Subject A250: The Flame (COMPLETED)

Sixteen: Fun With Guns

A/N: Exams= done!!

New Cast added for this chapter too :)

"Don't move," the voice instructed and Trace complied; she wasn't really feeling in the mood to be shot in the head anyway.

"Now turn around slowly," they demanded. "Keep your hands where I can see them."

"So which one is it? 'Don't move' or 'turn around'? You need to be clearer with your instructions."

There was a long pause, and Trace knew she'd overstepped. "How's this for clear?" the voice finally asked. "Turn around or get shot in the head with this gun."

Trace considered his words. "That was much clearer," she said, before doing exactly as they said. Rose was still standing beside her, but hadn't made a sound since the imposter had arrived.

Or imposters, as Trace soon found out. Four of them. Three middle-aged men and one boy. A little older that she was. Possibly eighteen or nineteen years old. He stood towards the back while one of the men kept the gun pressed against Trace and the other held his up to Rose.

"Who are you?" Trace asked, once she was facing them, the gun now against her forehead. These people didn't look like Cranks. Even if they were, they didn't look to be anywhere near past the Gone.

"We're a gang," replied the man holding the gun.

Trace couldn't help herself; she just started laughing. "No gang calls themselves 'a gang'," she sniggered. "Your actions should speak for themselves."

A sharp smack of the gun butt to the side her head forced her to double over. This was followed by a swift kick to the ribs, sending her to her knees. Trace groaned.

"Guess I should've seen that coming," she wheezed.

"Are these actions speaking loud enough, your highness?" the man asked.

"About time you gave me the respect I deserve," Trace muttered.

Unfortunately, her words were just loud enough to be heard. The man's boot disappeared very quickly, returning just as quickly to meet her chest. Trace crumpled to the floor.

The boot reared back again, but this time someone yelled out before it could return.

"Stop!" he yelled. It was the boy. Trace peaked up to look at him, feeling a trickle of blood run down her cheek from where she was first hit. He was rather attractive, she decided. Not quite god-like, like many of the characters she knew, but he was certainly up there. If there was a scale of hotness, this guy probably sat somewhere between Zart and Aris. Actually, he really did look like the child of Zart and Aris. Maybe it was a coincidence, or maybe there was some weird unexplained backstory there. Trace couldn't be sure.

Anyway, this Arart guy. Zaris? Zaris. This Zaris guy was stopping her from being beaten to death by this psycho gang member, and Trace really appreciated that.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, crouching down beside Trace. "Both of you," he added, glancing at Rose, who still refused to speak.

"That would be none of your business," Trace replied. She was greeted by another sudden kick to the stomach from Angry McKickingBoots and coughed up a nice amount of blood. Lovely.

"Fine!" she yelled. "Fine! It can be your business! Just don't hit me."

Zaris laughed a little under his breath and stood up. Angry McKickingBoots backed away.

"Stand up," he ordered. "Stand up and speak."

Trace grimaced but got to her feet glaring at him as she did so, noting that Mr KickingChicks had lowered his gun. The man holding Rose captive did the same. Trace breathed a tiny sigh of relief. Now she could lie a little easier.

"We came from a small mining village just north of here. Everyone else caught the Flare, so we hid out until they all either left or died. Then we came to see if anyone else was still around. I guess you are," she shrugged for effect.

"Are you two sisters?" the third man asked. It was the first time Trace had actually heard him speak.

"Yes," Rose replied, and Trace tried not to look too surprised. Instead she maintained eye contact with Zaris.

"What are your names?" Zaris asked, staring back at Trace.

"I'm Ava," Trace replied. "This is Rose." She paused a little before risking a slightly Thomas-like question. "Who are you?"

Zaris smiled. "I'm Flint," he said. Then he pointed to Trace's attacker. "This is Boulder. That's Lightening," he gestured to Rose's capturer. "And this is Machete," he said, pointing at the third man. Machete actually smiled a little.

"We call ourselves the Silencers," Boulder explained. "You don't make it this far in this world unless you know how to keep quiet. I'm surprised you've made it this far with that big mouth of yours." He directed the last statement at Trace.

"Yeah? Well, I think you'll actually find that I'm more than capable of survival," Trace replied. "So is Rose. Besides, we're not the ones resorting to weapons to defend ourselves from young girls. Something about that tells me that you're the ones worrying about survival."

"Burn," Flint said, and every pair of eyes fell on him. "I mean, burn in hell. In the Scorch. Where you can't survive."

The others ignored him, but Lightening and Machete shot each other a look that told Trace that Flint would be in trouble later on. Despite the fact that he was in a gang, she was liking him more and more as time went on.

"You're coming with us," Boulder said. "Our headquarters is on the eastern side of town. We can make it there in twenty minutes if we hurry. Don't want to keep the boss waiting."

"The boss?" Rose asked. "I thought you were the boss."

The four of them laughed. "No, no, no," Lightening snickered. "You'll know when you meet the boss. His temper's much worse than Boulder's here."

"Boulder literally just smacked me with his gun and kicked me to the floor," Trace countered.

"I didn't say Boulder didn't have a temper," Lightening replied. "All I'm saying is that you best keep your mouth shut in front of the boss. He doesn't take kindly to smartasses."

Trace mimed zipping her mouth shut, locking it with a key, and throwing the key away.

They turned to head off, when Machete stopped them in their tracks. "Try to run," he said, "and I'll kill you. Try to fight and I'll kill you. Try anything at all, and I'll kill you. Got it?"

"I believe so," said Trace at the same time Rose murmured a quiet 'yes'.

"Good. Oh, and one more thing..."

Trace hated those words. Nothing good ever came of those words.

"...don't let the Corpse Collectors see you."

Trace was getting real sick of this constant expectation to know every slang word in the world. Why didn't these guys ever just explain everything as they went rather than waiting for someone to ask? Suddenly Thomas' constant stream of questions made a lot more sense.

"The Corpse Collectors?" she asked, not sure if she even wanted to know now.

"The Corpse Collectors," Machete confirmed. "The only other gang in this city. The western gang. They're not strategic. They don't play games. They're here to kill. And they have no guns. They use what they can find and replace: rocks, bricks, planks, nails, hammers. If they can kill someone with it in less than a hundred whacks, they use it. And if they see you out here, then you're as good as dead."