The 99

Chapter Two: Bellamy

The guard's uniform didn't fit very well. It was uncomfortable and restricting, and the Velcro padding chafed against his arms and neck. The man who'd worn this had been smaller in stature, but he was the closest to Bellamy's height that he could find. Now, that man was stuffed in one of the storage rooms, hands bound with a bloody cut on his temple from where he'd been hit. His clothes had been stripped and Bellamy guessed that when he woke up, he would be cold.

Bellamy clutched the access card tightly in his hand, the one that had the name Wyatt Tate printed in bold across the surface. It included no head-shot but there was a fingerprint record, which would get him caught if either it or his thumb were scanned. He'd dump the card before then, though. Bellamy just needed it to get through the door, the very door harboring the dropship on the other side of it.

The rumor he'd overheard had been true; Jaha really was sending criminals, juveniles, kids, to the ground. One hundred souls that would be carried to it in that huge, metal crate. One that could turn out to be a coffin. Though nobody said it, Bellamy could feel it in his bones, heard it whispering in his blood, that no one expected them to live. And if they did, then the Council didn't believe it would be for very long.

It was never about the opportunity at being pardoned. It was just about handing a bunch of teenagers a special way to die. First humans to touch the dirt in three hundred years; first humans to die on it, too.

Maybe it was bestial of him, but Bellamy wasn't really thinking of those kids. Not all of them, anyway. Ninety-nine of them filtered dismissively through his head, except for the last one.

His sister.

She was being sent to the ground, sent to her death with the other convicts. In the company of murderers and thieves and and some that probably, rightfully, deserved to be there. But Octavia wasn't one of them. Her existence had gone from being a mistake, to a secret, to something hidden beneath the floorboards of their apartment. A label. An object. She'd never been given a chance to be what she really was; just a girl, who liked pictures of creatures with wings and hated sleeping in the dark.

He wondered what Octavia was doing now; probably pacing the inside of her cell, like an animal. The thought made his hands fist at his sides, until the card was digging into his palm. He loosened his posture though when a group of guards strutted down the corridor. He dipped his head in their direction and then gave himself a mental reprimand. One wrong action could get them looking at him the wrong way, and he'd rather be shot on sight than risk his chances at getting to Octavia.

Bellamy had spent the last three days mulling over the plan he had constructed in his head. He wouldn't dare write it down-if that piece were discovered, it wouldn't have only incriminated him, but every connection he had. Plus, it would also reveal that his actions were premeditated, which might not make much of a difference, but he hadn't wanted to take the chance. If he were caught, he was going to be floated. He'd be pushed into an air-sealed chamber, stand before a door, and wait for it to open. And when it did, he'd be sucked out like a speck of dust, toeing the galaxy around him, before the universe claimed the atoms in his body. Maybe some would think it a beautiful way to go, but it wasn't as poetic as it sounded.

Odds were, he wouldn't survive long enough to even catch a glimpse of it. When that door opened, his body would be pulled apart, and though he'd be frozen alive, everything would burn. There would be an indefinite moment of agony, and then nothing, no sign he'd even been there, except the pieces and remnants of him floating across a sea of novas.

And he'd prefer to avoid that.

A sudden burst of trepidation welled in Bellamy's chest the closer he got, until his forehead was slick with sweat and the gun he held felt heavier than the few pounds it was. But he couldn't back down now. Wouldn't. Not when his sister's life hung in the balance. It wasn't as if Bellamy wished to kill the Chancellor, but he'd do it, if that's what it took. But it would be a lie to say he was in favor of keeping Jaha in his position of power.

Everyone aboard the Ark understood that harsh punishments had to be inflicted for the good of the Colony. But growing up in Walden, Bellamy didn't see the justice in admonishing a boy for grabbing an extra protein pack to share with his hungry friend. He didn't see good leadership in the act of killing a young girl, simply because she'd gotten pregnant without the Council's authorization. As far as Bellamy was concerned, for the good of the Colony was just a construction of words to excuse cruelty and advertise a self-righteousness over the people.

But man did what it had to do to survive. Which was precisely what he was doing, as he held up the card to the scanner, and the door standing between him and the dropship opened.

Bellamy had spent his life protecting his sister and he wasn't about to stop now. He'd follow after her. Even if that meant traveling across the stars, to a broken planet below.