A Brewing Tempest

[Deleted]

There was the sound of heavy footfalls on the ground, leaves crunching, twigs snapping, the forest was filled with the sound of purpose. A silent purpose that was held by one soul. Finn kept walking until the sounds of Camp Jaha were drowned out. He had decided to go on to find Clarke. His heart had begun to pound in his chest. He couldn't bear the fact that she was missing. They couldn't risk sending out more than a three-person squad. Even that was risky. Tensions with the Grounders had begun to increase. Any more than a larger squad would certainly ease tensions in the wrong direction. Even Finn knew that. Yet he couldn't let Clarke just disappear. He wouldn't be able to live with himself - knowing that he had a chance to save her from unknown doom. The risk was too great. Therefore, he slipped out while the rest of the camp was unaware. According to certain people, especially those that were on the Ark, that had at one point, given Finn problems for being a Spacewalker. He wasn't a human being anyway. He never grew up with a family worthy of him. His thoughts traveled to Raven. She would have his ass for sure. Especially for going after Clarke. It hadn't been long before Raven went planetside that Finn picked up on the tension. At first he didn't know how to handle the situation. They had both begun to tear him apart. He couldn't decide the right path.

Every time he looked in a mirror now, all he saw was a ghost. He had been thrown between the cracks of reality. It felt as if the more he tried to scramble for coverage, and purchase, for solid ground, the more he sunk beneath the veil. Crucified for being in the wrong place with his heart. For wanting to be more than he already was. Nothing had compared to seeing a ghost. Once you see that ghost of the past, it seemingly grabs hold of your soul. It doesn't let go. It becomes a part of you. A piece of your soul that attaches itself. Finn ducked another branch, clutching his rifle to his chest, he swung the rifle the rifle to the back. He held the side, bracing it as he ducked, dodged, climbed his way through the forest floor. The camp would be on alert after they realized he was gone. He glanced over his shoulder past the short-cropped brown hair, his eyes hazing over slightly. Somewhere back there, Raven was going to worry about him. He couldn't stop his legs from carrying him forward, his heart from wanting more, his soul from hurting more and more. Christ, did his heart feel like a massive tumor right about now. It was all so much. Ever since leaving the Ark. It had seemed he had found another reality on the ground. He had reached a rather large rock cleft. It stuck from the ground like some hand.

Reaching out from the depths of the soil from oxygen. Finn stopped for a moment. He retrieved the flask from around his neck. He uncorked the top, finding a moment to relish in how far he had come. He had to cover ground before nightfall. He took a swig of the cool water, feeling the liquid inside his belly, he looked up at the fading sun. Sweat was beading his forehead. The weight of the assault rifle behind his back. He wasn't afraid to use the weapon. His main purpose was finding Clarke, bringing her back safely to camp. He looked down at the soil. Maybe he could get some evidence of... he tilted his head. He froze mid-closing the flask. His finger lightly gripping the cap, the cap halfway screwed. Tracks. His eyes followed the messy row in the dirt. His face twitched nervously. He wasn't alone. He felt a sudden dread fill his soul. He wasn't alone. There were messy rows all over the soil. As if they, whoever they were, had been running. It didn't make any sense. His eyes slid from side to side as he processed the footprints on the fly. He felt his hand come up, the back rubbing anxiously across his nose, covering his mouth. This wasn't good. No, no, this wasn't good. It was then that he felt his hand go back, pull the rifle out, holding the stock firmly against his shoulder. He took a look around. There was movement...

Somewhere. He felt the flat of his palm rubbing his mouth. He spun slowly, taking in a full 360 of his surroundings. Even though the tracks went off to the north. These people, these Grounders, they wouldn't let their trail be uncovered that easily. He felt that they had eyes on him. He began to shiver with a certain paranoia. Where are you?, they couldn't know they were being followed. They just couldn't. He wasn't after them. He felt himself take a knee as he poised, ready, leveling the rifle as the shrubs shook to his left. He snapped the rifle in the direction of the noise. Come on, he thought hurriedly. He was burning daylight. Clarke could have been dead, don't think like that, you idiot. They are making you nervous. She's fine, she's fine right? He heard their voices, he wanted to listen, he wanted to pay attention, but the noise was greater. A shadow blurred between the trees to his right, he snapped in that direction. He could hear their voices loud and clear. It was a matter of not listening, of tuning into the noise instead. That was what Finn had committed to do. This world, this earth, it played with your mind. He peered directly ahead. There was a slight shrubbery bush of thorns ahead. And... he narrowed his eyes, his head slowly tilting to the side quizzically. At first he couldn't make out what he was seeing. It..

There was a face staring back at him. The eyes of a predator. OH SHII- he stumbled backwards, one hand in the dirt pushing him back, the rifle held at the wrong angle, down. He kept crawling backwards until he felt something... he looked behind him, in an upwards direction. A man. He was looking down, his face covered in warpaint. Oh, not good. There was a lowly grunt before hands grabbed him by the collar and lifted. He felt himself leave his feet. His hands scrambled for his rifle. The breath was horrid as Finn tried to shy away. His face twisted in agony and disgust. He found the stock, pulling it up, he placed the nozzle towards the chest, felt a sudden draw of breath in his chest, squeezed the trigger. It was like freefalling. His legs kicked out as he went back and down, away from the Reaper. He hit the ground hard. As a sharp whine filled his hearing. Like his eardrums had gone out. He scrambled in place in the dirt holding his ears flat. The noise was unbearable. He didn't hear the cry from the shrubbery as the man burst forward in a flat run. Finn's face was all confusion as it twisted in pain. The shot had been too close. He wasn't ready to pull the trigger. He rolled over instinctively to his stomach. Almost as soon as he had he pulled the rifle to the front. The scream was inaudible.

He pulled the trigger dropping the Reaper charging. Then he felt a foot in his midsection. A hard kick that sent a sharp pain through his abdomen. He let out a yell of anguish as he let go of the rifle. It fell somewhere to his left. It was followed by another kick. Then another. They came too fast. All he saw was a hurricane of boots coming down. He pulled his arms up to his face. In an attempt to go fetal. There were grunts, then something harder, more blunt coming down. Suddenly the noise was too great. It was a white noise in his mind. He closed up as much as he could. It had grown into a single vicious roar of confusion. He screamed as loud as he could. As if the scream of one simple boy could push the horrors of the world away. He screamed as loud as he could. But the kicks and the blows kept coming in a torrent of flurry and fluid strikes.

He was a dead man.

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: @finncollins

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

There was a desperation within Bellamy. An urgency. And a distinct lack of understanding from the other Arkers who had landed. Kane had told them that everyone was going to be ok now that they were here . . . but they were wrong. They didn't understand. Just as they had accused them of not trying to make peace. Of how they should have tried harder. Making them feel as if nothing they did was good enough. Bellamy didn't have time for that bullshit. Didn't he know how much he already blamed himself? Didn't he realize the guilt that burdened Bellamy's soul for not being able to protect who was left of the 100 sent down?

They were all still missing. And here he was. Trapped in a cell. Murphy had not returned from medical and that was for the best. Bellamy was only in here because of his assault on the younger male. The past tension not so easily forgotten or forgiven. Old wounds reopened, and amidst Bellamy's already incredibly emotional state . . . he had not been able to withhold himself. Or show any sign of restraint. But right now, he wasn't thinking about Murphy. He wasn't thinking about anything apart from the former delinquents. The grounders most certainly had them and Bellamy felt crippled with fear at what they could potentially be enduring at the hands of their enemies. Which was why remaining idle was no longer an option. He had to take this risk. He moved toward the door of his prison.

"I need to speak to the Chancellor!" He called out. "It's important!" He was banking on the hope that they still thought him useless; incapable. And sure enough, such was proven. For when the guard opened the door, Bellamy immediately pulled him in and with one punch to his face, the man fell to the ground unconscious. Bellamy grabbed his gun and shock lasher, tucking it away as he cast the fallen guard an apologetic look. He'd wake up with a throbbing head, but he would wake up. With his weapon in hand, Bellamy managed to sneak his way out of Camp Jaha, moving through the Ark with as much ease as he had when bypassing all security to assassinate Chancellor Jaha.

His success followed him through the entrance of Camp Jaha, using every shadow and lighting to his advantage. As soon as he was outside, he ran. Running as fast as his legs could carry him. He didn't pack. There was no time to bring provisions. He would get something along the way. Right now, he just needed to find his friends. Bellamy was no expert tracker, but he did take notice of a set of footprints that seemed to be leading from Camp Jaha as well. One of their own perhaps? Either way, curiosity and the need to protect his people took over, and he followed said tracks. It wasn't long until he heard a scream in the distance.

His head jerked up, immediately aiming his weapon in front of him. Something was happening, and it sure as hell wasn't good. His feet picked up the pace as the sound drew nearer and nearer. Grunts, the sound of pain and a beating. It wasn't much longer until Bellamy lay witness to the scene continue to unfold. Reapers. And those brown locks of hair were unmistakable. Undoubtedly Finn was out here for the same reason Bellamy was, though perhaps with a more singular focus. Either way, Bellamy needed to act rather than question. He took advantage of his current position, behind the small group of Reapers that seemed intent to beat Finn to death. Something that Bellamy would not allow. He aimed his weapon and immediately fired, striking each of them in a clean shot to the head. Reapers were strong difficult to overpower.

And fortunately, they would have to. The wounds on Bellamys face from the battle and Tristan's wrath hadn't even begun to heal yet. Making sure the area was clear, Bellamy then approached Finn, as the older male fell to his knees next to him. The two had had their differences, but came united after they were locked out of the dropship, determined to find the others. "Hey," he said in a low voice, his hand tucking behind Finn's head to slightly raise it. "Finn, can you hear me?" He asked, stoic concern in his voice as his eyes searched over his face and body for whatever signs of injury he could see and thus speedily determine if any were life threatening.

[Deleted]

The whine in his ears was almost unbearable. The blows that were coming down were even worse. In the moment he couldn't tell which he hated more. His scream did not seem to penetrate the constant whine, grunts of this dirty men, or the solid blows that rained in all around him. He lay held up in his fetal position long into the beating. He tried to open his eyes but only saw blurred faces. He shut his eyes against the attack. Then something broke within the fabric of time. He reached an arm out. He had solid purchase on something fleshy. A thigh maybe. He drew his hand back in a balled fist. He grit his teeth against the brunt of the attack. It couldn't get much worse. He threw his arm out. The distance was short but the impact was brutal. He immediately felt a sharp pain shoot through his wrist. It was worse. He grimaced as the blows slowed down for a time. Then the grunting stopped momentarily. He had did some damage, even if the damage was small. Shit he thought. Then he was up, shouldering the stumbling Reaper to the ground. The others looked at each other quizzically. Almost guessing where the renewed strength came from. Then from there it was all blows for Finn. Fist after fist after fist. They rained down in a tempest. He did not realize he was sitting on the Reaper he punched in the shin. Punching, punching.

Then there was a shot. It echoed from somewhere along the treeline. Finn was blinded by a hot blinding rage. From the ground he was some deaf kid, but on top the Reaper he was something else entirely. He couldn't tell which came first. The shot, or the punch to the shin. All that he could tell in that moment was the fleshy square where his fists seemed to land. Nor did he begin to imagine how he had overpowered a Reaper. Even he could not comprehend where the will power to fight back came from. All that mattered now was to make the Reaper part of the ground beneath. He would punch him into the ground long before he had a chance to fight back. Until a blow caught him in the side of the head. He yelped out in pain as he went over sideways holding the side of his head. Then the towering figure of the man cast a shadow over him. He looked up into those crazed and hungry eyes. A fear spread across his soul. It gripped every corner, every inch, of Finn Collins as the towering beast of a man rose his arms over his head. There was something sharp in his hands. It glistened in the sunlight just briefly that cast a spark. A simple glint that signified the end. Then the man's eyes went wide. Finn's face went slack with surprise, mirroring the sudden shock in the Reaper's face. What just happened?

Finn looked up in sudden despair. In realizing what had taken ahold of him. The monster he had become. The big man fell first to his knees, lingered for several seconds, his look of hatred was pointed right at Finn. As for Finn, he looked on in sorrow. He wanted to apologize. He wanted to... he wasn't sure. Some thing had erupted within the boy. He didn't know what to say. Where had the shots come from? Who? What? Where? Why? Why Finn? Why save him? Finn wasn't loved by anybody. He was just the outcast looking for the pretty girl that everyone looked up to. He thought he could some good for the camp. Lot of good that did him. The Reaper fell forward face planting into the ground. He lay still. Finn pushed at him with a boot. Just to make sure. When he was sure the big man was gone, he felt even worse. He felt like death. Why the hell was he still alive? One half of his felt wet. He felt dizzy. He let himself fall backwards until the sky filled his vision. The Ark was a better place, it was safer, warmer. It's so cold down here. He couldn't imagine what it was like to be up there now. Earth was a figgin' nightmare. Every corner held some sort of surprise. His face twisted in agony as he touched the side of his head. It was soft, softer than normal. Well...

Shit on me. This whole day was a carnival of monsters, a freakshow full of freaks. Then he felt another hand on the back of his head. It was warm and inviting. It lifted him up towards the sky until his vision was filled with a familiar face. Am I dying?, it sure felt like it. There was nothing in his soul that was comforting. That was until he realized who was looking down. His words went over Finn's head. The noise in his head drowning out the concern in his voice. Finn still had no idea what was going. What had just happened moments before. But it was nice to have a friend nearby. Bellamy Blake, at least he knew that. His voice was more questioning, confused, then he wanted. I'm g-g-good, he managed weakly. Trying to keep the strength that was just put on show moments before in his voice. He swallowed back something that felt like utter sadness. His eyes flickered to the side as if he couldn't look Bellamy in the face. But his brown eyes found Bellamy's own soft brown ones. They were full of concern for a friend. You were- you were the one. he tried to say, why was this so hard to put sentences together. Behind the shots. Do you have any water? he found himself coughing. He licked his lips. They seemed dry. But the fear that had overcome him to fight back was playing tricks. This wasn't like being on the Ark. This wasn't like... home.

On the Ark he could get away with more. Down here. He got his ass kicked every time he tried to go off alone. He returned his eyes to Bellamy's. How did you know I was out here?

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: @finncollins

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

Good, had been Finn's reply, but Bellamy knew that he was far from. "You don't look it," he said, offering a tease toward the younger male, indicating that he didn't look so good with the beating he had clearly just undergone. An attempt to lighten the mood. He tried to look over Finn to see the extent of the damage, but he also knew that he had to get him out of the open. That they wouldn't be able to move like this, and needed more shelter if Bellamy was going to properly tend to his injuries. The older male looked around, trying to gather his bearings so that he could better navigate them.

"Yeah. Guns don't seem like such a bad idea now do they," he said, another offered teasing remark to the former delinquent . . . considering how against guns Finn was. When he asked for water, Bellamy felt immediately guilty for not packing, though he knew that time had been of the essence. "No." He wasn't going to lie to Finn either though. "But I'll find a river and get you some from there." An offered hope, that water would come. And Bellamy was determined for it. Besides, he needed someway to clean the blood off of Finn's face and probably his body too. "Let's just say I learned a thing or two from our tracker." Meaning, Finn.

Bellamy had paid attention those times that they were out hunting, the effectiveness of the duo undeniable despite the tensions that existed between them. But that was all in the past right now. Finally deciding to move them before more grounders or reapers came, Bellamy moved one of Finn's arms around his neck, effortlessly scooping up the younger male in his arms. He had once carried him before, when Finn had been stabbed by Lincoln. Carrying him now was not unfamiliar. "Any idea if there's a cave or bunker nearby?" Bellamy asked. They had mapped the surrounding area of the dropship, but not this area that was far enough from the Ark.

[Deleted]

Finn lay on the ground looking up at the older male. He had never felt so glad to see him before. There was that time where they had been bound behind that horse. The one with the Grounder bringing them to their execution. They had both been beaten up and weary. They were being paraded around like trophies. But like it was then, and how it was now, Finn could not choose a better person. It was like all at once the noise that had been in his had had been drained. He could now hear the gunfire from the treeline, the screams from the Grounders as they tried to locate the source. Then the familiar blue-eyed face was looking down. When he had said he didn't have water Finn furrowed his eyebrows in concern. He found himself coughing. His throat felt dry. He would need to get water soon. Before he could say otherwise, which would have potentially worried Bellamy further, Bellamy let out a jest. Finn tried to smile, but the beating had bruised his ribs. He felt a sharp pain rush through. He grimaced painfully. I still hate guns, he found himself looking up at Bellamy. As if the very words were poison. He hoped that he would never have to use one. The very thought scared him to death. More than getting a rough beating by a couple Grounders. He gave a nod at the plan of getting water. It would be good. Very good.



Finn swallowed back another cough forming in his lungs. It wasn't enough to completely mask it as he let out a little one. He hoped he didn't have internal bleeding. If that were the case then they would need to go back to camp. And he would have to tell the others what he was doing out here. Bellamy would cover for him though. Finn gave the older male a small smile. Glad to hear, Finn was never one for tagging along in a group. He always preferred to be the lone wolf. In doing so he had wanted to study the surrounding woods. He wanted to map out where the best watering spots were, the best places to get fresh fruit, and fresh meat. Often the scouting parties would see the two of them together. Finn for the ability to track, Bellamy for the protection. Not to say that Finn couldn't handle his own. Bellamy was the warrior. Finn.. he gave Bellamy that look that Finn always did. With the creased eyebrows. The look that something was disconcerting. Bellamy.., Finn began to say as the older male wrapped an arm around him to hoist him to his feet, Finn grimaced. He managed to get his feet on solid ground. He wrapped an arm around his torso. The other arm being supported around Bellamy's neck. Thank you. I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't shown up when you did. That close.



Finn had come that close to being dead... again. Bellamy always had perfect timing. He cared for the group. Which was why he would have made a good leader. Yeah, yeah.. there's a bunker just up ahead. About half a mile to the north east. Think there's a river that runs nearby. River's not to far off, might have to make a detour, Finn was having trouble breathing. Might be the exhaustion. He couldn't remember the last time he had slept. He only slept good in the bunker. There was a bed even. No doubt more will show up to investigate the shooting. We will be safer underground. Until it blows over. They had to move. Now.

Tag: Bellamy Blake