the end of beginning, thomas

xvi, so no afterparty?

"Hey. Hey, you're okay", Teresa cooed, her voice soft like silk and as sweet as honey. The boy beneath her stirred, his eyes wide in panic and confusion. Thomas sat up with a start, however the tension in his shoulders quickly loosened as he calmed down at the girl's soothing, melodic words.

"Hi", she sang. "We've got to stop meeting like this", Teresa joked, smiling. Their exchange left  a deep pit in Melanie's stomach; one she couldn't explain. Over the last few days, the girl's feelings for Thomas had resurfaced and her old insecurities seemed to have returned with it. She knew she had always jealous of Teresa, the raven-haired beauty with her piercing blue eyes and her tall frame.WICKED always seemed to push Thomas and Teresa together.

The girl had hated them both for a time. According to her memories, it wasn't until Thomas kissed her in a storage closet a year before she was due to enter the maze, did she actually fall for the brunette. And it seemed those feelings hadn't dimmed after all these years.

Three years apart brought complications, however, and it seemed having your memory wiped created an opportunity for Teresa to worm her way into the scene. Upon realising the boy had awoke, Melanie forced herself to divert her eyes, pretending to be interested in the literal torture happening in front her. "Welcome back, you ugly shank!", Minho jeered, smirking at a disheveled Thomas, who's face looked pale and sickly. His eyes widen as the sound of Jorge threatening Marcus entered his ears.

"I suggest you talk! You son of a bitch!", the older man ordered gruffly, delivering a swift punch to Marcus once more. Blood seeped from his face, which was stained black and blue. Two nasty black eyes had formed too. "I'm sorry you're going to have to leave my house", Marcus mumbled, making Jorge fume with rage.

Thomas, standing on shaky legs, stood beside Newt and Melanie, his eyes boring into Jorge. "Looks like you've been having fun", Newt commented, looking at the various cups full of alcohol strewn around the floor and the dazed look still swimming in Thomas' irises. Melanie kept her mouth shut.

"Listen I don't enjoy hurting you...", Jorge spat, causing Marcus to nod along sarcastically. "Okay, where is the Right Arm Marcus?", the man declared, looking fed up with the man's avoidance.

"Wait, this is Marcus?", Thomas questioned, a clueless look on his face.

Melanie clicked her tongue. "Who did you think it was?", she asked, a touch of malice in her voice. The boy stared at her for a second, almost as if he was analysing her, before redirecting his attention to Jorge and Marcus.

"The kid catches on quick. Are you the brains of the operation?", Marcus mocked, but was swiftly cut off when Jorge jerked the man's head backward roughly by his hair. A grunt of pain left Marcus' chapped, spilt lips. "I know you know where they're hiding. So you tell me, and I'll make you a deal."

Seemingly fed up, a gruff Julian makes his way to the men standing in the middle of the room. "He isn't going to make a deal", the man annoy her, his eyes taking in the sight of the bloody and beaten man. A flicker of recognition shines in Marcus' eyes, a small chuckle escaping his bleeding lips.

"Julian Peters." His words come out in a half chuckle, half wheeze. "Last time I saw you, you were much more polite, well-mannered. A real soldier", Marcus sneered. "How's what's his face? Luther, right?", he asked, smiling at the redness of the blonde man's face.

"Who's Luther?", Minho shot, crossing his arms across his toned chest. Neither Julian nor Marcus answered; one steaming while the other smiled maliciously. Marcus' eyes, which came to look at Minho, had since left the tall boy and spotted the brunette with the sour expression and the furrowed, dark brow. A whistle left his lips, before he began to laugh sadistically. "I thought I recognised you, Melanie Peters."

Chills flooded Melanie as her full name rolled of his tongue; a name she barely knew herself. Her discomfort only spurs Marcus on. "The Key", he continued. "The one who's going to fix it all. Wicked will pay a pretty, hefty price to have you back. I'd be rich beyond my-", his talk of greed is swiftly cut off by Julian, who delivered a strong punch to his nose. The girl's brother grabbed his shirt, pulling him up so that their faces nearly touched. Laboured breaths left the eldest Peters, a look of pure, unchained insanity brewing behind murky green eyes. In this moment, Melanie swore she saw something brewing behind her brother's eyes.

"Listen here Marcus. I think you've forgotten who's in charge here", Julian spat, delivering a another sickening punch to Marcus' ribs. "...You keep my sister's name, plus Luther's, out of your grimy mouth, or I'll put a bullet in that mush you call a brain." His spit flew into the other mans face. Marcus nodded, before Julian released him with a huff.

Thomas leaned his head down beside Melanie's ear. The girl could feel the roughness of his light stumble tickling the shell of her ear. His breath on her neck made her baby hairs stand alert. He cleared his throat, noticing the blooming red spreading across Melanie's skin. He suppressed the urge to smirk. "Why is your brother here? Isn't he with Wicked?", he asked.

Feeling as if her voice was gone and her throat was stuffed with thick cotton, the girl shrugged. Her eyes moved away from Thomas and his lips, and focused on Julian and Jorge as they tried to get information about the Right Arms whereabouts. Marcus had told her she would fix it all. How could you fix a world that doesn't want to be fixed? What drove these people to the brink of a disease-riddled era, and how could she pull them back from the cliff edge?

"You can come with us", Jorge offered, causing a grumble to come from Julian. Marcus sighed. "I burned that bridge a long time ago. Besides I made my own deal", Marcus taunted. "You're the one who taught me, never miss an opportunity."

The man began to laugh, finding the situation amusing. Eyebrows raised, everyone silently questioning why they were talking to this man?

"What are you talking about?", Newt asked, his voice full of curiosity. Melanie, too, felt that surge of curiosity. "I'm talking about supply and demand",Marcus sneered. "Wicked wants all the immunes they can get. I help provide that for them. So I lure the kids in, they get drunk, they have a good time and then, later Wicked comes in." The bitter taste in Melanie's mouth made her want to vomit. "They separate the wheat from the chaff", he laughed.

"I changed my mind, hermano", Jorge decided, his tone threatening, menacing. "I do enjoy hurting you."

He kicked Marcus to the floor, the injured man spluttering and gasping as he hit the floor harshly. Groans and grunts along with laughter emit from the crazed man's gob. Jorge pulls out his gun, pointing it at Marcus. "Talk! Talk!", Jorge belted.

"Okay! Jesus", Marcus screamed in return. "But I'm not making any promises." Marcus soon began, saying that "these guys like to move around." His slurred speech is cut off when the two men haul him off the ground. He's breathing heavily, his chest constricted from the ropes binding him. "They have an outpost in the mountains. But it's a long way away", he panted. "With half of Wicked on your ass, you're never gonna make it"."

Jorge smirked devilishly. Despite only knowing the man for a short period of time, Melanie came to rely on the fact that Jorge always had something up his sleeve. "Not on foot", the man joked.

Marcus' face paled and he froze. Jorge grabbed the mans jacket, hauling him forwards. "Where's Bertha?", Jorge smiled.

"Not Bertha", choked the injured man.

"What's Bertha?", Thomas questioned.

In reply, Julian and Jorge both smirked, the former shooting his sister a wink. "You'll see, hermano.", Jorge informed.