little immune {the scorch trials} (request)

˜"*°• 23 •°*"˜

The next day immediately sparked a cascade of running around the Crank-filled town, trying to find their friends.

Jorge had led them through buildings, hunting for food as well as hints about where his old pal Marcus was hiding. Once they'd learned Marcus's location, they took turns scouting it out from different areas and came up with a plan on how they were going to make their entrance.

Then, lo and behold, they caught sight of Thomas and Brenda at the doors to Marcus's place, entering the party that was supposedly going on inside. Y/n tried to run to him instantly, but Jorge held her back, saying that now wasn't the time to make themselves known. They'd find another way in. And that, they did.

By the time they managed to succeed, Thomas and Brenda had been in there for a little while already. It took a while to actually find them, and when they finally did, Thomas was passed out cold. As was Brenda, but it was only the boy Y/n ran for. She was so scared for him. What had happened?! It couldn't have been good.

"Come on!" Jorge was shouting. "I'll take Brenda; can one of you guys grab Thomas?"

Y/n would have done it, but obviously, she was much too small to carry him. Minho did it instead, though even he struggled a little bit with the weight.

"Holy shuck," he groaned, readjusting his grip of the unconscious boy in his arms. "Why is this shank ... ugh ... so heavy?"

Newt stifled a laugh from beside him. "What d'you suppose is wrong with them, anyway?"

"Drugged, probably," Jorge replied. "You have to pay an admissions fee to get into the party, of course. 'S why I couldn't let you guys through the main entrance. Especially her." He nodded at Y/n.

They continued up the narrow staircase, which Jorge claimed would eventually lead them to Marcus. The sounds of the rager beneath them were slowly beginning to fade away, yet the ringing in Y/n's ears made her feel like she was standing right next to a blasting speaker. Every step she took suddenly felt like a battle she could never win.

"Y/n," someone whispered. She turned toward the direction of the voice. It was Teresa. "Let me carry you. You're clearly not feeling great."

Y/n was in no place to disagree. Once they'd reached the next platform between staircases, Teresa let Y/n climb on her back, and piggy-backed her all the way up to their destination while holding tightly to the railing for balance.

Eventually, Jorge halted in his venture upwards, looking down a dimly lit hallway toned with shades of brown and yellow. They were on the sixth floor, according to the little sign on the wall.

"This way," said Jorge, leading them down the hall and to the right until they reached a door numbered 627. "Alright, I think we've got our guy." And then he kicked down the door.

The room was immense, and unlike anything Y/n had ever seen before. Rows of chandeliers dangled from the ceiling; armchairs and couches that practically begged to be sat on. Beautiful rugs covered the floors, tables and lamps making a home atop of them. In the very centre a blazing hearth crackled as it spat sparks from the flames. It might have been called cosy, once upon a time, but now it was much too tattered for that. The couches and lamps had tears in them, and the wall paint was cobwebbed and chipped. Nonetheless, it was still very fascinating.

Y/n was so intrigued by the room, she had forgotten about the man standing beside the hearth. At least, until he started to speak.

"Jorge? That you? After all this time? Tell me that ain't another group of kids you want me to bring up. I don't do that anymore."

"Hello to you too, Marcus," Jorge muttered. Just then Brenda stirred in his arms.

"J-Jorge?" came her confused, bleary voice. "W-what's going on?"

He moved over to one of the couches and gently put her down there. Minho did the same with a still very unconscious Thomas. "We grabbed you guys from the Crank party. We're at Marcus's now."

"O-oh," Brenda replied, seeming to gain her bearings a little bit more. Y/n took the opportunity to hobble to Thomas's side and take his hand in hers. That way, she'd be right there with him when he woke up.

Jorge was just starting to interrogate Marcus, and his old friend was not having it.

"I don't care how many of them there are, Jorge, I'm ain't gonna—"

"Like hell you won't! They're all immunes. Immunes! You don't want to know what'll happen if WICKED reaches them, trust me. These kids will die if they don't get to safety. Now tell me where the Right Arm is."

Marcus scoffed. "Think I give a damn what happens to a bunch of kids? WICKED can do that they want with 'em, it don't effect me. Now get out of my house before I call my associates to drag you."

"Fine. Don't tell me." Jorge's hands balled into fists at his sides. "I guess we'll do this the hard way, then."