Chapter Text
The rule was simple: if it has more than four eyes, or if it moves without making a sound, you shoot it first and ask questions when you’re safely behind three feet of reinforced steel.
okay, well, sometimes they have two eyes and five legs…or no eyes and one leg! but the rules are, when you see a monster, you shoot.
Clarke Griffin adjusted the strap of her heavy tactical crossbow, her boots crunching softly against the pulverized concrete of what had once been a major interstate highway. It was the year 4022. A year after the Convergence—the cataclysmic event where dimensions collided like runaway freight trains, shattering earth’s geography and dropping a terrifying menagerie of nightmare creatures, alien flora, and unpredictable anomalies right into humanity's backyard.
"Hey, Clarke," Raven Reyes’s voice crackled through the short-range comm in Clarke's ear. "The map sensor is glitching again. The localized atmospheric pressure is doing that weird, jiggly thing. Either a dimensional tear is opening up nearby, or my tablet is just expressing its deep, emotional trauma."
"Keep it calibrated, Raven," Clarke murmured, lifting a pair of binoculars to scan the rusted, skeletal remains of a ruined suburban cityscape ahead. "We're close to the coordinates my dad left in his journal. The third waypoint should be right past this valley of dead strip malls."
In her breast pocket, the worn leather notebook of Jake Griffin rested against her heart. Before he died during the initial chaos of the Convergence, he had left her a series of encrypted files and coordinates, hinting at a massive, world-altering secret hidden in the deep ruins—something that could potentially stabilize the fractured dimensions. Clarke and her tight-knit crew of survivors had been tracking those clues for months, living out of their mobile fortress.
Speaking of their fortress, a massive, low rumble vibrated through the soles of Clarke's boots. Rolling slowly behind her was The Mountain—a heavily armored, multi-wheeled tactical truck that looked like a cross between a military tank and a two-story apartment building. It was their home, their shield, and Raven’s pride and joy.
"Clarke, I’m seeing movement in the tree line to your left," Bellamy Blake’s voice cut in, sharp and alert. He was stationed on The Mountain's upper turret, his eyes tracking the dead, crystallized forest flanking the highway. "Big movement. Not the friendly alien kind."
"Define 'big,'" Clarke said, smoothly unslung her crossbow. It was a custom piece of work, fitted with a pneumatic crank and explosive-tipped bolts. At her hip rested her secondary weapon: a sleek, high-voltage plasma shock gun that could drop a charging rhino—or whatever dimension-born equivalent tried its luck.
"Think six legs, covered in obsidian spikes, and looking exceptionally hungry," Finn's voice chimed in from the driver's seat of the truck. "And uh, they just noticed us."
Suddenly, the dead forest exploded.
Three massive Gorgon-Beasts—biological nightmares with armored plates, rows of needle-like teeth, and a disturbing knack for speed—burst onto the asphalt. They let out a synchronized, glass-shattering screech that echoed off the ruined buildings.
"Defensive positions!" Clarke yelled, dropping to one knee as the first beast charged toward her.
She didn't flinch. She lined up the crosshairs of her bow, waited for the exact moment the creature opened its massive maw, and squeezed the trigger. A pneumatic hiss was followed instantly by a violent thunk. The explosive bolt embedded itself deep in the creature's throat. A second later, a dull boom rattled the air, and the beast collapsed in a heap of black smoke and ash.
"Nice shot, Princess!" Bellamy shouted, opening fire with the truck’s heavy-caliber roof gun, sending a hail of kinetic rounds into the second beast.
From the side doors of The Mountain, the rest of the crew spilled out to hold the perimeter. Octavia dropped into a low spin, wielding a pair of short, reinforced machetes, while Monty and Jasper brought up the rear. Jasper was holding a makeshift sonic-blaster, looking terrified but resolute.
"Jasper, don't aim it at my feet this time!" Monty yelled, firing a specialized rifle that disrupted the creatures' nervous systems.
"That was one time, Monty! And it cleared your sinuses, didn't it?!" Jasper panicked, unleashing a pulse of concussive sound that staggered the third beast.
Despite their coordination, the wasteland was rarely fair. From the shadows of the ruined strip mall, a fourth and fifth creature emerged—larger, faster, and clearly the alpha pack-hunters. One of them lunged directly at Harper, who was trying to reload her recurve bow.
"Harper, look out!" Octavia screamed, throwing herself forward to intercept, but she was too far.
Clarke spun, drawing her plasma shock gun with blinding speed. She fired a blinding blue tether of electrical energy that wrapped around the beast's front leg, sending thousands of volts coursing through its hide. The creature roared, collapsing just feet from Harper, twitching violently.
But the alpha was already airborne, leaping directly toward Clarke while her shock gun was recharging. The massive claws were inches from her face. Clarke braced herself, reaching for her knife, knowing she was about to take a massive hit.
She never had to.
A silver blur streak flashed across Clarke’s field of vision. A tall, athletic woman with intricate braids and dark war paint smeared across her eyes materialized seemingly out of nowhere. In her hands, she wielded dual short swords that hummed with a terrifying, emerald-green energy.
With a fluid, breathtakingly lethal spin, the stranger sliced through the alpha's extended front legs. As the creature crashed to the ground, shrieking, the woman brought both swords down in a devastating X-shaped arc, cleanly decapitating the beast.
The creature dissolved into ash, leaving the dark-haired woman standing perfectly balanced, her piercing green eyes locking instantly onto Clarke’s blue ones.
"Anya, sweep the right! Lincoln, take the flank!" the green-eyed stranger commanded, her voice a low, commanding baritone that effortlessly cut through the chaos of battle.
"On it, Commander!" a harsh, battle-hardened woman—Anya—called out, wielding a massive broadsword as she joined Bellamy and Finn in mopping up the remaining smaller crawlers.
A massive, towering man—Lincoln—stepped into the fray alongside Octavia, using a heavy iron war-hammer to crush the skull of a creature that had been sneaking up behind her. Octavia blinked in surprise, giving the massive man a nod of begrudging respect. "Nice hammer."
"Thank you," Lincoln grunted, already turning to face the next threat.
A younger fighter, Tris, darted between the beasts with lethal agility, while a stern woman named Indra fired a heavy grenade launcher, neutralizing the last wave of monsters in a spectacular shower of sparks. Two more fighters, Echo and Gus, held the perimeter with rifles, ensuring nothing else was creeping out of the ruins.
Within less than two minutes, the battlefield fell completely silent. The only remaining trace of the monsters was the fading smell of ozone and the black ash scattering in the wind.
Clarke slowly lowered her plasma gun, her chest heaving as she assessed the newcomers. They were highly trained, ruthlessly efficient, and looked like they had been surviving in the trenches of the Convergence for a very long time.
From around the corner of the highway, another massive vehicle rolled into view. It was almost a mirror image of The Mountain—a brutalist, heavily armored tactical truck, painted in matte black and covered in scuffs, dents, and trophy skulls of various beasts. Painted crudely but proudly across the front grille was a single word: Heda.
The green-eyed woman smoothly sheared both of her glowing swords onto her back, never once breaking eye contact with Clarke. She stood with an air of absolute authority, despite her dusty, utilitarian tactical gear.
"You fight well for someone carrying a primitive weapon," the woman said, her eyes glancing briefly at Clarke's tactical crossbow before returning to her face.
Clarke raised an eyebrow, adjusting the bow on her shoulder. "This 'primitive' weapon just saved my crew’s life two minutes ago. And I don't miss. But... thanks for the assist."
"We did not do it to assist you," the woman replied coldly, though there was a flicker of curiosity in her gaze. "They were in our path. I am Lexa. Leader of this crew."
Clarke took a half-step forward, matching Lexa’s guarded, intense posture. "Clarke. Leader of this one."
The rest of both crews began to converge, weapons lowered but hands still resting close to their holsters. The tension was palpable, but there was also an underlying sense of mutual respect. They had all seen each other fight. In the wasteland, competence was the ultimate currency.
"Well, damn," Raven said, walking up beside Clarke and staring openly at the massive matte-black truck down the road. "That is a beautiful piece of machinery. What’s the engine displacement on that monster?"
Anya, standing right behind Lexa, let out a rough laugh, wiping black blood off her blade. "It’s got a quad-turbo V12 dimensionally stabilized engine, grease-monkey. We call her The Heda."
"No way," Raven’s eyes widened, a brilliant grin breaking across her face. "You stabilized the intake valves? We tried doing that on The Mountain over there, but Monty kept saying the quantum feedback would blow our legs off."
"It would have blown our legs off, Raven," Monty sighed, stepping forward and offering a polite nod to Lexa’s group. "I'm Monty. This is Jasper, Harper, Finn, Bellamy, and Octavia."
"Lincoln," the large man said, inclining his head toward Octavia.
"Octavia," she replied, a smirk playing on her lips. "You handle that hammer pretty well, big guy."
"You are not a bad blade yourself," Lincoln noted softly.
"Alright, alright, enough with the mutual admiration society," Anya grumbled, though the hostility had drained from her posture. "I’m Anya. The scary one with the grenade launcher is Indra. That’s Echo, Gus, and the kid is Tris."
Jasper looked between the two massive trucks, then at the two formidable women standing at the head of the group. "So... we have The Mountain, you have The Heda. We both like killing multi-legged abominations. Honestly, this is the most functional first date I've ever been on."
"Shut up, Jasper," Finn and Bellamy said in unison.
Clarke ignored the banter, keeping her focus entirely on Lexa. She could feel the weight of the Commander’s gaze, a steady, unblinking intensity that felt entirely different from any threat she had faced today. It wasn't hostile; it was analytical. Calculating.
"Where are you traveling, Clarke?" Lexa asked, her voice dropping to a quieter, more private register.
"North-east. Following a path," Clarke said vaguely, not about to reveal her father’s journal to a group of strangers, no matter how good they were with a sword. "Just trying to find a safe zone. Scavenging what we can. What about you?"
"The same," Lexa replied. "Moving from shelter to shelter. The storms are getting worse in the southern sectors. Resources are dwindling."
Bellamy walked up, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Clarke. He looked at Lexa, then back toward the horizon. "Look, the sun is going down in an hour. In this sector, when the lights go out, the flyers come out. Our truck has enough room to lager up together if we park them side-by-side. We cover more blind spots that way."
Lexa looked at Bellamy, then at her own second-in-command, Indra. Indra gave a single, slow nod of approval.
Lexa turned her green eyes back to Clarke. "Your friend speaks wisdom. We work well together. The wasteland is deadly for isolated groups. Perhaps... our path can be shared. For tonight."
Clarke felt a strange, inexplicable pull in her chest. She looked at Lexa’s sample, stoic face, noting the slight tension in her jaw. Lexa was a leader who carried the weight of her people, just like Clarke did.
"Just for tonight," Clarke agreed, a small, genuine smile finally breaking through her guarded expression. "Let's get the trucks parked. I don't feel like finding out what else lives in these strip malls."
Lexa nodded, her gaze lingering on Clarke for one beat longer than necessary before she turned on her heel. "Anya, mount up. We are forming a perimeter with The Mountain."
As the two groups began to move back to their respective mobile fortresses, exchanging surprisingly easy banter and survival stories, Raven leaned into Clarke’s side, throwing an arm around her shoulder.
"So," Raven whispered, her eyebrows wagging suggestively. "The Commander, huh? She’s kind of a total badass. And she totally has a thing for the crossbow look."
"Raven, we met her three minutes ago," Clarke muttered, her cheeks burning slightly as she watched Lexa vault effortlessly into the driver's seat of The Heda.
"Hey, in the post-apocalypse, three minutes is a lifetime," Raven laughed, jogging off to guide Finn as he backed up their massive truck.
Clarke caught her breath, looking down at the worn leather journal in her pocket, and then across the cracked asphalt at the mysterious leader who had just saved her life. For the first time in ten years, the ruined world felt a little less lonely.