┍━━━━ ⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ ━━━━┑
LYRA AND THE
ANTI-PIKE CLUB
┕━━━━ ⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ ━━━━┙
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
[ this is probably one of my favorite 100 episodes of all time, the absolute chaos that Kane and his little anti-pike club create to piss off Pike is so fucking funny to me. ]
WHAT DO YOU WEAR to an illegal meeting held in what's essentially a glorified closet while spying on this boy you made out with, like, a couple of times? At least a couple of times, anyways. Maybe combat boots to stomp on the evil dictator whose manipulated him? Lyra examines her rather sparse closet with narrowed eyes as she tilts her head: it's not as if she's got an abundance of options here. There's two jackets and neither of them are her Nasa jacket ━━ it had been left behind when she'd turned Grounder and she hasn't seen it since. Which, y'know, sucks. Lyra's not thrilled about that.
In retrospect, it's probably stupid to focus on what she's wearing. Especially since Pike's starting a war. But hey! This isn't Lyra's first war, and it's a lot easier to hyper-fixate on what she's going to wear other than the fact that everyone she loves could be dead by tomorrow morning.
So.
Ultimately she ends up with something so leathery that it looks almost Grounder. Good. She's not on the same level of her dad and still won't outwardly say Fuck you to Pike, but she thinks this gets the message across.
She walks out of her quarters. Almost immediately, Raven pounces on her.
"Lyra, Lyra, Lyra!" Raven gives her an almost too wide smile and Lyra blinks, taken aback. She's not used to seeing Raven so happy. "Just the girl I wanted to see — what do you know about Becca Franko?"
Now Lyra's confused.
She tilts her head. "Um, how do you know about Becca?"
"Uh, I heard about her at some point on the Ark," says Raven, her voices a couple octaves higher than usual. She keeps glancing around Lyra like there's someone else there, but when Lyra checks, there's no one. "Your last name is Franko, right? Which must mean you were descended from her?"
"That's what. . . that's what the people at Mount Weather said," Lyra tells her slowly, not wanting to remember Tsing at all. "But I dunno. Franko is a common last name, isn't it?"
She moves to sidestep Raven and continue to Kane's Marxist society meeting, but Raven grabs her by the arm. Lyra starts to frown.
"It's not!" Raven exclaims quickly. "There's no documents of Becca being on one of the Ark's twelve stations, though. Jaha thinks she was on the thirteenth. Which should be impossible, because you're here. . . "
"The one that got blown out of the sky?" Lyra asks, remembering the Unity Day story. "Yeah, that would make me kinda impossible, wouldn't it?"
The question is rhetorical and, honestly, Lyra's just ready to move on from this whole conversation now. No offense to Raven, but she's got more immediate problems at the moment. That is, of course, why she didn't end up taking the chip last night. What if the key to the City of Light inhibits neural receptors that let her join illegal Marxist societies? Then Lyra would have a problem.
Suddenly, Raven freezes. "Becca had a kid?"
Lyra tries to look at Raven, but the older girl seems to stare straight through her. "Uh. . . I don't know."
"Leo DiAngelo?" Raven asks abruptly.
"What?"
"Leo DiAngelo, your great-great grandfather," repeats Raven, more confidently this time. "Former US Air Force Colonel and pilot. He's the one who piloted the US Station into orbit before the bombs went off, saving hundreds of American lives. He committed suicide by floating himself when Polaris was destroyed because his wife, Becca Franko, was on board and died in the attack."
"The US Station. . . you mean Alpha Station?" Lyra asks, then shakes her head firmly. This is bizarre. "Raven, I'm really sorry, but I need to go."
"Their daughter, Giovanni DiAngelo, who was one years old at the time, took the last name Franko to honor Becca. However she committed suicide at thirty-seven after guilt during the blight."
Lyra's eyes widen. The blight had occurred early in the Ark's history, back when people had to choose between cannibalism or starving to death. Those who chose to eat had to watch those who chose not to eat die slowly. Survivors became known as the Blight Generation.
After that, the Ark had started floating their dead.
"Guess I know why no one's mentioned this stuff at family reunions," she mumbles. "Wait. . . how do you know all this stuff, anyways?"
Raven freezes again. "Um — "
"Actually, never mind," says Lyra quickly. "I have to make sure Bellamy doesn't piss off the Grounders again. I'll see you later!"
This time, Raven doesn't stop her. It almost looks like. . . like she's talking to someone?
Whatever. Honestly, Lyra can't blame her for starting to go a little crazy. Good for her, in fact. Being crazy must be a lot more fun than having responsibility.
Moving swiftly through the half-burnt halls of Alpha Station, she jogs out of the damp grey gloom and into the excruciating daylight. Scraggly patches of still-scorched grass crackle beneath her boots, but there's more green than charred grass now. Even after Alpha Station's violent entry through the atmosphere, the Earth has found a way to grow back.
Just as she's arriving, she sees Pike, her dad, and Bellamy scrambling down from the lookout tower. The three are striding towards the gate and, without hesitation, Lyra follows them.
Costa cranks the front gate open. Sitting just outside are two mountainous Grounders on horseback, both shrouded in armor and charred skull masks chained to their faces. Anonymous emblems. Faceless yet swarthy with cold shadows. And Lyra remembers that she has seen this all before. . .
Bellamy is the one who strides forwards to meet them, and she tries not to groan. Why does it always have to be him?
"Talk."
"We seek the one you call Pike," the first one declares in a coarse, harshly male voice.
"Why?" Bellamy asks. Lyra cannot see his face as his back is turned to her, but she can hear the scorn in his tone.
"An army has fallen. Blood soaking the earth where he took their lives one by one."
Jus drein jus daun.
It's not cold, but she shivers anyways.
Bellamy's tone is flat and cold. "Welcome to the war against Skaikru."
To their credit, neither of the Grounders seem to react to this declaration. "Life was taken. We demand life in return."
"My life?" Pike questions, stepping forwards. "What are your terms, sir?"
"Come with us. And we walk away."
"Walk away," Pike repeats disdainfully. "From what?"
"By order of the Commander, you have been surrounded by an army of the twelve clans," the Grounder declares in a steely tone. "In every direction, warriors wait to kill anyone who attempts to cross the blockade. To greet them as we greeted those we caught outside your walls today."
He finishes with a furious grunt before hurling something to the ground. Lyra realises with a start that it's someone's guard jacket, still sodden with scarlet.
"We left the bodies for the animals," growls the Grounder.
"That's enough," says Bellamy coldly.
Pike starts to turn, and Lyra can see the disgust crawling across his face. "Let's go."
"They won't leave," Bellamy responds hotly, not budging. "I have seen this before."
"Bellamy, fall back. That's an order."
The Grounders regard Bellamy dangerously. "If you do not give up your leader, you will all take a long time to die."
"Bellamy!" Pike says sharply.
Bellamy ignores him.
"Choose the side that's best for your people," says the Grounder lowly.
"I do that every day."
An arduous beat passes. And then Bellamy's fist coils around his handgun like a vice, his knuckles bone-white. He tilts the barrel skywards and then there are two sharp bangs that air through the insipid morning air.
Both Grounder slump in their saddles, dead. Bellamy had fired so fast that the second hadn't even had the time to defend himself. The horses whinny loudly, pawing at the earth like terrified children before taking off towards what must be the Grounder encampment over the ridge. Bellamy pivots to face Arkadia, his countenance veiled in the grim grey shadows of the gate looming over him.
"So far, nothing has changed my mind."
Pike shouts an order for the gate to be shut, Costa obeying at once. Lyra shrinks back into the crowd that has grown, hiding as she watches Bellamy storm silently through it.
Well. . . at least he didn't shoot the horses.
Yes, Lyra, she thinks as soon as she realises how stupid she sounds. At least he isn't adding animal abuse to his long list of mistakes.
Not even twenty minutes later, Kane's called his marxist society into meeting.
They're standing around the dodgy little room with the lights flickering erratically overhead. Harper's leaning against the wall with her arms braided across her chest. Kane's fingers folded around the edge of the table so tightly that it looks like he's trying to break it. Nate's jaw is clenched and he glares at the radio as if somehow that will make Bryan come to his senses.
"Go," Bellamy's voice crackles through the static. "Our lookouts confirm another three encampments just over that ridge."
"Well, they're not hiding from us. That's for sure," comes Pike's crisp baritone. "How many days can we keep our population fed without being able to send out hunting parties?"
Hannah is the one who answers. "Food and water stores were already at less than sixty percent. Now, maybe a week before we go critical. Two if we start rationing immediately."
"Immediately it is," decides Pike stoutly.
"How many if we half ration?" Kane asks Lyra quietly.
"An extra two weeks at best," she tells him. "But that's a bad idea. If we end up in the middle of a war, no one'll be able to hold up a gun."
"What about breaking the blockade?" Hannah asks.
"After Bellamy's theatrics this morning, they'll expect that," Pike responds coolly. "Regardless, we can't engage the Grounders until we've got our own people under control, and that starts with Kane. I need you to suspend access to the prisoners. No contact with anyone in camp. For all we know, they've been providing intel on Grounder villages to Kane."
"Yes, sir," says Bellamy gruffly.
"Lyra, too," Pike orders. "I remember her back in the day. Great kid. Zero ability to focus. Now she's runnin' around thinking she's half Grounder."
"Don't worry," it's Noah who responds, his voice unusually stiff. "I'll keep an eye on her."
Lyra tries not to laugh ━━ he'd given her a high five right after she told him about Kane's resistance and told her to keep up the good work.
"She can't cause that much trouble," says Hannah, sounding irritated. "She's just one girl."
"She's Lyra Jupiter. Trouble is what she's best at," Bellamy retorts. "You should've seen her at the dropship camp when we first landed. She stole my tent the first night and stuck it up a tree."
"Did you actually do that?" Kane asks. Lyra nods. He looks impressed.
Pike must concede, because he moves on:
"And I want you to take over coordination of camp surveillance. We'll need new security protocols at all camp entrances."
Pike must've been addressing Monty because it's him who responds anxiously; "Maybe, uh, changing critical passwords every twelve hours. But I dunno if it'll be enough. Lyra's good."
Harper gives her a grin. "Guess we've got the biggest threat on our side."
Grinning back, Lyra is already subconsciously searching the database of information locked up in her way-too-busy-brain, looking for anything under the title of Monty Green. If it's him that's in charge of critical passwords, the chances of them being personally related to him rather than completely randomised are between seventy-five and eighty percent. Which means that Lyra needs to find out what makes Monty Green tick. What makes a Monty a Monty?
"Like I said, I'll keep an eye on her," says Noah.
"Fine," is Pike's curt response. "Coordinate with your mom, but keep the circle tight. Then there's the matter of camp-wide surveillance."
Maybe something that has to do with an iteration of his last name? That would be funny, but it feels too obvious. Much more of a Jasper move. And Green must have at least two hundred different iterations alone. . .
"You want us to spy on our people?" Monty asks sharply.
. . . an alphanumeric sequence is something right up his alley, though. . .
"We can't do what's needed to defend this camp if every order I give is leaked before it can be executed. It's an old saying, but it's true. The walls have ears."
Upon hearing that, Lyra stops thinking about Monty's passcodes and stiffens. Does Pike know?
"And we can't afford anymore assumptions about who's a friend and who isn't. Not your oldest acquaintance, not your husband, wife, or lover. We're fighting two wars now, and the most dangerous one is here inside this camp. We can't prove it yet. But Kane and his accomplices passed information to Octavia. I know none of you signed up to investigate your neighbours. But Monroe and Lacroix died because the traitors in this camp sold them out to the Grounders. Whoever did that will be hunted down and exposed for what they did to their own. For what they did to us. Now you get whatever resources, whatever personnel you need to make that happen. Dismissed."
Face gaunt, Kane switches off the radio. "If they're going to play that game, we need to play it too."
"Fun," says Lyra.
Harper's brow furrows. "Meaning?"
"We don't meet here again, for starters," says Kane, beginning to pace back and forth tiredly. "We change our patterns. Forget our habits. Take a different route from camp each time we go out. Assume we have eyes on us at all times."
"Or we could just shock-lash Pike's fascist ass and hand him to the Grounders," Harper mutters.
Lyra's eyes light up. "Ooh, or we could give Octavia a really big sword and let her go to town on him!"
Kane frowns. "That would be murder. Not to mention treason. And that's not who we are."
"I was only joking," she says.
"Maybe it's who we need to be," says Nate lowly.
Kane shakes his head vehemently. "Not yet."
"All right." Nate holds his face in his hands for a count of three. Then he sighs. "What's the plan?"
͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙ ✩ *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙ ✩ *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙
IT'S ALMOST THREE hours later when Kane and Lyra are striding through the corridors, past all the Arkadia personnel with their heads ducked low. On their way, they pass by Noah, who gives them a curt nod and then takes off in the opposite direction. He's going to keep any of Pike's strays off their tails.
"You speak to Sinclair?" Kane asks lowly.
"Yeah, Jasper had him playing bartender," mutters Lyra. "Pike's trying to get engineering in on increasing ammo. Most of the crates are at third capacity and he's not happy."
"Of course he wouldn't be," Kane retorts. "The last Chancellor wasn't planning on war footing for life."
Casting an anxious glance behind them, he then pushes through the dangling red plastic strips that lead to the corner with the crawl space. Nate and Harper are already there, and both look up anxiously.
"Hey," Kane greets tersely. "Anyone followed?"
"No," answers Nate. "What about you?"
"No, no, we're good." Kane's voice is very quiet. "Any word from Octavia?"
"Been scanning different channels all morning," Harper informs them as she holds up the radio. "Nothing. I mean, either she's out of range — "
" — or they already got her," finishes Nate.
"Or she ran her battery down," counters Kane swiftly. "Or she needed the radio silence to run the blockade. There are a lot of reasons why she might have gone dark."
Lyra's stomach sinks with worry. "I've been a Grounder for the past three months. Let me go out there and — "
"Guys," interjects Harper suddenly. "Listen to this."
Static sifts through the speakers as Pike's voice wavers, then becomes clear: "Results of this morning's missions inventory was sobering. In no way do we currently have the ammo for an extended series of firefights. Not even close."
"What's plan B?" Bellamy asks.
"Our lookouts say the largest Grounder encampment is in this valley. So we deploy an assault team in Rover One, and we do as much damage as we can with automatic weapons."
"And they'll just fall back and make a run for reinforcements," Hannah points out.
"I'm counting on that," Pike tells her. "The only way there and back is over this ridge. Now we can bottleneck their warriors and pick them off."
Bellamy's voice is stiff. "We got the firepower for that?"
Feeling like someone who watches a movie and yells at the characters, Lyra answers. "No."
"We won't need it," Pike responds. "We have a dozen concussive antipersonnel devices in our armoury. I've already got a weapons man rigging them with a remote trigger. We load the APD's into the roger and mine the field before we attack. After we strike, we lure their reinforcements onto the ridge. And once we have enough Grounders in the killing box — "
"We detonate," Bellamy realises aloud. "It'll buy us some time, but. . . "
"Time's what we need," says Pike loudly. "We move at dawn."
"All right," Kane begins as Harper's face falls and Nate looks about three seconds away from smashing the radio. "We need to disable that rover. If they take it out, it doesn't matter how many Grounders they kill. Ten times that number will descend on Arkadia and no one'll survive."
"You got any idea how we're gonna stop them?" Harper asks.
"I might."
"Hang on," says Lyra and Kane pauses in his pacing to glance at her. "The walls have ears. That's what Pike said this morning. And you said we need to assume we have eyes on us at all times — this could be a trap."
Kane nods. "That's what I'm counting on."
Finally, she starts to grin a mischievous little grin. "As long as we're in agreement."
͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙ ✩ *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙ ✩ *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙
LYRA FINDS SINCLAIR with an iron-wrought welding mask shoved over his face as he stands atop a ladder facing the outside of the facility, sparks flying from his torch. Upon catching sight of Lyra, Sinclair ambles down from the ladder and lifts his welding mask as he sets the torch down upon some crates. Her ponytail rustles as a caressing wind warms the waning afternoon, and her eyes scan the camp warily. If anyone's watching them, they aren't making it obvious.
She cracks a smile at Sinclair. "You know, you used to put me in timeout all the time on the Ark. Called me the biggest troublemaker in outer space."
"And I still stand by that statement," he responds, wiping his hands on his thick cargo pants.
"Yeah, well, look at us now," she says, still grinning. "You and me about to screw with Pike. Who would've thought?"
He makes a face. "What's the probability of this plan going south?"
"Somewhere between 70 and 80 percent," she says. "Having second thoughts?"
"I wouldn't miss it."
"And team engineering takes on Pike's fascist dictatorship," she drawls, her grin broadening. Then, taking a very obviously conspiratorial glance around the camp, she leans towards him and dramatically whispers: "Be ready in an hour."
With that, she starts to bound back towards the hangar.
"You're having way too much fun with this, Lyra!" Sinclair calls after her, and she just laughs.
It feels like she's a super-spy relaying top secret information back and forth across enemy lines or something cool like that. . . wait, maybe she is a super-spy relaying top secret information across enemy lines. That is so cool ━━ Sinclair's probably right. She is having way too much fun with this.
"The name's Jupiter," she says under her breath in the poshest accent she can muster. "Lyra Jupiter."
͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙ ✩ *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙ ✩ *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙
GUNS AND BULLETS galore grace the little work station that Lyra's got going for her in the vast garage. Her little steel table is cramped with weapons and empty magazines waiting to be filled with clips, a few stray bullets scattered around the ground from where they'd rolled off the table. She works swiftly, removing each bullet from its clip with precision before filling it with gunpowder and capping it all over again.
Across the garage, half-hidden by shelves crammed with documents and data, sits Kane, reading a book. Glancing up, he tilts head so fast that Lyra nearly misses it.
About three dozen yards away from her, Sinclair moves into motion. Grabbing his tools from a brilliant red work station, he shuffles past the plethora of guards and personnel sweeping through the garage. Shifting onto the creeper seat with what looks like a wrench in hand, he slides beneath the rover.
Bellamy strides through the garage. His pressing gaze shifts to Lyra and she quickly ducks back down and pretends to be busy. The bullet she's shelling has an awful acidic smell, which means that the gunpowder's degraded. She throws it into her rusted tin can of duds that's about another five feet away, doing a little mini cheer when she scores.
Finally, she feels his heavy gaze leave her.
She brushes back a loose strand of hair that's fallen from her ponytail to cover her ear, grazing her earpiece. "Eagle One has landed."
"Who the hell is Eagle One?" Sinclair's disgruntled whisper crackles through the comm.
"Ignore her. She's trying to give everyone code names," mutters Kane, calmly turning a page in his book. "Bellamy's heading towards you now."
"Sinclair," Bellamy halts right in front of the rover. "What are you up to?"
Sinclair rolls out from underneath the rover, a bit of grease streaking his face. He clambers to his feet. "Uh, Raven told Lyra the solenoid was acting up. But Pike's got her on bullet duty, so I thought I'd swap it out."
Bellamy nods. "You got a work order for that?"
"Sure. . . " says Sinclair slowly, taking one small step backwards, then another. "I think it's on my desk."
Bellamy nods again, then reaches for his walkie.
Sinclair makes a run for it.
Not even looking surprised, Bellamy raises the walkie to his mouth. "Go."
Three guards explode into the entrance that Sinclair is headed for. Skidding to a stop, he veers in the other direction only to find Noah leading another team of men clad in bullet-proof vests out. With nowhere left to run, Sinclair is essentially trapped. A chorus of commands to stop running bleed together and Sinclair complies, throwing his hands up in surrender. Noah is behind him in seconds, kicking Sinclair in the legs and forcing him to the ground while Costa seizes his arms and twists them behind his back. A third pulls out handcuffs.
"There is no work order and there is nothing wrong with the rover." Bellamy's cool voice rings amidst the scuffle. "Though if you had another ten minutes, I'm sure there would be. You're under arrest. Charge is treason."
He jerks his head and Noah gives a concise nod before he and Costa haul Sinclair to his feet. They begin to drag him away, right past Lyra's work station. She looks up from her bullet shells with wide eyes and Noah tosses her a wink.
"That's one down," Bellamy calls into his walkie.
Then he starts towards Lyra.
Internally panicking, she starts sorting through the bullets again. The next two are perfectly fine, but she doesn't really feel like giving Pike what he wants, so she throws those into the dud pile, too.
"Keeping an eye on Sinclair was an easy call. Sabotaging the rover was an obvious move," begins Bellamy, folding his arms across his chest. "I was honestly expecting a little more from you."
Ignoring him, she checks the next bullet. It's also perfectly fine, but she hurls it into the dud tin anyway. It hits the side so aggressively that the tin actually tilts.
"You're really still giving me the silent treatment?"
Lyra cuts him an infuriated sideways glance, then returns to her work.
He looks annoyed. "That's a touch childish, isn't it?"
"What does touching children have to do with any of this?" She asks before she can stop herself.
"Aha! You said something!" Bellamy exclaims, jerking an accusing finger at her. She clamps her mouth shut. "It's too late, you just talked to me."
"Yeah, well you arrested Sinclair," she shoots back. "You arrested Sinclair."
"Now you're repeating yourself."
"You're repeating yourself — you're repeating yourself!" Lyra retorts loudly, shooting up from her work station. He groans loudly and she glares at him. "No, you know what? This is crazy. Pike never wanted peace with the Grounders, he doesn't want to hang out and be friends with them, Pike hates the Grounders!"
"He's the Chancellor," Bellamy snaps.
She scoffs. "Trust me, I've noticed."
"Then do the right thing!"
"What, like you?" She asks. "Last time I checked, you shot a Chancellor."
Bellamy's features contort into an almost frightening glare. At that, the anger in her almost starts to die, replaced with a desperation as her frail mask begins to fissure. If they follow through with Kane's plan. . . she does not know what will happen to him after Pike's fall. Not if things don't change, and fast.
"You're on the wrong side of this war, Bellamy," she says quietly. "But you don't have to be. Join us. Do the right thing."
He drags his eyes up to hers, and she can see his own dark mask beginning to crumble. Hope flickers deep within her.
"Funny," he says lowly. "That's exactly what I came here to tell you."
And he displays no such weakness again. Instead he turns and marches off in the same direction Sinclair had been dragged, once again leaving Lyra alone to deal with the aftermath.
Well, she thinks, glancing at the rover. She knows what happens next. Pike, zero. Kane's Anti-Pike Club, almost one.
͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙ ✩ *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙ ✩ *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙
THE SILENCE is deafening.
Lyra paces back and forth furiously, feverishly, like a starved animal. Her shivering fingers curl and uncurl into fists as her thoughts revolve and blaze. Shadows writhe all around her while Kane slumps against the rover. She fights the urge to claw at her own hair. It feels as if all she can see is a dark bottomless chasm. All because the decision has been made.
Another life to be ended. More blood on her hands.
"Kane." Her voice shivers as she turns to face him. "I don't. . . I don't know if I can do this."
"You've done your part so far," says Kane wearily, his expression unreadable in the darkness as he braces her shoulder with a steady hand. "And do not think even for a second that this decision is yours to bear. It's mine and mine alone. You're just an accomplice."
She manages a wavering smile. "Thanks, Kane."
"Of course," he murmurs, his voice soft in the dusty darkness. "My only regret is what you've — "
Footsteps echo in the gloom. Both glance up and Kane doesn't get the chance to finish as Pike strides into the sliver of lamplight from the ceiling, two guards traipsing behind him. They stop at about the center of the garage as soon as he catches sight of Lyra and Kane, then he gives them an order too low for her to make out. The two guards turn and disappear from sight.
Then it is just them and Pike.
Kane walks forwards, subconsciously shielding Lyra's body with his own. "Thank you for meeting us."
Pike's face is stony. "I hope you're ready to negotiate the terms and conditions of your surrender."
Kane gestures for Lyra to step forwards and she takes a bracing breath. It's her turn to face Pike.
"Mr. Pike," she begins, voice quivering only slightly. "On the Ark, two weeks before you sent us down to Earth, you taught us about the promise of our future. About the responsibilities our descendants would bear when they finally set foot on the ground."
"Using a child to fight your battles?" Pike scoffs at Kane. "That's a new low, even for you, Marcus. Don't think I've forgotten the man you used to be."
"I speak for myself," Lyra says, her chin rising stubbornly. "You told us in Earth Skills that no one would come save us. That we had to fight for ourselves to survive. But you were wrong."
He looks at her almost curiously.
"I've been through hell down here," she tells him, violent memories flashing in her head. "I would have died so many times if it weren't for my people, for my friends. I've never been alone."
"You've been at war since you landed and I'm sorry. You're just a girl," Pike says, his dark eyes observing her disdainfully. "And we didn't start this war. But you can be damn sure I intend to finish it."
"What happened to you, Charles?" Kane questions, looking as if he doesn't quite want to know the answer.
Pike's expression is that of a hungry serpent, his lips curling back into a sneer. "You committed treason. You acted against your own people! Don't stand there and try to take the high road with me! It's demeaning."
"I did nothing wrong."
"Nothing that I can prove yet," retorts Pike. "Sinclair will give you up. It's only a matter of time. It's over, Marcus."
"Is it?" Kane asks quietly.
Pike's brow furrows.
At that same moment, an alarm starts to wail. Muffled shouts echo through the corridors, followed by violent scuffling.
The PA chimes overhead frantically: "All available guards to lock-up!"
"Go!" Pike barks and a number of guards stream from the shadows in all directions, causing a chill to shoot down Lyra's spine; she hadn't even seen them. He lingers behind, regarding them both with something close to anger. "I don't suppose you know anything about this."
Kane exhales tiredly. "As a matter of fact, I do."
Eyes widening, Pike looks like he might take a step back. But before he can even think to move, Kane seizes a baton from his pants and jabs it into Pike's abdomen. Electricity cackles as volts of electricity are sent thundering into Pike's body until his legs give way and he collapses.
Lyra forces herself not to look away as his face contorts in agony. His entire countenance shudders as he struggles to keep slightly upright, his mouth trembling, but no words come out.
"You left me no choice," Kane informs him tonelessly.
Then he slams the baton against his skull and there is an audible cracking noise. Pike crumples, completely unconscious, looking almost dead.
Almost, but not quite.
"Get the rover started," Kane orders Lyra, crouching and turning Pike onto his back. As she doesn't make to move, he snaps, "Now!"
Scrambling into action, Lyra runs for the drivers seat of the rover and practically wrenches the door off in her desperation. She slides into the seat and then stares at everything in brief terror, her eyes sliding from the ignition to the gear shift. She's never even fucking driven a car before.
"It worked!" Harper's voice calls from the speakers, barely audible over the fighting. "The guards have their hands full!"
Thank you, Lincoln, Lyra thinks in brief relief.
The rover shudders as something is shoved haphazardly into the back ━━ she assumes it's Kane restraining Pike. His voice breaks through the static next: "Is the gate open?"
Nate answers. "Waiting on you."
The entire vehicle lurches violently as the back doors slam shut. Kane strides towards the passenger seat with a walkie in hand.
"Cargo locked and loaded?" Nate asks.
"Affirmative," Kane says, sitting in his seat. "On the move."
Lyra grips the steering wheel tighter, then gulps. Which pedal is the gas and which one is the break again?
"We're on the move," Kane repeats, becoming panicked. "We're on the move, right?"
She squeezes her eyes shut and picks a pedal. "Right!"
The rover roars to life as it violently jerks forwards. Kane let's our a yelp of terrified surprise as Lyra herself screams before quickly finding the break again just in time to narrowly avoid crashing into the wall. Her heart seems to be beating straight out of her chest as her clammy palms scrabble for the gear shift, then throw the car into reverse. It shoots backwards almost erratically and they crash into a metal shelf, sending it clattering to the floor. Turning the steering wheel as far as it will go, she slams her foot onto the gas and the rover practically explodes forwards.
"Watch it!" Kane shouts, heaving himself forwards after the crash flung him back. "I think you missed some crates over there!"
"I'm doing my best!" She yells over the engine as the rover bursts from the garage, racing into the sunlight.
"You're not even wearing a seatbelt!"
"We're about to turn Pike over to the Grounders and you're worried about my seatbelt?" Lyra screams, not daring to look away from the windshield as she flattens a patch of crops.
Rumbling between the stables and another jagged corridor from Alpha Station, Lyra tries to urge the rover to go faster only to have to slam on the breaks all at once. She lurches forwards and nearly slams into the windshield, but hardly has a scratch to show for it, and she doesn't care, anyways.
The gate is still closed.
Something went wrong.
She is hardly able to swallow this bitter chunk of information when someone rushes out across the dirt to block them. Nausea rises up within her and threatens to overwhelm her entirely as she realises who it is.
Bellamy.
"Get out of the way!" Lyra cries out, her chest heaving. "Get the hell out of the way, Bellamy!"
"I'm sorry," each word is slow and excruciating, his face incredibly pained. "But this is a line I won't let you cross, Lyra."
Fear crawls across Kane's weary face. "Lyra. . . ?"
Her eyes squeeze shut. "I — "
Every part of her is unravelling as Bellamy stands between the deliverance and deaths of their people. But a cold, rippling resonation slashes through her bones like ice: This is a vile ultimatum. A sick dichotomy.
It's not Kane's decision anymore, it's hers.
Kill Bellamy. Or let them all die.
"I can't," she whispers, falling back. A sob shudders up her throat. "I can't."
Lyra almost begins to believe she's started to hallucinate, for in the rearview mirror she sees motion. A sharp breath is drawn as Pike regards the young girl as if she is a smear of filth.
"Should've killed me yourself," he grouses. "Then again, you've never had the heart for that, Miss. Jupiter."
Her cheeks are raw with humiliation and disgrace. The doors to the rover are flung open as guards surround the vehicle on all sides like a pack of blood-hungry wolves. Her fists are torn from the wheel as Costa arrests her for the second time in her life, yanking her from the vehicle and delivering a blow to her back. She hardly feels the spurt of pain. Her entire body is trembling as he twists her arms behind her back, fettering them with cuffs. Across the hood of the car, she can see the same thing happening to Kane. He does not resist.
As she is manhandled, arrested, hauled out of Bellamy's sight, there are only eleven words blooming like blood upon her lips.
Do you not have the heart for this, Miss. Jupiter?
͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙ ✩ *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙ ✩ *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙
Kane and Lyra in the rover:
pretty much every episode of the 100:
also. . . hope im not too all over the place with the chip versus the pike plots? i know i low-key keep switching between them, but i need lyra to follow both plots, so it's getting kind of confusing. i'll try to fix that in the upcoming chapters.
5.8k words