Run | TMR X PJO [ Editing ]

Fifteen | Group A

Chapter fifteen, in which a mysterious message is left for Percy.

"Percy, oh Percy! Wake up!" A voice called loudly. And Percy knew exactly who was shaking him so early in the morning—it couldn't be anyone else.

Chuck.

"What the shuck," Percy mumbled sleepily, his eyes fluttering open and shut. He wiped away the lake of drool that had collected on his face while he slept—gross—and took his time in getting up. Chuck, being impatient, nudged him with a chubby foot until he sat up and stretched. 

"Get up already! Newt has something for you," Chuck whined, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "You overslept, oh Newt's gonna be so pissed at you!"

An angry Newt was nothing to be joking about, and Percy leaped to his feet and dived out the door rapidly. "Oh gods, please no..."

The little guy ran out of Homestead as fast as his chubby little legs could carry him, bellowing to Newt about Percy finally waking up—if anyone didn't know about his oversleeping, they sure did now once Chuck began screaming his head off. Percy sprinted as fast as he could across the Glade, even tripping a few times, and he skidded to a halt before the crowd of Gladers that had gathered on Newt's request. 

All the Gladers were by the Box, waiting. That was odd—Percy figured the Box usually only came once a week like everyone had told him. Everyone turned to look at him, almost expectantly. He felt as if he was a deer in headlights. Their stares were burning, so intense that one might have thought it was an incredibly important thing to stare at. 

Alby took several long strides to where Percy stood, ten feet away from everyone else. He backed up a bit, hands up in surrender. Percy didn't know Alby very well, but apparently he was stung by a Griever before and was never the same. "Oh uh, hey Alby, how are ya—"

"Get over there Greenie," he said gruffly, crossing his arms across his chest solemnly. Alby shot Percy a look, daring him to argue.

He immediately wilted under his gaze. Percy speed walked as fast as he could away from the leader, who surely was glaring daggers at his back. The Gladers parted for him, whispering behind their hands. Some looked scared. Some looked at him as if he was brave. Some looked downright murderous.

Newt stood with Teresa, Thomas, and Minho. He had a brown paper package in his hands. In neat and meticulous writing, it clearly said, TO BE OPENED BY PERCY ONLY. The co-leader held it out to him. Percy took the package gingerly. He sat on the floor, opening the item carefully, not really knowing what to expect. Maybe there would be some virus that would kill him the moment he opened it, or maybe a prank sent by the Gladers—wait no, supplies were too scarce for them to pull this off. But what was it?

The paper fell away like layers of an onion. The item inside was...

a sleek black tablet. He turned it over. There was a logo with the words WICKED IS GOOD on it. Where had he heard that phrase before? Didn't Teresa say it when she woke up?

Percy tapped the screen eagerly. The Gladers crowded around him, talking among themselves. What could that mean? They knew what is was, but from where? What was so special about it? It had been ages since they saw something remotely close to modern.

A face flickered on the screen. He was rat-like, and he had salt and pepper hair. His voice rang loud and clear from the device; all of the Gladers could hear him well.

Hello. I am from an organization called WICKED. My name is not relevant. You may call me whatever you wish. This message concerns Percy as much as it concerns all of you. What do you call yourself? Gladers? You kids are so, so clever.

The man chuckled, which launched a small coughing fit. Percy could've sworn he saw blood, but the man continued soon after. 

You are angry with us. So, so angry. Who puts kids into a Maze, then sends spider robots after them? I'm afraid you took our intentions the wrong way. We only want the best for the world. And we people who form WICKED, we have decided to tell you the truth.

All of you had lives. You had a family, some had siblings, parents, even a girlfriend for some of you. You had people who mattered in your lives. But that was before the world changed. There are things called sun flares, as I'm sure you're all aware of. They got closer and closer to Earth. What a shame it was... the land. It was in ruins. The few survivors got together, formed villages, tried to live. But a terrible disease began.

We call it the Flare. It drives the mind insane. You start off normal. And then the symptoms begin to show. You are more sensitive than normal. Your anger is more frequent. You lose control of your emotions. Slowly and slowly you lose your humanity. You become a cannibal. A normal human being-- rotted away and reduced to a zombie.

Terrible, isn't it? And you're wondering how you fit into all this. How could sixty kids be use to us? You are part of a test. Many of you are immune-- the real subjects. Others are-- how do we put it? Well anyways, you are not immune to the Flare, and you will end up dying sooner or later.

That is, if we find a cure. You guys are the key to life. The key to restoring life as it once was. Can't you see how vital you are to us? You are the key to everything.

You have to find a way out of here, simple as that. Easy right?

And I'm sure many of you are wondering why this concerns Percy the most. You see, he isn't like you. He is immune, but he has powers. Special powers none of you ever even dare to dream about. I'm not allowed to tell you who else has these powers, but there are individuals with these powers. Powers that came from your parents. You are even more vital to this experiment than anything.

We know what you're planning. We see everything. And I'll tell you now. Laying low will not solve your problems with the Grievers. The names you kids come up with are so funny, don't you think? But like I said, you have to take actions.

Figure out who has the powers. Use them well. Things will only get more dangerous from here. Find the exit. Find the cure. You can do this. WICKED has full faith in you, especially Percy.

Good luck, Gladers!

The screen turned black. The message was over. Percy tapped the screen several times, in case there was something he missed. There must have been something. This couldn't be it! Surely Earth couldn't have been scorched by the sun flares. That was unimaginable! Everyone in the Glade began talking at once.

"Powers? Like what?" someone scoffed with disbelief in their voice.

"I'm sure your huge appetite counts as a power, Nick," someone else snickered.

"This is scary!"

"I feel you bro..."

"We need to fight!"

Newt shushed them. His voice was unusually shaky. The message shook him as much as it did for anyone else. "We will take action. We will get out of here. But we need to stay united. You heard the Rat Man. Some of us aren't immune. We could be dying as we speak."

For once, no one dared to make a noise. The Glade was silent.