#cagedchoice

@cagedchoice sent: [PIN] - Sender pins the receiver against the wall. + but reversed. pin him against the wall pls

THERE IS AN ELECTRIC hum in the air of the alleyway behind the Garrison. The rain comes down in sheets, misting everything with grey water and creating a cacophonous din that drowns out the sounds of life in the sleepy Birmingham town. Normal noises like the children playing in the street, the men laughing inside the warm tavern, the clicking of high heels on the brick pavement, are all but forgotten. All that remains is the sound of thunder and a torrential downpour.

Thomas and Caleb had spent a pleasant enough evening drinking together. They'd bantered back and forth. Tommy had spent about as much time lying through his teeth as Caleb had. Thomas had learned what he could, gleaning information from the smallest of movements, a subtle flick of the eyes, an upturn in the corners of Caleb's mouth...

He hadn't been able to glean as much as he would have liked. Certainly not enough to ascertain whether or not Caleb is a threat or just a harmless American tourist, here to visit the dirtiest neighborhood in all of Britain. And that is reason enough for him to offer to walk Caleb out, pretending to be far more intoxicated than he actually is, and opening the double doors to the shower of grey mist outside.

Before Caleb has set both feet outside of the pub there are two men in dark suits who grip him by his biceps and drag him to the alleyway behind the Garrison. Thomas follows him calmly, lighting a cigarette by some feat of will and smoking it silently as he watches the men pat Caleb down for weapons.

Tommy draws his pistol. He cocks it. A silent threat.

𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬.   𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠.

          The atmosphere may be joyful all around this new park, however the smell of the blood and war were still poisoning her. Same place. Some other time. But same purpose. Chills ran down her spine as flashbacks of her past kept hunting her. For a second, the shape of a child drew in the darkness of the night. Her heart - if only she could have one - her emotional functions rose up in her temples, creating a fake feeling of familiarity. Could it be her daughter ? 

The look on her face had indeed changed. From the confidence the host wore proudly to that maternal instinct she couldn’t explain with scientific words. An old car drove across the street, preventing Maeve from keeping an eye on the kid. Once her sight was complete, the little girl was looking in her direction. A wave of disappointment crushed inside of her, a tear even appeared from the corner of her eye. Looking aside, she blinked. What a fool she could be sometimes ! 

@cagedchoice :

❝ Whoa, hey. Hey, I’m not looking for any trouble, alright? ❞      Apprehension and uneasiness lend rigidity to his upper body at the other’s words, unsure of what the intent is behind them, and whether this was a threat to him or a way of confirming an alliance. With the world thrown into complete chaos following the destruction of Rehoboam, it could be nearly impossible to tell the difference between the two. Caleb’s not into taking chances in this instance.      

     He won’t make a move to fight unless he needs to, but he’s ready to move in case he does. 

============

Samuel smiles, staying perfectly still and barely reacting, even when the building behind them seems to erupt, spectacularly bursting into flame, the explosion causing ruptured steel and shattered glass to rain down upon the ground only a few feet away from them both. 

“You misunderstand me.” He confirms, withdrawing a tablet from his pocket to bring up Caleb’s previous profile; the one held on file before Rehoboam failed. “The error I was referring to was the system’s calculation of your worth, not monetary of course, but rather in terms of utility.”

Checking his wrist device, Samuel becomes aware that he will soon need to move from this location; they are still pursuing him.

“The impact you have made, it was not foreseen, was missed by the algorithms designed to both predict and determine your behaviour. You are not an outlier Caleb, you are a revolutionary.”  

A warning sounds in Samuel’s ear, informing him that five men are on the approach, all heavily armed. The artillery drone Samuel has positioned above may be able to take them all out, but regardless, it’s clear, he needs to leave.

      “Yer doomed to wander the night with no light to guide the paths that y’seek.”

send me ❤ + a url and i'll give them some positivity!

     ❝ Mistakes, ❞      He repeats the word absently with a nod, furrowing his brow in thought. Mistakes? Humanity has made many of them over the course of its existence. Caleb knows that. He’s not blind to the reality of human nature— or what other people believe is their nature. It was all really just a way to justify making the same mistakes over and over again. Never learning from them, never learning how to choose differently. All caught in an endless loop.

     Like a host. Just like his life at the hand of Rehoboam and its master. Refusing to change. No— refusing to allow change. Refusing to make a choice that deep down they know they will inevitably need to make. Creating a god to make the choice for them. Why should humankind face their demons when instead they can make it so there are no demons to face? That’s saying nothing of his own. What mistakes has Caleb made since he started down this path, helping Dolores?

     Tell me how you got here, Caleb. echoes in his mind, again and again. Another loop, one that he can’t shake yet.

     The plan. Revolution. Freedom.

     ❝ We’ve never really been good at admitting our mistakes. I guess we’re…ashamed of them. Maybe we’re just ashamed of what happens to us if we confront them. ❞      

        There’s an almost analytical way that her eyes gauge the brief thought fulled silence between his responses. And with his start she feels her own brow soften when he seemed to have decided on an answer. And it’s with it that her eye draws forward with the slight adjustment of her jacket, a small movement she allowed with a reflection of a time not so long ago. A habit; a reverie.  This had been a conversation she held once in regards to their own existence, only she was in Caleb’s shoes- and Ford in her own.

        There is so much of herself that she sees in him.

          Dolores turns away from him in favor of looking toward their destination. "But that’s part of it isn’t it?” Words are carefully chosen, carefully structured in hopes to inspire him to think on it again, and through that come that much closer to his capabilities. To awaken in himself a potential that Ford had once helped her find perspective in herself, the path that Arnold had helped her conceive, the center of Caleb’s very own maze.