little immune {the scorch trials} (request)

˜"*°• 19 •°*"˜

The Gladers leaped backward in terror as the Crank lashed itself at them, only to be yanked back by a chain. As it turned out, the monster was trapped against a column stretching from floor to ceiling and unable to move from there. The Gladers momentarily felt a wave of relief, but it didn't last long.

Another monster came crashing into the light, then another, until they were completely surrounded. Thomas shined his flashlight around the room, revealing dozens of Cranks chained up against different pieces of rubbish, flesh and clothes torn off in places and shrieking madly.

They were trapped. Sure, the Cranks couldn't actually reach them but there was no way they'd make it to the exit without someone being taken.

"I see you've met our guard dogs."

The Gladers jumped at the sound of the voice, which had come from the other side of the room. It was young, female, and unfamiliar, belonging to the silhouette of a woman standing in a doorway leading further into the building. She moved forward, walking through the wave of lashing Cranks like it was nothing. The girl came into the light, stopping right in front of Thomas.

She had tan skin and dark hair cut in a pixie style, a small scar torn into the skin just above her left eyebrow. Her eyes darted from Glader to Glader, a smirk tugging at her lips. "You guys look like shit."

Thomas and Newt exchanged a bemused glance, then continued to stare at the girl blankly. Of all the things they'd expected her to say, it hadn't been that.

Almost instantly, the girl turned back around and started toward the door she had emerged from. "Come one," she said, without glancing back. "Follow me."

When at first no one moved, she finally stopped and faced the newcomers. Still wearing that same playful smirk, she gestured around at the Cranks. "Unless you wanna stay here with them."

And so, with no other choice, they followed the mysterious girl deeper into the building.

***

"You can call me Brenda," she said, showing them into a large area that looked more like a small civilization than the room of a building. Maybe that was what it was. It was full of people walking around, gathering supplies, sitting around bonfires, and generally just trying to make themselves at home. Countless pairs of eyes followed the Gladers like predators searching for their next meal as they trudged after Brenda.

"Come on, keep up," Brenda ordered. "Jorge wants to meet you." She led them up a staircase, smiling sweetly at anyone. who glared suspiciously as they passed. Thomas jogged to keep up with her.

"Who's Jorge?"

She glanced at him, raising her eyebrows. "You'll see. No one's come out of the Scorch in a long time. You've just got him curious." She paused, looking Thomas up and down. "And me, too."

The way she said that made Thomas slightly uncomfortable. Y/n squeezed his hand. He squeezed back. Fortunately, Newt seemed to be thinking the same thing. "Anyone else starting to get a bad feeling about this place?" he muttered.

"Let's just hear him out," Thomas replied uncertainly. "See what he has to say."

Finally, they reached the top floor, where a man sat at a desk with his back facing everyone. Brenda approached him cautiously. "Jorge, they're here."

Jorge held up a finger to silence her. "Quiet," he whispered, then returned his focus to the thing he'd been working on. Which was ... a radio, maybe? Those boxes people used to use to play music, a very long time ago. If his memory wasn't playing tricks on him, then Thomas was pretty sure that's what it was. Though it was producing quite a lot of static and no tunes. Eventually, Jorge let out an exasperated sigh and shut it off, turning to face his guests.

He was a middle-aged Hispanic man, maybe about fifty or so. His close cropped curly hair was entirely grey, and his eyes bloodshot. He stood confidently with his hands on his hips as he started to speak. "Do you ever get the feeling that the whole world's against you?"

Confused, the Gladers glanced at each other and didn't say anything, which was probably for the best since it didn't seem like Jorge wanted them to. He started walking toward them and kept speaking. "Three questions. Where did you come from? Where are you going? How can I profit?"

Everyone automatically looked to Thomas, but he wasn't sure where to start. Could they trust these people enough to tell them the truth?

Jorge raised his eyebrows. "Don't all answer at once."

"W-we're headed for the mountains," Thomas finally said. "Looking for the Right Arm."

A chorus of scattered laughter erupted among the group of the building's residents who had come to observe the scene.

Jorge snickered as well. "You're looking for ghosts, you mean. Question number two: Where did you come from?"

"That's our business," Minho insisted.

Jorge glared at him for a moment, then jerked his head at the Gladers. Instantly, four men lurched forward; one grabbed Thomas and shoved him to his knees in front of Jorge while the other three held the remaining kids back from trying to help their friend. Brenda grabbed a handgun-shaped device that she used to scan something on his neck.

"What is that?" Thomas shouted as the device beeped against his skin.

Brenda pulled away with the result, eyes falling to Jorge. "You were right."

Terrified, Y/n broke away from the group and threw herself into Thomas's arms. "Tommy, are you okay?"

He hugged her back tightly. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Don't worry about me." His attention shifted to Jorge. "Right about what? What is she talking about?"

Jorge chuckled humourlessly. "I'm sorry, hermano. Looks like you're tagged. You came from WICKED."

The surrounding crowd started whispering and muttering to each other. Brenda looked oddly betrayed, though Thomas couldn't imagine why.

"Which means," Jorge continued, "you're very valuable." He addressed his men. "Take them away. Oh, and leave the little one here. I have a better idea for what to do with—" But before he could even finish his sentence, Y/n took off running down the stairs, disappearing from view. Jorge held up his hands to stop his men from going after her. "There's no point. Just leave her. She won't get very far anyway."

"You underestimate her," Thomas snapped. "She's a smart kid."

"Well, if she's smart, she won't dare try coming back to save you." He addressed his men again. "Tie them up. And make sure it's so that they can't escape."