Please Tommy: Maze Runner One Shots & Imagines [On Hold]

Cranks, Jorge, and a new BFF

NOTE: The characters and scenes are not mine, all rights and credit go to James Dashner. I have only rewritten them to be seen from the POV of Brenda.

At first, working for WICKED hadn't been all that bad. She had never liked it, or them for that matter, but the job had it's advantages. Free food and shelter out of the world of Cranks. A decent sized pay check. In a way WICKED had saved her life. Then she got the promotion. Now here she was in the rafters of a building about ready to collapse in on itself in the middle of Crank City, surrounded by a bunch of psychos who would probably claw her face off if they found out she was immune, all following the lead of an crazy, arrogant, old Spaniard about ready to jump into the middle of a group of smelly teenage boys, in order to join them on the journey that had been presented to them under false pretenses and while doing so trying not to die in twenty horrible gruesome ways every ten minutes. After this, she was quitting. She'd become a barista at Scooters like any other half-brained teenager. But for now- the mission.

She looked at Jorge. 'Wait for my signal,' he'd said. Of course, he had failed to specify exactly what the said signal was.

She turned her attention toward the boys. She looked at them- studied them one by one. The boy with the olive skin and the dark hair- Aris. The tall, blonde Brit- Newt. The Asian psycho- Minho. Nate. Adam. Lee. Frypan. Thomas. When she first sat down to learn each of their names, Jorge had told her not to bother. 'It just means more lies that we'll have to make those boys believe, chica. Save yourself the effort.' She'd ignored him. She wanted to know what she getting into. Besides lying had never been a problem for her. She was a fluent liar, could keep a lie going for years. That's what had gotten her this far alive. 

She refocused on what was happening around her. "Those crazies show up.' Thomas was saying. "But I'm telling you, we gotta eat first. We gotta find food."

"Food?" There it was- that thick Spanish accent she knew so well. Jorge jumped out of the rafter, letting himself fall towards the ground- towards the goal. She watched him tuck and roll, landing with his arms spread out. He'd practiced it for weeks. "My name is Jorge. And I'm the Crank who rules place." She kept in a giggle of laughter as she watched the boys stare stupidly at Jorge, unable to believe he was actually there. After a while, Jorge got fed up. "You people forget how to talk?" He gave them a cocky smile. "Or you just scared of the Cranks. Scared we'll pull you to the ground and claw your eyeballs out? Mmm, tasty. I love a good eyeball when the grub's runnin' short. Tastes like under-cooked eggs." 

Minho looked indignant. "You admit you're a Crank? That you're freaking crazy?" 

"He just said he likes that taste of eyeballs. I think that qualifies as crazy." Another boy said.

"Come on, my new friends." Jorge chuckled. "I'd only eat your eyes if you were already dead. Course," he winks. "I might help you get that way if I needed to. Understand what I'm saying?"

Newt however seemed fed up with the small talk. "How many of you are here?" 

"How many?" Jorge asked sarcastically. "How many Cranks? We're all Cranks around here, hermano." 

"That's not what I meant and you know it." Newt wasn't taking any of Jorge's crap. I smiled, good for him. Gotta respect the British.

Impressed or not, Jorge ignored him, beginning to pace. "Lot of things you people need to understand about how things work in this city. About the Cranks and WICKED, about the government, about why they left us here to rot in our disease, kill each other, go completely and utterly insane." He emphasized the word insane, looking intensely each of them. "About how there's different levels of the Flare. About how it's too late for you-" He paused as his eyes land on Newt. "The ill is gonna catch ya if you don't already have it."