It was over. The Trials. All of them. WICKED had managed to find a cure for the flare. It was quickly distributed worldwide and saved millions among millions of people, although, nearly half the population had been already wiped-out. The world was once in catastrophe for a little longer than a dozen years, but no more.

Seeing it all end-seeing the results-the ending...it was quite grim. But at least humanity was saved-by the abominable experiments humans did to other humans.

Was our suffering… No-their deeds-could they be justified? You wondered. Sacrifice to save for the greater good. Kill lives so that more could live in the future. You remembered past governments and rulers going by that reasoning and thinking.

The whole notion was always hanging by a thread anyways. But...what if the whole outcome was different?

You were a part of WICKED. You worked for them for protection and all the necessities you needed in order to live in once such a corrupted world. Your family was no longer, and you were the only one left. You felt somewhat lonely alone, surrounded with no others around your age. You weren't qualified to be a part of the Trials. Never.

You watched them suffer, die, laugh, everything. You watched through the bright screens that displayed through the eyes of the beetle blades and cameras. You also assisted WICKED with the swipe and flare implantations. The images of the boys and girls that laid on the operation table as they were deep unconsciousness were always the last memories with them-physically. Their even, calm breaths, chest rising and falling like a sleeping child. That was always the last time you ever saw them.

You remembered always wondering what they would be like once they lost their memories. And you saw it all too. They hated WICKED with all their hearts. They used to agree with them in the past, when they knew about the world's condition. They were treated like to-be-heroes, and they, obliged to WICKED's orders, as if listening to them and doing as they said was the right thing to do and they were sure of it.

But now, looking at everything that happened over the past two years, all their mindsets were changed 180. They contempted WICKED for all the things that were done to them after they lost their memories. It was like they became different people. They also no longer remembered the bonds of friendship between you and them, and that was what made you sad.

After WICKED had given out the cure for the flare and people were immune to the disease, they were greatly praised and seen as the 'heroes' of mankind. WICKED did give the Gladers-your former friends, the proper credit and recognition for all that they've been through. However that still didn't change their views on WICKED. Many were sacrificed-young kids. You didn't know how they even found a cure even though you worked in the main facility. It seemed as if they were keeping that a secret. You did have a nasty feeling about it though.

After the incident with all the groups escaping through bergs, not many came back. You only knew a little bit, but you knew that some of the candidates returned in the end, for the final operation to find the cure. No one else came back. None of your friends. You were lonely. The pain was too much to bear. Heaviness weighed you down each day, knowing that no one was there. There was no one to observe through the cameras, and the adults didn't care about you genuinely. Knowing and feeling their presence gone, it was the worst feeling ever. It felt as if you took it all for granted. You always hated watching them through the monitor. Sometimes you even wished you were with them, or save them, but after they were all gone, you wished they were still there.

"It's all over," you said to yourself as you sat back in your chair, staring at the walls. "There's absolutely no reason for them to ever return. They hate us after all…"

You clutched the pendant of your necklace that you got as a gift long ago when you were young. Your parents gave it to you on your fourth birthday, and almost a year after that, you were taken away into WICKED's care.

You've been thinking of requesting to quit the job for some time. You wanted to reside in the city somewhere, rent a place to stay using your cash card you were given with enough money to manage for a couple months. You wanted to find some job, roll into some education if you could, and live normal again-just like how the world had been a dozen years ago. It all seemed better than working under WICKED when their main goal was done-when the world was less dangerous to live in.

They didn't even care if you left or not. They just told you to go and stay safe, and that was the last thing you heard from them. You got a free flight to Denver from WICKED since that place was one of the most secure and quarantined. There were still Cranks in the world. WICKED only found the cure for those who weren't infected yet. All those who had the flare were left to slowly go crazy and die. There were also rumours about extermination units that killed any infected undercover. What else could they do? They couldn't just let Cranks roam around until they went past the Gone to do whatever they pleased. Cranks were considered...no longer human. They were degraded and seen as dangerous creatures that had to be taken away by specialist security that patrolled in almost every city. Then they were either killed, or imprisoned until they've reached the point where they had to be. Even the people who had the slightest infection were shown no mercy.

You got out of the airport one day, feeling the warmness of the sun shine on your skin as you walked deeper into the city. For more than three quarters of your life, you've been in the huge buildings of WICKED in Alaska, barely ever stepping outside. You felt glee and free at last. It was just a matter of finding a job and a place to stay.

It shouldn't be too hard, I hope, you said to yourself as you went down the streets, absorbing all that was around you. The city was definitely less populated from years before, and the amount of vehicle users drastically dropped. The majority of people walked on the sidewalks, creating a large crowd and clutter in some areas.

You past many restaurants, stores, a couple motels, houses, skyscrapers, and even some clubs. You looked at the faces of other people as they walked passed, their faces all sharing the same, placid yet alertful expression, as if they were almost suspicious of each other.

Should I stay at a motel for now and try applying to a job, or should I ask someone if I could possibly stay at their house? You thought for a moment, trying to figure out which would be more safer and convenient. It was obviously staying at a motel, since you didn't want to ask some random person off the street.

You were able to find a job quickly. You worked as a waitress at a restaurant that opened not too long ago. You did your proper research online, finding that it had the highest wage compared to all the other restaurants. You also managed to enroll in a high school nearby, that was also fairly new. Education kind of slipped off the necessity of a young life ever since the flare broke out, burning almost all technology to a crisp in one single day. But since a dozen years past, everything slowly went back to the most normal it could ever be.

There weren't too many students at schools now, as most either found a low-waged job that could manage their living, and many kids that were born when the flare broke out were never sent to school.

You hadn't had a study in almost three years, since that was when you were technically done your training to be a monitor over the Gladers and whatnot. You didn't worry too much about highschool though, since you knew the studies from the facility were much more advanced than the average lectures in public schools.

You were walking to work one day. Everything was normal-cars passing along on the roads, people walking on the sidewalks, patrollers standing guard on almost every street. You continued on walking back to the motel you stayed at, keeping a cool-headed expression even though the city still made you feel excited and alive. There were new constructions going on and everything was starting to come back in business and colour. Ever since the flare, all the governments came together and started to collectivize all resources, which was why many businesses closed down, leaving only the few big companies left. Many were in poverty after that, but the government didn't really seem to aid that problem though, since everybody was trying to save their own life. The government-who were supposed to care for their people, turned a blind eye to them because of their own self need. Plus they also started to implement the Trials. It then shifted their thinking into giving citizens very limited safety, because they thought that poverty would lead to less population, which would then lead to saving more resources. Not many protested though, since everyone knew doing anything against them would be instant death, added all the corruption that was happening already. At least that was what people said the government did. You didn't know how they were doing now, but your life in the city was very peaceful so far, so you assumed everything was getting better.

A couple streets ahead something caught your attention as cries erupted. You turned your head towards the sound and saw two girls, one woman and one child. A mother and child, crying-begging a Red Shirt on their knees.

"Please! I beg of you, don't take him away," the woman sobbed, clutching onto the Red Shirt's clothing so tightly it seemed as if it'll rip off. The child copied her mother's words, crying as well.

"He's infected, woman. Don't you see the great danger of that?! Do you want our so-peaceful world going back into that hell?! Stop thinking only for yourselves, you selfish bi-"

The Red Shirt caught you staring at him. He looked almost surprised for a split second, then a sneer played on his face. "I shouldn't use such language, should I now, kid?" He asked you. He shook his head. "There's nothing you can do about this, girl, so just leave the business to me.

You stayed still for a second, wanting to reply to him. You wanted to ask if he was going to harm them, but your lips felt like they were glued together. You curtly nodded and walked ahead, wanting leave immediately. You felt so terrible, but you knew in a way that man was correct. It was just his way of...dealing with the situation that kind of made you feel a little uneasy. It somehow reminded you of your job back at WICKED facility. A pang of guilt rose within you, making it feel like it was eating you away. You knew it wasn't your fault, though, and tried to reassure yourself.

You turned, almost bumping into someone in front of you. You quickly moved out of the way and continued on, but then he said something.

"Hey-you." A deep voice said.

You turned around, surprised he was addressing you. Then, your eyes widened at who it was.

Minho…

"You look familiar," he said, slightly squinting an eye at you. He turned from his forty-five degree angle to directly face you.

Still eyes wide in such surprise, you started back at him. Your old friend.

"Uh-yeah. I...worked back at WICKED's headquarters…" You replied, feeling like you've just confessed something that you did wrong.

"Oh, yeah. So it is you."

You wanted to tell him everything for some reason. You wanted to say that you used to be best friends with him back when they were younger. But for some reason, you just couldn't let it out. It was like...he wasn't who he was anymore.

"Why are you here? Searching for us or something?" He asked.

"No. I left WICKED to...live a normal life. It's not like I wanted to work there or anything."

Minho nodded emotionlessly. He looked you in the eye, as if he was trying to pry someone out of you. It was a little intimidating. It was almost hard to believe that he used to be a different person.

"So I have a question," you suddenly blurted without thinking over twice.

Minho gave you a questioning look, then said. "Question for question?"

"Sure."

He nodded, gesturing for you to ask first.

You hesitated, wondering what his answer will be. Would it kind of hurt your feelings?

"Do you remember me? Like as in, before you went to the Maze?" You stopped it at there, you didn't want to mention about being good friends just for the sake of awkwardness.

"A little, yeah. Mostly all a haze now, even though I got the chip out of my brain." His answer felt curt.

"Ah, I see," you replied, not knowing what else to say. You looked down for a moment, trying to recollect your thoughts, but then remembered he had a question too. Looking back up, you asked. "And yours?"

Without missing a beat, he asked. "So what did you do working under WICKED? I'm curious."

You paused before you spoke. "I actually was monitoring you guys, watching you throughout the Maze and the scorch, doing things they ordered me to do like implementing…" You stopped there, realizing you went a little too far. "I'm sorry for everything that happened."

He nodded again. "You can't change the past. You probably did it in order to survive, I figured." He huffed. Something about his face drained colour. It looked like he was trying his best to suppress an emotion. He suddenly looked you in the eye, and then tightly inhaled through his nose.

"You...implemented...the flare?"

Speechless, you stared back at him blankly. "Yes…"

You knew you killed a couple people, and one of them was a close friend of Minho's...and yours. "I-there was nothing I could do. They told me to, or else more would die!" You suddenly felt shaky.

I'm just like WICKED. Sacrifice a little to that more can live.

You saw him with a fist clenched. He stayed silent and didn't look at you either. You felt something stinging inside you. You fought back your tears, standing in front of him. You wanted to apologize again and again, but you knew that what you did wasn't completely wrong.

Minho then started to walk pass you, so you spoke, making him stop.

"I know, that if it was you and not me...you'd refuse and do something about it. You would fight back with everything you have. You wouldn't oblige. But...I'm not tough like you are. I never was. I'm a coward...that just wanted you guys to come back. I was...alone." You whispered the last word. You were on the verge of tears but you kept on holding it back.

Minho paused, as if he was thinking it over. But without a word, he walked away.

You sighed. It would have never been like the old days anyways.