We Beller Get Out Of Here

[Bellamy Blake]

Tag: iah2

whatever

THE HELL WE WANT

A simple patrol had turned into something far more. He had been separated from the others which . . . he supposed was a good thing, considering he'd been ambushed by grounders shortly after. Darkness had consumed him, unaware of what was happening, where he was being taken . . . or if he would even open his eyes again. The latter was answered soon enough, as the initial thing Bellamy felt was heat. A scorching type of heat that he had never experienced before. The closest thing to it was perhaps the heat from the explosion in Mount Weather when he'd made it out of the vents just in time. But this . . . felt different. Bellamy felt groggy, his head heavy as he slowly started to open his eyes. The brightness of the sun was overwhelming as he immediately closed them again, before a second attempt.

This time, even more slowly, blinking into consciousness. The ground felt unusually soft, a texture that was odd and unfamiliar. When he felt he was finally able to move, he turned his head, not even properly assessing his surroundings or current positions . . . before noticing the male that was with him. Bellamy's body jolted up, the heaviness of his head feeling more intense as everything spun. But the shock of who was next to him, trumped everything else. Suppressing a groan from the abrupt movement, Bellamy's eyes locked onto the older male . . . the last person he ever expected to see. He'd believed to have killed the entire population of Mount Weather but . . . apparently not. Because right next to him, was Carl Emerson. "What the hell are you doing here?" He demanded, his voice slightly hoarse and deeper than usual from having just woken up, and the odd dryness in his throat.

[Deleted]

Emerson had been looking for the Outsiders but they found him first. Ambushed and attacked before he could even think about taking out his gun, Emerson had been given no chance to fight back and no chance to avoid being taken. He guessed in a way he should have been happy that the Outsiders took him alive, rather than just killing him. That meant he had a chance to escape and a chance to continue on his plans. Those plans were to find those living in the north and to attempt to make a deal with them, use them for his revenge plan. If any clan of Outsiders would help in that, it would be the Ice Nation. All Emerson had had to do was find them. It had been a new plan, honestly, and one created after who knew how long spent in the wilderness but it was the best one he was going to come up with since he had no one else on his side. But, for now, his plans had to be smaller and more urgent. He had woken up with a sore head, a bump on the side of it and with the instant knowledge that he wasn't in the woods anymore. There was both an unfamiliar texture beneath him and an unfamiliar feeling in the air that gave that away, even before he managed to groggily open his eyes. When he did open his eyes, that only confirmed his suspicions and give him enough information to know he was in some sort of desert. Sand. That wasn't something that Emerson had come across much yet. On the banks of the rivers and streams he had mostly found dirt and any sand had been in small amounts, never enough to make any sort of impact but now, Emerson was surrounded by it. He had a lot of knowledge of geography but no experience in this. As worried as Emerson felt, he was also curious, wondering where exactly there was a desert. There had been well and truly enough time for Emerson to examine where he was and start thinking of ways to escape by the time someone else was brought in to be locked up with him. For a second, Emerson thought about knocking out the outsider who was bringing in this new person but he decided against it and just hid the stick he was currently trying to sharpen. He would only get one chance and maybe this new prisoner could help him. Two people would be more successful than one. That was if the prisoner had been anyone but who he was. When Emerson recognised who had been put in with him, he knew he should have taken his chances knocking out the grounder. As time passed, Emerson knowing it was growing closer until the spy woke, he began to wonder if he should attack first. His stick had been made as sharp as he could manage and he couldn't imagine the spy not attacking him once he awoke. He twisted the stick in his hand, ready to attack... and the spy awoke at that moment. It was easy to see when he noticed Emerson, the way his body shot up. Emerson was usually good at not speaking unless he had to, especially in the presence of someone who was an enemy but honestly, he didn't think he had anything to lose and if he got the spy talking, maybe it wouldn't be necessary to attack him. Maybe he could use him to get out of the prison. "You think I planned to get locked up?" Emerson's own voice was weaker than he expected and he realised he hadn't noticed just how dry his throat had become. CARL EMERSON ------------ Bellamy Blake