This fiction is a conglomeration of The 100, Suicide Squad, and X-Men, at least that's what it seems like in my brain filled mind. This story is loosely inspired by the TV series…Chancellor Thelonious Jaha has put together a team of criminal delinquents, each with their own special ability, in order to find out if his people stand a chance on the land on which they once lived, a land that is currently filled with hostility—both from the environment and the people who inhabit it.

I have taken liberties with the manipulation of the background with which we are all familiar, but there are still several strands with which it relates. Also, I have not done as much background as I usually do before I start my stories, so it's a bit more freeform than I ordinarily allow myself.

Title from "Heathens" by Twenty One Pilots; my friend and I agree that though this song was made for Suicide Squad, it could definitely be applied to The 100.

Newly revised version of the first chapter:

Chapter One – Meet the Team

"It has been decided," Thelonious Jaha, Chancellor of the Ark, pronounced with a tone of finality. The Ark, the final hope of surviving post-nuclear decimation. A large spaceship, representing various nations, floating above a radiation-soaked planet. It had been the home of the survivors of Earth for the past century, and it was meant to last yet another. The only problem was that it wasn't going to be able to last another century; it wasn't even going to be able to last another year. But Thelonious Jaha had a plan, a plan to return to Earth.

"We can't do that to them; they're basically children!" Abigail Griffin, chief medical officer, protested for the hundredth time.

"Just because your daughter is among the number, doesn't mean they're children, Abby. It's the most capable group we could put together and the youngest of them just turned twenty-one," Jaha returned.

Marcus Kane, vice-Chancellor, had been sitting back and watching the debate for the last fifteen minutes. It was only now that he spoke up. "It is the best option for our people, Abby. Even if you don't like it, you know at least that is true. We need to find a new place to live. The Ark is dying; our oxygen converters are failing, no one can fix them, and the greenhouses and food production are barely keeping up with demand even with our one child policy; people were never meant to live in this type of environment for such an extended time. I agree with the Chancellor; we need to try to go back to Earth."

"Then why don't we send engineers or an army or something to resettle the land? Why do we have to send our children, and only a handful of them, against an unknown and most likely hostile environment?" Abby was still not convinced by the idea.

"Yes, Abby, much has changed in both the land and our bodies over the past century. We need to know if we're still compatible and this group will be able to tell us that; each of the selected were chosen for a reason. Assuming, the environment is livable, working together this group will make it survivable."

"'Assuming the environment is livable?' You're sending them to their deaths!" Abby was infuriated. How could these men think this was okay? A group of only eight, and at the ages of twenty-one to twenty-five she had to admit they were young adults, but her daughter was in that number, her baby girl was being sent on a suicide mission to Earth.

"If we don't send them, we're already dead," Jaha said, but this time there was a resigned sadness in his voice. "We don't have a choice, Abby. It's either chance it with them, or we all die. You know that better than anyone."

Abby sighed. She knew he spoke the truth, but that didn't mean she had to like it; she was still adamant there was another way.

Clarke Griffin sat in solitary confinement absent-mindedly sketching a drawing with piece of charcoal her favorite guard had smuggled her. After nearly a year, she was used to the silence and being left alone with her own thoughts; the only human interaction available to her was the guards shoving meager meals of too small rations through the food slot of her door, and they were never the chatty sort. Her right hand dropped the charcoal to itch at the metal bracelet that encircled her left wrist. It was a painful reminder of where she was, a painful reminder of the circumstances that brought her here, and just goddamn painful.

On the Ark, in the generations since taking to space, there have been increasing cases of people being born with abilities. The residing hypothesis was that with the increased ability to filter radiation—a result of living and growing up in space—their bodies reacted by branching into new abilities beyond the bounds of previous human reasoning. However, the people of the Ark, and more importantly the Council and those in charge, believed these people to be mutants, the word almost always uttered with hate behind it.

As a result of this hate, people with abilities were more often than not abhorred and feared and thus the cold metal bracelet. A piece of metal that had evenly spaced needles that dug into the wrist and released a pulse that prevented a mutant from using his or her abilities. But to Clarke, and others who had the bracelet forced upon them, it felt like it separated her not only from her abilities, but also from a vital part of herself; it made her feel half-human, oddly the exact thing non-mutant accused mutants of being. Because resources were so scarce, the bracelets were reserved for those labeled criminals, but that never stopped the Council from naming anyone who had an ability a criminal. Don't register your ability because you don't want to face the loathing in everyone's eyes? Criminal. Register your ability, but use it without the expressed permission of the Council? Criminal. Use your ability to commit a crime? Criminal. But that last one wasn't so much of a surprise.

She scratched at her wrist again, but stopped abruptly at the sound of footsteps outside her cell. It wasn't meal time, what was someone doing here? Several someones? Two guards marched into her cell and grabbed her by her arms dragging her out of her cell and refusing to answer her questions of what was happening. The guards manhandled her into an open area, which she guessed was the place that prisoners not in solitary were allowed to roam from time to time. The cold metal pressed against her bare feet, but the texture gave her no traction in which to dig her feet and fight the unending pull of her guards. She knew the oxygen converters were failing, that's what her father had found out. Maybe the Council wanted to extend the lives of the population of the Ark by killing off its prisoners. Maybe the ability that had saved her from being floated into space out an airlock was no longer enough reason to keep her alive. She struggled harder and shouted more questions onto deaf ears.

She looked again to the open area into which she was being led; it was entirely lined with armed guards and soldiers, guns raised and pointed to the center where three fellow prisoners were already milling. She looked around noticing several other prisoners being pushed and prodded toward the center, making note that each of the selected prisoners had the telltale metal bracelet tight on their left wrists. They were all mutants.

In the center, two of the three prisoners, both male, embraced in a squeezing hug and began talking quickly to one another. The taller one had shorter brown hair and was more gangly looking and had somehow acquired a pair of goggles, while the other was of clear Asian descent. The third, also male, was of a dark complexion and sported a beanie; he stood passively a couple feet away from the other two and watched the guards intently.

Clarke tried to ground to a halt and twist around, so she could get a better look at her surroundings and the other prisoners, but the female guard on her right wrenched her arm harshly and dragged her forward with the help of the guard on Clarke's left. She watched as across the open space, a tall, skinny brunette girl struggled much more fiercely than Clarke had tried. Even from this distance, Clarke heard her shouting obscenities in what Clarke guessed was Spanish. Towards her right another brunette girl was walking much more calmly with the guards, giving the illusion that she was the leader rather than the prisoner of the trio. On Clarke's other side, a man with shaggy brown hair and sharp pointed features was telling his guards with a dry, humorless tone, "If you touch me, you die," either challenging the assumption that the bracelet could hold his powers, or hinting that he didn't need access to his abilities to kill them. Either way, the guards didn't look like they wanted to test that threat.

Soon all seven of them were in the middle, five of them were staring suspiciously at each other, while the two who clearly knew each other still lost in conversation. The shaggy haired man looked like he was about to say something, when they all heard cursing and an intense struggle coming from one of the entrances to the yard. Four guards, instead of the two who had brought everyone else, were hauling an eighth prisoner to the center of the yard. This tan, dark, curly haired man had managed to get a solid swing at one of his guards causing the other three to punch and jab him with the butts of their guns. The prisoner looked ready to fight further until the second brunette took a step closer and disbelievingly murmured, "Bellamy?"

The fighting prisoner must have somehow heard or otherwise realized there was a group of prisoners starting at him because he abruptly stopped his swing and turned to the center. "Octavia?" he called. And began running to the center where he enveloped the girl into his arms, holding her close. Great, thought Clarke, I'm brought out of solitary to watch a lovers' reunion. She glanced at the two boys still conversing quickly and quietly together. Twice over.

Apparently she wasn't the only who felt that way because the shaggy haired man with the pointed features, stood with his arms crossed and looked around. "As much as I love the quality time outside my cell, unless someone's going to offer me a little loving of a more intimate variety, I'd rather not waste some valuable time I could be giving it to myself." He looked around the group. "Hey, Chica, how about you?" he asked, leering at the girl who had been spouting Spanish earlier. She raised her middle finger casually and gave him a look that read, "in your dreams." "Blondie?" he asked, turning at Clarke who simply scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"He's my brother, you pervert," the girl who had been hugging Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome snarled at the guy who had been speaking.

"To each her own," the snarky guy retorted. "Unless, of course you're offering to share some of that affection with me. Because I haven't felt a girl—"

Whatever he was going to say was abruptly cut off by the brother's growl. "If you so much as think of my sister in that way, I will tear off your balls and make you eat them," he threatened.

"What the fuck are we even doing here?" the Spanish-speaking brunette spoke up, clearly wanting to give no more attention to the confrontation of the two men.

"I have no idea," Clarke responded with a shake of her head. She had only ever been taken out of solitary confinement on one other occasion. And even then the people with whom she came in contact could have been counted on one hand; right now she was faced with over half a dozen others, not counting the guards who were watching intently from a distance.

Before anyone could voice any theories, none other than Chancellor Thelonious Jaha walked into the open room, surrounded by a personal set of a dozen guards. He had on a smile that Clarke wanted more than anything to wipe off his face. He looked at each of the eight in turn, saving her for last. "Clarke," he greeted as if they were old friends. And had it been two years ago, it would have been true.

But now, Clarke could only see him as the man who was responsible for the death of her father as well as the circumstances of her best friend's death, Wells, who was incidentally Jaha's own son. The actual death of Wells was her fault. If she hadn't convinced him to try to tell the people about The Ark slowly becoming inhabitable, the very thing for which her father had been executed, he would never have been in the position to get shot. And if she had fought the guards just a little bit harder or dodged the blow that knocked her unconscious, she would have been able to get to him and Heal him.

Jaha was also, of course, the reason she was in prison, her power being labeled too valuable to warrant her execution despite her 'treasonous actions.' Thus, she was kept in solitary lest she share the news her father and Wells had died trying to tell the people. She hated herself for how they used her abilities, forcing her to save the man she hated more than anyone else: Jaha himself. They had threatened to kill Sasha, Wells' newlywed wife, unless she saved the elder Jaha. It was in this same moment that she learned then that Sasha was pregnant; and even though she wouldn't have let Sasha die had it just been her, the knowledge that there was still going to be a little piece of Wells in the world made her hate herself a little bit less for saving the Chancellor.

"Wait, you're the princess up in her tower in solitary?" The brother, Bellamy according to his sister's utterance, asked in disbelief after Jaha's friendly greeting of her. "You're the reason my last contract wasn't completed! Why they turned me in and I ended up here instead of paid and quietly buying my way to comfort and happiness?!" He started towards Clarke angrily, but was stopped by the gun of one of Jaha's guards pressing against his chest.

"That makes you the one who shot the Chancellor." the one in the beanie said. "The two of you working as a team?" looking back and forth between the siblings.

"Why the hell did you save him?" the sister, Octavia, asked, fuming.

"Trust me," Clarke told them, keeping her voice even. "If two innocent lives, one of which being the unborn child of my dead best friend, hadn't been the consequence of me refusing, Jaha's corpse would have been out the airlock faster than the blink of an eye." The sister at least had the decency to look a little repentant for her accusation; the brother was another story.

"Anyway," Jaha plowed over the raw tension, apparently unfazed by his two would-be assassins standing four feet from him in the company of six other criminals who would more than likely welcome his death. "I have brought you all here because you are going to be the team that leads us home, our real home: Earth. You have been carefully chosen to scout out the land and find a place for us to re-settle."

"Didn't we leave Earth because it was full of toxic radiation? Because it would kill us to live there?" the Asian guy asked.

Goggles Guy nodded enthusiastically next to him. "Why don't we just stay on The Ark where we've been the past 100 years?"

"Because The Ark is dying," Clarke informed them. Jaha gave her a harsh reprimanding look, but it's not like he could do anything else to her. His guards looked unsurprised, clearly having already heard this news; the other soldiers, along the perimeter of the room were too far away to have heard what she said. Her fellow prisoners, however, looked shocked. "What?" Clarke asked Jaha cuttingly. "You want them to risk their lives and not even know why?"

The Latina looked at her studiously. "That's why you're here. That's why you're in solitary: because you knew."

Clarke gave her a curt nod. "Not just because I knew, but because I wanted to tell people. It got my father killed, it got Wells killed, but I was deemed too 'useful' for execution," she told her, spitting out the word "useful" as if it were something revolting.

The sister assassin put a few puzzle pieces of her own together and turned abruptly to Jaha. "That's why you didn't float me and Bell. You wanted us for your stupid earthbound suicide squad or whatever the hell this shit show is."

"Like I said," Jaha continued, unperturbed by the criminals and conversations around him. "You were each chosen for a reason. I brought you here so you would know your team before you're sent to Earth."

"What are we supposed to do? Join hands and sing Kumbaya with the seven people who are going to be sitting next to us as we go to our deaths?" the shaggy haired guy questioned his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Hi, I'm Jasper Jordan. I get uncontrollable rage and super-strength when I'm angry. I was arrested for the unauthorized production and use of unauthorized drugs," Goggles, apparently named Jasper, said. Clarke couldn't tell if he was mocking or sincere in his introduction of himself.

"Hi, Jasper," his Asian friend replied as if this were criminals/mutants anonymous. "I'm Monty Green."

"Hi Monty," Jasper greeted, replicating his friend's antics.

Monty continued, "I have infinite knowledge of plants and can know their properties simply by touching them. I was imprisoned for the unauthorized production of unauthorized drugs." The two boys looked eagerly at the rest of the delinquents; apparently, they were sincere in this routine.

Everyone shuffled awkwardly and made no move to follow the example of the two boys, choosing instead to just glare at everyone in the vicinity.

"Let's see," Jasper said looking around the group before settling his gaze on Clarke. "You're…"

"Clarke," Monty supplied. "That's what Jaha called her. And we know she's been named a traitor because she wanted to do something that any decent human being would want to do and let people know they're standing on death's door," he elaborated on her crime with a pointed look at the Chancellor.

Jasper continued their description of her while Clarke stood by with her arms crossed, raised eyebrows, and biting the inside of her cheek. "And according to Mr. and Miss Assassin over there, she has Healing abilities." A thought sparked in his head. "And Miss Assassin said that he was her brother which would make them the infamous Blake siblings! But what are their powers…?"

Monty joined him in his musings, "Well, they're assassins, so probably something that would be useful with that line of work. Though she did spend most of her life successfully hiding from the authorities, so maybe something her ability helped with that."

They were cut off by the brother who took a half-step to position himself in front of his sister; a protective move that directly reflected the one Wells had made that had cost him his life when he stepped in front of Clarke to take a bullet. "Why don't you both shut the fuck up and mind your own fucking business!" he barked at them.

The two boys immediately closed their mouths and looked slightly cowed.

"Excellent," Jaha said with a single clap of his hands. "You will be on Earth by this time tomorrow." He walked back through the archway through which he came; a chorus of disbelief and denial following in his wake. But before anyone could struggle or protest too much the guards surrounding them released fire; it seemed the guns had been loaded with tranquilizer darts, not metal bullets.