Sorry its been so long! I haven't updated this story in five months! I lost motivation for it, but recently my best friend arrow900 brought it back! She's been so supportive and encouraging and whelp! Here it is! ahah! Thank you so much to everyone, and I hope you enjoy!

Cayson was in so much pain. Everything in his body was crying out, screaming in agony. His head was pounding, his throat dry, and he felt like he had been thrown into a grinder multiple times.

Cayson had been in and out of consciousness. He would awake occasionally, sometimes he’d see Sean sitting by the side of the cot. He would try to speak, say something to his friend, but everything would go black before he could even take in a breath.

He had no idea how long he had been out. He hadn’t heard anything, noises, his friends; nothing. It felt like years of silence, and darkness, before sound broke through. He could hear someone speaking. At first, the voice sounded so distant, as if someone was talking to him from one hundred miles away.

Slowly, but surely, the voice got closer and closer until it was so close it sounded like the person was shouting his ear. Eager to find out what was going on, he fought to open his eyes. At first, he was unsuccessful. After another minute, he tried again and succeeded.

He could see the back of Emery’s head. She faced away from, standing inches away from his cot.  Mason latched onto her arm and practically drug her across the room.

“He needs to go,” Mason muttered as Emery forced her arm from his grip.

“No, he needs rest. If Ezra has a problem with that, he can deal with me.” Emery crossed her arms over her chest.

“You’ve only ever met Ezra once. Trust me Emery, I’ve met hundreds of people like him. Ezra is looking for any excuse to pin all of this on Cayson and kill him. Upsetting him is the last thing we want to do.” Emery paused, shuffling from one foot to another, clearly showing signs of discomfort.

“Ezra wouldn’t really kill him . . . would he?” Cayson didn’t want to hear Mason’s response to that. He planted his hands on the sides of the cot and attempted to force himself up. His arms shook violently, giving out. His head smashed against the pillow, a wave of pain traveling up his arm and through his whole body.

“Can I have some water?” Cayson’s weak, scratchy voice questioned. He was so happy to be speaking; saying something was better than saying nothing (which he had been).

“Cayson! You’re awake!” Emery smiled, snatching a bowl of water from the counter. She helped Cayson sit up, pouring the water slowly into his mouth before helping him lie back down.

Cayson lifted the corner of his mouth as to say ‘thank you’. He was already out of breath, sitting up wearing him out. Emery returned the water to the table.

“Well don’t you look like shit,” Mason teased.

“Thanks. I was going for the whole shot with an arrow, almost died, look. I hear it’s in.” Cayson couldn’t help but chuckle at his own joke. To him, it felt good to laugh. He had the energy to laugh. He was alive and able to laugh.

“Are you two like this all the time?” Emery wondered. “Making jokes when you shouldn’t be?”

“Pretty much,” Mason said with an innocent shrug.

“And you wonder why Ezra doesn’t like you,” Emery pinched the bridge of her nose in annoyance. Cayson couldn’t help but laugh again.

“Speaking of Ezra, he wants to see you,” Mason chipped in, dropping his smile.

“Is he pissed?” Cayson wondered.

“About as pissed as Sean was when you stole his jacket.” Cayson remembered sneaking into Sean’s room, wanting to try on his beloved leather jacket. When Sean caught him, he wasn’t too happy. Sean gave a lame excuse, saying the jacket held memories. Personally, Mason and Cayson assumed it was the only thing connecting him with his past. The good past; the before all of this hell past.

“Let’s go,” Cayson groaned, starting to sit up.

“Slow your role there,” Emery exclaimed, setting a hand on Cayson’s chest. “You need rest.”

“For the past month I’ve been running on around four hours of sleep a night. I don’t need rest.” Cayson managed to sit up on his own, moaning from the pain in his shoulder. It was wrapped in fabric, a makeshift brace used to support it.

Cayson held his head in his hands for a moment, trying to prevent himself from throwing up. His world was spinning around him. Emery lowered herself into the cot, resting a hand on his shoulder.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he shook it off. Cayson rose to his feet. His legs wobbled and Emery leapt off the cot, helping Cayson catch his balance. He was still weak, that much he knew. However, Cayson was strong enough to pretend he wasn’t. He had been pretending he was alright his entire life.

“Maybe we can tell Ezra you didn’t wake up yet,” Mason suggested. “You can barely stand on your own.”

“I just need a minute. Tell him I’m coming.” Mason saluted him.

“Yes sir,” he exited the tent. Emery reached out for the water bowl, giving Cayson some more to drink. He could feel his energy levels rising. It was as if the water was healing him.

“You just can’t think about yourself for two seconds, can you?” Emery muttered.

“Isn’t that a good quality? Thinking of others?” Cayson questioned as he rounded the cot. He walked very slowly, half the speed of his old pace at least. Emery stayed by his side, matching his strolling pace.

“Not when it’s to the point that I have to think of you for you to keep you from killing yourself.”

“That’s a lot of you’s,” Cayson smirked.

“I hate you,” Emery sneered as they stepped outside. The air was cold and Cayson could see his breath in the sky. The clouds were dark, making Cayson think it was either going to or it just had rained.

All eyes were on Cayson, watching with pity as he trudged toward Ezra’s.

“I’m glad you’re alright,” Emery commented.

“Thank you . . . for everything,” Cayson smiled.

“It seems I’ve taken the role of your caretaker now. Just . . . don’t get yourself shot again, okay? None of us want to go through that ever again.” Cayson hadn’t felt this way before. He was being cared about, someone was concerned for him. He wasn’t sure how to respond.

“How long was I out?” He tried to throw Emery off the topic of saving him. The last thing he remembered talking to her about was the reason they were there. He wondered if she remembered his response; if she questioned what horrible things Cayson had done.

“A week, give or take a day.” They approached Ezra’s building, Cayson stopping outside of the doors. Emery faced him, hand out to catch him if needed.

“You probably shouldn’t come,” Cayson commented, Emery raising her brow.

“Did you not just hear me? I’m your new babysitter. Besides, Ezra doesn’t scare me.”

“Well he scares me, alright? The last time one of my friends stood up to him for me, he threatened to exterminate them. I’m not letting that happen . . . okay? So, I’m begging you, please don’t come up.” Cayson crossed his fingers, hoping Emery would listen to him for once.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” she replied, throwing open the door and walking inside. Cayson rolled his eyes, god I hate her sometimes. He chased after her, the two traveling around and up until they reached Ezra’s floor.

“Ezra, sir,” Sean’s voice echoed as Emery opened the door. Sean was standing in front of Ezra’s table. Ezra’s palms were against the tabletop, using them for support as he leaned against it. His eyes were on whatever blueprint that was spread out in front of him. “This is a huge step for Base Camp.”

“Mr. Winslow,” Ezra boomed, standing up straight the second he spotted Cayson step through the door. Emery shuffled inside, finding her place next to Mason and Zane. Sean peered at Cayson, as if he didn’t recognize him.

Cayson wanted to say something, anything, to greet his friend. But something was different about Sean. He seemed tired, exhausted. He bore an odd expression, one Cayson couldn’t read. Sean stepped backwards, eyes on his shoes, as he seemed to hide behind Zane.

“I see you're alive.”

“Try not to sound too excited,” Cayson scoffed.

“First you bring a Destroyer into my camp, you send panic and fear into everyone, and now you want to be sarcastic?” Ezra crossed his arms over his chest. “What in the hell were you thinking?”

“I’m trying to find answers,” he honestly replied.

“Answers? To what? The crossword puzzle? Do you think this is a game, Cayson? Does any of this seem unreal to you? Please let me know if it does. If you feel this is some kind of video game I’ll send you on your way until you realize it’s not!” What’s with all the game references, Cayson wouldn’t help but wonder.

“I understand it’s not a game. If it was I’d certainly wouldn’t be taking orders from you,” Emery appeared shocked by Cayson’s sudden outburst, her eyes widening.

“Do near death experiences turn everyone into idiotic assholes or just you?” Ezra wondered, cocking his head to the side. 

“Enough with the bickering,” Mason interjected. “You think Cayson’s poisoning the food, now we have proof he’s not.”

“I should have known you’d somehow be responsible for this,” Ezra muttered to himself. “How is taking a Destroyer hostage proof? Hmm?”

“We’ll make him tell us the truth,” Emery chipped in.

“Ahh, Mrs. Mccann. Excuse my rudeness but what the hell are you doing here and who invited you? This matter doesn’t concern you at all,” Ezra responded. Emery’s cheeks became red as she balled her hand into a fist behind her back.

“We have questions and the Destroyer has answers. Now you actually have something against them, against the other Destroyers. This is a step up not a step down,” Zane interjected; receiving a nasty glare from Ezra.

“We are not barbarians and we are certainly not murderers. Do you really think that destroyer is just going to happily hand over every answer your little heart desires? He’s not going to talk to you. You’ve endangered everyone in this camp by bringing him here.”

“We make him talk.” Mason spoke up, the room falling silent.

“Are you suggesting torture?” Ezra sounded truly horrified.

“After all the things they’ve done to you and everyone in here, why would you not want to?” Zane asked.

“Because, we are not monsters. We are not like them! We do not kill, we survive!” Ezra’s forehead crinkled when he shouted, his nostrils flaring. “I am not wasting any of my people’s time by making them do this-”

“We’ll do it,” Cayson said. Ezra looked at him, hatred in his eyes.

“You want to do it?” Ezra bit the inside corner of his lip. “Fine,” he finally responded. “Do whatever you want to the destroyer. I am not using my man power on this, this is in your free time. Let the darkness of beating information out of someone consume you. It’ll all be on you! He’s right down that hall.” Ezra gestured toward the hall Cayson and Mason had been drug down there first day there.

“Thank you.” Mason tried to, but failed, to say genuinely. Sean lead the way; Zane, Mason, Emery and finally Cayson following after.

“You better return with answers, Cayson,” Ezra said, causing Cayson to come to a stop and peer over his shoulder. “Time’s running out for you.”

“Ignore him,” Emery whispered, hooking arms with Cayson and dragging him away. Ezra’s words stuck with him. And, for the first time since he’d been there, Cayson felt like he was running out of time.

They passed the conference room and four other doors (two on each side) before turning toward the last door on the left.

“I can’t do this, Mason,” Cayson shook his head. “I doubt I’m strong enough to even open that door.”

“I’ll handle it,” Mason said.

“You’ll handle it?” Emery asked. “You are really going to go through with this?”

“We have no choice.”

“No choice? You’re about to go in there and beat some innocent man!” Emery shot back.

“Innocent man? This guy shot Cayson in the shoulder, I bet he’s killed some people. It’s either smack this guy around, or let Ezra . . .” Mason couldn’t finish his thought. Cayson glanced at Emery, a heartbroken look in her eyes.

“Fine.” Mason stared at Cayson, it was as if they were asking each other the same thing; can we do this? Mason answered that question by throwing open the door.

Cayson entered after him, seeing this man was terrifying. The man was wide awake, his eyes cold and on Cayson. He laughed the moment he saw him, his laugh sending shivers down Cayson’s spine. The man was tied to the chair, rope around his waist and wrists.

The others filed in, shutting the door behind them. 

“Has the apple dumpling gang come to play?” The man cackled.

“We want to know how you're poisoning our food,” Mason’s voice was serious; no joking in his tone. This was a side Cayson had never seen. Mason circled around the man like a shark circling around his prey.

“Oh no, someone’s poisoning your food?” That man pouted. “That’s so awful to hear.”

“How are you poisoning the food?” Mason asked again, stopping in front of him.

“Poison isn’t really my thing. I prefer arrows to the shoulder, isn’t that right Cayson?” Cayson found himself reaching for Emery’s hand, whom was standing next to him. She gave it a gentle squeeze.

Mason sent his fist into the man’s cheek. The man’s head whipped sideways, the pop echoing through the room. The man chuckled, blood seeping from the cut in his lip.

“You don’t talk to them, you talk to me.” Mason growled.

“Why not?” The man whined. “I love talking to Cayson there.” Mason punched him again, harder, this time in this nose. Blood poured from his nose.

“How are you poisoning the food?”

“My grandmother hits harder than you,” the man spat. Mason hit him again, Cayson finding it hard to watch. Emery’s grip tightened around Cayson’s hand, she was staring at Cayson.

“How are you poisoning the food?” The man laughed so loudly. Cayson returned his attention to the man.

“Poison is the last thing I’d be worrying about.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Cayson questioned.

“Cayson, stop,” Mason instructed. Cayson ignored him.

“Enjoy little Emery while you still can. She’s going to be mine soon enough.” The man grinned. Cayson couldn’t stop himself. Before he even knew what was happening, he was throwing his fist; making contact with the man’s face.

Mason rushed forward, wrapping his arms around Cayson; pinning his arms to his sides.

“Shut the hell up!” Cayson shouted and Mason pulled him from the room.

“Poison is the last thing I’d be worrying about,” the man repeated with a wicked smile.