Subject A250: The Flame (COMPLETED)

Forty-One: Fan in the Mirror

A/N: Last chapter! I'll add a little note at the end.

"Flint?" Trace murmured, unable to quite believe what she was seeing, suddenly wondering if she, herself, was still alive. "You- you're supposed to be dead! You were dead!"

Flint looked at her sadly. He was dressed in a white uniform with a lanyard around his neck, his I.D. card attached. Of course. He worked for WICKED.

"I'm not dead," he said.

"I can see that," Trace snarked back, suddenly mad at him. "Trying to pull the ultimate prank, were we? Well, solid attempt. You fooled me. Wicked prank, Flint. Rose and I had a great time in those tunnels, by the way."

"I'm sorry, Ava."

"No, you're not. You're not sorry, Flint. If you really were sorry you wouldn't be here right now. What are you going to do to me?"

"I'm going to help you, okay?" he muttered, leaning in so that nobody monitoring their conversation could hear them. "But first, you need to play along. You're going to need to be strong for a bit. Endure this. It's just another trial."

"Just another trial? Are you serious? Just another trial?"

He sighed. "Just hang in there." He reached out and started checking over the wires attached to her, making sure they were secure.

Trace frowned at him. "That was your voice coming through the speaker, wasn't it?"

Flint nodded.

"So who's my 'supervisor', then? And when are they getting here?"

He sighed. "Soon."

"I hate that word."

"I'm sorry."

"I hate those words too."

Flint was silent. He pressed a few buttons on the machine and seemed satisfied with that. Apparently it was working.

"What is that?"

"You'll find out soon. Be patient."

Trace scoffed. "If I get told to be patient one more time I'll scream. Loudly. The ear-piercing kind. You'll go deaf. As in, you won't be able to hear. Ever again. That's what 'deaf' is."

"I know what 'deaf' means."

"Then you'll understand the level of my threat."

At that moment, the door creaked open. There was muttering from outside. It looked like a hallway, but Trace couldn't see anyone there. Just a hand on the door.

"Come in," she crooned, sarcastically. There was a sigh from outside, followed by a quiet 'we'll talk later'.

Then Ratman stepped into the room.

"Oh hell no," Trace groaned. "Get out. You're stinking the place out. Flint, who said to let in a sewer rat?"

"To be fair, you did say 'come in'," Flint argued.

"Hello, Ava," Ratman smirked.

"No. No way. Do not talk to me. Get out. Security!"

Someone opened the door and stepped in. They were dressed in a dark blue and sported a small logo on their chest. Trace held back a laugh when she realised who they were; she'd just called security on Ratman.

"Seriously, Doug? You'll hear my voice calling if your help is needed. Stand by the door," Ratman sighed and rolled his eyes.

Trace sniggered as Doug left. "Thanks, Doug!" she laughed. Once he'd left, she smiled at Ratman. "Apparently you sound like a 16 year old girl."