Subject A250: The Flame (COMPLETED)

Forty-One: Fan in the Mirror

"Very funny. You won't be laughing soon," he said, his signature smirk gone.

Trace gulped and looked to Flint for help. He turned to the machine, pretending to be busy with that.

"You're my supervisor?" she asked, glaring up at Ratman. It was hard to be intimidating while reclined on a chair.

"Yes. I'll be supervising this part of the experiments. Not just for you, but for the other subjects as well."

"I'm not a subject."

"In the traditional sense, I guess not. We didn't exactly choose you, but you've proven to be very useful so far."

"So far? I'm done, rodent-face. Finished. That was it. No more."

He laughed, and Trace wished her hands were free to punch him in the face. Suddenly she understood the reason behind her restraints.

"No, Ava," he said. The smirk had returned to his face. "We have to spend a little more time together first. Get acquainted. Of course, you should probably get reacquainted with yourself first."

Something was wrong. "What do you mean?"

Ratman walked over to the wall and found a button beside the whiteboard. Trace hadn't even seen it until then. He pressed it, and the whiteboard shimmered for a second, before turning a dark silver, then becoming entirely reflective. A mirror.

But, it didn't make sense for it to be a mirror. Everything was in place except for one thing. There, opposite her chair, was a girl, sitting in the same chair as she was, staring back at her.

Only she had a shaved head. It left room for ten or so wires to be taped on.

Trace had never seen her reflection before, but she remembered having hair. Definitely. She definitely had hair. She turned her head to the side, craning to spot her hair where it usually sat at her shoulders.

Gone.

Her head felt lighter too. She was cold.

That confirmed it. The girl in the mirror was her. If it weren't for the lack of hair, she'd say she was doing pretty well for herself. They'd definitely cleaned her up after the endless list of injuries and lapse in self-hygiene.

"How do you like the new look?" Ratman asked. "It made for easy access with the wires."

Trace couldn't look away from the mirror. It was strange, she thought, to see yourself for the first time, knowing you'd looked entirely different only a day earlier.

"I still look better than you ever will," she replied. Minho was going to freak out when he saw her. She'd receive sympathy from him for the rest of her life. That thought brought her back to their last conversation. The last conversation she'd had before waking up here. She wondered what he'd meant by what he said. Who was the girl he was flirting with?

"Enjoy that confidence while it lasts," Ratman warned. "Because we're about to find out just how long it will last."

Flint was suspiciously quiet, and Trace could sense he didn't like what was about to happen. It filled her with dread.

Ratman flicked another button on the board and it shimmered grey again before revealing an image.

It was Newt, strapped to a chair, just like she was. He couldn't see her; he was facing the wall to her right, confused and frightened.

"What is this?" Trace asked, her voice barely more than a whimper.

"This," Ratman announced, "is Phase Three."

A/N: Uh-oh. Trace is not going to have a fun time. Neither is Newt by the look of things. 

Thank you to all of you who've read this from the beginning (of this book and of The Fangirl). It makes me so happy to read all your comments and know you're enjoying this little journey as much as I am.

In saying that, I probably won't be starting the next one until Uni finishes in October, but I may work on imagines or preferences in the meantime, so if you have any requests head over to those books. The same goes for The Musical, if you have any song requests. Otherwise, I guess you'll just have to read this all over again (darn it, how inconvenient).

You're all amazing. Thank you for loving Trace as much as I do <3

Remember: we can be Thomases.