The Wild Ones

(Raven’s P.O.V.)

The sun is not merciful today. It’s powerful heat raises in hazy waves from the ground, creating whimsical mirages above the cracked, coarse earth. I’ve never been to the F.E.A.R. city barely even seen any pictures. What the hell am I getting myself into? I’m a runner, a refugee, not a soldier. So why am I pretending? What am I doing here, walking with these people from legend? They don’t even seem scared as they trek on, talking in little groups. I recently found out that the blonde girl who attacked me is named Sylvia. She’s laughing in a little clique of friends, like there isn’t a huge possibility that we could all be captured, dead even, in a few short hours.

It’s only been about forty minutes and I’m already trailing towards the back of the group. Not because I’m tired, although my head does hurt from the concussion. No. I’m just trying to sneak back before I make an idiot out of myself, or worse, get someone hurt. No one is paying any attention to me, not even Lauren or Sammi, they’re all chatting in little groups. I’m the only person walking alone. Wait, that’s not strictly true. The Prophet… Andy… He’s walking alone in the front, leading the group I assume. I should tell him before I leave, make some excuse, blame my concussion maybe; Just so no one is worried about me.

Quickly after that idea popped into my head I’m already wondering about my stance in the legion. If I were to just disappear; Would anyone care enough to come looking? I suppose they did come back for me after I was taken. But was that just because they felt that they owed me something for distracting the Shadow Men? I feel almost certain that Sammi and Lauren would at least try to find me.... Wouldn’t they? Ugh. I run my hands through my jet black hair, tugging hard on the roots in an effort to both tear myself away from my own morose thoughts and distract myself momentarily from the headache pounding against my skull. I’m stressing myself out like I always do. Overthinking. Overanalyzing. I should just tell him and be done with it.

I pick up the pace until I am walking next to him.
“Hey.” I say timidly. “My head is really killing me. I don’t think I’m up to this, I think I’ll just head back now.” Inwardly, I cringe. I sound like a child. He smiles slightly at me.

You know, I’m an excellent judge of when someone is lying.”

Of course, I get instantly defensive.

“I’m not lying!” I snap “My head really does hurt.” He looks vaguely amused in a perfectly smug way that makes me want to simultaneously punch him, and kiss him.

“I’m sure it does; But that’s not why you don’t want to be here.” He stops walking for a moment to look me directly in the eye. “Raven, you’ve survived this long. That’s proof enough that you can handle yourself.” The Mystic… Jinxx, calls Andy over. He is inspecting the same map that they used to plan the raid. Soon they become immersed in their plans and strategies, leaving me with my own thoughts.
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By the position of my shadow, I know that it is approximately 1:30 p.m. when we reach the city, or rather, when we reach the massive gray wall that surrounds it. The only things visible over the fifty foot wall, are the sharp black spikes that jut out from the top, and the towering black building that serves as F.E.A.R.’s headquarters. A deep-rooted sense of loathing rises within me as I stare at the skyscraper. This is where he lives, the Matriarch, the face of F.E.A.R. and the man responsible for the loss of everything I had ever loved.
I want to blow it up.

As we draw closer to the wall, my nervousness trumps my anger. The Wild Ones lead us along the wall, rapping the stone bricks with their knuckles every few feet, obviously looking for something. At last, they find what they are searching for, a collection of loose bricks where the mortar has been chipped away. But how do they plan on getting them out of the wall? Each one is large and square, easily weighing two hundred pounds. The Destroyer, or CC as he asked me to call him, has no such doubts. He selects one at random, digging his fingers between the cracks, and lifts it away as if it weighed no more than a feather. Clearly his power is inhuman strength.

CC removes several more bricks from the wall, revealing a narrow strip of yard behind a garden shed. “Alright.” Andy says, moving in front of the hole to address us. “We need to split up in groups of two. CC you’re with me, Anthony, go with Sammi, Scott and Alex are a pair, Beth and Ash….” As people are paired off, they join with their partners and climb through the hole, except for the Wild Ones who probably have more plans to discuss. As the group shrinks my anxiety grows. Sylvia has not yet been assigned a partner and there are only a few people left. What if she gets paired up with me? It would be so easy to kill me as soon as we’re alone, to come back in tears with a lie about an attack. Beth is paired up with Noah. Maybe I could run? Skylar and Carson are a team. I can’t outrun her. Finally, Lucille and Lauren are paired, leaving only Sylvia and I. I am as good as dead.

The same thought has occurred to her, I can see it in her satisfied smirk as she turns to look at me. I stare back, and for several seconds the tension builds. Andy seems to notice because out of my peripheral vision I see he and CC put their heads together, whispering, casting glances at us.

“Change of plans.” Announces Andy, breaking us from our locked gazes. “We want the Wild Ones to be spread out over as many groups as possible. So Sylvia, you’re going with CC, and Raven, you’re with me.

Shit.

That is not better. Now I get to make an idiot of myself in front of Andy before Sylvia kills me. She’s probably even more angry now that I got paired up with him, and she did not. Sylvia throws a flirty little smile at Andy.

“Are you sure you don’t want someone a little more…” She casts a pointed look my way. “Experienced?” It’s all I can do not to gag.

Andy lifts one slender eyebrow. “I do need someone with experience. That’s why I asked Raven.” He replies coolly.

“What?!?” Shrieks Sylvia. “She’s useless! She’s never even been on a raid before!”
“It’s not about how many raids she’s been on.” Says Andy in a voice of controlled calm. “Everyone starts somewhere; Do I need to remind you that before you joined us you lived here? In the lap of luxury?” She looks more apt to argue, but she turns on her heel, eyes blazing, and disappears through the hole in the wall. CC gives me a reassuring pat on the back and follows her in, leaving only us. I’m grateful that Andy stood up for me, but how much time did he really buy? She’s sure to kill me now. After all, jealousy was the only reason she attacked me in the first place. Andy starts toward the hole.

“I’m sorry about Sylvia. She’s not all that bad, she’s just…” He trails off, searching for the right word.

“Was she really born here?” He nods in response, checking around the side of the shed.
“That kind of explains a lot.” I say, and it does. “But I don’t get it. If someone were born here, why would they ever want to leave?”

He pauses for a moment and motions for me to follow him. A spasm of nervous energy propels me into the city.

“I would leave here.” He says solemnly. He doesn’t elaborate. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Andy leads us through a maze of streets and houses, led by an infallible internal compass. Along the way, he explains that we are focusing this raid on food, clothing, and medical supplies, and that each group is going to hit random houses and shops in an assigned block of the city.

The suburbs are completely devoid of any life except for us, giving the erie illusion that we are the only living things left. Still, he keeps to the shadows, creeping along walls with a silent tread that is almost catlike. He is good at being quiet, good at fighting, good at speaking, good at being a leader, everything I need to be and am not. He is strong in the areas where I fall short and better in the areas that I am good. I wonder again how am I here, why am I here? How strong must his empathy be to let me come along, even out of pity? He is kind. Kindness is never something I associated with the Prophet from legend, but I do now. It calms my nerves, somehow. Maybe he can make me strong too.

He stops walking. We’ve reached a stretch of black asphalt road lined by large prominent looking houses painted a multitude of artificial-looking colors. Andy smirks at me.

“Ready to officially start your first raid?” I take a deep breath to bolster my nerves.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

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After half an hour, raiding has only been as difficult as carrying the heavy bags and trying to bury my disgust at the overindulgent lifestyles of the inner city residents, or “the lapdogs” as Andy calls them. While it’s not exactly easy to do, at least we have not run into anything more threatening than a few locked doors, (Which took Andy all of twenty seconds to pick.) We take ignore the useless valuables such as currency and take only non perishables and medical supplies. In one house we find the wardrobe of a teenage girl who seems to be about my size, and I pick out a few outfits and a pair of boots that lace up almost to my knees which have rubber soles with treads, good for running in. The clothes are mostly black, purple, or red. Colors that make me feel one degree closer to the warrior I am trying to become. Colors that make me feel strong, well… Stronger.

We don’t talk much, as if by some unspoken pact to make no noise, but every so often I catch him looking at me from the corner of my eye with an expression of puzzled concentration, like he’s trying to figure me out. I suppose I am trying to figure him out too.

The freshly stolen bags upon our shoulders are filled nearly to bulging when Andy whispers softly that the next house we hit will be the last before we pick up more basic supplies from the med clinic. This one is particularly gaudy. Two stories high and painted in a pink that is so painfully bright that I almost can’t stand to look at it. The emerald lawn is dotted with ugly little lawn gnomes and other mismatched sculptures, most of which would have been things of beauty in any other place but here they simply add to the artificial, overcrowded feel of the house. The bright yellow door clashes spectacularly with the exterior and swings open without protest when Andy’s gloved hands turn the knob.

The interior of the house is thankfully less bright, though is still pretentiously over elaborate with pristine white plaster walls lined with shelves of useless knickknacks and unopened books placed purely for decoration. This time I am unable to hide my distaste, and neither is Andy as we pass through the living room into a kitchen filled with intricately carved cabinetry and shiny white appliances. Pictures are arranged on a birch shelf over the window and a huge flatscreen TV dominates most of one large wall. I run a hand over the screen. How many people were taken away from their families, how many hours of slave labor were forced in order for this one household to watch the Matriarch’s transmissions in comfort? These things should belong to them, not the lapdogs. I had not known what Andy meant when he said he would leave this place. I do now.

I turn away from the screen, unable to stomach it and all it represents. Andy is standing stock-still in front of the shelf of pictures. His spine is as straight and rigid as an iron bar and he is holding one of the gilded frames in his hand, glowering at the picture inside like he could set it on fire if he glared at it intensely enough. I have to step forward to make out the picture. A raven-haired toddler in gray is smiling out at me with bright, beaming blue eyes. He looks so familiar, even though I’m sure I’ve never seen this child. No… It can’t be…

I reel back again, the shock hitting me like the blast wave from an explosion. The picture is of Andy. We’re in his mother’s house!

We have reached one of those moments in life where there is absolutely nothing appropriate to say, so I let the silence stretch between us. When he finally breaks it, his voice is not as angry as I expect, but it’s low and quiet, hinting of something dangerous beneath the surface.

“She has no right.” The glass crunches against the tile floor when he drops it. He is quiet, processing the information. I get the feeling he doesn’t want to talk about his mother here, not with the evil in the walls of her opulent house pressing in on us like a vice.

A fire ignites in my chest, the emotion that is so rarely experienced, that is so often buried beneath waves of anxiety. I am angry too. I am angry that this entire house, this extravagant life, was given to her as a reward for murder. She doesn’t deserve any of it; And I want to be one of the people who helps to take it away from her. I snatch a carvers knife from a block on the counter, so much sharper than the ones we were allowed in the box, and slash viciously at the clean white wall, leaving a long ugly scar in the painted plaster. I know that Andy is staring at me, but I am not about to stop now. my knife strikes several more times, reveling in the imperfection I have created in her perfect, artificial world, completely destroying the pristine section. For good measure, I carve the word “Traitor” In large letters over the scratches, then jam the knife into the wall as hard as I can. I don’t have the force to make it stick and it clatters to the floor almost immediately. I do not like destruction, but there is something so right about this, It feels like raw honesty to tear down the illusion of beauty that surrounded this place. It feels like my own small rebellion, and his. I turn back to Andy, unsure of what to expect. All traces of shock and have faded, replaced by a look of amusement tugging at the corners of his lips. A smile. A dangerous one.

“And you thought you couldn’t handle yourself.” I raise my eyebrows at him.

“Walls don’t fight back.” He laughs, all traces of tension gone.

“Whatever you say Raven.”

Notes

OH MY GOSH GUYS I AM SO SORRY! School is draining the life out of me. This chapter was written during four-minute passing periods over the course of all the time it's been since I last updated. (A ridiculously long time ago.) I meant to have this chapter be longer and more interesting, but I wanted to put something up. I will definitely be updating over winter break and a new chapter for my other (badly named) fic should be coming out in a few days. There is a huge twist in the next chapter, so I'll keep you posted on when you'll see that up. Keep your head up during finals, the BVB army is always there if you need help, we could even be online studybuddies if you want? :) Thank you all for sticking by the story, I hope you like it so far, it means the world to me that people actually want to read and comment on my stories. As always positive and negative feedback are encouraged, your opinions are very important to me. I hope that This story put a smile on your face and made your day a bit better, you deserve it completely. :) For this chapters' question, What are everybody's plans for Christmas/Hanukkah/Two weeks of lethargy? :)

With love;
-BVBfangirlqueen