❝ Hell isn't where you go when you die.
It's what you become when everything you love has been taken away. ❞
[ sequel to 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 ]
[ the 100 / season two ]
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Missile;
𝐓he cutlery clinks against the metal tray with every assured stride she takes.
Her head is craned at a remote downward angle, though with her eyes looking straight ahead. Keeping control of her environment at all times. Every hushed breath escapes through her parted lips, and the few, blonde strands of hair framing her face shifts with every exhale.
Bellamy and Raven are communicating through the walkies, their conversation emerging in her own earbud as well. And she listens intently, all the while maintaining an unfaced facade.
"Okay, so tell us where you're at now." Without a doubt Raven's voice.
Bellamy's quick to respond. "At an intersection. Which way?"
"Bellamy, we think you're close." Clarke. "The lab should be up ahead."
"Any chance you could be more specific?"
Clove turns a corner, sharply tilting her cap upon passing a pair of civilians. She presses two fingers against her earpiece as a faint whirring sound arises, a frown etching onto her face.
"Nevermind. I got this."
The noise intensifies, and the blonde figures Bellamy must be closing in on the target.
"Is that a... drill?" she mumbles to herself, her eyes knitting even further. Comprehension dawns upon her, nearly making her halt. Nearly.
Mone marrow extraction.
At least three voices burst through on Bellamy's end as he captures their dialogue from up in the vents. But in the midst of her racing mind and hasty beeline to the room in which the president is being locked away, she's left grasping only bits and pieces.
"...Whitman just radioed in. Apparently, there's a War Council meeting happening tonight in one of their villages. Their leaders are gonna be there..."
The bright white door blends perfectly with the blindingly light exterior. Clove readjusts her earbud, just about catching onto the conversation as the unfamiliar voice speaks up again.
"...which is why we're gonna use a missile. This time, we're not gonna miss."
Without fully realizing it, the girl comes to a full stop. Her green eyes widen in dread. Pins and needles wash over her pale skin like a cold tide.
They're bombing Tondc.
Despite yearning to voice her concern, to dig around and come up with a solution on the spot, there's no time. She's on a mission.
And, a guard is making his way down the hallway toward her, his eyes naturally landing on her in acknowledgment.
Driven by fear of being recognized as a stranger, she quickly unlocks the door using the key Maya had handed her. She presses the tiny button on her earpiece killing off their communication with her, the tray resting in one palm as she scurries into the room.
