Subject A250: The Fallen

Thirty-One: Flintervention

Nobody said a word as the Berg left the ground, rising into the sky, leaving the crowd of angry cranks below them. Flint and Jorge were in the cockpit while Minho, Brenda, and Thomas stood by the window, watching as Crank Palace became more and more distant. It was strange, Trace thought, to leave that place with Newt beside them. She had to keep reminding herself that he wasn't still in there, that the boy standing beside her was not a hologram-- he was real. Newt was really here.

"Enjoying the view?" he asked, breaking the silence to sneer at the trio, acknowledging that they'd all only experienced a snippet of what his life had been for the past few days.

Trace couldn't even begin to imagine what he'd seen-- what he'd been through-- during that time. Sure, she'd had a few crank experiences of her own, but she wasn't living with them. Her intent was always to pass through their space, not share a bunk.

"Newt..." Thomas sighed and stepped away from the window. "We're sorry."

"We better get this plan underway then," Newt frowned, ignoring Thomas altogether. "S'pose it wouldn't work too well if I went completely mad and killed you all first."

He wandered through to the cockpit, leaving the others behind, where they stood in stunned silence. Trace looked at Brenda, trying to convey her level of doubt through her eyes.

Brenda cleared her throat. "We have to try," she muttered, before following after Newt.

Trace glanced over at the other two before joining Brenda, Flint, Newt and Jorge in the cockpit. She found them all staring at the landscape ahead of them, nobody daring to speak a word. Trace could sense the fear and apprehension in the room-- they all knew that the risk they were about to take could be catastrophic.

"Where are we going?" Trace asked Jorge, upon realising that she actually knew very, very little of the plan.

"A small township near Denver. There's a sort of safe house we can use. Someone's meeting us there with the supplies."

"Someone?" Trace echoed. She didn't like the tone Jorge had used, like there was some kind of big explanation behind who they'd be meeting there. "Who's this 'someone'?"

Jorge didn't answer.

"Who?" Trace repeated. "Tell me." If there was going to be some other person involved in this super-risky, terrifying plan, she wanted to know who this person was.

Brenda was the one to answer. She sighed. "It's Gally. Gally's meeting us there."

"Gally?" It was Newt's turn to react, leaping forward from where he stood to stand a few feet from Brenda. "What the hell do you mean? Gally's dead! Minho killed him!"

"Apparently not," Minho spoke, as he and Thomas stepped into the room behind them. "Guess his skull's a little thicker than we first thought. He escaped and he's with the Right Arm, working against WICKED. We found him in Denver."

Newt shook his head. "This is crazy. This isn't happening."

Trace had always somewhat anticipated Gally's return, though she hadn't been sure whether it would happen, given that Minho was the one to beat him up; she couldn't tell how much that would've changed. She was surprised at how relieved she felt that Minho hadn't killed Gally after all.

Once she'd overcome the intial shock and surprise, Trace's mind headed in another direction, working well into the future. "So..." she began. "Gally brings the equipment. Who knows how to use it?"