Chapter Text
"Tommy, we have to get out of here," Newt whispers, putting a hand on his shoulder.
Thomas turns to look at him, raising an eyebrow. They were currently at the wall, and inside was Minho, and Thomas knew that Newt was just, if not even more, desperate to save him than he was. The crowds were pushing, and something had to happen. There had to be a way to get in there. They'd come this far, hadn't they?
"What?" He questions, noting the worrisome way that Newt tugged at his lip and how his eyes were shiny with nerves.
"The soldiers, Tommy-" Newt is cut off as the sound of whirring machinery starts up somewhere above them. The guns. People fall silent, slowly backing away as they realize what's happening. Thomas feels Newt's hand on his shoulder slack, let go, fall at his side.
"We have to get out of here, right now, hermano," Jorge says, hand poised over the gun strapped at his side, as if it could do anything against those weapons.
Thomas nods and turns around right as he hears the first shot go off. His ears ring, and he grasps cool fingers. Newt's, hopefully. Screams clog the dust filled air as bodies go flying from impact. Thomas turns around again, relieved as he sees Newt still behind him, hand clamped around his own. Frypan is right in front of them, following Brenda and Jorge.
"Faster!" Brenda exclaims. "We have to get out of sight!"
Explosions still ring out behind him, but Thomas ignores it, only focused on the pounding in his head and the tight grip of Newt's hand in his. They run for what feels like forever as the chaos unfolds around them. Thomas' eyes water at the dust clouding around them, and he can barely see a foot in front of him, which is why he nearly trips as Frypan makes a hard left and turns into an alleyway. He can feel Newt stumble as well, and a faint groan reaches his ears. His bad leg must be acting up.
As they run out and away from the commotion, Thomas realizes that Frypan, Brenda, and Jorge are nowhere to be seen. He stops, confused, before something, someone, grabs him and pulls him away from Newt.
He struggles, still having no idea what the hell is going on. Then a "Get your bloody hands off me!" makes his head snap up. Newt is being pulled away by someone in a military-like outfit, gun in one hand, Newt's wrist in the other. Thomas is filled with a sudden rage, and he's about to snap at that stupid soldier, but then he's being shoved into a white van, and Newt is disappearing from view.
"What the shuck is wrong with you-" he's cut off as the person who had grabbed him, another soldier, sits him down next to Jorge, Brenda, and Frypan. The doors shut behind him as the soldier who had grabbed him sits down next to two more. The only distinction from them and the other two is the red mask that covers their face. Thomas can just barely make out the face behind the mask, but something about the soldier is familiar.
Then he realizes-everyone's here but Newt.
"Where's Newt?" Thomas asks, voice dangerously calm.
Brenda turns and gives him a warning look, but there's a nervous glint in her eyes, as if she's afraid he might snap. Frypan, who's closest to him, puts a comforting hand on his shoulder, attempting to be reassuring. Jorge stares down the soldiers, an unreadable expression on his face, and Thomas can only hope that he has a plan.
The soldiers just stare back at him, and Thomas isn't sure what to take from that. He considers getting up and threatening to attack them, but considering the guns in their hands, Thomas knew he was easily outmatched. Then again, these people seemed like they'd meant to go after them, hadn't Newt mentioned the soldier right before the guns went off? He'd already figured it wasn't WICKED, WICKED would be more composed than this. And how would they have gotten past the wall in a car without the risk of cranks getting in? No, WICKED would've sent aircraft. No matter how desperate their old captors wanted to find them, he knew Janson wouldn't risk letting The Flare get into the city.
So who were these people? Maybe some sort of security for the outside area of the Last City, but Thomas didn't think so. Why would they go after just them? Maybe they were being hunted here too, and even though this wasn't WICKED, these people could easily sell them off. Not like it hasn't happened before. Of course, the only reason he's doing all this thinking is to distract himself from the real issue. Newt. Where was he? Why had he been separated from them? Sure, the van was already pretty cramped with all of them but then why hadn't they put him with Newt? Would've been more spacious, easier. Newt and Thomas had already been together anyways.
Thomas wrung his hands together, suddenly realizing how serious this could be. He'd already lost Minho, he wasn't sure he could bear losing Newt as well. No, he knew he couldn't bear losing Newt. It was too much, after everything. The six months they had spent in The Scorch, planning to rescue Minho, which had turned out to be a load of shuck, he and Newt had gotten plenty closer. It was hard not to when you sleep in the same vicinity every night. They'd spent a lot of time together, a bit too much at times. The two had had their fights, mostly over Minho, but that was expected when you spent every waking moment in someone's company. But he never got tired of him, no. Thomas? Sick of Newt? Never.
This caused another bolt of rage to go through Thomas. How dare they take Newt away from him?! How dare these shucking soldiers come up to him and rip Newt's hand out of his and pull him away. He suddenly felt very inclined to punch these idiots in the face. Especially the one with the red mask. Thomas hated him immensely. But…well, maybe that idea wasn't half bad. They really had no idea who these people were, so it was self-defense, really.
So Thomas waited.
Waited until the car slowly came to a stop. Watched as the soldiers slowly got up from their positions. His eyes trained on the one in the middle. The one that had grabbed him. That one.
The other soldiers opened the side door this time, and Thomas took mind of where their hands were. Noted how the soldier in the red mask grabbed Jorge and Brenda first, waited till the three of them were on solid ground, saw the soldier's hand let go of them, and lunged. He crashed into the soldier's body, sending both of them tumbling to the ground. Thomas quickly rearranged himself, moving backwards since there was no point in hitting this guy in the face. So he hit everywhere else. I'm the stomach, in the chest, arms, legs, even a few to the groin. Thomas knew that this was gonna bite him in the ass later, but he was in such a rage induced haze that he couldn't stop.
"Where is he, you slinthead?" Thomas spat, enraged.
He felt hands trying to pull him away, but they felt like a small speck on his radar. He grabs the guy by the collar, getting threateningly close, close enough to rip off the mask and throw some punches that'll really hurt.
"I swear to God, you son of a bitch, I'll-"'
Another hand, but this time it's insistent as it pulls him by the shoulder.
"Tommy, I'm right here, I'm right here!"
Thomas slows, fist still poised, and turns to see Newt's warm, brown eyes meeting his. He blinks, lost for a second.
"Newt…?"
Newt scowls at him, pulling him up and off the soldier and to his feet. It's then when Thomas realizes that there are multiple weapons being pointed at him.
"You bloody idiot, I'm fine," Newt says, shaking his head and dragging him away from the masked soldier and towards Brenda, Jorge, and Frypan. Newt's hand isn't as gentle as it was when they were running, he's annoyed. Not angry, though. Newt rarely got angry, too composed and well mannered to lose his cool regularly. Still, though, he's notably pissed.
The red masked soldier gets up, a slight stumble in his step, and Thomas can feel the glare the person's sending them even if he can't see their face.
"Who are you people?" Jorge asks, fingers still wrapped around his pistol just like they were at the wall.
The guy in the red mask stares at them for a bit, then reaches for the back of their mask, letting it fall off their face.
Thomas hears a sharp intake of breath beside him, and somewhere behind him he can hear Frypan whisper, "No way."
"Gally?"
A slight smirk appears on Gally's face. "Hey, Greenie."
Thomas lunges again.