tough guy ✔️ | the scorch trial minho

epilogue

"THIS IS HORRIBLE."

Janson massaged the bridge of his nose and sucked in as much air as his crooked nostrils were capable of, as if the fresh surge of oxygen could straighten the tangled train of thoughts in his mind.

His eyes traveled between the doctors' huddled backs on the other side of the see-through-glass and the close-up recording of the ongoing surgery, displayed on the TV at one corner of the room.

The surgeon's exclaim sounded a bit static through the intercom.

"The dead skin can be peeled off —it'll be fine in no time, but I can't say the same about this deep slash," another one interjected.

With his gloved hands, he kneaded the raw skin around the patient's wound.

"This will be a hassle, really. It must be painful."

Janson twirled around in his rotating chair as he tried to release the building tension within his veins. Seeing huge amount of that thick, reddish fluid was not exactly to his liking, even after spending years in this scientific research department, where you are bound to see blood from time to time.

"Assistant Director Janson," the lead surgeon, Doctor Lisa LeBeau, called out, catching his utmost attention once again, "Are you there?"

Janson pressed onto the button of the room's intercom and replied, "Yeah."

"I can't be certain until the subject wakes up, but seeing the condition of her right arm and leg, the scans of her muscles and joints," she paused dramatically, "I suspect Subject A0 will never be able to regain complete control of her limbs. Assistant Director, I'm not even sure that she will be able to move her right limbs at all."

Janson sighed. This would be the start of a loadshit of paperwork, not to mention the subjects' bumpy, emotional responses. "Can you do anything about it?"

"No. Nerve damage is not something we can fix. She's going to need some personalized orthotics if she ever wants to limp around."

"I have to speak with Lichliter about that."

"Actually, I have a proposition, sir."

"What?" Janson asked curtly, but sharp. All the pessimistic medical talk was slowly irking the tips of his nerves.

"With high possibility of hemipeglia paralysis, infection on a 20 centimeter long laceration, first and second degree burn on nearly half of her body," the surgeon put the forceps in her hands onto the blue surgical drape, symbolizing her giving up, and looked up towards the observation room where Janson was watching from, "Personally, sir, I think she doesn't worth this much matters and effort."

WICKED's assistant director swiveled to fix the position of his seat and met her eyes, in case she was joking.

She was not.

"She's not one of your top candidates, is she? She's just a variable for the development of Subject A7's Killzone pattern. The second phase of the trial is over —sir, she's disposable."

Janson raised his eyebrows and turned the intercom on again, definitely intrigued, "Are you suggesting that we eliminate Subject A0, Doctor Lebeau?"

"Say we lost her during the procedure—"

"No."

The feminine but stern voice caught everyone by surprise.

For a second, Janson thought that it was Frances, intervening with the plotting of her own death. There were simply no other woman who dared to raise her voice within the vicinity, except for Dr. Lebeau, who was speaking at the time, and Subject A0, laying naked on her side, unconscious on the operating table.

Right, unconscious.

He was usually smarter.

But it wasn't until Dr. Lebeau acknowledged the intruder with her name that Janson realized who had been listening into the classified conversation all along.

"Chancellor Paige."

"Don't kill her. That's an order."

Janson rose onto his feet, "Chancellor."

"I expect that you will see through it, A.D. Janson."

"Chancellor, Dr. Lebeau's right," he tried to reason, "In her current condition, Subject A0 is a liability to us and to the other subjects. You saw the footage. She was only two steps away from death."

"I thought we have agreed on the conditions of Phase Three."

Janson looked around— the petite but undoubtedly most powerful and respected woman in this whole company was nowhere in sight. He figured she had been personally monitoring the procedure from her office.

"Yes —we agreed that emotions must not get in the way and we must maintain a professional demeanor as the lives of so many people are in the hands of so few. In accordance to it, Subject A0 is not included in the said few."

"We also agreed that Thomas is the endgame. We will continue trying to find a cure with the data, and the subjects' participation is no longer required. Frances' as well."

"Chancellor—"

"Let her live. It's the least we can give her in exchange for all she has done in the Trials."

"We can reroute all resources needed to tend her extensive needs for others."

"We are not killing another Immune, Janson, just because she's now physically disabled."

"Chancellor Paige!"

"No. She lives."