(A/N) Hey guys, sorry about the delay! I know we've had quite a lot of those lately, so to make it up to all of you, we're going to have an update for Phase Two: Betrayal, every day for the next week, meaning that we'll have eight consecutive updates - Sunday to Sunday! You've all been great for putting up with us, and following this story, so it's past time we started to give a little more back. Hopefully, this chapter will be a nice start, from the POV of Agent California, written as a collaborative work by BrambleStar14 and FlygonNick, as the promised fight from Cal and Georgia's argument last chapter arrives...and boy, does it live up to your expectations!
Also, a big congratulations to Jerem6401, our writer for Pennsylvania and Maine, who was hired by Achievement Hunter during RTX! No fear though - he says that he'll continue writing for both of them, as he loves both characters, as I know you all do too!
Enjoy!
Chapter Sixty - A Taste of Blood
Agent California
Written by Bramblestar14 and FlygonNick
"Only part of us is sane: only part of us loves pleasure and the longer day of happiness, wants to live to our nineties and die in peace, in a house that we built, that shall shelter those who come after us. The other half of us is nearly mad. It prefers the disagreeable to the agreeable, loves pain and its darker night despair, and wants to die in a catastrophe that will set back life to its beginnings and leave nothing of our house save its blackened foundations."
― Rebecca West, Black Lamb and Grey Falcon.
"You shouldn't have encouraged that! Cal, this isn't safe; you two are far too driven to back down. You have to reconsider, before you kill each other!" Sota's voice droned on and on, Cal mused absentmindedly, only half paying attention to his one-time friend as he attempted to convince Cal away from the impromptu fight looming over the Freelancers' heads. He shook his head mentally, not willing to dismiss his friend so obviously, confining the sneering tones of his other self within - for once. It would not do to go somewhat crazy on Sota, after all they had been through.
It wasn't like he was insane, after all.
"I'm serious, Cal!" Sota complained, waving pale fingertips in front of Cal's unresponsive eyes. If one could only see Cal's face, he would look catatonic, or as though he was in a coma. There was no movement, no signs of life behind the once bright eyes; now they only glittered with something else. However, the rest of his body was setting itself up for the upcoming duel. Cal could hardly wait as the adrenaline ran through his veins, the sounds around him lowering even further. Sota was merely delaying the inevitable, he mused, as he pulled on his gloves, the armoured fingers clinking together slightly as the flexible mesh aligned itself around his hands. He promptly curled them into fists. He'd need those for breaking Georgia's teeth.
It wasn't insane to want to hurt someone he'd once considered a friend that badly, was it?
He gritted his own teeth at that, glancing over at the other man. He was sat at his own bench, not having glanced in Cal's direction once, furiously making his own adjustments to his armour. He wasn't alone either. York had come to see Georgia, and, just like Sota, was attempting to make him see reason, to pull out of this "dangerous pointless exercise". How pathetic. South did come as a surprise though. Cal hadn't noticed many significant interactions between the two before, but she was certainly fired up now, crunching her knuckles together and making enthusiastic gesticulations, parodying York's own subdued, rushed pleas with his friend to back out. It appeared South's rallying cries of "break the bastard's jaw!" were having their toll, as Georgia's face was only growing more determined with every vicious, brutal, graphic idea she invented.
Cal didn't pay any mind to the fact that only Sota had visited him, had attempted to pull him out of it. Maybe the others had given up on him. Maybe they all just assumed he was as insane as Harper, his other self crooned softly at him, undoubtedly trying to lace his words with poisoned honey as he attempted to whisper into Cal's mind. He mentally pushed him aside. He didn't need that garbage right now. Finally, he looked over at the pale skinned, dark haired man next to him. Sota looked a lot more tired now then he once had, though perhaps that was the stress of trying to pull Cal from his self-aware, destructive path. He couldn't bring himself to care anymore. He had once called Sota his best friend and had meant it. Now, the words only sounded hollow and empty.
Who needed friends?
It wasn't insanity, to push people away so violently. It was just the unwillingness to allow anyone else to do what Mich had done, to leave him behind. It was the unwillingness to allow anyone else to get in his way. Ark would burn; but first he had to deal with his eager little sidekick, the man who could have stopped him, held him back, changed his mind. Georgia needed to accept responsibility for his own actions or he needed to take a bullet to the throat! Cal honestly didn't mind which one occurred.
"You're just scared your psycho friend's going to get his shit wrecked by Georgia!" South said, as she shot Cal a look that made him inwardly think that South's head would look lovely smashed into the wall…
Hey, now that's a thought. Maybe we do that to Georgia instead…And maybe instead of her head it can be his visor…broken glass…blood…
His lips twitched for a moment, though since the other guy was speaking internally this time, it appeared to the others as though he'd shot South a rather wicked and cocky smirk. The whole scenario nearly made him smile.
"Stop it, South! You're not helping!" Sota shot back at South, who turned her gaze to him in reply, rolling her eyes. Scowling, Sota turned back to Cal and spoke even faster than before, desperate now, eyes pleading with Cal not to do to Georgia what he was now resolutely set on doing.
"Cal, we both know that if you go out there someone's not walking away under their own power. This isn't going to help anything!" His voice was insistent as he prepared his next verbal rally, but cut off abruptly as Cal raised a hand for silence, rolling his eyes and finally breaking free from his dark fantasies of demolishing Ark's old friend, his last link to the project.
"You're wrong," he murmured in a soft voice, eyes not moving from their fixed stare, watching Georgia as he firmly cut off anymore of York's protests as he donned his helmet, covering his set face, eyes finding Cal's own face for a moment, before his features hardened. Sota blinked for a couple of seconds, apparently surprised at actually being spoken to again, before he shook his head slightly and went right back on track.
And they called Cal insane.
"No, I'm right," he groaned, his tone exasperated. Clearly trying to talk Cal out of this was wearing on him, though really, he needn't have bothered trying anymore. Or at all. Cal's eyes flicked up to him, almost sympathetically.
"Sota, I'll be fine," Cal muttered quietly, forcing down any emotions that might have escaped at Sota's apparent show of worry. No getting close to anyone anymore. Don't let them become more Michigans.
The idea was totally rational and sane. He wasn't crazy.
Sota sighed tiredly and said, "I know man…just…" He paused, watching as Georgia paced slowly out of the locker room, South slapping him on the back, flipping Sota off, before following York back through the entrance. He then lowered his voice and said, quieter than before, "Just don't do anything you might regret, OK? Georgia-"
"He ran his mouth, and now we- I," he shook his head for a moment, confusion clouding his features, "will kindly make sure he shuts it from now on." Sota was apparently deaf to Cal's obviously rational reasoning as he attempted to continue to convince his roommate to tone it down further, but was swiftly tuned out. He would just get in the way anymore. No-one would.
He just didn't get it…
Slowly, almost reverently, Cal pulled his own helmet down over his eyes, barely even hearing Sota at all now. He absently waved a goodbye at his one-time friend, whose shoulders slumped, defeated as he turned and trudged out. Just before he left, he glanced back one more time, gaze seeking Cal out. When he got no response except for a blank stare, he left.
It was only when he was finally gone that Cal spoke again, quieter than a whisper. "I'll be fine." He turned to the door to the Training Room, a rather wicked grin crossing his features. "He won't be, though."
Bit melodramatic, don't ya think? Cal rolled his eyes as he stepped into the glaring lights, boots making the familiar metallic stomping noise as they grated along the floor of the overly white room, making his way to the side of the room where his tools lay in wait. He smiled widely at the sight of the various weapons waiting on the bench, noting a couple that were exactly what he had wanted. How pleasant F.I.L.S.S. was being today. Arriving at the bench, he examined the a pair of magnums, effortlessly pulling the frame back and releasing the ammunition, he checked how many bullets he had been allowed, removing one from each and placing them in a small pouch at his belt, just for safekeeping. Cal examined the rest of the table eagerly, wondering which of the remaining weapons would be the arsenal best suited for helping him tear Georgia apart. In the end, he picked up an SMG because hey, might as well stick with what you know best. Georgia couldn't pull any nasty tricks on a weapon he knew better.
You're paranoid. Being snarked at by what was once part of you was really degrading. "Shut up," he deadpanned in reply, ignoring the inevitable snickers. He turned his head back to the bench to regard the large array of pointy things before him. Reaching into the selection of blades, he absently picked up a machete with a murmur of appreciation, delicately examining one of his favourite melee weapons, before setting it back down. It would be too quick, too easy, to allow Georgia to suffer at the hands of such a blade. No elegance in carving him up. In the end, he chose four separate combat knives, ignoring the repeated chant of paranoid from inside his own head.
He wasn't insane!
Georgia had wasted no time in immediately going for a battle rifle, snatching as much ammo as he could, glancing over at Cal's own choices thoughtfully. He grabbed a single pistol as well as two grenades. However, as he saw Cal regard the machete briefly, he grabbed one for himself.
Idiot. Cal couldn't agree more.
Not a minute later, the two freelancers were left staring each other down as the large metal door leading out of the arena slowly lowered to the floor and sealed shut. A good amount of people were now stood within the observation deck, looking down on them; whether in judgement or not, Cal did not care. He no longer felt any sense of loyalty to any of them. Paying little attention to them, he instead regarded the man who would be his hapless victim for the next few minutes. Did he say victim? He meant 'opponent'. Same difference, really. He decided with a smirk that psychological warfare might just help him out.
"Ah…this is going to be fun," he yelled across to Georgia, rolling his shoulders as the other freelancer just stood there, clenching his fists in anger, whether at the situation or at Cal's remark, he did not know. Eventually, as they waited for the timer to begin, he replied.
"You want to blame everyone else for what happened to you, unable to look in a mirror and see for yourself who is really to blame? Fine. Either way, I'm knocking you down a peg," Georgia growled as F.I.L.S.S's pleasant voice suddenly crackled across their mikes, cutting Cal's retort off and quickly ending the rather lovely banter that was going on between the two of them.
"Good Evening Agents! The following match will last until either Agent California or Agent Georgia willingly withdraw, or are deemed unfit to continue. Paint rounds have been provided. Match begins in twenty seconds." A loud, irritating, metallic bleeping noise filled both Cal's and Georgia's helmets and a large digital clock was suddenly displayed on the massive screen adorning the wall opposite the observation deck, counting down the seconds. Very slowly, the familiar gunmetal grey pillars rose unevenly around the room, though Cal still had a direct line of sight at his opponent.
"Thanks F.I.L.S.S," Georgia muttered, jumping up and down on the balls of his feet anxiously, visor not leaving Cal's own and battle rifle held in a vice-like grip. Cal rolled his eyes, steadying his own grip and allowing the endless noises of the clock slowly tune out, letting the blood rush to his head, the adrenaline for the upcoming fight fill his veins…
"Just start already," he growled, flexing his hands…so ready to put them around Georgia's throat. Or slam them into his face. Or his stomach, or gut, or his testicles. So many choices, so little time… But he could always make time. He refocused quickly as the clock counted down, so very close now, nearly there…
"Round begin. Good luck!"
The timer reached zero.
"KICK HIS ASS GEORGIA!" South yelled from the observation deck. Sota remained silent and for a brief moment, a flash of anger flickered within Cal, before he pushed the fire down, smothering it with the fury directed at Georgia. He turned his attention to the freelancer in front of him, who instantly ran directly at him, raising his battle rifle and loosing a volley of shots in his direction.
Cal swiftly ducked behind a pillar, avoiding the burst and grinned at the familiar sensations, watching the paint rounds fly past almost in slow motion. Rolling out from behind cover, he raised his SMG, firing in retaliation and openly laughing as Georgia was forced to twist out of the oncoming storm, ducking behind a pillar of his own. "You think that'll impress Ark?" Cal taunted, grinning widely. "I would've thought his best buddy would have some better tricks up his sleeve!" His taunt produced the desired result.
"Shut up!" Georgia yelled as ran into the sea of rising pillars, firing at Cal's retreating form. He ducked and weaved among the pillars, avoiding every shot fired and keeping up with his opponent, firing a shot that Georgia rolled under and dived behind another pillar. Cal released a cold laugh that frustrated Georgia more and more as he tried to find Cal. It drove Cal wild knowing that he was getting under Georgia's skin so well, that he was frustrating him to the point of rage. So far, Georgia had been on the defensive. He fired another verbal attack, calling out into the mass of pillars.
"No wonder Ark left you behind, Georgia! His best friend couldn't fight to save his life!" Cal yelled in a fit of laughter as Georgia appeared from around a pillar in front of him, his battle rifle raised. Cal ducked his first volley and opened fire with his SMG, but Georgia ducked behind a pillar, yelling insults back.
"Ever wonder why he got the best of Mich? Maybe she couldn't fight as well, either! Because you certainly weren't man enough to protect her! You abandoned her just as much as Ark did!" The flame of fury that Cal had suppressed earlier flared up inside him again as his double spoke inside his head. Don't just take that! Beat him into the ground! Kill him!
"YOU TAKE THAT BACK!" Cal roared, charging after the man who had uttered nothing but lies, had defended Ark's actions to the end. He would pay dearly for that, with his own blood. Yes…pain and blood would work nicely, was certainly the way to spice up Cal's morning. He doused the furious flames that had erupted inside his chest with icy cold anger and hatred, the intent to kill etched firmly into every action, every breath he took.
Cal started as Georgia burst out from behind a pillar and lunged at him, slamming his fist into Cal's jaw with a yell and sending him crashing to the ground, his SMG flying away from his loose grip as his shoulder connected with the concrete floor. Cal rolled to his feet with the impact and fired a shot with his pistol, pulling it from his belt in a flash, but Georgia was already gone, darting back among the looming mass of metal pillars.
That was clumsy, Cal. Very clumsy. Sort yourself out. You're being weak. Fighting like the UNSC do. No power in your blows, no direction. Wise up, for fuck's sake.
"Come out, you coward!" Cal shouted out in rage, furious that Georgia had gotten the first real blow in, and at his refusal to fight face to face, like a man and not the weakling that he was. He dryly thought that since Georgia got the first real shot in, he would have to make his first blow twice as painful. Maybe culminating in every single bone residing within Georgia's body spontaneously combusting. Or being launched out of an airlock.
"Coward?" Georgia's voice echoed out from the sea of grey before him; Cal quickly moved over to one of the pillars, pistol raised in readiness. "You're the one who went nuts after Mich died! I haven't done a thing!" The fire was back within his skin, burning, ready to be let out.
California's eyes narrowed as he bellowed back, "DON'T YOU DARE SAY HER NAME, YOU FUCK!" He took a breath to calm himself slightly, before shouting across the room, "You lost the right to say it when you defended your traitorous bastard of a friend's actions!"
He sprinted into the pillars, desperately trying to find the green and pink armored Freelancer who dared to utter her name…he would pay for that; he would pay so much. He would hurt and bleed and beg and cry and break down completely when he had nothing left but the regret that he ever said her name-
CAL! FOCUS!
Snapping out of his fiery rage, he shook his head slightly, before continuing, trying to strike a nerve. "You didn't even care that Mich had died, did you!? Admit it! You only cared that Ark would do something like that in the first place! Her death meant nothing to you! Her blood on your hands! You wouldn't even wash it off if precious Ark told you to!"
Realizing that he had left his SMG behind, he pulled his second magnum from his belt and leapt onto one of the pillars, searching furiously for Georgia. Sure enough, he spotted the unsuspecting man no less than twenty yards away, looking in the opposite direction in reckless abandon, Cal's taunt apparently having penetrated his careless exterior.
Perfect. Cal practically heard the purr as though it was spoken right into his ear, shivering slightly.
Cal nimbly leapt from the pillar, the bloodlust within him, the suppressed fiery rage yearning for more, to kill. For pain, which he was all too glad to deliver onto the worthless soul that was Agent Georgia. As Cal neared him, he jumped off of the pillar and landed on top of Georgia, knocking him to the ground with a yell.
Cal savagely kicked away his battle rifle before Georgia could fully bring it to bear on him, earning another fist in the face. He simply laughed and raised his own magnum, firing at Georgia, who managed grab Cal's arm to force the end of the gun away from his own head, the bullet whistling past his face. He retaliated by solidly headbutting Cal in the lower throat, causing him to gasp and stumble, giving Georgia the edge to get up as Cal coughed for air. Georgia, still holding Cal's arm, pulled him back towards the green agent and a fist caught Cal in the visor, the ground colliding firmly with his lower back as one of his pistols was wrenched from his grip.
Shaking his head blearily, he managed to remove the spots in his eyes and looked up to see Georgia taking aim with his own pistol. Rolling to the side and up to his feet, he stumbled away, managing to avoid Georgia's shot. Cursing, the other man tried to aim a second time, only for the gun to get kicked out of his hand with a triumphant grin. Cal's grin, however, vanished as Georgia grabbed his own wrist, twisting it and yanking down, forcing his fingers to release the gun, which Georgia kicked to the side quickly. Cursing, Cal spun around and caught Georgia with a right hook, causing the man to release him, only for him to charge at Cal, tacking him into a pillar with a yell of anger and hitting him solidly in the gut.
Cal! What did I say? Kill you, you weakling!
Groaning, Cal raised his knee and smashed it into Georgia's stomach, causing him to let out a sudden gasp as he released Cal. Pulling two of his knives quickly, Cal lunged at him, stabbing towards the man's throat. Georgia dropped to the floor, kicking at Cal's knee and dropping the agent as Georgia rolled over and grabbed a fallen pistol, rolling to his back and pulling the trigger. A potshot nearly clipped his helmet, a brush with defeat that Cal would not repeat. However, Georgia was faster than Cal as he approached rapidly, pulling the trigger again.
Nothing happened, except for a small click emitting from the empty gun. Seconds later, Cal was there, a foot catching Georgia in the chin and lifting him up to lean against a pillar. Cal grabbed him by the throat, growling in fury, holding the ball of furious rage within and staring at the man. Just kill him! Cal shook his head for a moment, unwilling to end the fight so quickly. JUST KILL THE MAN AND GET IT OVER WITH! Blinking in shock, Cal found himself being pushed aside as Georgia gained a burst of sudden energy. Stabbing forwards, his knife implanted itself into the dull grey pillar with an unsatisfying thunk. Furious, Cal wrenched the blade free from the pillar and took off after Georgia, flipping the blades in his hands the whole time.
It's time to end this. No more bullshit. Find him and beat him until there's nothing left.
"Come out, come out, wherever you are…" Cal sang in a teasing voice, though all mirth was gone. This may have started as a way to get sweet, sweet revenge against Ark's only true friend in Freelancer, but the time for play had passed.
It was time for blood. And he would get it.
Georgia popped up ahead of Cal again, this time wielding his Battle Rifle and firing at Cal, who waved to the side, rolling between pillars on the balls of his feet and sprinted towards Georgia, who continued to try and shoot him as he weaved through the pillars. Cal felt like a shark, closing in a delicious little piece of meat that he would destroy before consuming…
Was that a little dark? Nope. That was fine.
Darting out from the pillar closest to Georgia, Cal lunged, knife sliding across the recoiling Georgia's helmet and sending a streak of sparks into the air with a shrieking noise like a banshee from hell. The man's grip on his battle rifle loosened as a leg kicked the back of his knee. Georgia sank to one knee, head bowed, as Cal stabbed forwards with his blade. Suddenly, Georgia's hands came up, catching Cal's wrist and twisting violently. Cal stumbled and fell, blades falling from his grip and landing next to the discarded rifle.
As Georgia went for one of the fallen knives, Cal fumbled with his belt, managing to remove the bullets he had placed there earlier. Fingers clumsily fiddling with the rifle, he managed to load the ammunition into the empty gun, hearing Georgia's stumbling footsteps approaching him. Rolling to his back, he fired, Georgia cursing as he stumbled backwards, out of range, dropping the blades. Getting slowly to his feet, Cal stared at his nemesis, before going for a change in pattern.
Without warning, Cal suddenly changed directions and ran in the opposite direction to Georgia, leading him back into the maze of pillars, throwing the tech expert off with the change of methodology. Cal could hear him behind him, his footsteps uneven and clumsy, and his tactical ability turning sloppy. He slumped behind a pillar, feeling sweat trickle down from his brow, blinking it out of his eyes and chest heaving, trying to regain his breath as he heard the other man clumsily approach.
After another minute, Cal broke from his cover and charged straight at Georgia, whose reflexes were dulled and who was caught unawares, and tackled him viciously to the ground. The machete Georgia had been fielding was flung away as the man pulled himself to his knees. Georgia brought up his final pistol, but felt it as it was kicked it away with a savage yell. Cal grabbed the stunned man by the throat, retrieving the fallen pistol and savagely whipping across the face with a grunt as hard as he could, sending him to the ground. Looking at the pistol for a moment, Cal chuckled, before throwing it behind him into the labyrinth of pillars, tossing it away. Georgia slowly pulled himself to his feet after a brief pause, staring at Cal's visor, chest heaving with exhaustion.
No weapons left. Nothing between them. Cal laughed a second time, though there was no humour in the action. It was always going to come down to this between the two of them. After all, nothing was better than using your own bare hands, right?
"You could always quit, you know. You'll always lose this fight, Georgia. Leave while you're ahead. Like he did." Cal rolled his eyes at the man, waiting for his response. When Georgia merely grunted, adopting a fighting stance and masking his own fatigue, Cal snickered. "You know, Pinky, there's one thing I never knew about you two? You remember those rumours about the pair of you, all pretty in pink together? How true were they? Brings a whole new meaning to the term 'keep your friends close and your enemies closer,' doesn't it? I bet you two were certainly closer than friends."
Ooooh. Nice one! Burned!
Georgia's voice was slightly strained, but his response was just as cutting. "What, like you and Harper were? Yeah, Cal, Ark told me about that. I'll be sure that story spreads around. After all, you're so fond of hiding the truth."
There was dead silence for a few seconds. Then… Oh, he did NOT just go there, Cal! End him, now! Don't fight like a UNSC marine would, fight like a freelancer! Get brutal or die like the marines do! Fight or die!
Growling, still panting slightly, Cal slowly reached up and pulled the battle damaged helmet over his head, suddenly hearing things in much clearer quality as the noises around him finally reached his ears directly. Opposite him, he saw Georgia hesitate, before raising his hands and ripping his own helmet off, throwing it aside. Cal pushed his own sweat streaked hair out of his eyes, staring the man down as silence reigned between them.
Then, with a shout, the two men charged at each other, all the rage and anger they felt towards each other culminating. Cal slammed his fist savagely into Georgia's cheek, not having time to celebrate the hit as he felt a fist solidly smash into his chest, forcing the two to take a step back, before Georgia was on him again, lashing out again and again as Cal blocked him, raising his hands defensively. When he finally sensed an opening, he ducked forwards, thrusting his hand out and catching Georgia in the throat, sending him staggering backwards. As Georgia wheezed, Cal punched him in the jaw, snapping his head back. When Cal went to hit him again, Georgia spun on his foot and kicked out, smashing into Cal's leg and sending him to one knee. He glanced up to see Georgia's fist lash out and catching him on the brow. Grabbing his outstretched arm, Cal flew backwards, his momentum pulling Georgia with him as they crashed to the floor.
In seconds, they had crawled to their feet, Cal punching forwards into Georgia's chest and chin, before having his arm caught and twisted behind his back, Georgia shouting in anger as he twisted further. Cal could feel the bones in his arm aching, the exhaustion catching up to him, slowing his body, even as he lifted himself off of his feet, over Georgia's head and pulled him to his knees and hitting him in the cheek once, twice, three-
He flew to the floor as a fist connected with his sternum. Gasping, the two glared at each other, before charging at each other again, completely spent. Their punches intercepted each other as their hands collided, sending shockwaves up their arms. Cal received a blow to the forehead and dived forwards, slamming his head into Georgia's nose with a shout of exertion. They continued to attack each other relentlessly, unwilling to back down as they kicked and lashed out, intercepting each other's attacks or replying to every single blow with one of their own. As their fists collided with the other's nose, they both reeled backwards, Cal's other side practically beside himself.
Let me, Cal. Come on, I haven't been out in so long. Let me out, let me kill him, he let Mich die, he practically sent Ark after her, you can't beat him, how can you expect to beat Ark?! LET ME KILL HIM!
And with a howl of anguish and pain, Cal's hands flew to his head as the ball of fire inside him finally took hold, exploding outwards. He was an inferno, a volcano of rage, a supernova of hate and then there was painpainpainpainohgodithurts and then Cal wasn't there anymore and He was in control and Georgia looked up, sensing a change. Panting, exhaustion flooding his veins and counteracting the adrenaline, he whispered,"Cal?"
It was all He needed. Rolling His shoulders, flexing His muscles, He blinked blearily, unused to having the sensation of being able to see. It had been so long since He had been in control of this body. A couple of years, in fact. It was certainly an unusual sensation, having to learn to control one's own body. What a mess Cal had made of it, and all to fight some punk who thought he could disrespect men like Him. Then it hit Him. He was back in His body, in front of Agent Georgia.
Laughing in glee, He dived forwards, a fresh wave of adrenaline surging through Him, taking the battered Georgia off of his feet and slamming him into a pillar, blows raining down on his body as he tried to feebly fight back. Turning him around in a mad dance, He grabbed Georgia's neck and slammed his face repeatedly into a pillar, smashing the bones of his facial structure. Again and again and again until He got bored.
Still laughing in mad delight, He bodily threw Georgia away from him, watching him skid slowly across the metal floor as he tried to get up. Before Georgia could find his feet, He was there, slamming a foot into Georgia's stomach, causing him to howl as he bucked, trying to find purchase on the ground. A fist to the jaw soon ended that. Georgia fell back, groaning softly as the exhaustion finally took hold, slowly shutting his body down. Sighing in disappointment, He considered the area around him, looking for more toys to break into little pieces beneath His fingers. And of course, Cal's voice was still there, though he wasn't begging to be let out this time, instead glaring at Georgia's battered form, begging to end his miserable existence. And for once, the two of them were in complete agreement. Grinning in bloodlust, He closed His eyes and then Cal was back in control.
He fell to his knees in agony, though the pain slowly faded, the red behind his eyes remained as he crawled to Georgia, hauling him up by the throat and slamming a fist into his face.
Crack! His nose broke, a spray of blood catching Cal across the face and chest, corrupting him further as he descended into madness.
"Cal!" Someone was shouting from a long way away and the cry of panic stirred a memory deep within him, of beating Ark in this very arena and of how Mich had stopped him. Mich…
And then he looked back down and he realised why he was so angry and why the voice was telling him to kill.
Arkansas's battered form lay beneath him. With a cry of anger, he smashed his fist into his jaw furiously.
"Why!? You traitorous bastard!" he shrieked at Ark, hitting him again and again, wanting to hurt him, to kill him for what he had done to him, to all of them. He killed Mich, he ripped out Cal's heart, now he would do the same, he would tear him, break him, hurt him, kill him! Cause the same pain that Ark had to him.
"YOU KILLED HER!" he screamed as two of Ark's ribs broke and caved inwards.
And then Harper lay beneath him, laughing and grinning despite the fact that Cal was beating him to death and he had descended to incoherent yelling, endlessly beating him to the floor and the blood was everywhere and then his foot descended on Harper's leg and there was a crack and he was laughing, Harper was laughing, Cal was laughing and the blood was everywhere, in his hair, coating the two of them-
And then Sota was down on the floor under him, bloody and battered, staring at him in confusion and why was he confused after he had left him alone for so long, abandoned him like Cal knew he would, the backstabbing lying bastard-
His hands found Sota's throat and he choked the man, only when he was near death would he snap the fool's neck and then everything would be alright again, when he finally killed him, killed them all and then would it stop, would the voices and the madness and the pain all JUST PLEASE FUCKING STOP?
Cal was barely aware as he choked Sota that his screaming had formed words loud enough for all to hear. "Why did you do it? WHY? Why did you abandon me you bastard? YOU LEFT ME ALONE! AND NOW I HAVE TO DEAL WITH THIS EVERY SINGLE FUCKING DAY! ALL GONE! BURN!"
Yes…more…more…kill him! Snap his fucking neck! END HIM!
"CAL! STOP IT!" And then Sota was beside him, screaming at him, but Sota was beneath him and Cal was laughing and crying, tears running down his face as his body could barely move and everything was just pain and why wouldn't it ever stop? He looked up at Sota, not understanding why he was shouting and why he was shaking him and why Cal was crying and laughing and why he couldn't stop, but all he could think of was Mich. Cal looked back at the Sota beneath him, but could only see a figure in lavender coloured armour with an icy blue trim, a bleeding and broken wreck on the floor in front of him, ruined by his own hands.
Mich.
"No…" Cal murmured, turning away from the unmoving Freelancer and leaning against one of the stone pillars. He was hardly aware of his desperate sobs as he shook, his body trembling as he was aware of how close to mental and physical collapse he was. He felt angry, confused, grief-stricken and distraught, and tried to stumble back towards Mich. He could fix this, could make it all right again, he just had to get to her, and how hard could it be-
He was suddenly thrown backwards and slammed against the pillar. He struggled feebly, the laughter finally fading as he was aware that people were there, but whoever was holding him was much stronger than he was, ignoring his efforts to break free.
"If you ever lay a finger on Georgia again…I will break you," Utah growled, in a voice that sounded uncannily like his own. Cal glanced over at the bleeding and broken form of Georgia, who was being swarmed by medics. South had actually gone over to check on him with Kent and Florida nearby, more concerned than she had any right to be, clearly worried as she actually squeezed his hand or was he hallucinating again? Cal managed to find the strength to chuckle again, holding back the crazy laughter he wanted to let out. Staring at Utah with an insane smile, he simply responded with,
"Try it, and you'll end up like him. Back off." Utah gave Cal a snort of anger and after a moment Cal was thrown back by Utah, sliding across the floor. Eventually, his momentum carried him to lean against a pillar, a bloody smear trailing up to him.
When he came to, he felt a pair of hands grab him by the shoulders and steer him away from the others and towards the exit. Cal barely registered that it was Sota, once again interfering when he shouldn't be, as the events of the last hour rushed forwards to catch up with him.
"It's alright man, let's get you out of here. You'll be alright. You'll be alright Cal," Sota muttered to Cal in a soothing manner, almost in a sick display of comforting him. Cal clenched his fists as a sickening wave of fury raced through him.
How dare he?
"Get the fuck away from me!" Cal screamed suddenly, shoving Sota violently and causing him to slam into one of the nearby pillars headfirst with a howl of pain.
As Sota fell to the ground, his head now split open and blood coating his hair, he stammered, "Cal! What the hell man? Let me help you!"
The hurt and worried expression on his face was ignored by Cal…How dare Sota pretend to actually care…after all he did…
He had left him behind, left him at the mercy of the voices, alone and forsaken because he was too much of a coward to face the pain…too much of a coward to help Cal shoulder the pain of losing Mich…he was just as guilty as Georgia…
"Cal?" Sota asked in a low voice, apparently still trying the façade of being hurt and worried about him. It made Cal feel another surge of anger that was swiftly put down, it wouldn't do to have another episode now, here. It wouldn't do to hospitalize two of them in a single day.
And then the gestures Sota was making overcame him as he was hit with waves of memory, of Mich carrying him away from a fight, helping him, healing him. He pushed Sota further away in a panic. He couldn't face that again, he just couldn't be hurt again, he already hurt too much.
Cal looked over at Georgia, who was still unmoving even as the medics tried to revive him, but to no avail. Florida and North were helping however they could, with South and Kent shooting Cal very dirty looks as they lifted Georgia up and carried him away. Utah frowned at Cal, who managed to smile widely at him in reply, though it felt like it cost him part of his soul as he was soaked in blood and sweat and tears. Utah simply walked away, causing Cal to turn back to Sota, who was getting too his feet and holding his head, which was coated with blood. How symbolic.
"Get away from me," Cal hissed at Sota, who stared at Cal for a moment before sighing heavily and walking away, shoulders slumped and looking thoroughly downcast.
Cal stood alone on the training room floor, his last and only friend walking away and leaving him behind. How unsurprising.
He was unsurprised that he no longer felt anything, except for the endless rage and anger, the pain of being abandoned again.
"They don't really care about you, Jay. Not like me." Harper's words drifted back to him and Cal honestly didn't mind anymore. Harper was right. They didn't care and they never had. Harper had been right.
"Cal!" Turning in surprise, he felt a fist collide with his cheek. Stumbling to the floor and unwilling to rise, he stared in mild interest at a furious South, glaring at him and pointing. "Come near him again, you freak, and I'll kill you." Turning, she stormed to the door in a rage that matched Cal's own. At the exit, she turned and spat the words, "You're insane."
It was only after she was gone, long gone, that Cal's battered form could even overcome his exhaustion to climb to his feet. No-one had come to check on him. Finally, he admitted the truth to himself, staring after South Dakota.
"Yes. I suppose I am."