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The letter had sent a shot of panic down Trix's spine.

The battered, off white envelope was nothing to be afraid of in all honesty. However, the bold black letters printed in the corner were. Underneath a triangular Maze-like pattern, were the six letters that Trix had never wanted to encounter again. The people behind the organisation were the reason she was physically and mentally scarred, paranoid, lonely and depressed. They had brainwashed her, killed her friends and family, took away any chance she had at a normal life and they were just giant dicks in general. Let's not forget the unhealthy amount of nightmares that all of the "test subjects" suffered with because of those arseholes.


World in Catastrophe: Killzone Experiment Department.

It took every nerve in the white-haired teen's body to not rip the letter up immediately. Her mind screamed at her not to open the envelope, but her instincts said differently.

Trix decided to do what her instincts told her. It's not like WICKED were actively trying to kidnap more kids since their illegal experiments were publicly outed by the FBI when they had retrieved the survivors.

 The last time Trix checked, they were still at the top of the FBI's most wanted list. Which was hilarious to Trix because nobody actually wanted WICKED. They were the human equivalent to cancer. Nobody wanted them but they still existed.

She unsheathed her claws and ran one under the letter's seal. Inside was a beat-up piece of lined paper covered in familiar handwriting. Trix felt like she was being deceived. The owner of that handwriting was dead. He had been since just before their escape from WICKED's grasp.

It was impossible.

Not impossible, Trix thought to herself. Improbable.

Then again, if WICKED were involved anything could potentially happen. They had put her and various others inside a maze, created a dangerous virus that could wipe out the entirety of the earth's population and made them believe they were stuck in some dystopian future.

Surely enough, the letter was completely believable. It wasn't because the letter was coded or mimicked her dead friend's thought pattern perfectly. It was because of the name he had addressed her as and the first thing written underneath that nickname. Only two people had ever been aware of that name and the other was now supposedly alive.

The white-haired woman walked over to her desk. She scrambled through a pile of work to find another piece of paper. After accomplishing her task, she found a pen and quickly wrote down the alphabet. She glanced at the note again before numbering each letter.

It took the female about three minutes to decode and rewrite the note. Her eyes raced over the brief words and realised what she had to do.

Trix pulled out her phone and dialled one of the numbers so fast she thought the phone would crash. After three rings, the other line picked up.

"Trix, what is-"

Trix cut him off.

"Minho, it's Newt. He's alive and W.I.C.K.E.D. are scheming again."