Hello, again. :D
I'm sorry about Lost in Thought; I haven't been updating in a while. But...just give me a few more days.
I did not read The Maze Runner Files, though I really want to. It seems that there are a lot of e-mails, memories, ect. that were also in The Fever Code but I still want to read it. Anyways, I heard about Minho's Phase Three Trial and wrote this up because I didn't read the Files. I don't know how Lincoln was supposed to look, so I just made him a casual doctor type. If you don't understand that, you will. Just read.
WICKED freaking sucks, Minho thought as he was separated from the others. Ratman sucks, and the color white sucks too.
He was walking down a all blank hallway with florescent light above and Ratman - Janson, whatever his name actually was - and Newt. Well, he was walking with Newt until he got locked up into a white-walled room with a white door and white floors. Every door they passed was the same. And, not to mention, the white clothes Minho was wearing as well. It matched - literally everything else.
They'd taken his watch as well; Minho had no idea of the time. But it seemed like just the two of them could be walking forever down the long, boring, white hallway. Drained of color. The silence was too loud.
"Where are we going?" Minho asked. "We've been walking for years."
Ratman huffed, but he kept walking, so Minho followed. "We've been walking for less than six minutes, actually. And, you will see where we will end up at."
Minho sighed and kept walking. He would have ran off by now but there were obviously cameras at ever corner in the white walls. Not to mention the guards that were randomly walking around with weapons. With those, he would never get away. Not alone. But, he easily could have punched Ratman in the gut and ran back like he was in the Maze. What difference was there? WICKED could have just put the Gladers in the facility and see if they could get out.
It would be just as hard with all the white walls that would get on Minho's nerves. Every turn looked like the one before it. It was like he was walking in the Maze again. Of course, without the vines and the Grievers who wanted to stab every moving thing they saw so the poor chap could see the past. The past that Minho would like to never know about, but well, he did know about it.
"Well," Ratman said, "here we are."
"Very homey," Minho mumbled, looking at the white door that looked just like all the others. "I like the color of this one."
Ratman pulled out keys and started to unlock the white door. "I do not appreciate your smart remarks, Minho."
"I wasn't asking for your opinion," Minho replied.
Ratman didn't answer but he did put his arms out and pointed to the door - which opened inward - motioning for Minho to go inside - as if he had a choice. There was this sort of smile on Ratman's face as he did it, though. At least, Minho guessed it was a smile.
Minho walked inside and turned, so he was facing Ratman still. The door was still open and Ratman was starting to shut the door and lock it when Minho crossed his arms across his chest and cocked his head to the side, mimicking the smile Ratman gave him. The supposed doctor looked up and rolled his eyes before he shut the door. Minho heard the click of the lock and knew he was now alone. Well, except for the cameras because there was definitely cameras and people watching his every move. Even in an isolated room with no windows.
Minho turned around to look at what he had to work with: florescent lights, padded walls, wooden table, no bed, and a small, almost-hidden stainless-steel toilet in the corner. Just looked just like the room Newt was throw into. Minho had caught a glimpse of it when Ratman opened the door.
"Well this is very homey!" Minho cheerfully said to no-one.
He pasted around the room, looking for a camera or something of any sorts that someone could watch him through. Nothing. But there had to be something there. They wouldn't just lock him in a room without anyone watching him, right? Minho's arms had dropped when he dropped. He sat with his back on the wall and his legs unbent, going forward.
Boredom was taking over.
Out of everything they forced us into doing, Minho thought, this is how it ends?
Time seemed to take forever just to pass. Minho started to paste around the room again. This time, not looking for a camera, it just gave him something to do. Something to bring him away from this thoughts. One foot in front of the other. He placed the table in the middle of the white room and pasted around that. Why was there even a table in there? Minho had no use for it. Time was dragging on, though, no matter what he did.
So he thought about a way to escape.
Click!
The door. Minho ran back to crouch next to the door, his back just touching the white wall so when the door opened he could run out and tackle the person with the keys. Then run and unlock Newt's room. Then...well, that was future Minho's problem. The door opened in, the white frame was on the other side then where Minho was crouching.
On the count of 3, Minho thought. 1, 2-
"Stand up."
"How did you-?" Minho asked.
"There are cameras in here and a tiny person in my ear telling me where you are. Now get up."
"Funny," Minho replied, obeying. He stood up and took a step forward so he was in front of the door. "What now?"
"Now we are gonna go take a little walk. Follow me, or get shot."
Minho stepped out of the white room and entered the white hallway once more. He followed whatever-his-name is to wherever they were going. While they were walking down the hallway - because everything was so far away - Minho studied his escort: tall, black hair and a Hollywoodian type of beard; he had a white lab coat on with a plain black shirt and pant underneath, and apparently he had a gun as well - or else the threat from before would be empty. But no weapon was visible. Other than the clipboard he held in his hand with papers on top of it.
"In here," No-Name said, opening a door. A door that looked just like all the other ones. "Sit down in a chair."
Minho walked inside the room and looked around a bit before talking a seat in a wooden chair. It was a basically empty room - other than a table, hand-held whiteboard with a plain black marker on the table, and two chairs. The walls, they were white, just like the floor and ceiling.
"Why is everything so white?" Minho asked. "It's boring."
No-Name slowly shut the door and then took a seat in the empty chair. He pulled the whiteboard closer to him. "I'm sorry it doesn't please you, Minho," he replied. "My name is Lincoln. Give me a moment to write somethings down."
He didn't lock the door, was Minho's first thought. It's open. I could run. Unless No-Name - Lincoln - really did have a gun. Maybe its another test? But it was too late; Lincoln flipped the whiteboard. It revealed eight names.
Thomas, Newt, Frypan, Aris, Harriet, Sonya, Teresa and Brenda.
"What is this?" Minho asked. He stood up, getting worried. "What is this about?"
"Please, Minho, sit down," Lincoln said, as Minho slowly sat back down. "The doctors here at WICKED have decided that we needed to dissect the brains of all but one of these people on the board here."
"No."
Ignoring Minho, Lincoln continued. "You are the lucky person who get's to choose who's brain stays whole."
"No," Minho repeated. "I'm not choosing one out of eight of my friends to not kill."
"Fine," Lincoln said, placing the board back on the table. He stood up and walked in front of Minho, who was looking up at him. "Suit yourself."
Lincoln then extended his arm and punched Minho in the face. Minho, who wasn't expecting that to happen, fell back in his chair. He immediately stood up and kicked the chair away, bringing his hands up to his face. His lower lip was slightly bleeding and the blood was transferring to his figures.
"What the shuck was that for?" Minho snapped, dabbing his bloody figures from his lip, to pants.
"I apologize," Lincoln said, wiping his fist on his white coat, "but you did not answer. Who would you like to save?"
"I'm not choosing-"
Lincoln punched again. This time slightly harder.
"Again?" Minho raised his voice. He wiped his lip on his shoulder and turned around, spitting blood on the floor.
Minho never really liked Teresa - and he wasn't afraid to show it - especially after what she did out in the Scorch, but she didn't deserve to die. Same to say with Aris; he was just a quiet kid but Minho was still on the edge about him after the Scorch. Newt had already been through enough. Thomas was just trying to help, and besides, WICKED saved him from a bullet wound, why would they let him die now? Sonya and Harriet, Minho only got a few glimpse of them, but they didn't seem so bad. Frypan? Well, he can cook! And Brenda? Minho still doesn't know about her all the way. She's saved them a few times, though.
Still, none of them should die. Minho wouldn't allow it. Not after everything they've been through. He was the Leader and the leader takes care of their followers. Screw those signs in the Scorch. Why he give up and let all but one die was a sickening thought. Minho wasn't going to pick one person. He was so determined to save them all, not caring about being beaten up and threatened.
"Minho, pick one," Lincoln declared.
"Thomas."
"Great choice!" Lincoln replied. "I'll-"
"And Newt and Frypan and Aris and Harriet and Sonya and Teresa and Brenda."
This time, Minho got two punches in a row. He staggered backward, placing his hand on the cool metal of the white door which now had drips of his own blood on it. Minho pushed his right hand down and the door popped open. Gotta get out of here, he thought. He took a few steps into the white hallway, looking down at his feet.
"Get back in there."
Minho's head snapped up, now looking at another person. A guard, actually. He was a bit shorter than Minho and the Launcher was out, pointing at his chest.
"Go back inside and take a seat," the guard repeated.
Minho listened and turned around, reentering the room with Lincoln - who now had a pistol in his hand and was pointing it at Minho. He picked up the chair that he kicked - which surprisingly wasn't broken - and sat back down.
"Oh, come on, Minho," Lincoln said, throwing his hands in the air. The gun made Minho more on edge. "You didn't think you could just get away that easily, did you? I thought you were smarter."
Minho huffed. "I am not gonna pick one! I am gonna save all shuckin' eight of my friends!"
Lincoln motioned for the guard to leave. Minho - this time - heard the click! of the door locking. Lincoln, who was leaning on the wooden table, then looked back to Minho. "Last time I checked, you weren't the one making' the calls, now, were you?" he said. "No, I am. Now, who is the unlucky person you'd like to save?"
"All. Eight."
Minho got thrown two punches again. Pain shot throughout his body and he winced.
Lincoln looked to Minho like he was displeased and brought his hand to his ear like he was calling someone. He then started to mumbled just enough for Minho to hear: "Test complete. Patient refused to choose and showed acts of determination to save all eight. Bring Janson."