Chapter Text
Murphy
The Heavy gate slammed into the crumbling wall as it swung open, disturbing the carpet of sand that had been draped over Murphy’s cell since he’d been dragged out to fight for his life. Murphy’s deteriorated body was thrown into the cell, the blood from the gashes in his back quickly fell and began to pollute the sand, sinking through to the cold concrete floor. Whistling winds creeping in from the grated window are immediately lost by his groans of agony.
“So, I win! And you’re still going to let me die!” He weakly groaned into the ground, no strength remaining to even raise his head. His heavy breath threw the sand into small tornados before his weary eyes. The sand had already begun to stick to his blood and tear soaked face as he tried with desperation to turn his head. He knew someone was there watching him suffer. And if he was going to endure this pain then he was going to make sure his audience was paying attention. A small snicker invaded the cell coming from the door as his head crashed back down into the sand, what little space there was to fall. Rage flashed over his features before sense returned to him.
Murphy knew the guard was just looking for a rise, and if there was anything Murphy knew how to do, it was how to be spiteful. Rather than play into their hands Murphy surprised them by offering his own croaky chuckle. “I guess I’d be laughing in your place.”
“You already did.” Came the eerily calm voice, one Murphy never wanted to hear again. If pain hadn’t prevented him, Murphy would have spun around to face the emotionless face of the man who had relinquished his life to a program determined to enslave humanity in its entirety. “You pointed and laughed at me as I tried to pull you all out of the dark and lead us to a future not plagued by the mortality of these physical confines.” Murphy had managed to turn his eyes, in time to see Jaha refer to his body with arrogant disgust. “Ever the elitist. Right Jaha?”
“It wasn’t enough that you alone decided who lived and died on the Ark. Even carrying out their executions yourself, I saw the grin you had when my father was dragged out to die. That wasn’t enough, you had to be the saviour for everyone to praise on the ground too? Typical of power, you only want more.” Murphy had begun to drag his decaying body to the wall, turning the sand to red mud with his blood. He was desperately trying to at least sit with his back to the wall, and failing. “Must be nice for you, to watch. First you dragged me across the dessert and the ocean before you left me trapped, alone, in a room for three months, starving. That pissed me off, I’ll admit. I helped take down your brainwashed covenant. And now because of that. you get the pleasure of watching me bleed in a small cage like an animal.”
Murphy sat crumpled and broken in the corner of the cell, his bloodied face rested against the wall, no strength left to hold it up. He could feel his eyes growing heavy as he lost more blood every second. “You misunderstand me John.” Was the last thing Murphy heard before he slumped forward, consciousness abandoning him.
--
“Not yet. Our friend John here is nothing, if not stubborn. But he will give us what we seek in time.” Boasted Jaha, to no one. Murphy couldn’t will his eyes open to look at the man, as the claws of sleep quickly began to drag at his mind. Not even leaving his brain enough time to recognise the pain he felt. Or to listen for the sound of stitches being pulled through bloody, wet skin. He quickly submitted to unconsciousness once more.
--
“AHH!” He screamed in pain, his sweaty body lurched forward as his brain quickly raced to try and comprehend the pain he was feeling as well as his surroundings. “John Murphy!” Called out a firm but gentle voice, as a comforting hand grabbed his face and dragged it until she entered his view. Deep brown eyes, connected with his, he began to take in her features, head wrapped in her tattered grey shawl, the dark tattoo dancing down the right side of her face. And most importantly, the smile of humble relief, all quickly faded from view as she pulled his head to her chest and held him tight.
His mind had quickly adjusted itself, always looking for the way to defend from any threats. But there were none. In this well-lit room, it was only he and Emori. He allowed himself to be enveloped in her arms, to let his guard down and enjoy her closeness.
Pain quickly began to make its way back to his mind, he hissed as Echo’s hand brushed against a bandage on his back. “It was a brittle blade, it snapped when you ripped it out. There were still fragments left inside the wound. They got all of them. But the skin will never heal properly.”
“Better than being dead.” Murphy groans in simmering pain.
“For a man so determined to stay alive, John, you really haven’t made the best series of choices.” Came the calm voice again as the door behind Emori had opened in silence. Emori snapped her head around to face the intruder, her expression changed in an instant from care to rage. In the next moment, she was flying at the man who had stolen her mind and controlled her body. But her fist was held from his face at the last moment by a hand with more scar then skin, as the woman Murphy remembers as Katerea entered his vision. He tried to stand but he just slumps to the floor, his body still weak from the blood loss. “Please don’t get up John. We want to help you.” Jaha requested with a cool tone writhe with a sense of control.
“And you say I make bad choices.” Murphy spat through a groan as he used the wall to raise himself. He lay his bare back against it, not letting the bandage touch the wall, only then did he realise that he had no shirt, no protection for his chest. Emori tore herself from Katerea’s grasp and raised her fists up ready and eager for a fight. “Don’t be stupid girl. You’ve got one good arm, and you don’t even know how to use it properly.” Jaha didn’t move, happy to let the situation unfold until he was ready to step in.
“Emori.” Murphy calls. Not taking her eyes off the two, Emori moves over to John and he wraps his arms around her.
“You seem to think I have a vendetta against you John. Why is that? I have never wanted anything but the best for you. Nor have I ever done anything that was not for your benefit, despite how you think you saw it.” Jaha asked with genuine confusion painting his features.
“You actually believe that crap?” Murphy couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the older man’s words. “You actually think that you’re doing what’s best for me.”
“Always. I didn’t send you to the arena to fight. In fact, I asked them to overlook your crime.” Jaha presented with enthused and arrogant benevolence.
“Crime? That kid attacked us.” Argued Emori.
“Hush Emori. You should know the Sankru collect all outsiders.” Jaha didn’t even bother to look at her, not important to him.
Murphy, feeling his strength slowly creep back into his body, or maybe his rage, looked down as he saw colour returning to his pale skin. There was a reason Jaha was talking to him, and going in circles wasn’t going to get them anywhere. He decided to indulge Jaha and address the man directly. “What do you want from me Jaha?”
“I want, what I have always wanted for you. To make you stronger, to help you survive.” Jaha spread his arms as if he was delivering a sermon to the masses.
“With ALIE gone, I’m gonna guess you might have a tough time doing that now, what with us all only having six months at most left to live.” Murphy smiled at the surprise on Jaha’s face. “Yeah. Clarke told us everything.”
“What does he mean six months Jaha.” Katerea turned to her apparent ally. Murphy enjoyed a small pleasure in watching Jaha desperately try to compose himself and come up with the next in the already extensive list of lies. “Tell her Jaha. Tell her about the nuclear reactors that are going to turn the water and rain to poison, and the ground into a barren wasteland.”
In the brink of an eye a knife was drawn and held to Jaha’s throat the tip pressing just under his jaw bone, a small push upwards and Jaha would be dead before he hit the ground. “Yes, Jaha please do tell us about these, nuclear reactors.” She tries the words for size, they sounded like an alien language coming from her mouth. Emori planned a move for the exit while the supposed captors were distracted, Murphy could sense her tense shoulders. He grabbed her shoulder tight, and in a moment where Katerea was not looking at them he whispers. “Don’t.”
“When were you going to share this with us Jaha? Cause if you ask me, that sounds like something the big boss would like to know.”
Jaha sighs, as if he is bored with the situation. “Look what you make me do John.” He said with mock boredom. In the next instant, he had brought his left arm up, shoved the knife away from his throat, while he wrapped his other hand around the Katerea’s throat and clenched tight. He dug his finger nails into her skin, drawing drops of blood that dripped off his hand onto the floor. The knife cluttered loudly to the floor, her eyes darted around frantically looking for it, for something. Her nails scratched at his arms, he didn’t even acknowledge it as if there was no feeling in his arm, or no pain specifically. His blood from the scratches joined hers on the floor as he applied more pressure, his other hand closed tight around her throat, soon he stood over her as she is dropped to her knees from the weight and strength. With her flailing arms, she desperately reached for his face, to scratch at his eyes maybe. But the flailing quickly ceased as they fell limp to her sides. The last few desperate raspy breaths croaked out before there was silence again. Satisfied, Jaha released his grip and straightened himself again automatically as if to look presentable again, leaving her body to sit on her knees, before the weight dragged her head forward. It cracked on the ground with a sickening thud, her eyes closed.
Murphy’s heart raced in his chest as he watched. But not out of surprise, out of fear and anger. This wasn’t the first time he’d seen Jaha do this, only last time all the older man had needed to do was press a button. The man’s eyes showed not even a hint of remorse, or even recognition that he’d taken a life, just cold calculation. Emori’s grip had tightened on him, she, like him, was searching for a way to combat the heartless monster if the need arose, which they both were certain, would.
“What is going on here?” Came a shout of anger as a hooded figure kicked the door open, it slammed into the back of Jaha, dropping him to the ground as the wood cracked off his skull. “Katerea!” screamed the figure as hands wrapped in rags like makeshift gloves reach down, fingers pressed hard against the pulse point in Katerea’s neck. “Guards!” She screamed. Only moments later did a whole squad burst into the room, quickly surrounding them with swords and jagged axes. “Take him!” she demanded, her finger pointing at Jaha’s unconscious form.
“And you. Explain.” She aims an angry looking dagger right at Murphy, piercing blue eyes hot as fresh blood glared at him from under a heavy hood.
--
“Our ambassador returned to us two weeks ago, carrying a sack of these ‘chips’ as you call them, I had the first. A woman in red clothing appeared, she bore no armour or weapons, or colours. Her skin was clean and pale, there were no scars. Her words were empty, there was no feeling in her voice. She spoke of the fires that had burnt the skies a hundred years ago, and how she could save us all, stop it ever happening again.”
Murphy and Emori sat on the bed across from the hooded figure, a woman he guessed by the pitch of the voice. Guards stood behind her, not listening to her words and yet their full focus on her, just as they were trained to be. As she was about to continue the door behind the figure opened with a young boy running in with a determined but friendly face. “Sandeveska, she is alive, but weak.” She nods and waved him away, before he ran out he snuck a quick look at Murphy. “You fight like a coward.” He spat before rushing off.
“Who won?” Murphy shouted out behind the boy, they could hear the patter of footsteps halt for a second before they continue, slower now.
Murphy’s heart had slowed since Jaha had been taken away, he assumed the boy had been talking about Katerea. He was uncertain whether he should be happy the sadistic woman survived Jaha’s assault. “You are a cowardly fighter, but a smart one.” The hooded figure reworded the small boy’s attack. “Better to live a coward then die brave.” Murphy groaned, the stitches in his back had been stretched during the confrontation. Drops of blood had started to trail down his back like wet paint on a canvas. “Many among my warriors would laugh for leading such a way of life.” As Murphy was about to retort she held her hand, silencing him. “You are not wrong, both kinds have a role to play in battle, the brave attack while the cowardly flank and take the easy kill that is distracted by the head-on attack. Both rely on the other for victory.”
Tiredness was slowly filling Murphy, still nowhere close to recovered from his injuries. He wanted to get to the point, though also not eager to aggravate this woman. The boy had said ‘Sandeveska’. “The Demon of the Sand.” Murphy announced her title in his native language.
“If you like.”
“What do you want with us?” Emori asked, feeling Murphy begin to lean into her more and more as his awareness began to fleet.
“I want him to fight for me.”
“In those pits. Nice offer but I’ll pass.”
“No, not in the pits, but by my side as my advisor.” She said, as if the matter had already been decided. Before Murphy could question she cut him off. “We welcomed Jaha, as the emissary of ALIE. Yet here you tell us she is no more. I am inclined to believe you as non who have taken the chip can see her now. You are Skaikru, connected to what happened. Connected to the most technologically advanced clan in the entire coalition.”
“Answer’s still no. We didn’t want to even find Sankru.” Emori explained. “We were heading to the ocean to the east.”
“Why, what’s to the east?”
“Nothing.” Emori lied. “That’s the point. We didn’t want to be with the others. 6 months alone together, with acceptance of the inevitable. Is better than 6 months fighting and suffering in an unwinnable battle.” There was some truth to her words. She and Murphy had planned to leave everyone and spend the last of theirs and this world’s days alone. But not in the dessert. They had agreed the mansion where Murphy had first met ALIE would be as good a place as any. It had survived the first apocalypse, maybe it would withstand a second. And if it didn’t then it was certainly more comfortable than anything either of them had ever been used to.
“You do not believe there is a way of escaping this second firestorm?” The Sandeveska asks, fear and concern creeping into her voice. She cared, she cared for the safety of her people. Murphy hadn’t seen that kind of care for people since Lexa.
“No.” Murphy stated simply but definitively, nearly held up entirely by Emori at that moment.
Observing the fading man, Sandeveska decided that the discussion could be continued later. She turned to leave, but before she does, she gave an order to the guards. “Find me when he wakes.”
“Think on it John. We will speak soon Emori. Rest now.”
--
Murphy’s eyes slowly opened with ease in the pitch-black room. A large sheet was pulled up over his chest. Thankful he was wearing a shirt again, a different one, not covered in his own blood. He hated being without a shirt since Ontari had stripped him.
He didn’t try to sit up, there was a small but harrowing pain that was ringing around his head, tracing up from the torn-up flesh in his back. He brushed the greasy hair out of his face, if nothing else the mansion had somehow managed to maintain running water. Above him he could see through dirty glass, the moon beginning to crawl out from behind a cloud and it brought back memories of his time up there in the sky. How he’d looked out of a window on the ark and the views of the earth and the moon hadn’t amazed him. That had been his normality. He almost wished he could have stayed up there. Alone. With no one to try and hurt him. Just leave him alone to watch the moon slowly spin around until the air ran out and he fell asleep. To die in the face of beauty, now he would have accepted it as a gift, rather than the future that awaited him on the ground.
Jaha should have died like that.
He tore his eyes away and used the moonlight to take in his surroundings. It was a different room then before. Smaller, yet also warmer. On the sandy walls were drawings, and pictures, of life before the sky burnt to ash. There was a picture beneath the window of a family standing in front of a large metal statue, with water spraying out of it at various points, only to fall into a pool. It was impossible for him to imagine such a world, where water was in such abundance that it could be used for decoration. Especially when he had seen the naturally magnificent waterfalls that the jungle had to offer.
Finally, his eyes drifted down to the bed he lay in. And the woman who had her arms wrapped around a pillow resting next to his feet, her head rested lightly on the pillow. Her eyes darted around beneath her eyelids, small groans arose from her sleep, occasionally flinching. A nightmare, probably of the time she’d been under ALIE’s control.
Murphy groaned as he reached down to lightly shake her awake. “Emori. Wake up.” She jolted back, bringing her hands up to protect her face. She huffed for a few moments before she too took in her surroundings while rubbing her arms, trying to stave of the cold. “Come up here.” Murphy whispered, he patted the space next to him. She smiled with relief and quickly climbed under the covers. They soon adjusted themselves with Emori holding Murphy tight under her arm with his head on her chest, slowly listening to her heartbeat as it beat away. She quickly drifted back off. In her sleep, she pulled him close.
He watched for a while until sleep began to reach back for him, he let it, he was safe.
--
“Wake up.” Emori whispered into John’s ear as the door to their apparent quarters opened. He still slept, with heavy breath.
“He awake yet?” Asked the heavy grunt that stood in the doorway. Emori shook her head, while trying to subtly nudge the man awake, she knew he didn’t like to be shaken. But It worked and Murphy began to slowly open his eyes, annoyance clear in them as he looked up, he saw Emori not looking at him but past him.
“Wait here.” Ordered the imposing man before he left. For the few moments he was gone, Murphy and Emori began to discuss their plan. “You’re not a prisoner anymore I don’t think.” Emori started.
“Yeah, they botched the execution.” Murphy hissed with his usual cynical tone as Emori lifted the back of his shirt to inspect the wound. She was not a healer, but had seen her fair share of deadly wounds. If this were to kill him it would have done so by now. The only problem now was infection, those she knew how to handle.
“What is this place anyway? It’s like there’s a whole city underneath the sand.” Murphy asked with abundant curiosity, as his eyes are drawn to the sand being heaved against the glass window by the winds outside, occasionally letting a small ray of sunlight creep into the otherwise poorly lit room. He turned back to Emori, waiting for a response only to find her attention on one of the photos against the wall. A different one then the one with the fountain that had caught Murphy’s attention last night. In the photo, so old that its colour had faded, he could see a woman in an odd-looking uniform, it was clear that her left arm was missing. She was standing straight with her right hand in a salute. He could see the pride she had in herself. He hadn’t noticed before, but Emori had started to trace the outline of her mutated hand.
“You grew up here, didn’t you?” He asked.
“I had to be born somewhere. Being born away from one of the colonies may as well have been a death sentence, especially for someone like me.” Murphy grabbed her mutated hand in his and slowly shifted his aching body so that he sat next to her, both their feet flat against the cool ground. “This room used to be a memorial to the world before the Praimfaya. It was supposed to allow Sankru to connect to the history that had been burned away. Her uniform, I always believed that if she, with no arm at all, could serve proudly for a cause. Then surely, I could also. They laughed me all the way to the colony entrance when I asked to train to be a warrior.”
Murphy could feel the tight grip on his hand, he didn’t need to see her face to know this was hard for her to talk about. He imagined a small child staring up at the framed picture, trading glances with it and her hand, a glimmer of hope shining in her innocent eyes. “My brother was not as badly scarred by his birth. They offered him the chance to be a warrior, only if he abandoned his name. So he could bring no shame to his blood for not being pure. He spat in their faces and chased after me. He was lucky to find me at all in the dessert. And even than I lost him to that bitch in the red dress.”
“I never even got to say goodbye to my family. I wonder if they’re still here?”
“They’re not Emori.” Came the warm, though commanding voice of Sandeveska from the doorway. Standing there still in the swaying black robe with the heavy hood pulled low over her face.
“You remember this abominations name. I’m flattered.” Emori’s shield built on a life of torment raised in an instant. The sadness that had dragged on her features a moment ago had faded in an instant as she spun around to face the intruder to their private moment.
“I was not the one who cast you out. Your parents left within a week of your brother. Took everything they had that could be carried and disappeared over night. I found to guards unconscious at the entrance that night. It appears they were unsuccessful in finding their family. My condolences.”
Emori’s face lightens at the information, but still she kept herself wary. Rather than responding with words she simply nodded.
The Sandeveska took that as a sign she could continue. “As I said, I was not the one who cast you out Emori, and had I been in power at the time you wouldn’t have been at all.” She doesn’t get the chance to continue as Emori laughs. Rage filling her at this leader’s false promises. “Of course, you would have. Don’t lie to me when a child could see right through it.”
The woman simply sighed, she looked behind her to make sure the door was shut. Delicately, she pulled the hood of her robe back over her face, revealing herself, causing Emori to recoil in shock. Her skin was broken and torn in all directions, across her head patches of stringy black hair broken out in clumped patches across her head. Her eyes, Murphy could see them unhindered for the first time. They shone as if there were an artificial light powering them, the blue blazing out and gripping at his soul. Murphy remembered Emori’s brother, the mutation had only affected the skin around his mouth, but the Sandeveska’s condition was far more spread, reaching down her neck with ragged lumps and scars, even across her hands her skin was red and broken. “They chose you?” were Emori’s first words once she recovered from surprise.
“I didn’t give them a choice. I presented them the heads of all the champions they sent to drive me into the sand. They hated it, me. And they hated that I was able to make Sankru better than they ever had.” Emori’s scepticism must have shown because the other woman chuckled a little before continuing. “I would not expect you to believe me Emori. It was only a few years ago that I took command, the word of change likely hasn’t spread yet to those who wander the planes. But rest assured, no one will try to throw you out unless you give me reason to order them to.”
“Why the robe?” It had been bugging Murphy since he’d looked up at her as she’d ordered his match to begin. “The people don’t know a person as their leader anymore, they know this symbol, they believe in the figure that wears it. And it protects my identity, I only had the opportunity to become Sandeveska because the one before me had his throat slit in his own bed.”
“You should stand before your people as yourself, not as a voice woven in a hood.” Emori pushed. “Probably, yes Emori. Few know that their leader is one who they would have thrown to the sands only a few years ago. There will come a time when I can reveal myself to them, but it is not this time. And I will not let all my work crumble under the hatred of my skin.”
“You claim to fight for us, but hide yourself. You could be a champion for your own cause, yet you hide?” Emori having lived her life as a nomad had come to be proud of her difference, and it annoyed her to see someone the same as her so close to power, only to hide behind a veil.
“I understand Emori. I do. Do you not think that could I walk these halls with my head high, I wouldn’t? That is something I must work towards. Change must be offered to the people, if it is forced it will be rejected. It is a broken system but it is the only one I can lead. No child has been exiled in three years, we work just as the rest do. The day where we can walk the halls and be no different than those without scars, is the day I shall walk as one of the people. For now, I must be separate, I must lead these people to embrace that acceptance.”
Emori reached out with her mutilated hand, an offering of understanding. It was eagerly accepted, by the Sandeveska. She pulled the leader close to her, “Let me prove to you that we have reached that point. Let us show these people that the ‘Demon of the Sand’ is to be respected, not feared. Walk without your hood. With so little time left in all our lives, don’t let it be spent hidden.”
Emori turned back to John with a smile, and offered her mutated hand for him to support himself as he stood. “I take it we’re staying then?” he said. “Sure, sounds fun. Let’s see what we can change before we all die from breathing the toxic air.” His voice was plagued with the humour of the gallows.