Hello fellow gladers! I have decided to start a new maze runner fan fiction, I hope you enjoy. First off, I'd just like to say that I do not own The Maze Runner, that belongs to the amazing James Dashner. Just a heads up, I may change some things and i might fuse the book and the movie together. If you have any questions, feel free to drop a review :)


I sat at my respective cubicle, typing away like I usually did, searching for any signs of life in the glade. Once I tapped into one of the beetle blades, I relaxed in my seat, only touching the key circle on my desk to move my new being around. This was my job, day in, day out. This was what WICKED assigned me to do, watch them. Watch them and report what they were doing.

They told me I was important, which was hard to believe considering this was what I did all day. They told me I would be needed one day. Ava, the chancellor, told me I was smart, which I couldn't help but deny since I designed the beetle blades.

"Florence?"

"Hm?" I perked up, turning to my name being hollered, my brown hair falling across my chest as I swiveled in my chair.

The assistant director, Mr. Janson, strutted towards me, papers in hand. "Are they awake yet?"

I shook my head, turning to the screen that was implanted on my desk. Dawn had just made an appearance in the glade, and only the sound of the farm animals and the snores of the gladers could be heard. "Not yet."

"Let me know when they're awake." He dictated as he walked away from me, towards Thomas.

"Will do," I smiled, although he couldn't see me. I used my key circle to roam the glade through the eyes of my beetle blade, searching for any signs of liveliness.

I scaled across the wall of the homestead, making my way to the second floor and crawling through one of the open windows to Alby's room, the leader. He was just waking up, preparing to exit his room and wake up the runners. I followed closely behind, going unnoticed as he made his way through homestead.

"Alby's awake," I called to Janson.

I glanced up briefly, making sure Janson caught what I was said. He was in the middle of the room, what we called The Brain. The Brain was the life of WICKED. It was the control center, working on the most important aspects of WICKED. There were at least twenty people working on the Brain, including Thomas and Teresa, my roommates. Chuck was also a roommate of ours, but today was the day he was sent into the glade. They had been preparing him for the last few weeks, sending him through various tests. He was scheduled for the insertion of the swipe in an hour, erasing all his memories. He was probably still asleep in his room, getting his last peaceful sleep.

I wondered if Chuck would change. They always did after entering the glade and having their memories wiped. Ben, Adam, Nick, Bill. Those were the only gladers I knew from group A. I was assigned to group A, not even knowing anyone group B aside from Sonya and Aris, who were entering soon. As far as I knew group A and B were tied in their escape efforts.

"Group B's awake," I heard Aris yell from the cubicle next to mine, closer to The Brain. He was watching Group B, not that he would remember any of it. In the next month, he was being sent up to Group B, forgetting anything and everything that was WICKED.

It was tragic, really. Aris, one of my closest friends, would forget me in time.

I sat up in my chair, hoping to catch site of Aris. Our eyes met briefly, and he grinned. I grinned back before turning back to my work pad.

I continued to stalk Alby, who was always the first one awake in the glade, until he arrived in Minho's room. He shook the runner off of his hammock. "The doors open in ten minutes, shank, wake the shuck up."

Minho groaned, but flopped out of his hammock to get ready for the day.

I scurried past Minho, and headed out the window and scaled down the wall. Most of the runners were awake now, getting their gear ready for the long day ahead of them.

I ran a hand through my long hair, blowing a raspberry out of my mouth as I let my fingers do the work. The pads of my fingers grazed across the spherical key circle that was half-fused into my glass desk.

Ten minutes later, the science-defying doors opened, allowing the runners to start their day jobs. "The doors are open people, get going." Janson announced, ordering myself and the other employees to start our day jobs.

I debated on whether to follow the runner, or to remain in the glade today. Usually me and a few other employees traded off, 2 staying in the glade, 2 following the runners.

"Hannah," I yelled to the women a few cubicles over. She stood up from her seat, tossing her red hair over her shoulder and cupping a hand around her ear, as if that would help her hear better. "I'll stay in the glade today." I finished.

"Alright." She hollered back, sitting back in her chair.

Hannah was in charge of Group A's beetle blades, whenever something happened or whenever we initiated something, we told her.

I turned me key circle around, turning away from Minho and heading back into the glade. Since most of the gladers still remained asleep, I wavered in taking small water break. I walked past the Chancellor, giving her a small smile as I passed her office, although I wasn't sure if she could see me considering she was tapping the glass, making swiping motions with her lean fingers. The annoying thing about WICKED's offices is that almost everything is made of glass, which is transparent, but you can't tell if the workers behind the glass can see you, because the glass was just a giant work pad, which you could only see from the inside. So it was clear she was working on something that only she could see.

I grazed past the automatic sliding door and entered the hallway. There was a drink machine in The Hive (What we called the busy work room) but I wanted to check on Chuck in my room anyways.

I walked to the end of the long, brightly lit hallway, entering another. My fingers lightly railed along side the wall as I followed the hallway's slight curve until my room came into view. I stepped in front of it, placing my hand on the identity scanner beside it. Only Janson, the chancellor, Teresa, Thomas, Chuck and I were identified to enter our room. Once the identity scanner flashed green, our room door slid open.

The room was small, but not claustrophobic. It reminded me somewhat of a prison, but more high maintenance. There was a built in television facing across from me, which only played the news our announcements from WICKED, as well as a PSA speaker which was used to announce information to us via the chancellor.

On either side of the dimly lit room were two bunk beds. One for Teresa and I, and one for Thomas and Chuck, who was still in bed. Chuck was awake. He sat on his bed, already in glader gear, clenching and unclenching his fists.

"You nervous?" I asked, walking towards him. I sat closely beside him.

"Kinda..." he laughed half heartedly.

"Don't fret, Chucky." That was a nickname I frequently called him, it tends to calm him down. "Just think, this time tomorrow you'll be living a whole new life."

His head turned to gaze up at me, his dark curls mopping his forehead. "But I won't remember you."

I gave him a small, closed lipped smile, filled with dimples. "But I will remember you," I lightly poked his nose.

"Hmph," he smirked.

I glanced down at the boy who reminded me much of my non-immune brother, who fell into the terrible fate of transforming into a Crank. My brother had caught the flare, and that's why I was here. My parents died during the first scorch wave, but my brother and I survived. I remember the day so vividly. My brother and I, as well as hundreds of others, attended school that day. The school started to get warm, like a giant oven filled with students. I had heard about the recent theories of the sun flares on the news. And me, being the melodramatic, vigilant, sister I am, I snatched him from his class and took him to the subway station. My brother was one of the first to catch the flare, and at first, I thought he was turning cannibalistic, but after seeing that some of the others we were travelling with acted the same way, I knew it was something worse.

I was the only survivor of our large group. WICKED found me a few months later, living by myself in the deserted scorched world, living off of abandoned grocery store food and expired convenient store milk. I guess that's what triggered my working with WICKED. I had nothing else to live for, so what the hell. Why not let them test on my brain and force me to work in their headquarters?

I glanced back down at Chuck. My heart ached for both my deceased brothr and Chuck. I hated the fact that Chuck wouldn't remember me. I hated the fact that the next time I saw him (if I ever did), it would be our first meeting again. I had grown so close to the people I shared this room with, and one by one they were being picked off, and I would just remain here, working for WICKED, for the rest of my life.

"Don't be nervous, Chuck," I reassured him, pulling him into a close hug. I could practically hear his rapid heart thumping against his chest, as well as his panting breath. "In a month, you'll see Thomas. Even though he won't remember you, he'll take good care of you."

"You think so?" He tried to lift his head from my tight hug.

"I know so. It's roommate instinct, Chuck. Even the swipe can't remove that."

He let out a nervous giggle.

I released him, finally, my heart hurting slightly as I did so.

A crackling noise emitted from the PA speaker. It buzzed for a few seconds, before the head surgeon spoke. "Chuck, you are scheduled for The Swipe in five minutes. We expect to see you in room 1100 by then."

"Alright," He yelled back, a little too loud causing me to wince.

The speaker crackled once more, and then shut off.

I slapped my hands on my thighs, and stood up from the bed. "Alright Chucky," I smiled. "It's time," I announced, opening my arms for one last embrace. He gladly returned my embrace, pulling me in tightly. I felt his warmth radiate onto my skin, and I smirked to myself, kissing the mop of curls on his head. "Did you have a chance to say bye to Thomas and Teresa?"

"Yeah," He mumbled back. "They came by just before you did."

I leaned back, my hands still on his shoulders. "Good. Want me to walk you down?" I arched a brow.

He nodded, blowing out a long breath through his nostrils

"Good that," I grinned, finding myself repeating glader slang. I patted a hand on his back and headed out the room.

We started down the extensive hallway, turning once until we entered The Hive once again. The door slid open, after responding to my touch via identification scanner.

WICKED's headquarters was situated like a giant wheel, the whole building circular with floors stacked upon each other. The other buildings surrounded the headquarters, like a small city. The two mazes were set up on either side of WICKED's buildings.

We quickly strode through The Hive, and made it to the door across the room, exiting it. Some of WICKED's employees gave a few 'Goodbye's' or 'See ya's' to Chuck as we passed.

We approached the elevator, and I slid a key card that hung from the lanyard on my neck.

The elevator dinged as it arrived, and Chuck and I stepped in. I pressed floor two, and the elevator zoomed down, making a loud whirring noise as it did so.

"Well," I smiled to Chuck as the doors opened, "This is where I leave you."

He gave me a smile and a small nod as he bordered in front of me. I was taken aback when he gave me one preceding, giant, bear hug. "Goodbye, Florence."

"Bye, Chucky," I breathed into his hair.

He gave me one last toothy grin, prior to stepping out of the elevator.

I held my hand up, waving to him until I saw the surgeon's take him and the elevator door's secure.

I let out a sad sigh as the elevator chugged back to floor 4. It made me nervous that Chuck was down there. That's where they kept some of the cranks that they tested on. I know he was in the best possible hands, but it still made me anxious.

After making it back to The Hive and sitting back in my seat, I continued my job of being a beetle blade. I put in my earpiece, allowing myself to hear so I could eavesdrop on the gladers.

The whole glade was filled with life now, everyone buzzing with existence. My fingers pressed against my key circle, maneuvering my beetle blade around the glade.

It was the same as every day, everyone continued their jobs, Frypan made his food, Gally was starting a new building project, Bill took his place as bagger beside the maze walls, and the rest were doing their own individual jobs.

"Hullo there little beetle blade."

I turned my key circle so my beetle would face the familiar accented voice.

It was Newt.

He was gazing straight down at me, a bundle of wood in hands and a curious look on his flawless face. I scampered through his feet and up a tree, wanting to go unseen by any gladers. His head darted around, trying to figure out where I went, but then he shrugged, walking off again.

This boy always had a special place in my heart, and not just because he was ridiculously good looking. I mean, his chocolate brown eyes, perfectly squared jaw line, lean figure, and messily tousled blonde hair were an asset, but that wasn't why I cared for the boy I didn't even know.

I never knew Newt; I became a WICKED employee after they started the maze trials, so I was never acquainted with him. I read through his file briefly before though. The Glue, they called him, was an important asset to the maze trials.

I watched him the day he leapt from the maze walls. I tracked him until the end of sector 7, proceeded to watch as he climbed up the ivy that scaled the walls, and couldn't do anything as I saw him jump from the top of the maze walls.

I didn't know which was worse, the fact that he didn't die, or the fact that he was still alive. I saw his body twitch repulsively as he made a horrible moaning sound. A single tear escaped his left eye as he let out a shaky breath. The adrenaline overpowered him, blocking out any pain, but it was only a matter of time until he felt the sickly twist of his mangled leg, which was angled a merciless way.

I controlled my beetle blade to crawl upon his body. At the time, I internally cursed myself for not designing them so they could talk or move beings. At first, I wasn't sure if he felt the metallic claws that crept over his numb body.

But then, I saw a glint of hope in his eyes. He lifted his head to look at me, but once again, I couldn't do anything. I just watched and stared.

Seconds later, a loud, painful, moan escaped as the effects of the adrenaline wore off. Luckily, by that time, Minho and another boy, Leo, came to the rescue. He swatted me off of his body, which I didn't particularly admire, but they managed to save Newt.

Ever since then, he's had that limp, and ever since then, I've always felt the need to keep an eye on him, not that I could do anything. I also suggested reprogramming the beetle blades in case something like that ever happened again, but Janson refused, saying it was unneeded. He said events like that were meant to occur and it would help the brain patterns of the subjects in finding a cure for the flare. He didn't want us tampering with anything.

Realistically, I was smart enough to reprogram them so we could help, or talk, or do something if anything like that ever occurred again, but I obeyed my assistant director.

"Florence."

Once again, I swiveled in my chair to the direction of my name being called. The chancellor was making her round, greeting her employees after finally exiting her office. I gave her a small, greeting, smile.

"WICKED is good," She told me.

"WICKED is good," I repeated back to her as she passed me, letting her hand rest upon my shoulder momentarily.

It was something she informed everyone, every minute, of everyday. It was like she was brainwashing us into believing that WICKED was good, but we didn't need to be brainwashed. We all already worked here. It was just something she said to everyone.

I couldn't help but divulge back into my own little distorted world that was the glade. I continued to watch Newt, crawling from tree to tree. He was headed towards the gardens, probably preparing to start some work before the new 'greenie' arrived.

I never understood their glader slang, but it was comical. Sometimes I found myself using it, or I caught Aris repeating Group B's slang.

I turned the volume of my earpiece up, eavesdropping on Newt who was headed to converse with Zart, the main gardener, or 'Keeper of the Track-hoes'.

"What's up, Newt?" Zart asked, standing from his previous kneeling position.

"Just thought I could give a helping hand, is all." He responded, moving beside the rows of seeds Zart had planted.

"Well," Zart started, hoisting a shovel over his brawn shoulders, "Tim and I can use all the help we can get. We're a little behind on tomato picking, and Fry wants them in his kitchen before breakfast. Think he's making omlette's again?"

Newt smiled, dropping the pile of wood that was in his arms near a log, and moving towards Zart as he pushed up his dirty sleeves to his elbow. "I bloody hope so."

Jesus, that accent was to die for.

Sometimes I felt like I had known Newt for a lifetime.

But then reality sets in, and I grasp that I don't actually know Newt at all. I only know him through a file, where he is referred to as a sticky substance often used to paste things together. The Glue.

I only know Newt through the eyes of my own metallic, bug-like creation, and that depressed me.