2.
"Imma show you two videos, because they are kinda long. But first, I realized I forgot a someone"
A soft light appeared and vanished just as fast, and Cora Hale stood in front of the groups with a surprised look on her face.
"Cora" Derek called before explaining what was happening. Cora sat down next to him, and everyone looks back at the screen.
The screen lights up.
Thomas blinked open his eyes, he was surrounded by cold darkness and stale, dusty air. He stood shakily before metal ground against metal; a lurching shudder shook the floor underneath him. He fell at the sudden movement and shuffled backward on his hands and feet, drops of sweat beading on his forehead despite the cold air. His back struck the hard metal wall behind him and slid along it until he hit the corner of the room. Sinking to the floor, he pulled his legs up tight against his body, hoping his eyes would soon adjust to the darkness.
Stiles carefully inhaled and exhaled, he repeated in his head that this was not happening now, that this was just a memory being shown to them. He slowly relaxed, but his heart kept on pounding against the ribcage.
With another jolt, the room jerked upwards like an old lift in a mineshaft. Harsh sounds of chains and pulleys, like the workings of an ancient steel factory, echoed through the
room, bouncing off the walls with a hollow, tinny whine. The lightless elevator swayed back and forth as it ascended, turning the boy's stomach sour with nausea; a smell like burnt oil invaded his senses, making him feel worse.
"Where is he?" Coach asked, those around startled, not remembering that he was there.
"The box that they use to transport new Immunes into the mazes" Newt explained.
"What are the 'Immunes'?" Melissa asked.
The Gladers looked at one another before all their eyes turned to the stiff and rattled Stiles/Thomas.
"I'm sure the one who brought us here will show a video about it" Stiles murmured, rubbing the back of his neck.
I don't know who I am. He closed his eyes, wanting to cry but no tears came; he could only sit there, alone, waiting.
He couldn't remember anything. He didn't understand how this could be possible. His mind functioned, he could think and calculate and see, but the knowledge of who he was and where he came from was lost to him. He didn't know how he ended up inside this dark space, who his parents were, his name, his friends, colors, sounds. He didn't remember any of it. And that scared him.
His pack felt their hearts break at the sadness, fear, confusion and desperation in the younger Stiles' voice.
His father clenched his hands into fists, his blunt nails digging into his palm.
He never forgave himself for finding the kidnapped kids and adults so long after they disappeared. If he hadn't gotten into a drunk stupor every night, Stiles wouldn't have left the house that night. And if he hadn't left the house, he would never have gotten kidnapped and put through who-knows-what.
The Sheriff closed his eyes; the reason he returned to work and stopped drinking so much was that his own son was kidnapped and when he found him, Stiles needed him more than then Sheriff needed a bottle.
The room continued its ascent, swaying; he grew immune to the ceaseless rattling of the chains that pulled him upward. A long time passed; minutes seeming to stretch into hours.
How long has it been? He silently asks himself before he supplies the answer, almost like it was engrained in his brain. Half an hour.
He felt his fear whisk away like a storm caught it and replaced it by intense curiosity. He wanted to know where he was and what was happening.
All the Gladers let their heads fall back with a groan. Of course, Thomas stopped being afraid and was now just curious. They all knew his curiosity. It had almost driven all of them insane!
Stiles/Thomas snickered at their reactions.
With a groan and a clonk, the rising room halted; the sudden change jolted him from his huddled position and threw him across the hard floor. As he scrambled to his feet, he felt the room sway less and less until it stilled, and everything fell silent.
A minute passed. Two.
He looked in every direction but only saw darkness; he felt along the walls again, searching for a way out. But there was nothing, only the cold metal.
He groaned in frustration; his voice echoing through the air, like a haunted moan of death. It faded; silence returned. He breathes heavily and wrung his hands together instinctively before pounding on the walls and screaming for help.
Those who knew about Stiles' claustrophobia felt bad for him. Those who didn't thought he was overreacting and had felt amused by his panic.
Nothing.
He backed into the corner once again, folding his arms and shivering as the fear returned. He felt a shudder in his chest, like something is trying to escape his body. A small whine fell from his mouth, his chest vibrating through it.
A loud clank rang out above him, and he sucked in a startled breath as he looked up. A straight line of light appeared across the ceiling of the room, and Thomas watched as it expanded. A heavy grating sound revealed double sliding doors being forced open. After so long in darkness, the light stabbed his eyes; he looked away, covering his face with both hands. He heard noises above – voices – and fear squeezed his chest.
"Look at that shank."
"How old is he?"
"Looks like a klunk in a T-shirt."
"You're the klunk, shuck-face."
"Dude, it smells like feet down there!"
"Hope you enjoyed the one-way trip, Greenie."
"Ain't no ticket back, bro."
"You are all assholes" Stiles/Thomas grumbled as the other Gladers laughed.
The non-Gladers frown at the weird wording and at the teasing but relax when they notice Stiles seemed to relax hearing those types of words.
Thomas was hit with a wave of confusion and panic. The voices were odd and seemed to echo – the words were strange, foreign – some of the people seeming to be familiar, while the other people were not.
He willed his eyes to adjust, squinting tea-brown eyes toward the light and at those speaking. At first, there was only shifting shadows, but the shadows soon turned to shapes, bodies – people bending over the hole and looking down at him, pointing. Then – so suddenly that he blinked to make sure he was seeing right – his eyes adjusted and showing clear faces, boys both younger and older than him.
Thomas didn't know what he had expected, but seeing those faces puzzled him. They were just teenagers. Kids. Some of his fears melted away, but not enough to calm his racing heart. Someone – a blonde and bulky male with blue eyes that seemed to catch the sky – leapt in and grabbed him by the front of his dirty pale shirt – a shirt that he felt uncomfortable wearing for some reason – before throwing him out of the hole.
Derek frowned. That kid was strong; did he work out a lot or was he something Supernatural?
He breath heavily, the boys were all around him so suddenly that his heartrate spiked, and his calm vanished. He stumbled to his feet, the teens kept on talking, some rubbing dirt on his already dirty clothes and his cheek and forehead. There were so many hands, Thomas could not breathe. He shoved past four boys – one dark-skinned and bulkier than the others, one blond-haired person and thin, one black haired and grey-ish eyes and one chubby boy that was around half his size – and ran.
Stiles/Thomas blushed while the Gladers laughed and everyone else commented on his speed.
"We got a runna'!" one of the boys called out while everyone else laughed and cheered him on.
The non-Gladers were confused on why they were cheering Stiles' on; the Gladers began cheering alongside the past-them.
Thomas ran, starting slow but getting faster and faster, his legs pumping – almost like they were not touching the ground at all – before his toe got trapped by a root and he fell, rolling head-over-heels – two, three times – before coming to a stop. He laid there, stunned as he blinked at the strange sky.
Everyone winced, some making an "Oooo" or "Ow, that gotta hurt" sounds.
Stiles/Thomas winced along with them. He didn't notice that root. At least now he knows to look where he goes.
The screen lights up.
Thomas and Minho trotted out of the maze, both were covered in dirt and sweat. None of the other Gladers were waiting for them.
Stiles stiffened, he remembered this, and he was hoping it was not shown. Minho huffed and glared at the other Runner.
"Why are you glaring at Stiles?" Kira asked innocently.
"The idiot greenie decided to hide something very important" Gally spoke up with a roll of his eyes, "and it almost got him killed"
"I told you I didn't notice it" Stiles huffed, looking away.
"Took you long enough" the chubby boy from the earlier clip chirped as he trotted over, "Frypan made his special soup"
"You go ahead" Thomas smiled, ruffling the younger boy's hair as he spoke to Minho, "I smell like Griever dung"
Minho nodded and followed the boy to where the other Gladers were eating. Thomas hummed as he headed to the cleaning rooms.
The scene shifted to inside of the cleaning room. Thomas was leaning against the wall as warm water washed over him (the camera staying above his waist). He was breathing softly, and his eyes were closed. The camera shifted to behind him, showing his back which had what looked like a bite mark on the back of his neck.
"What the hell?!" Sheriff Stilinski (gonna start calling him Noah) shouted, "what happened?!"
Stiles shrugged, "like I said before, I didn't notice it. Only started to notice it after the symptoms started-"
"Symptoms?!"
Stiles flinched, murmuring a soft "oops" before giving another shrug with a sheepish look on his face.
Thomas was sitting with the other Gladers (Minho, Newt and Chuck) and all of them laughing. He pushed his rice around on the plate, clearly not feeling hungry.
"Something wrong, Tommy?" Newt asked noticing the full plate.
"Hmm? Uh, no. Just not that hungry" Thomas gave him a tight smile, "I'm gonna go to bed early"
He stood up, taking his plate as he walked off.
Scott leaned over to Stiles and asked if he was okay at that time. Stiles nodded with a "yeah don't worry, was just a stomach bug"
Scott nodded, although he was worried.
The scene changed to nighttime. Thomas was murmuring in his sleep, beads of sweat coating his forehead. He let out a soft whine and rolled over to his side, only to fall off the hammock. He didn't wake up when he hit the ground, but he seemed to relax and grow into a deeper sleep.
"What about now?" Scott asked.
Stiles huffed, "Scott, I promise I was, and am, fine. Just a restless night due to the upset stomach"
His friend –brother– nodded, but he silently promised to keep notes on Stiles from now on, back then and now.
The next day, Thomas was bouncing, seeming to have a lot of energy. "Are you ready?" he asked Minho as the Korean trotted over to him.
"You're here early" the Keeper of the Runners said as a type of greeting.
"Was too energetic to sleep" the other Runner grinned, "can we go?"
Minho nodded and they took off into the maze.
First, he was slow and not hungry, now he was on an ADHD-high? What was going on?
Days are shown to pass.
Thomas kept on changing, his attention span seemed to deteriorate, he grew more energetic, and he kept forgetting to put things where they went. But the most troubling thing that seemed to occur, was that he was having trouble focusing on tasks.
Thomas sighed, staring at the model construct of the maze. He laid his head down and gave the model and the paper he was writing on a bored look.
The door opened and he looked over his shoulder to see another Runner.
"Hey Zack" the younger boy greeted and the black-haired boy, Zack, greeted him back.
"Hi Thomas, what are you doing?"
Thomas sighed, pouting softly, "I'm trying to jot down the route I need to take tomorrow with Cora and Caleb. But I can't focus enough with all this *he gestures to his head* noise."
"Noise?"
"Noise?" Noah asked at the same time as Zack.
"Mm-hmm" Thomas yawned, stretching before sitting back, "I know I wanna go through levels three and nine before lunch, then through levels six and seven. But my brain won't cooperate in writing it down. And you know how Minho gets if I don't get his approval on a solo."
"What do you mean 'solo'? I thought you were taking others with you?" Ken questioned.
"Ah, we use 'solo' two different ways. When we are leading a team of less than three other people and when we are going solo. When a Runner goes into the Maze, they always have at least one other person with them, as per the rules. It's a 'safety in numbers' thing." Gally explained.
"Oh"
Zack shuddered, "don't remind me. How about I write it for you, and you turn it in?"
"Then he will ask about the different handwriting and then I tell him about my inability to focus on writing, and then he will not allow me to go tomorrow and if I don't go tomorrow, I will die of boredom." Thomas rambled, laying his head back onto the table.
"Or" Zack rolled his eyes, "instead of anyone writing down the route, you can get up and talk to him."
Thomas stopped and stared blankly for a moment before beaming, "yeah. Yeah! I can do that! Thanks Zack!"
He ran out of the room and towards the clearing, where Minho was entering the forest.
"Minho, Minho! I got my route memorized, can I tell you or do you want it written?"
Minho stared at him and seemed to think before responding, "any works."
"Okay!" Thomas explained that he would be taking Cora and Caleb through levels three and nine before lunch, and levels six and seven after lunch before returning to the Glade.
Minho nodded and gave his permission.
"And here, ladies and gentlemen, the stupidity of Minho not asking questions and of Thomas hating boredom" Gally rolled his eyes, "honestly, I am personally surprised that Thomas did not get grounded afterwards."
"Rude" Stiles snapped back, though there was a teasing light in his eyes, "at least I didn't join a questionable man"
"No, just a questionable organization"
"Klunk"
"Shank"
"Griever-food"
"Shuck-"
"Ladies, Ladies, you're both beautiful. Now, can we get back to the show?" Lydia cut in.
Thomas/Stiles and Gally blushed and apologized. Everyone returned their attention to the screen.
The scene changed to the next day; Thomas, a girl {Cora} who was a few years older with brown hair and eyes, and a boy {Caleb} who looked around her age but with black hair and green-gold eyes, walked into the Maze.
Derek sat straight and stared at the girl on-screen before looking to his sister who was sitting next to him, looking just as shocked.
