A/N: Here we go! THE battle! Tell me what you think <3
Trace climbed sheepishly back down the vines and took her place near the front of the group, where Thomas was muttering something protaganisty to Minho, who looked to Newt for further instruction.
"They're coming!" Teresa yelled. "We have to do something!"
"For the love of... who are you? Captain Obvious? We can see that they're coming; they're not exactly the stealthiest of creatures," Trace replied, rolling her eyes at Teresa. "No offence," she added, addressing the incoming swarm of Grievers.
Newt and Minho were still staring at each other, trying to make a decision, and Trace considered pushing them closer together so that they could kiss. That was before she remembered that Thomas was standing right beside them and Trace still hadn't decided whether Newtmas or Minewt should reign superior.
"You lead," said Newt, eventually. "Make a bloody path for Tommy and the new girl. Do it."
Minho nodded once, and turned to face the group. "We head straight for The Cliff!" he yelled. "Fight through the middle. Push the shucking things towards the walls. What matters most is getting Thomas and Teresa to the shuck Griever Hole!"
Trace barely had time to blink before Minho yelled again. "Ready!" he screamed. "Charge!"
Then all hell broke loose.
Trace was the fourth person to enter the final corridor, after Minho, Newt, and some random brunette kid who would probably die. She'd make sure to stay well away from him, just in case.
She headed straight for one Griever in particular, glaring it down as she gripped her knife, preparing for a bloody fight - and not in the Newt sense of the word. She made contact with the creature, driving her knife into its slimy, blubbery, gross body of yuck ew disgusting. As she pulled it out again, one of its blades came swinging towards her, and she had to duck to avoid it, watching as it cut the shoulder of some kid behind her. Oops.
One of the Griever's other arms came swinging, but this time someone else stepped in, hacking at it with some kind of axe until it came off. Excellent. Very convenient.
She was marvelling at this shank's handiwork when something grabbed her from behind, dragging her along the concrete on her back. Trace tried to wriggle out of its grasp, flailing her knife behind her in an attempt to free herself from the Griever's clutches. She managed to flip herself over to her stomach, just in time to see the sharp blade of a Griever arm coming down towards her. She shuffled as far as she could to the side, but it still managed to graze her hip. In the exact same spot as it had a mere few days ago.
"Ahhh!" she screamed, moving again to avoid another incoming blade. This time it stabbed her right in the shoulder, its sharp point driving in deep.
"No!" she yelled. "Bad Griever! What would your Grievlets think?"
And, as if on cue, five tiny, cat-sized Grievers began climbing out of the blubber of the one she was fighting.
"No way..." Trace murmured in disbelief.
A loud yell from nearby shifted her attention, and she watched as Clint came charging towards the Griever that had her pinned. He brandished a long stick with glass tied to the end, and used it to strike the arm holding her down. One blow wasn't enough to free her, so he tried again three more times, all the while managing to dodge the numerous other arms coming towards him. On the third go, the arm came loose, and Trace climbed to her feet, ready to fight again.
YOU ARE READING
Subject A250: The Fangirl (COMPLETED)
Fanfiction--Book one in the Subject A250 series-- She's read the books. She's seen the movies. She knows all there is to know about the storyline. Except for her role in it.
