Before you went into the Maze. Before you were dropped into the Scorch. Before you escaped from the very people who raised you -- you worked for them. Brought to WICKED headquarters when you were no older than seven years old by your father, you were employed by them. You made friends. You met a guy. You were as close to happy as it was possible to be with the world half in flames; so happy, in fact, you almost wished you hadn't found out what they were really trying to do. What they intended to do to you. To Alby, Minho, Thomas. To Newt. You almost wished you didn't have to stop them. Almost.