Subject A250: The Fallen

Seventeen: Cranky-Panky

A/N: Sorry for the delay (again). Was working on my lil Gone Series fic. HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYBODY!! 

Thank you for being here for me in 2017. I hope this will continue into 2018 and further. I love you all!

2023 edit: oh no

The Gathering was not so much of a gathering as it was a showdown between Minho and Brenda.

"And you expect us to just waltz on into this mysterious city and let some shank --who we don't even know-- fiddle around with our brains?"

Brenda had spent the last fifteen minutes explaining the whole plan. They were to head for Denver immediately, where they would meet Hans, an ex-worker for WICKED, who'd managed to contact Brenda via the Netblock. He would take out the implants for them all. Trace, being Trace, had agreed with every aspect of the plan; she hated the idea of WICKED being able to control her and the sooner she could remove the stupid thing the better.

Who knows what they might try to do otherwise? They'd already forced her to walk into the Maze as the doors were closing, so what was stopping them from sending her into an army of angry Cranks? Or off the edge of the Berg?

Or into Gally's arms?

"We can trust Hans," Brenda assured them all, breaking Trace from her train of thought. "He's an expert at what he does."

Minho rubbed his face with his hands. "And we can just head on into this shuck city like we haven't just broken out of WICKED? How are we going to do that?"

Apparently it was Jorge's time to shine now. "Already way ahead of you, hermano," he said, holding up some dark blue booklets which Trace could only assume --at a glance-- were forged passports. "With these babies, we should have no problems at all getting in."

Minho took the passports from Jorge and looked them over. "Minho Park? Thomas Murphy? He laughed as he read the last one. Brenda Despain?"

Trace snorted at the made-up names and even Newt smirked a little. It was Trace's laugh that brought Thomas' attention to her.

"What about Trace and Newt?" he asked. The atmosphere in the cockpit seemed to lull immediately. "You said they only let immunes into the city, so what about them?"

Jorge pressed his lips firmly together. Trace supposed there was no easy way to answer that question. "They'll have to wait here, in the Berg, until we work something out."

Trace knew what that meant; she was going to be taken to Crank Palace. The others would head into Denver City and Trace and Newt would be found, alone, on the Berg and taken away to rot. After that, her fate was in her own hands-- she couldn't rely on how Newt would react.

Newt nodded. "Seems fair."

Minho had other ideas. "Can't we just sneak them in? You came up with those fake documents for us, so why can't you sneak them in? Who's going to notice two cranks in a busy, bustling city?"

Flint sighed. "It's complicated. We could do it, but we'd need a solid plan."

"No!"

Newt's sudden outburst stunned the room into silence. Five pairs of wide eyes turned to stare at him.

"Why in the hell would I want to go into a city, possibly infect a bunch of innocent people, and then go insane anyway? I don't want one of the last things I do on this bloody planet to be spreading this god-awful disease to anybody else!"