*UPDATE* - Thank you to babyks2 for pointing it out, because I ALWAYS forget this. I type up the chapters in a word document and then upload them onto FF and for some reason they take out the divisions to separate scenes and POV's. I always tell myself to go back and fix that and then never do. Sorry about that guys! So if you've already read it and follow it and get another update, its the same chapter (Chapter 9), without any changes other than that. Xx

Everything that happened next seemed to be going too fast for Cleo to process completely. One second their escape seemed short lived, stopped by a large gun held by a larger man, then a bullet revealed an unlikely but not surprising hero and they were running again. She barely had time to notice that Teresa had fallen behind as she dragged from the chamber and out into the open room again.

"Come on. Let's go!" Their temporary savior was leading them back towards Jorge's room.

Music played softly throughout the building, completely out of place amongst the chaos but it was another thing that Cleo would have to ask about at a later time. She wasn't sure where the threat was coming from, everyone around her moving about so rapidly that if they were clustered together, she wouldn't have been able to tell her friends and strangers apart. A hand clasped around her own as they ascended the stairs once again, and she tried to match Thomas's speed. Now wasn't the time to be curious.

Escape now, ask questions later.

"Brenda! Hurry!" Jorge appeared in front of them at the top of the stairs, shuttling them towards the back of the upper level to a large gaping hole in the wall.

"You have got to be kidding me." Minho gaped, stumbling to a stop alongside his friends.

"Plan B, hermano. You kids wanna get to the Right Arm?" Jorge revealed a small cloth band, "I'll lead you to them. But you're gonna owe me." He tossed one end of the band over the wire above his head and gave the group a smirk, "Follow me."

And then he was lifting off the ground, propelling himself out of the window. The teens watched with dropped jaws and wide eyes as his silhouette grew smaller and then ended at another depilated building. They glanced at one another before Brenda broke the silence and grabbed another cloth piece.

"Let's go."

Minho was the first to step forward, saying something sarcastic in a deadpanned tone and mimicking Jorge's actions. Newt and Frypan followed and then Aris. Teresa was next, squeezing Cleo's arm as she passed the other girl and took her turn leaping out the window.

Cleo was a little more hesitant than her friends, gripping tighter at Thomas's hand as the noise from below grew louder.

"Cleo, go. I'll be right behind you, okay?" Thomas urged her forward.

Reluctantly, she took the cloth from Brenda. Another nervous glance towards Thomas made him step forward, aiding her as she readied herself for the ride.

"Right behind you." He whispered just as Brenda took off.

The two whipped around, both reaching out to grab her but she was out of the room before either couldn't get a word out. Cleo could already see Thomas's heroics working their way up his throat. She sighed when he spun around, urgency in his expression.

Before he could speak, she pulled him down towards her, kissing him softly, "Just don't die, alright?"

He gave her a nod, unable to say anything in return and took off after Brenda. She watched him go, before leaping out the window.

The trip through the air lasted longer than she liked and she tried not to vomit halfway through. Heights had never been something she was comfortable with and under the circumstances she was in, it only made things worse. It didn't help that Newt and Minho were waiting to catch her at the other end. Ignoring how sweaty her palms were becoming and how sore her arms actually were, she anticipated being on the ground again. The moment was cut short as the explosion behind her sent her flying from the wire.

Jansen watched the explosion with utter disbelief. Covering his face from the heated flames, he drew back into the hanger.

Throwing his head back, he waited to see if any men would confirm they had survived. It took a few minutes but then finally a voice came through, patchy and overlaid by static.

"Jansen."

"Any other survivors?"

"A handful of us, yeah." The voice clarified.

Jansen pinched the bridge of his nose, "We have to go after the survivors."

"We have no idea where they're going. Or really, where they went."

"Doesn't matter. We have to find them. We have to stop them before the girl gets to her mother."

She was afraid to open her eyes. Her front side was burning with pain, and she could tell she was bleeding from somewhere on her face, the metallic tasted filling her mouth. Her ears were ringing, a high pitch buzzing sound blocking everything out, but against all odds a voice broke through.

"We've got you. You're okay."

Blinking away the dots in her vision, she found herself staring up at Newt. He and Minho were leaning over the side of the hole, each grasping at her arms. She fought the urge to break out in tears, letting her instinct kick in and placed her feet on the wall. With more help from the boys than she would like to admit, she was pulled up the side of building.

Once she was on stable ground, dropped to her knees, dry heaving.

"That was a nasty trip you took, Cariño." Jorge crouched down in front of her, lifting her chin up to examine the wound on her forehead.

"Thomas." She coughed, brushing away his hand and lifting to her feet.

He dropped his head, nodding solemnly, "All we can do right now is hope. Brenda knows what she's doing. He's safest with her."

Just don't die.

That boy deserved a nice right hook to the jaw the next time she saw him. If she saw him again. Staring at Jorge for a moment longer, she accepted his outstretched hand and stood up. The first couple of seconds were wobbly but she ignored any help and was the first to follow Jorge out of the room they had come crashing into. There wasn't time to waste. Even if Thomas -and Brenda were dead, Wicked was still right behind them, they didn't have time to sit around.

Newt had stayed at Cleo's side as Jorge led them through the building into the next, eyeing her bleeding cut and emotionless expression. She had scrapped holes into the knees of her pants, specks of dried blood from where her body had been thrown into the side of the building. For the most part however, nothing seemed life threatening. He gathered pretty quickly that her wounds was easier to get past than the potential loss of Thomas, but couldn't find the right words to say.

Instead, he kept close, brushing shoulders with her every now and again as a reminder that he was there if she did need someone or something. She never seemed to notice his silent consoling until they reached the city once they had fallen behind the others.

"We can't do this without him, Newt." There was no emotion to her voice and the sun prevented him from seeing too much of her face.

"He's tough. He survived a night in the Maze and took Gally on more than once." He hadn't meant for it to but at the mention of the boy's name, Cleo's head dropped and she stared at the beige sand below.

Reaching out, Newt stopped her. He retrieved a bit of rag from his pocket, similar to the one that had carried him to safety only hours before and pressed it gently to her forehead. She flinched but didn't fight him, sighing.

"All I meant was that he's survived everything else. And he's always come back. He'll be fine, Cleo."

They began walking again, falling into a comfortable silence. Newt was right. Thomas was stubborn. Hardheaded. He would do whatever he had to, to survive. But things happen and Cleo had a bad habit of expecting the worse when it came to people she cared about.

"Plus, now he has something to really fight for."

She huffed softly. Newt was not helping in the slightest. Glancing his direction she saw his sly smile.

Biting the inside of her cheek, she stared straight ahead, "Now, you're just saying things to make me feel better."

"Is it working?"

She wouldn't give him the satisfaction with her answer.

Thomas had never in his life, at least what he could remember, been around this many people at once. He felt caged in, arms glued to his side as he pushed through the crowd of dancing, drugged bodies. He and Brenda had split up earlier, searching for the others in the sea of unfamiliar faces and he hoped she was having more luck. Though the more crowded the place got, the more he wished they hadn't.

The drink he had been given before even stepping foot in the house was starting to take its toll. His legs were wobbly beneath him and he felt as if he were floating through the crowd rather than walking. Vision swimming around, he was relieved to see Brenda pushing her way towards him.

"That was fun!"

"What?" He could tell she was further gone than he was, her body leaning into his for stability, "Brenda?"

"They're not here." She slurred.

Thomas scanned the people around them, as if his friends would suddenly appear and they could leave this horribly uncomfortable place, "Okay, well, we should keep looking."

Brenda's face scrunched up in disagreement, peering up at him through her lashes, "Why?"

Thomas swallowed dryly.

"We couldn't find the Right Arm anyway. Not without Marcus," She pushed herself closer to him, "Your friends are gone. It's over," Closer, "It's just us now. Just try and relax."

Thomas scoffed, shaking his head at her. How could she be so calm. Wasn't Jorge her friend? Wasn't she even a little bit upset?

"How?" He shot back, harsher than he had intended.

"Like this?"

He let her kiss him. He wasn't sure why, but he had. It was brief, and he wasn't sure she had actually done it but, when they pulled away, it wasn't Brenda staring back at him. Cleo's features were muddled by the shifting lights of the house, hair draped around her shoulders, eyes peering up at him. He blinked, pushing her back some in surprise. But she was gone and Brenda had taken her place once again.

"What?" She stared puzzled.

Thomas swallowed and shook his head, "You're not her."

He knew he had hurt her feelings, only calling out her name as she slipped from his arms and back into the sea of people. Faces became distorted around him. Shifting into all his friends. Newt, Minho, Frypan. Cleo. All laced with the same black veins and sickly skin of the Cranks that had chased them before. As they moved in on him, it got harder for him to breath. He struggled away, tripping over his own feet -or someone else's he wasn't sure- and slipped into unconsciousness.

The screens laid splayed out in front of him, a different individual on each. Beside their image was a list of vitals. Their health, age, name, birthday. It was all there. One in particular stuck out amongst the others.

Cleo.

He had been staring at it for what felt like forever, taking her in. She looked nothing like the Cleo he had known. Of course, it was the same person but the Cleo he knew looked nothing like the Cleo in her photograph. Her bright eyes were vacant, lacking the luster and hopefulness they once had, her shoulders were stiff but still sagged, not held proudly, confidently. She looked tired, sad, betrayed. She looked lost.

Deciding he had had enough, he reached forward and pressed the small black button sectioned away from the others.

The screens went black momentarily before a vast green arena appeared. The figures moved around on the screen. Figures? These had been his friends. Newt. Cleo. Alby. He knew these people. He had done this to them. He had let them all down.

"They're coming for me."

His hands fisted around the small rectangular device.

"Keep it safe."

Looking back at the screen, he found her. She was squatted in front of a smaller boy away from the others. There was no way to tell what she was saying but her mannerisms were kind and gentle. He watched them for a while, smiling when she was able to get the boy onto his feet and over to the other boys.

Taking a deep breath, he looked at the device again. He shut off the monitors, the pictures of the kids appearing once again and moved quickly towards the door.

"Thomas."

"Thomas?"

His eyes took their time opening, adjusting to the bright light that was showering down on him before something blocked its path. Cleo's blonde hair and fair features came into view and for a second he thought he was still dreaming.

"Morning, Sunshine," She smiled softly, her hand resting on his shoulder. When he tried sitting up, she pushed back some, "Slow your roll. You're okay."

His hand found hers, relieved to find that she wasn't the only one that had survived as the rest of the group gathered closer to welcome their friend. His eyes found Brenda's next but she quickly looked away. He needed to talk to her, explain what had happened. But the sound of skin hitting skin distracted him.

It has been a minute since I updated and I'm sorry for that. School is ending soon so it's kind of crunch time. This chapter is one of the longer ones and that's just because it got away from me. As always, hope you enjoyed it and feel free to leave a comment! Xx

Also, did anyone see the trailer for American Assassin? It is fantastic. Dylan is fantastic. I mean, just fantastic.