His green eyes flashed with anger as he paced in an aggressive lumber back and forth. Every foot step beat heavily on the dirty ground and steel bars beneath his feet. He kicked the side of his small prison letting out an animalistic snarl as he did. Although it had been a few hours since they had tossed him into the cage in the middle of the clearing uncertainty had kept his rage boiling and his energy unwavering. The lush forest that surrounded him and the sun that was shining cheerfully down held no appeal to him as he turned again. He glared out into the forest hoping to see one of them so he could challenge them just as he had when they'd hurled him in. They had pulled the bag from his head, the light stunning him, and shoved him so his head hit the bars on the far side. They'd locked the cage shooting him cold unfeeling looks as they walked wordlessly away despite his swears and curses. He ran his fingers through his messy blond hair in frustration flinching at the bump that had swelled only making him more wrathful. He didn't have to wonder why they'd left him here alone and unguarded. He'd had a theory about the others for some time milling around in his head but it was only now it really affected him. They did experiments on people and drove people mad. He didn't know exactly what their game was but he knew they'd been trying for a while. Horses, polar bears, boars with grudges, death, fear, monsters that clunked and screeched in the night. Maybe it was all one big game to them as nothing made sense on the island. It was torture, he thought, as his glower once again traced the many bars of the cage.

He was a physical man, he could take physical insult and pain easily in his stride. This talent had served him well since he'd been on the island. However no matter how strong or fierce or determined his body was his mind could eat him alive. This cage was a psychological torment. Despite him knowing what they were doing and how they were doing it, they were succeeding. He couldn't stop thinking about the last thing he'd seen before he'd been taken away. The more he thought about it the greater his fury became and he tore once again at the lock. It was old, rusty and looked as though he might smash it as easily as he might smash glass. But it was just another part of their sick, twisted game and would not break. He kicked it, yanked it and pulled hard on it before eventually falling exhausted to his knees, forehead resting on the bars of the door. They were probably watching right now. His thoughts wondered back to the last thing he'd seen before they'd taken him away; Jack and Freckles. They had taken his companions away.

Maybe Jack was an arrogant, annoying son of a bitch sometimes but he felt a strange bond with him that he could only class as something like friendship. He had never had many friends so he wasn't sure but he'd also seldom felt the need to relieve someone's heartache yet he had told Jack about his father. And Jack in turn had listened to Sawyers regrets about Anna Lucia. They could be comrades…if they weren't rivals. There was a sharp pain in his heart as the brunette he'd come to think about so often appeared in his head again.

"Freckles" he thought trying to block out the thoughts that were one of the main causes for his restlessness. He cared about her like he'd cared about Cassidy, maybe more. He felt more willing to fight for Kate because she was just like him. She could be rough and tumble, cold and unforgiving, because she was a survivor. But what really got him were the rare times when she was sweet and cute. She also had a great weakness inside, the pain one sustains from taking another's life. He felt like they had a connection, she was good on a more fundamental level than him but they were similar all the same. He wondered where she was, if she was alright and what they were doing to her. The anxiety and anger began to well up and he let out a long groan fist still clenched around the lock.

"I swear to god, let me out of this fucking cage!" he roared his rough voice echoing around him. No one answered. He slammed the bars with his hands rising to his feet ready for another round of pacing when there was a sound. He fixed his darkened eyes on the spot where the others had disappeared into the forest. The sounds of the twigs breaking was relaxed and rhythmic, whoever it was wasn't being forced to come here. Through the clearing there came a man. The man was about as tall as him, with a medium build in his mid fifties. He wore an old style of blue jeans, black boots and a hunter's jacket. There was a hand gun at the man's hip; it gleamed catching his eye as he watched the man curiously. The man had a smug sneer on his face and brown hair peppered with silver locks here and there. He brought with him a chair and he unfolded it about ten meters from the cage then sat down. After a few more moments of silent scrutiny he spoke up.

"Who the hell are you?" he asked the man in an indignant tone and the man smiled wider before leaning back.

"I think the real question is who are you, boy?" the man asked, his accent was faintly southern and smooth with confidence "As I understand it your name is James Ford" When he didn't reply the man nodded and continued "Why is it then that she calls you Sawyer?" He leaned foreword a little his hands closing around the cold bars tightly.

"Leave her alone" he growled in a low tone and the mans expression grew serious.

"Don't worry about Kate, you'll see her soon enough. Now…how did you come about that name James?" the man replied.

"That's none of your god damned business!" He spat his knuckles white on the bars.

"Really?" the man asked his voice rising as if in surprise.

"Yeah! What do you want from all of us!" he said vehemently.

"That's not important right now…What is important is your name. I mean why chose he name of the bastard who killed your parents?" The blood drained from his face as the watched the man sitting in the chair. His legs felt weak and his blood ran cold but a murderous rage began to consume him.

"I suppose I should introduce myself" the man said tipping an invisible hat "My name is Sawyer"