WICKED games 2 (Newt x female reader) [COMPLETED]

9

The girl leads us up two flights of stairs, shoving open a heavy door at the top.

We find ourselves in an old warehouse, people sitting and standing all over the place, the whole area lit by string lights draped across the rafters. I can't help but stare.

"Come on, keep up," she says, "Jorge wants to meet you." 

"Who's Jorge?" Thomas asks, but she doesn't answer.

"No one's come out of the Scorch in a long time, you've got him curious. And me too."

I turn to look behind us, squeezing Newt's hand. He looks too, frowning. Behind us, a crown of large, dirty adults are following, smiling.

"Is anyone else starting to get a bad feeling about this?"

"We'll just here them out, see what they have to say." Thomas says.

Up a few more steps, through a few more doors, the girl leads us into a cluttered top room, a large window looking over the city.

"Jorge," she says, "they're here."

"Uh, sh sh sh sh." A man sits at a desk on the far side of the room, fiddling with a dial on a radio. He puts it down, evidently it isn't working, and stands to greet us. 

"Do you ever get the feeling that the whole world's against you?" he asks, hands on his hips. He's about sixty, with curly grey-ish hair and olive skin.

I look Newt beside me, raising an eyebrow and grinning.

"Three questions," the man continues, walking forwards, "where did you come from," he grabs a jug and a glass of a table, "where are you going," he spins the glass in his hand, "how can I profit?"

We look at each other, then back at the man – Jorge I assume – who is pouring himself a drink.

"Don't all answer at once," he says.

"We're headed for the mountains," Thomas steps forward, "looking for the Right Arm." A chorus of laughter erupts from behind us, and I glance around, frowning.

"You're looking for ghosts, you mean." Jorge takes a sip of his drink.

"Uh..."

Jorge walks toward Thomas, cutting him off. "Question number two:" he says, "where did you come from?"

"That's our business." Minho says. Jorge looks at us for a moment, then shrugs. Instantly, we're seized by the people behind us. I land a punch in someone's face, and an elbow in someone's stomach, but they're much bigger than all of us. The person holding me grabs my arms tight, pulling them behind my back. Everyone else is getting similar treatment.

The girl comes over, a small, whining device in her hand and pushes Thomas's head down, exposing his neck. He yells, but she ignores him.

"What is that?" He asks.

"Shut up, you big baby." She mutters, scanning a spot on his neck. She looks at the device, handing it to Jorge. "You were right." She says, and our captors release us.

"Right about what? What's she talking about?"

Jorge ignores Thomas, taking a pair of horn-rimmed glasses from his pocket and reading the screen.

"I'm sorry hermano," he says, "looks like you're tagged. You came from WICKED. Which means," he nods to us, "you're very valuable."

We're hanging by our feet over a huge drop.

"Good plan, Thomas," Minho says, "just hear what the man has to say. Really working out for us."

"Shut up, Minho." Thomas replies, "Maybe I can reach the rope." He curls up, trying to get to his feet but can't.