Death and Co. // THE 100

whatever the hell we want

[CHAPTER FIVE]

[harbinger of chaos]

Atlas Grey liked to consider himself a harbinger of chaos. He was powerful, but only in a manner that was destructive and dark. He trampled everything in his path without taking a moment to lift a finger, but he had yet to discover how to wield, and control this power. He believed deep down that's why his family broke apart - why he never knew the identity of his father, why his mother turned to violence and narcotics. Chaos followed him like a shadow, it had been the only constant in his life, people came and went, but not the mayhem. 

Stood over the orange flames in the dark of the night, Atlas felt powerful - the illumination of the fire painted across his face like a panting, framing him in all the right ways. The manic smile that graced him intimidated and entranced the teens that surrounded him, for he was doing exactly what he knew he was good at; causing a little bit of chaos. 

A younger girl was knelt by the fire, Atlas gripping her arm tightly has he dug a makeshift knife between the metal and her skin. "Damnit, just hold still!" The boy instructed, coming off brash simply because he was frustrated by the wristbands sturdiness. "It hurts!" 

Her groans and cries in pain made him hesitate for a moment, but the satisfying click and pop of the technology produced satisfied sighs from both teens. It was liberating to hear the cheer come from the large group as Murphy grabbed onto the wristband and held it up high for all to see. There wasn't a teenager in the world who would deny a little rebellion, a chance to point their middle fingers directly at the people telling them not to. "How many's that now?" The blonde boy asked his friend, staring at the metal that was now resting in the flames. "14." He said simply, before turning to the crowd. "But there's plenty more where that came from right?" An echo of cheers followed, prompting the younger boy to chuckle and shake his head. Murphy was always one for the theatrics, he loved the attention and the power that came with being the loud one. 

"What the hell are you doing?" As usual, Atlas' fun came simmering down with the approach of Wells. He was beginning to get on his last nerve, and he wasn't exactly in the good books to begin with. The Grey boy rose to his feet from his kneeling position and approached the privileged boy menacingly. If it hadn't been for Bellamy holding an arm out and stopping Atlas in his stride, Wells would be eating dirt this very second. "We're liberating ourselves. What does it look like?" Atlas would admit, if there was one thing he was sure Bellamy Blake could do, it was win over a crowd. Wells Jaha on the other hand could not make himself more dislikable to the delinquents, who had no interest in the greater good or responsibility. 

"It looks like you're trying to get us all killed. The communication system is dead. These wristbands are all we got. Take them off, and the Ark will think we're dying, that it's not safe for them to follow." 

"That's the point chancellor." Atlas stepped forward, looking down at Wells. Despite having a large grin on his face there was nothing kind or happy behind it. It was threatening. "The longer we keep those assholes in the sky the better." Honestly, Atlas hadn't exactly thought about why they were taking the wristbands off in the first place, nor did he consider the consequences. He had always been a 'shot first ask questions later' type of guy. 

"You think this is a game? Those aren't just our friends and our parents up there. They're our farmers, our doctors, our engineers. I don't care what he tells you. We won't survive here on our own, and besides, if it really is safe, how could you not want the rest of our people to come down?" As the boy retorted, he had now stepped around Atlas to face the unruly crowd of criminals, trying his best to convince them of his case. Some of them seemed to mull over his words, knowing it was what was right, but simply not wanting to admit so. "My people already are down. Those people locked my people up. Those people killed my mother for the crime of having a second child. Your father did that."

"My father didn't write the laws." 

Again, Atlas decided to chime in, his voice now louder for everyone to hear. "No but he enforced them. Don't you realise Wells? You're the enemy down here... down here, there are no laws. We can do whatever the hell we want, whenever the hell we want." Despite seeming like harmless fun, Wells knew the true meaning behind Atlas' words - it would be hard to miss giving the glint of red in his eyes. He was implying that nobody could stop him or keep him in check. Down on the ground, Atlas Grey was a an uncontrollable force to be reckoned with - nobody could stop him from hurting Wells, and god knows he wanted to. 

Murphy seemed to like where is friends head was at, he nodded when he spoke, now echoing Atlas' words. "Whatever the hell we want!" It was a chain reaction, and soon almost every delinquent on the ground was chanting those 5 words, all with different sentiments. Bellamy looked around, observing the camp with a smirk, but he faltered when Atlas and Wells came into vision. They stood, silent, staring at one another, any telling sign of emotion now void. No menacing smirk, no angry snarl or fear, just absolutely nothing. 

A crash and a bang erupted from the sky, a sound that was foreign to the kids. Some gasped or yelped at the sudden outburst from the earth, almost as if it were scorning them for their bickering. The tension that had settled around the camp fire was suddenly broken, when cold salty droplets fell suddenly from the dark night, a feeling that nobody knew would be so ethereal. Wells had pushed past Atlas, who hadn't taken a moment to enjoy the new weather. He tensed his jaw, watching the boys figure retreat and come face to face with Bellamy, their conversation now fading into the excitement. The Grey's blonde locks now dripped, soaking wet and stuck to his forehead. Droplets graced his eyelashes and the tip of his nose, melting down his face, and it became harder not to forget about his previous encounter. Atlas along with a lot of other kids hadn't experience water drenching their bodies for months, some even years - not having the privilege and access to water to shower and bathe. 

He ran a hand through his now drenched hair, and then down his face to wipe away the water. In a spur of childlike playfulness, he angled his head to the sky, closing his eyes and sticking out his tongue and feeling all the tension ooze out of his body with every drop that hit it. Barely audible, a small chucked escaped him and he now smiled more brightly and genuinely than before. That's how it always went for Atlas, down one minute and suddenly riding a high the next. Wells Jaha made his blood boil and made him want to do things he could be floated for, but he was still a kid. A kid with mood swings, and unresolved issues, and a lack of anger management. 

He was quickly shocked back to reality when a body came colliding into his own, and John Murphy wrapped an arm around his best friends shoulder - ruffling his hair. "What I wouldn't give to see you put him in the dirt." The older boys comment was barely audible over the heavy rain and the excitement of the camp. The two stared at the back of Wells' head, watching him stomp off in the direction of the drop ship. "Yeah, if you don't beat me to it." A mutual, immature giggle escaped them - finding too much light and joy from a conversation about potentially hurting one of their fellow prisoners. 

When it came down to it, Atlas knew that if anything were to happen to Wells, or to anybody for that matter, he wouldn't be able to control it. He would be blinded by the chaos that attempted to consume him each day, and right now it was winning. There was something, soft and pure underneath it all. However, all of the pain, the anger and the loss that had been handed to him, it could be nearly impossible to uncover it.