EPIPHANY ✁ newt

11 , confessions

tw: talk of death and eating disorders

I nudged Newt, who was still sitting next to me as I noticed Thomas stir on the bed, coming to as Jorge punched the man, who had indeed turned out to be Marcus, across his jaw for what left like the hundredth time. Teresa must have also seen Thomas's movement as she went to sit next to him as another smack rang out across the room.

"I suggest you talk you son of a bitch! Damn it!" Jorge screamed, but the guy just smiled, unfazed.

"I'm sorry, you're going to have to leave my house." Was Marcus's only response.

"Looks like you've been having fun." Newt remarked softly as Thomas walked by where we were sitting, I could only purse my lips, trying to keep up a straight face.

"Look... I don't want to hurt you, Marcus. Okay? So tell me - where's the Right Arm? I know you know where they're hiding, so you tell me... and I'll make you a deal. You can come with us." Jorge asked again, trying to stay calm.

Marcus laughed again, blood pouring down his face as he simply looked up at Jorge with an eerie calmness. "I burned that bridge a long time ago. Besides... I make my own deals. You were the one who taught me - never miss an opportunity."

Newt frowned, shifting on the sofa beside me as he spoke up. "What's he on about?"

Marcus turned to look at the blonde through his blood shot eyes. "I'm talking about supply and demand..." he started, still being excruciatingly vague. "WICKED wants all the immunes they can get. I help provide that for them. So I lure the kids in, they get drunk and have a good time and then later... WICKED comes in. They separate the wheat from the chaff."

A sudden wave of anger rushed through me thinking of Winston and all the other people who weren't immune. They didn't deserve to be spoken about like that - like they were only some sort of defective parts that could be done away with, without thinking twice. Hell, any of us could be unimmune.

"I changed my mind, hermano." Jorge said through gritted teeth, a new spark in his voice. "I do enjoy hurting you." He kicked Marcus's chair down onto its back - pulling out a gun as he advanced on the shocked man. Everyone in the room stood up at the sudden action, my hand still gripping the side of the sofa, legs threatening to give out.

"Talk. Talk! TALK!" Jorge screamed, practically sitting on the man as he half straddled him, gun pressed to Marcus's throat.

"Alright! Alright, Jesus. But I'm not making any promises - these guys like to move around. They have an outpost in the mountains, but its a long way away. You've got half of WICKED on your ass, you're never going to make it there." Marcus said, still smiling as Jorge returned his chair to its upright position.

Suddenly, he smiled, and I half thought Jorge had somehow caught the flare as he grabbed hold of Marcus's collar, a crazy look in his eyes. "Not on foot... where is Bertha?"

For the first time in this whole interaction, I saw a flicker of panic flash across the tied up mans face as his eyes widened, smile slipping from his lips. "Not Bertha..."

A few minutes later we were back outside, standing in front of a light blue car that looked big enough to have all of us comfortably fit inside. "This... is Bertha?" Minho asked with an incredulous look on his face, as Jorge got into the drivers seat.

"You bet she is... Hop in, friends." he said with a glint in his eye. Within seconds we were speeding down a road towards the mountains, moving the fastest we had since being extracted from the maze in the burg.