Chapter Text
"I'm not trying to talk you into anything." A pause. Statt didn't make eye contact with him. Grace didn't like where this was going. "I am trying to make you understand what I'm about to do next."
Despite it just being the two of them in the room, the vibe changed drastically as she spoke, despite her calm voice. Like the temperature suddenly dropped multiple degrees.
There was some movement in the hallway.
Grace shifted uncomfortably.
"Yeah?" She broke the silence when he didn't respond. "Please, stay calm."
The door opened.
"Come in."
Grace laughed, more out of discomfort than because it was funny. Because nothing about this was funny. "What is this?"
The man entering the room wore a lab coat, and carried a bag. Grace tried to convince himself that bag didn't contain what he thought (feared) it did.
"Mission plan will state that we induced your coma early to maximize your safety," Stratt spoke in a monotone voice, like she'd rehearsed it a million times. "You will be remembered as a hero."
She wouldn't. Right?
"Come on." Grace's voice shook as he spoke. "This is crazy."
"I have to do it."
'Do what,' he almost asked, 'kill me?'
"Come on, what are you doing?" He stood up. Instinct told him to flee, as the door opened again. Security guards came in, multiple of them.
She was really serious about this.
"This may seem like me betraying you, but it's actually me believing in you." Her voice shook, too. She was sending her best scientist into space. She was sending her best scientist to his death.
His eyes darted around the room, looking at the security guards, at the blocked doors, at Stratt.
"Sure feels like you're betraying me."
"Don't make this harder. Please."
Like she cared. Like she wasn't asking him to give up his life for this stupid suicide mission.
"Come on, guys."
He felt like a toddler, running from some doctors because he didn't want a shot. But he was pretty sure that whatever was in that labcoat guy's bag wouldn't just be a vaccine. No, it'd knock him out cold, or at least make him easier to handle.
Make it easier to drag him toward his death, far away from anyone he's ever cared about. (Which, admittedly, like Stratt had said, weren't many people. Damn, she was right again.)
But he didn't want to die.
"Let's keep talking about it-"
He wasn't brave.
He wasn't strong.
He was scared.
He shoved a chair vaguely in the direction of the people cornering him. Stratt sighed, but he didn't pay her any mind as he climbed up on the bookshelf. To do what? He wasn't sure. Get past them, maybe. Hopefully.
"Sit down and we do it differently," Stratt said.
Differently. But the outcome would stay the same. Grace would die.
Dashing for the door, he jumped off the bookshelf. Hands grabbed at his jacket but he shook them off.
Where could he even go? This building was filled with people who worked for her. Still, he bolted through the hallways, throwing himself at the door leading outside. Luckily, it was in fact a 'push' door.
Multiple footsteps sounded behind him. He could hear them, even over his own panting and the rapid beating of his heart. He glanced behind him. A crowd of guards was chasing him. He had to get out.
But what would he do after? Carl had said it himself, back when they had their little shopping spree. 'All of the governments.' Even if he managed to climb the barbed wire fence, he had nowhere to go. He couldn't go home, couldn't go to his school, or they would find him and take him kicking and screaming in front of the kids. They'd probably think he was a coward.
A body slammed into him from the side as someone jumped from behind the building he ran past.
He almost hoped he'd break something as he fell, though he doubted Stratt would see that as a reason for him not to go.
Multiple guards jumped on top of him, restraining his flailing limbs.
Just having run that fast and the uncontrollable sobs that shook his body, he couldn't catch is breath.
"No-"
They grabbed his arms as he clawed at the grass beneath him.
"No, no-"
A shadow moved in front of him, or actually two. The scientist from earlier, still holding that damn bag, and-
"Carl," he pleaded. "I can't do it."
The weight on his back shifted again, still pinning him, but moving aside for the scientist as he dug through his bag.
"Don't do it!" He struggled again. "Don't do it! Don't-"
A sharp stabbing pain.
It was over.
Next time he awoke, he'd be in space, never to return home.
"You know who you are," Carl said, though Grace couldn't focus on his face. "You're gonna do great."
His struggles weakened despite his brain yelling at his body to fight.
He was hoisted upright, the hands surprisingly careful and gentle now that he couldn't fight them anymore.
He closed his eyes, not wanting to look at the people murdering him for any longer. That's what he told himself, that it wasn't whatever drug they'd given him making his eyes feel heavy.
Stratt wasn't even here to wave goodbye as she shipped him off to his inevitable death.
Coward.