#onehundredstarter

"So, who doesn't have their wristband?" she began. "Do you want to tell me where the rest of these are?" She held up the broken metal, stopping a few paces away.

"You ready?"

Alfie fixed his eyes into that of the younger boy opposite. They shone with a watery doubt - the only reason Alfie wanted to check again the tenacity of the boy’s decision.

The two of them were crouched in the dirt, and between them lay an upturned crate, the boy’s arm outstretched on its grimy surface. Alfie held a knife, and the boy ran his skittish gaze along its dull edge.

"Y-Yeah, I think so. Will it hurt?"

"Like a bitch," Alfie said with a challenging smirk. The boy paled like a spectre, but nodded his assent.

Alfie slid the point of the knife underneath the curved metal of the wristband. The flesh peeled away from it reluctantly, and the boy turned his head so as not to see. Alfie brought the knife upwards swiftly. It hit the inner workings of the bracelet at a sharp angle, accompanied by a shout of agony from the boy himself. He recoiled to hold his burning wrist, leaving the gaping jaws of the wristband behind on the crate.

Having watched Marlow do the same to his own metal tracker, Alfie had realised how simple the process of removing the wristbands was. The pain was a different matter of course, but in the end, it was such a simple hurdle to overcome when compared to the intensely liberating feeling that followed.

He recovered from the shock quickly, and Alfie sat back to watch the elated boy regroup with his friends, who cheered and raised his naked wrist up to the sun in celebration. Alfie had just removed every one of that group’s wristbands, and no doubt more of the young criminals were waiting to have the same done to theirs. He just had to find those that were willing.

A shadow fell over him as he started to gather his tools. He sighed in annoyance without so much as looking back. "If you want yours off too then best be quick about it," he said, retrieving the knife and gesturing for this new person to sit down at the other side of the crate.

This was why they shouldn't have scrap metal lying about. Andromeda examined her wound as best she could- it wasn't wide, but it was deep, and would definitely need some stitches. And though she could do it herself, Andy also knew this could be a good learning experience for the kids around her (who had probably heard she hiss "fuck" anyway) and could at least give them something to do.

"So, uh, since we're all a bit stir crazy, who wants to learn how to stitch a wound?"

"This is going to treat your burn. If it hurts, just suck it up, yea?." He said with a smirk, turning to look at the figure standing. With a pile of paste on his pointer and middle finger, Parker quirked a brow. "Ready?"

The sky was bright with far away stars. Madd prepared herself for a wave of nostalgia, but nothing appeared to come over her. Maybe she just wasn't homesick type. Shrugging, she looked back towards the bark in her hands, marveling at how thin it was. Hopefully, she'd be able to roll a joint with a scrap of it, but the logistics of it all were sketchy at best. Figures. Jordan, her old employer, had snuck her a backpack full of drugs before Earth, but he'd conveniently forgotten to give her papers, a bowl, or even a goddamn lighter. That was Jordan for you. Biting her lip, Madd tightened in concentration, rolling the bark into one neat joint. Now all she had to do was make a fire.

A light, popping sound pulled her out of her thoughts, and she turned to see a small bonfire blazing in the middle of camp. "Thanks, weed Jesus," she mumbled, trudging her way towards it. Now she didn't have to struggle through making one of her own. Though small, the fire had managed to attract around twenty or so delinquents, so Madd grinned and took a seat next to one of them. "Nice fire," she remarked, tucking her joint into her sleeve. "Are you guys cooking of was it made just for the hell of it?"

How was she supposed to keep wounds clean in an environment like this? With the limited amount of antibiotics she had stashed away upstairs, it was likely these kids would die from completely treatable illness, should a wound get infected. Her heavy sigh racked her chest, and Andy stood up, determined to do something productive. Worrying for the future would get them nowhere.As bad as it sounded, the medication issue would be a bridge they crossed when they came to it. Maybe one of the environmental kids would be able to find herbal remedies... If they hadn't been mutated beyond repair by now, that is.

As she climbed out of the dropship, refreshingly cool air blasted her skin. Okay, so maybe it wasn't humidity before... it was just sweat. Gross. 

"Listen up!" she yelled, though only a few of the delinquents looked up from setting up tent-structures, talking in general, or behaving in what she could only describe as lewd behavior with one another's mouths. 

"HEY!" 

That finally got their attention. She held up the map in her hand, accompanying compasses dangling against her arm.

"You four," she delegated, choosing the two blondes closest to her, Diana and Marlow, and the two young men behind them, "take this map, and a compass- take some of the rations we still have left from the drop ship, and go try to get to Mt. Weather. It's about 20 miles from here, so you'll be overnight."

With another glance, she pointed out two of the other boys further back in the crowd, Alfie and Danny, she though, along with the two kids next to them. "You two, do the same- take the compass, and head 20 miles east. You," she added, pointing to the Councilor's son, and the fiery girl near him- Jacob and... what was it, Mel? Imelda? "Go find food. Berries, nuts, animals, if there are any down here.... whatever you can. Use a tarp and make a backpack if you need to."

This felt good; this felt productive, like they would actually get something accomplished for once. Maybe even find a clear route to Mt. Weather, where they wouldn't have to worry about food...

"And you two," she added finally, pointing at the quiet girl, Promise, and the strongheaded blonde, Leona. "We have a total of 5 pens, and there's some instruction manuals you can use for paper. Map the area around camp, rivers, large landmarks, anything. This map we have is 100 years old. Everyone else, make or find buckets or things for water; we need kindling for a fire, we don't know how cold it's going to get at night, and we can't all sleep in the dropship. "

Her body still being sore and bruised - with just a tank top on, her upper arm bruises could be seen along with her wrists. Her black eye was fading, along with the bruises on her cheek and jawline. Her neck also had bruises on it from being strangled in her fight (something she left her hair down to try and cover). But her hair was up now as she pulled herself up for her third set, ignoring the pain in her arms and recovering torso and burning in her arms. Pushing herself was all Promise knew, and pain was irrelevent when it came to surviving. Into the silence, then came a crack of the forest floor being disturbed and she dropped down, reaching for the makeshift knife and holding it out in defense as she grabbed a stick of her own - and purposely snapped it in half. Either it was something that wanted to kill or hurt her, or someone from the drop ship. If it was hunting her, it already knew where she was, and if not, she didn't want to sneak up on anyone; or have anyone sneak up on her, meaning to or not.