They caught Cage. In the melee as they routed and massacred the rest of the mountain men soldiers, the rage boiling through all of the sky people at what these monsters had done. They caught Cage. It was only Clarke calling for him to live that stayed the last of the hundreds' hands.

"But he-"

"I know. Lock him up. After," Clarke paused and looked them dead in the eyes. "After the mountain is ours, we'll have our revenge."

So they hauled him into one of the many dungeon like rooms where he had created his 'reapers' and strapped him to one of the chairs. He screamed and yelled as they slammed the door and left him there.

It was two days later, after they'd cleared up the rest of the resistance, that Clarke stopped putting guards on the door.

Octavia was the first of the hundred who slipped inside. She was brutal. Part grounder, part sky, but all rage. This is the man who hurt her friends. Hunted her brother. Almost destroyed her lover. Yes, Octavia was first.

Jasper came next. They had to pry him off Cage. He had killed Vincent. Killed Maya. Jasper broke every bone in the mans feet and hands. Miller was next. Then Harper. Each left their mark.

Fox stabbed him twice. Monty...Monty didn't touch him apart to force a serum down his throat that kept him aware at all times. So that there was no relief, just like there had been none for them.

Raven wasn't strong enough to hit him, but she didn't have to when she figured out what the chair did. She electrocuted him for days, at odd intervals and for varying lengths of time. Only surrendering it to the rest of the hundred and those too weak to raise a hand against him. He was half mad and begging for death when Bellamy came for him.

Cage was a lump of flesh and broken bones after the oldest of the hundred was done pouring his anger, his hate and pain at being on the ground, at what his friends, what his sister had been forced to endure in their short time on Earth. But he left Cage alive.

Because at the end of it all, he was Clarke's to kill.

She walked in a day later to see him barely recognizable, just a mass of broken tissue and sack of bones begging to die. Idly she catalogued how thorough her people had been as she raised her gun and pointed it at his head, nose wrinkling slightly at the overwhelming smell of piss, shit and burnt meat.

His legs had been crippled beyond repair. Every bone was broken from his toes to his hands up to his jaw. The man was covered in open wounds oozing pus and burns marred once pristine skin. He could barely even twitch anymore he had been shocked that many times, his nerve-endings completely fried.

For a long moment, Clarke simply stood and stared at the man who had caused her people, had caused her, so much pain. She dropped her hand to her side and stepped closer. She had been contemplating how to kill him ever since his capture. The blonde had been happy to let her people destroy him, body and soul. Push him as close to the edge as they wanted, but it was never a question that she would be the one to end him, end this. And Clarke had been debating how.

A part of her just wanted to strangle him. Watch the life leave his eyes as she wrung his neck and cut off the air to his brain. Another part wanted to stab him through the heart, as he had done to her people.

As she watched his breath rattle through broken teeth, heard the barely audible groans whisper from his broken form, the darkest part of her just wants to watch him slowly die in complete and utter agony. She knows it will still take a little while. An hour, maybe two as a lot of his blood now coats the walls and floor. It's tempting. So tempting.

But as broken, as lost, as ruthless and as hurt as she is, she's still Clarke. So she lifts the pistol and aims it, once more, at his forehead. There are so many things she wants to say. 'You took my people. You broke the alliance. You almost destroyed us all.' Even the words 'Jus drein jus daun' flitters through her mind. But no, those are Lexa's words. Grounder words. And she was not a grounder. Nor was she really a sky person. She's Clarke.

She stared him in the eyes, and pulled the trigger.

Clarke stood there for a moment, staring through the broken husk of a man once called Cage Wallace, her mind going a mile a minute, figuring out what course she should take. There were almost too many to choose from. Not a second later a decision is reached, she turned on her heel and walked out the door to the people gathered there.

Watching. Waiting.

Abby was there, alive but in terrible pain. They took so much from her, but she would not rest until her people were healed. Marcus was dead. Killed while he distracted some of the guards as Octavia and Clarke broke the others out. Jasper was there. So was Monty. Both with death in their eyes and dark circles beneath them. Bellamy stood beside the door. Octavia, still as a statue by his side. Her generals. Though one may never forgive her.

She paused; looked them over. Blue eyes taking their frail, fractured, alive forms in.

"Take the body to TonDC. Give it to the Commander if she's still there." They all looked set to protest but Clarke raised a hand and they quietened.

"No. I may hate them for abandoning us." She would not say Her name. Not anymore. "But they did what was right for their people. We will give them the body to burn with their dead. As much as he took from all of us, he took more from them. And we have had our revenge."

The blonde ran her eyes over her people again, her spine straightening and chin lifting slightly as they watched her.

"It will also send them a message. That we are strong. That we do not need their help. And that we are here to stay."

They all nod, somehow stronger, more present than before. Clarke smiled, though it is barely that. Just the quirking upward tilt of her lips before she walked away. She had things to do and a people to lead. Her friends would do as she asks. As she commands. She doesn't look back. She never does. Not anymore.