has come." The lead guard interrupted his thoughts, voice completely emotionless. He flicked his eyes away from Dylan. He knew exactly what those words meant: Today was the day, the day he would meet his fate – the same fate that had befallen so many others over the years. Indeed, the only reason he had even been in solitary in the first place was because law on the Ark demanded he be kept alive, despite the crimes of which he was accused.

But not anymore, for today was special, a fact that he was reminded of by a single piece of writing on the wall next to his bed. Surrounded by small, strange dents which covered the walls of his cell, and looking like it had been carved with a knife of some sort – despite weapons being strictly prohibited – it read: December 16th, 2215.

It matched the date listed on the roster held in one of the guardsmen's hands. He had been waiting for this day for over two years. Today was his 18th birthday.

Today, he was going to be floated.

This term was literal, for he lived not on the surface of the Earth, but rather, hundreds of kilometres above it, in a giant space station called 'The Ark'. 97 years previously, a nuclear war had wiped out human civilisation on Earth, and left the planet simmering under a blanket of deadly radiation. However, this was not the end of humanity itself. Fortunately, 12 countries had operational space stations in orbit at the time of the war. In the aftermath of the apocalypse, the 12 stations hastily agreed to merge and become one - the single greatest feat of engineering in history. Everyone onboard knew that theirs was a 'transitional' generation: they were to spend their whole lives in space, their only task being to stay alive, and foster the next generation in a cycle that would repeat for another century or more, until the radiation cleared and it was safe to return to the ground. As such, strict population laws were in place. No more than one child was allowed to be born to any couple, and anyone over the age of 18 who committed a crime of any sort was swiftly executed by being ejected out of an airlock and into the cruel vacuum of space – hence the term 'floated. Anyone under the age of 18 that committed an offense however, was sent to the juvenile prison (known to them as 'The Skybox'), where they were to remain until they turned 18, at which point their crimes would be reviewed, and they would either join their fallen brethren in space, or be allowed to merge back into society. Such occurrences, however, were extremely rare. And sometimes, if the crime was serious enough, a review was not even permitted.

His was one such instance.

Slowly, he rose up and out of his bed, while simultaneously putting his creased and heavily worn brown leather jacket over the top of his loose fitting, streaked grey t-shirt and lightweight black cargo pants. Curiously, he whispered something to a small, brown band around his right wrist before he calmly moved to exit the room. He strode up to Dylan Joyce and said quietly, but evenly: "This should be you."

Dylan said nothing in reply.

"Move, Eroxin!" The lead guard commanded, jabbing the teenager with his (uncharged) shock baton, prompting him to move towards the door. Just before he did so though, quickly and silently, un-noticed by any of the guards, he reached behind him and grabbed several items from under the pillow of his bed - items that, somehow, had gone un-detected throughout his time in solitary. He was glad they hadn't been, for he was going to need them for what he had planned. He quickly hid them under his jacket as the guards pushed him roughly out of the door.

His name was Aerrow, Aerrow Eroxin. A strange name, for a strange person. Once, he had been the youngest ever member of the guard, but now his name was only mentioned in hushed whispers in darkened corridors. On the face of it, he was relatively un-assuming. He only stood at about 175 centimetres high, and combined with his extremely lean figure, he hardly looked anything resembling threatening. But looks could be deceiving, a fact he well knew as he hid his true physique under his loose clothing and his leather jacket.

He had long, slightly wavy brown hair, with small streaks of blonde in it, which he wore in a casual style. The strands were parted in the middle, and reached down to the bottom of his ears at the sides, progressing down to the base of his neck at the back. He was never really bothered about his appearance though. Not anymore. Indeed, if anyone from his old life looked at him in that moment, all they would see would be a stranger.

He had a somewhat handsome face, lightly tanned skin and angular features, but his whole appearance was accentuated by his eyes. They were a dazzling shade of something well beyond blue, verging on purple, and they had the ability to capture the attention of anyone he looked at.

Right now though, those eyes were set forward in a steely gaze. He gave no time to dwell on the past, and the events that had happened to bring him to this position, nor did he pay any attention to what the future might hold. He was simply focused on the present, the exact moment he was currently in. He wasn't scared. Far from it. Long ago, he had accepted his fate and stopped caring. He longer felt many emotions at all. He was never sad, he was never happy, he was just focused. Properly, extremely, focused.

Which is why he noted immediately that not only was he heading in the opposite direction to where that horrible grey steel room was situated, but also the fact the rest of the juvenile prisoners seemed to be getting rounded up as well.

He frowned. This was not part of the plan.

He looked back over his shoulder as he was marched past a blonde girl sobbing on someone's shoulder. He didn't know her name, just that she had been locked inside solitary as well, though for only half as long as him.

He noticed that they were all being marched towards a large pod of some sort. It looked familiar to him, but he couldn't quite remember what it was. All he knew was that if he wanted to accomplish his goal, he needed to act fast.

"What's going on?" He turned and asked the guard next to him, his voice rough and raspy from months of disuse.

The guard merely grunted in reply. "It's your lucky day. You're not being floated after all." The tone of displeasure in the man's voice did not go un-noticed.

"You didn't answer my question." He said, deadpan.

The guard sighed in annoyance. "There's something more important you and the other prisoners can do for The Ark."

"And what might that be?" His question was suspicious, and spoken through narrowed eyes.

"It is not my place to tell you, Switchblade." The guard interjected firmly, "Hold out your arm."

"Or what?"

The guard lost his patience, and extended his shock baton, yanked the teenager close and held the buzzing stream of electricity close to his face in a futile attempt to instill fear. Aerrow didn't flinch.

"Hold out your arm!" The guard spat slowly.

Aerrow allowed himself to smirk slightly as everything began clicking into place. This could still work… The imbecilic guards hadn't even bothered to handcuff him. Now he just had to wait... for the right moment...

Feigning co-operation, he held out his left arm for the guard, who pulled a chunky looking grey wristband from a slot on his belt, and prepared to snap it around his wrist. Right before he did though, Aerrow leapt into action. He formed his hand into a fist, whirled around and punched the guard on the side of his head. Hard.

The guard dropped like a marionette that had its strings cut, and before the second guard beside him could react, he was on the floor too, grunting in pain courtesy of two very precise jabs from the teenager.

All hell broke loose. Some of the prisoners screamed, while others cheered at this rebellion. Guards left their posts and madly reached for their weapons, completely unsure what to make of the situation and desperately awaiting orders. And then, in the background, a faint gunshot could be heard...

It was pandemonium.

Through it all, Aerrow never stopped moving. As soon as he dropped the two guards, he sprinted back up the corridor he had just come down. He shoved people aside and hurdled obstacles with ease as his eyes narrowed with focused anger as he searched for his target: Dylan Joyce.

He found the guard looming over the prone body of the blonde girl from earlier. She appeared to be unconscious and he was helping load her onto a stretcher. He never saw his attacker coming.

Aerrow ploughed into him with a frightening level of force, and in an instant Dylan found himself lying on the ground, under a withering assault from Aerrow.

He rained down punches on the guard with years worth of built up hate, rage and vengeance. Blood exploded from the guard's mouth, and a sickening crack signaled his nose had been broken. Aerrow completely lost track of his surroundings, and the looming guards. All he was interested in was killing the man pinned beneath him. He reached behind him and pulled from a concealed holster an intricately crafted, shiny silver knife.

He raised it above his head and prepared to plunge it into the helpless guard's chest. He paused for a moment to take in the look of abstract horror on Dylan's face: the look of someone who knew they were about to die, and he felt nothing but a sadistic sense of satisfaction. Finally… the bastard would know how it felt…

He made to say something he had been waiting to say for so, so very long when suddenly, he was struck in his neck by something small. It felt like a tranquilizer dart. This was confirmed as Aerrow instantly lost all control of his muscles. He dropped the knife and slumped to the floor.

As his vision darkened and he saw the boots of the approaching guards, his unspoken words died in his throat.

For Arianna...

…

Thirty minutes later, Aerrow awoke with a start. His instincts kicked in and he rapidly snapped his head around, immediately taking in his surroundings.

He was tightly strapped in to a metal seat, along with all the other delinquents. He quickly felt behind him to see if his knife and the other items were still there. By some miracle, they were.How in the hell did that happen? Evidently after they had knocked him out, the guards had loaded him onto the pod with everybody else without even searching him. It made no sense but the thought of the guards drew his attention to the thick metal bracelet around his left wrist.

He immediately tried twisting the bracelet to get it off, but succeeded only in ripping his skin open. A closer inspection revealed it was attached to him via a series of small, but deep needles. Anyone else would have jolted with the pain, but not him. A long time ago he had stopped being influenced by such a medial burden. He had experienced so much of it that it no longer really registered to him, and was instead a familiar friend in what was a completely unfamiliar situation.

Suddenly, a television screen nearby flickered to life, and on it appeared the face of Thelonius Jaha – the Chancellor. Aerrow clenched his fist tightly at the sight of the man, but refrained from any further action, unlike several of his companions.

Instead, he chose to listen in to what the chancellor had to say, and what he heard stunned him silent.

They were being sent to the ground, all 100 of them, to determine if the Earth was survivable or not. Should they succeed, they would be pardoned of their crimes. Should they fail, well... the reason they had been chosen for this mission was because they were, in the words of the chancellor: expendable.

With this revelation came the sudden realisation that, while he was getting a chance at a new life, he had ultimately failed. Dylan Joyce still breathed, and that thought brought him uncontainable sadness and fury.

He glared out of the small porthole and saw the Ark in the distance, getting ever smaller. For the last two years, he had never looked to the future beyond this day, never planned for anything once he killed Dylan. It was his only thought, only determination to keep going. And now, in the blink of an eye, even that had been taken from him. He clenched his fist tightly and whispered an apology to those he had failed, before casting those memories aside. He knew he had no other option if he was going to survive.

Finally, he whipped his head around the room, his eyes like lasers as they analysed those around him. Due to being slightly older than the rest, most of them he didn't recognise, but a few were familiar. There was Wells Jaha, the Chancellor's son - Aerrow was perplexed as to how he had ended up on the drop ship in the first place, but his questions were answered when he heard him tell the blonde girl next to him that he got himself arrested.

It was the same girl from before, the one that had been in solitary. His gaze lingered on her for a moment. He had seen her before somewhere, but he couldn't remember where. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the harness next to him being unclasped, accompanied by the sight of its occupant casually floating around the room. He knew who this person was, too – everyone did: Finn Collins, the one who got arrested for possibly the most ludicrous crime in the Ark's history: He had got bored one day, so decided to steal his girlfriend's spacesuit along with 3 months worth of oxygen and go spacewalking.

He was quickly joined by two others, and while the rest of the delinquents cheered, Aerrow simply looked on, unamused. How the hell did the council expect them to live with each other? How the hell did they expect them to live with him?

His musings came to a sudden and violent end as the drop ship jolted wildly. Aerrow realised that the retro rockets on the craft must have fired, and in doing so they had sent Finn and two others crashing into the side of the room.

As the shuddering became ever more violent, panic began to set in amongst the other prisoners. Wells and the blonde girl seemed to be having a very heated discussion, while others just screamed. Aerrow simply sat in his seat with his eyes closed, ready to accept his death if it came.

The following minutes felt like hours, with no-one really knowing what the outcome of their descent would be. Eventually, the ship landed with a heavy thud, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

The 100 criminals were quick to get out of their seats, and eagerly rushed towards the large door that was their exit, desperate to be the first humans in nearly a century to set foot on the ground. They were stopped however by a man who looked by all appearances to be a guard.

Deliberately hanging in the shadows at the back of the room, Aerrow eyed the man cautiously. He knew straight away that he wasn't one of them. He was a few years too old to be a prisoner – plus he had no wristband – and he was definitely not a guard. None of them would have been asked, must less have volunteered to come on what was essentially a suicide mission. He certainly had the demeanour of a guard: tough, brash and strong, with the presence of a leader, but Aerrow knew the guard. He had spent nearly half his life as a cadet before being fast-tracked to full status. He knew their members, and their stance. This man was not one of them.

He made to open the door when the blonde girl shouted something about the air being toxic, to which the man standing at the front of the crowd replied – correctly - that if the air was toxic, they were all dead anyway. Suddenly, a small voice next to him spoke up.

"Bellamy?" A beautiful, dark haired girl asked. Moving forward, she brushed past him, and a small shiver raced up his spine as she did so. That was the first real physical contact he had had with anyone in the last two years... It was an alien sensation, though he was quick to regain his composure as the girl pushed her way to the front of the crowd.

The man's eyes widened in shock as he saw her. "Octavia?" He said in disbelief, "My God... Look how big you are..."

Gasps of astonishment went up among the crowd. The picture suddenly became clear. These were the Blake siblings – Bellamy and Octavia. Since having a child was against the law, their mother had hidden Octavia under the floor of their room for sixteen years. One fateful night however, she was discovered, their mother was floated, and Bellamy was stripped of his position as a guard cadet (so he was technically a member of the guard after all...) and was given some low level job maintaining the Ark. Quite how he had ended up on the drop ship was still a mystery.

Aerrow watched on as Octavia threw her arms around her brother and hugged him tightly, and instantly his mask cracked, his features changing from icy coolness to barely contained grief in the blink of an eye, at the memory of what a hug once felt like, and what had been taken from him…

It lasted barely a moment however, and his frown snapped back into place when he saw Octavia lunge at someone who voiced aloud that she was the one who had been hidden under the floor. Bellamy quickly restrained her, calming her down with the promise that she would instead be remembered as the first person on the ground in 97 years.

Everyone waited in anticipation as Bellamy pulled the lever to open the door. Aerrow shielded his eyes as light flooded the cabin in an instant and – not for the first time that day – found himself with no idea what to expect. Was the air really toxic? Was their skin going to be melted off by radiation? No one allowed themselves a glimmer of hope that they could actually survive down here, until the door lowered to reveal a forest of unfamiliar colours.

Octavia made her way down the ramp with great trepidation. Everyone held their breath as she got closer and closer. Over the years, its story had been told by so many twisted tongues that it had now become just a myth, a legend. The Ground! But not now. Now, it was very real, and it was right in front of them.

The noise when Octavia finally stepped off the metal and onto the brown soil was totally alien, and for a moment all was silent. But then Octavia raised her arms in the air and declared it safe by screaming "WE'RE BACK BITCHES!" And suddenly they realised: they were safe. Furthermore, they were on the ground! What followed was an angry stampede as everyone pushed and shoved in a mad rush to get out and onto the ground. All except two.

Aerrow lingered back, still hidden by the shadows. He figured the less attention he drew to himself the better. He turned at the sound of a soft sniff, and saw Finn crouched over the bodies of the two boys who had decided to follow him out of their seats. When the retro rockets had fired, he had got lucky. The other two had not shared his luck, and now lay broken and battered on the floor.

"They're dead. Because of me." Finn said quietly, noticing Aerrow standing there.

Aerrow simply remained where he was, unperturbed by the scene in front of him. "It was their choice." He said gruffly, face hard and emotionless.

Finn seemed to understand this, and got to his feet and shakily exited the ship. Aerrow made to go after him when he heard a faint gasp from one of the boys.

Narrowing his eyes, he walked over to investigate. Crouching down beside the unconscious, injured delinquent, Aerrow guessed that he had several broken ribs, and a punctured lung from the violent collision with the wall. He had little to no chance of recovery. He would only be a hindrance

His face hardening once more, Aerrow placed his hands on either of the boy's head, before silently, ruthlessly, jerking his hands sideways, snapping the boy's neck in an instant.

Pausing for a moment to take one final look at the scene in front of him, Aerrow emotionlessly got back to his feet and exited the drop ship, ready to set foot on Earth.

…

Hundreds of kilometres above the Earth, a single, small message was beamed out from a hidden radio antenna, undetected by the rest of the Ark. Such antenna had been in use for decades, constantly sending messages down to the Earth, in hopes of discovering people alive on the surface.

This message was different though, for this message was received.

After it was run through a complex decryption program operated by only a select few, it was translated onto a screen, in a dark room, somewhere on Earth.

It read:

16/12/2215: Drop ship released. Landing successful. Data reports confirm survival of both subjects Alpha and Sierra. The 100 are on the ground.

So there we are… first chapter done. One thing to note moving forward, this is a three part series, covering the first three seasons of the show and not every question will be answered in the first season. If anything seems massively convenient or coincidental – like Aerrow somehow keeping his weapons, remember it. It's not lazy writing, it's important…