Breaking Out Of Your Cage

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: Cage Wallace

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

Bellamy was often relieved for any work he could find. Work meant distractions. Distractions meant that he wouldn't have to dwell on what he had done. The genocide he had committed at Mount Weather. It haunted him in his sleep -- when sleep came -- and in the absence of Clarke, was alone to cope with the aftermath. He had set his feelings aside for the betterment of the camp, but that didn't mean the thoughts, the pain, didn't threaten to overwhelm him when left alone. Right now, he was alone, but not without purpose. He was patrolling, and had gotten separated from the rest of his team. They had split up to cover more ground, as Bellamy felt at ease venturing on his own.

Despite the need for others around him to distract his mind, he also needed time to himself . . . the contradiction of it was not one he could explain. Nor one he would ever need to. Right now, he was just going through the wooded area, his gun in hand, and only stopping when he heard sounds in the nearby distance. The rustling of leaves and snapping of twigs. Bellamy immediately raised his weapon, aimed toward the direction of the sound.

His next steps were cautious, careful . . . slowly making his way through concealing branches. The sound was drawing nearer and nearer . . . and eventually, the source came into clear view. Bellamy froze, shock consuming him as his weapon was still raised, still aimed at his target. Too numb with surprise to do anything in this moment. "Son of a bitch," he uttered, aware that with the revelation of the other . . . Bellamy too was exposed to him. Cage Wallace. The son of Dante. And a man that Bellamy had believed to die along with all the others in Mount Weather. Among the people he had killed.

[Deleted]

It was chaos. Their screams filled and rang in the air with the utmost certainty. They were dying. Mount Weather was dying. Even from a mile down into the valley he could still hear their screams. They were trapped in his head. Tested and secure. A science project gone horribly wrong. It wasn't supposed to be this way. It wasn't supposed to be this way! He found their voices screaming and screaming, trapped in his head like some rabid seventh circle of hell torn open, redone anew. Though the forest was quiet, there was a storm of a tumultuous fire raging inside his very soul. He couldn't determine whether it was the need to go back and save what could be saved, or the rage boiling inside for the people from the Sky. He knew it had been a bad idea. His father had grown too complacent. He was drawn to the blonde one. Cage felt his face snarl as he stood on the bluff overlooking the valley. On the other side was the tip of Mt. Weather. It was so peaceful. Like the reaper had quickly crept into each of their bedrooms. That was it. Cage turned around and kicked a tree nearby. The stinging in his ankle hurt worse than the rage that burned fiercely in his heart. He would make those bastards pay. He placed the bottom of his gun to the temple of his forehead. A sidearm kept at his desk, which was now.....

It was now his only defense. He had lost everything. Stop crying, please, stop your whining, I tried, I really tried. they were remorseless in their cries of pain. Their yearning for him to save them. The last he saw was a room full of his people. As they had fallen to the ground he had sealed the quarantine door shut. Inevitably sealing the room. One woman in the center was on her knees, her face in a twisted agony of pain, she barely made out the words, a shortness of breath that rasped in his mind. CAGE PLEASE. His other hand came up to the other half of his face. He pushed the nozzle to the temple and held there for a few moments. All he could do was stand, look straight, see if he was man enough. He wasn't. His arm wavered before it fell to his side and he hung his head. A single tear rolled down his cheek as he flailed his arms out like a masochistic child not getting any candy before dinner. His face shook with rage and turned the color or purple. He raised the pistol to his temple once more. Restraint is useless, your shackles mean nothing, you are a slave to your insolence, boy. It was his father's voice. He looked straight ahead as his eyes glazed over with sadness. Have the courage man, have the courage. Be tested and secure. Live on for the people who...

Died? Okay. He flipped the back of his shirt up, sticking the pistol in the back of his slacks. This stupid, ignorant Sky People. They don't know our ways. They don't any of it. He looked to the side as a branch snapped and he licked his upper lip. If it was a Sky Person... he felt his hand hover over where he kept the pistol. Then a shadow burst from tree to tree. It was smooth, flawless. His face snarled, twitched violently, as his upper lip snarled in derision. He couldn't risk the noise. He let the back of his shirt go. There would be others. He watched the shadow bounce quickly from tree to tree until it was gone. It had to be a Grounder. Not the Sky People who associated themselves with such. But a Grounder. They knew these lands as well as their own hands. They'd probably would have known that the man himself stood vulnerable. Cage became a shadow, bouncing from tree to tree. He melted in with the ground, the trees, the natural darkness that settled over the forest. He wasn't as graceful as a Grounder, who could come bounding down from a tree in a heartbeat. But he knew how they lived. He lived inside their minds. He cut to the right, the shadow cut to the left. He turned a glance over his shoulder. There was nothing. A smile smile played across his face. A dirty, untrustworthy, little grin. A nasty smile.

He turned back around just as... he collided with another fleshy being. They rolled around on the ground. Cage found himself on top, the man beneath him struggle for control. They both grunted. Cage shook with effort, the man doing the same. Arms flailed and slapped, fingers scratched and tugged. The smell was vile. Eventually, though, Cage found the man's throat, wrapping two hands around and squeezing. He squeezed hard. Until the man brought out a small weapon that glimmered in the dying light. Cage ducked back just in time on his arse as he swung. Grounder, it was clear. He stood, throwing the dagger from hand to hand, they started to circle. "Ah, the little Mountain Man prince has come out to play. Scared of the poison inside the stone?" Cage snarled before turning it into a nasty little, vindictive smile. And the smell of the vile fat, disgusting, despicable, unworthy, filthy creatures come crawling when the mountain falls. What's the matter? Can't do it yourselves. With all your might and power, little warrior. the forest man hissed and came flying at Cage. Who tilted his head and retrieved his pistol. He aimed it directly at the man, square to the chest, before moving it further, between the eyes. Ah, ah, ah. Stay right there. the man froze in his place. Cage sniffed at the air, his nostrils flaring, almost impatiently. You be a good little boy run back to your little filthy village. Hide from me.

I am the Grim Reaper incarnate. I will find your little cozy town. I will crucify your people, raze your huts to the ground, erase your clan from history. the forest man made a low grumble. They knew nothing about nothing. They knew about guns, Cage turned waved the pistol to show that he meant business. The only option the man had was to back away. Unless he was smart enough... he lunged. DAMMNIT. Cage ducked as the knife swung over head, he kicked his legs out from underneath him. Then Cage was on top. He brought the end of the pistol down. Again and again and again and again. Cage let his head roll back between his shoulders. For crying out loud. Don't these people learn they are at the bottom of the food chain. They were meaningless. Voices. Cage returned to his feet, stuffing the pistol back in his pants, and made a run for the next set of trees. He ducked, dodged and came onto a clearing as he burst through some bramble. He turned around to face the way he had come. He didn't think those others had followed. He caught something in his periphery. He did a double take, instinctively reaching for his gun. He turned and raised the sidearm as he drew in the newcomer with clear eyes. He pointed his sidearm directly at... he smiled behind the gun which turned into a half-snarl. Bellamy Blake... he left his finger at the side of the trigger mount, funny running into you out here.

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: Cage Wallace

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

Bellamy couldn't believe this. He didn't know what to make of Cage's presence. The younger male blamed him for so much. Had he let his father stay in control, then none of that would have happened. Had they just let their friends go, then so many innocents wouldn't have died. Bellamy was too numb with the surprise of seeing him, yet inside, emotions were coursing through him. He had lost so much of his humanity when he had pulled that lever, and here before him, was the man that was largely to blame. Cage. Lexa. The Grounders. The Mountain Men.

This was their fault. All in Mount Weather were dead. Yet the man that Bellamy blamed was still alive. Unjust. The temptation to pull the trigger so overwhelming, yet the gun aimed at him from Cage's hand stifling the moment. No one exactly had an upper hand right now. They both had weapons aimed at the other; rooted with distrust and undoubtedly, animosity. "That's not the word I would choose to use," Bellamy stayed bluntly when Cage spoke of how it was funny.

And yet, the expression and chosen words from the sole survivor of Mount Weather, was oddly fitting based on the limited knowledge Bellamy had of the other male. "What the hell are you doing here?" How the hell was he alive?! Although, the answer to that question already known in Bellamy's mind, and nearly causing a shiver to run down his spine at the knowledge of what Cage had done to others in order to have the immunity to radiation.

[Deleted]

Cage kept his pistol trained precisely at the Blake kid's forehead. He looked at this new threat with dangerous eyes. Cage's eyes reflected pieces of the sun as he thought of the ways he would kill this creature. He could hear their screams echoing in his mind. The pain and misery that was the current undertone of each and every cry. He had been infuriated when his men had told him how the Clarke girl had found a way out. How the hell was that even possible! Cage kept his itchy trigger fingers hover just out of the trigger mount. It lay feverishly above the trigger, along the side of the hammer. It had angered him beyond reason. He had flipped a table over spilling it's contents all over the floor. Emerson was forced to calm him down. It boiled a rage inside Cage so deep that he felt himself shaking. It took everything in his power to resist the urge to shoot Bellamy. His face had gone from semi-amused to twitching and full of angst. His people had been the cause of why Mt. Weather had fallen. Why his home was gone. All rage for the Clarke girl had disappeared. His rage was now directed at the Blake boy. He stood slightly turned, one fist balled at his side, his gun arm straight and ready. He wouldn't miss this shot. Cage watched the boy intently through eyes of molten fire. All of them needed to be eradicated. All of...



No, it wasn't the right choice of words. Funny was not at all how this situation should be defined. The context that irradiated from both men seemed to be two animals about to be released. Two carnivores ready to pounce. Instead, Cage tilted his head at Bellamy's indication. There it was. What was he even doing out here? He didn't even know how he had survived. The sheer will? The untapped strength? His father was weak. He lead a weak regime. That is what had had gotten him killed. His people were weak for failing to follow the right person. Cage felt his face twitch as the anger began to surge through his entirety. The look of the woman's face as the quarantine doors slowly slid shut filled his vision. Her face was full of pain and wrought with death. Cage wouldn't die. I am not done yet. There is still so much more work left to do. He kept his head tilted quizzically as he searched Bellamy's face. It was clear that the Delinquent wanted Cage dead as much as he wanted him to meet the same fate. The element of surprise was gone now. If Cage wanted to provoke a war with the... no. Not provoke. They had fired the first shot. The first shot that killed his entire population. This already was a war. This little group of Sky-People playing soldier. His face twitched again. His eyes glazed over with temptation. With surety and a...



A will to defy the natural law of things. There was no law in this lawless land of animals and murderers. What he wouldn't give to see the Blake boy hung upside down by his ankles. The first sight of him was oh so delicious. Now he was back in a position of power with a weapon trained on him. Your level of defiance is most reputable, Cage said, a tone of strength going with his words. He spoke darkly and matter-of-factly. Like it wasn't known to Bellamy. I can almost respect you. If it wasn't for the current state of affairs. Cage moved the pistol slightly to the side as if to get a better look. But, y'know. I have done things to your people, you did things to mine. Cage kept his darkened eyes on Bellamy, his pistol trained squarely at his forehead. But not before he lowered it to line up with his chest. The chest was a bigger target. Depends how you look at it. Semantics, Cage said with an airless shrug. Yes, yes. Before you say anything about 'my people this, my people that', please refrain from using words such as innocent or pure. Nobody is innocent. Both sides have shed blood. Do you know why, Bellamy? Survival. I have nothing against you or your people. Cage lowered his head slightly, his features seemed to grow darker. You did things to survive. You... you..



Cage's voice fell away from him. Survival. You have no idea what you have done. We were trying to survive Cage's voice and gun arm turned to the shakes as his voice wavered. We wanted to see the sun again. Feel the rain on our cheeks, the fresh mountain air in our lungs, the course stench of pine needles burning our nostrils. And suddenly the urge to kill Bellamy became complicated. There was no way for either side to co-exist. Especially not after the debacle at the Mountain. There was no way for these two men to get along. Yet, in that moment, Cage understood why. He let his gun arm drop, falling down to his side. This was no war. A war! It was almost laughable. There was not a single soul left in this world that was still on Cage's side. There was a massive chasm between him. He was a broken soul of a man. Trying to fight a war that was a losing war. But you have to try, boy. His father's voice filled his mind. Cage found himself returning his gaze back to Bellamy. There was a lot needed to be resolved. Perhaps not all of it would be resolved. But only one of them walked out of this clearing. Cage trained his side arm back on Bellamy. A 9mm versus an assault rifle. Both weapons adept at close-range. Depended on the shooter and level of skill. Wonderful.



Just how man had it done it before the steel buildings went about. Just how it used to be. How it should be. Cage's eyes grew dark again. Somebody is not walking away from this, you know that right? Either way. I shoot you. Your people come running, you let me live - your people come running. I am going to do what I have to do. Cage pulled his arm back, pulled the hammer back letting it click back into place, readying the bullet. The arm returned, the side arm trained back on Bellamy.

Bellamy Blake