Sorry that I didn't update my story. I didn't have a computer and my phone is stupid, so I got a tablet which has Word on it so now you don't have to worry about the really slow updates coming from me. Please don't hate me.

Chapter 2 – Stiles Or Thomas?

Thomas leaned against Teresa, his heart beating faster than it usually does. He doesn't know where they were but he was pretty sure that they were at least far away from the huge amounts of grievers that are looking for them. "We need to keep going," he says, "trust me, I want to rest too but we need to get to the doors and avoid them for at least a short period of time."

Minho nodded, being the Keeper of the Runners, he addressed the situation, acting neutral, showing no signs of fear on his face except exhaustion. The sweat glistened on Thomas' face as the moon's illuminating light shone down on them in the huge corridor of the maze. "Alright, we should head down sector thirteen, try and kill any grievers that approach us within a twenty foot range. Until we get you shanks out of here, you can have all Frypan's burnt bacon."

Clint snorted as he pulled himself up from the ground and onto his feet, brushing the dirt off his khaki pants and stalked towards Thomas. He knew everyone would hate him for bringing them into the shuck Maze but it would've been better if there were multiple Gladers scouting the Maze corridors. Right? "If we die, our death will be in your hands." Clint warns him, poking his index finger into Thomas' chest before he walked away.

"You okay, Tommy?" Newt asked. Ever since Thomas arrived in the Maze, everything began changing, but Newt was glad for Thomas to come, if it wasn't for him them they wouldn't have found their first clue ever and Gally wouldn't have been as bloody brave as Thomas.

Thomas gives him a reassuring smile sending him his pearly whites. And it shocked Newt. That was the first time the Greenie ever smiled since he came to the Glades, and it gave Newt a little hope. Just a little. "I'm fine, Newt. Thanks." He replied, "I'm just ready for you shanks to get out of here, even if I have to die to make that happen."

"Don't say that," Chuck snapped at him with a cold but soft glare. "You'll get us out of here, I believe in you, Thomas." Determination and confidence burned through Thomas as Chuck said those words, someone believes in him and that's all he needs to set his goal. He was going to kill every one of those Grievers and he will help his friends escape the Maze. "You're the leader here."

"He's right, Tom." Teresa told him with a smile. "You're the leader."

"Thanks, guys."

The new Greenies looked confused. They didn't know where they are but they did know their names, and everything they've done for the past years. They were at the lacrosse game to support Scott, just like Stiles did. They didn't understand how they could be taken to a place full of teenagers. "Where the hell are we?" Jackson asked rudely to the Gladers.

"And the shank speaks." The African-American boy replied sarcastically. "Normally we have more people here but –," he stops before he could tell more information and looked at Winston. "You're in the Glades."

"Glades?" Scott asked with a puppy face look. "What do you mean by that?"

"They sure like asking too many questions." Zart pointed out, "just like our other Greenie, Thomas. I'm pretty sure you shanks would be good friends if you all met, huh?"

"Where are we?" The one with the stoic face and the raised eyebrows asked, his arms crossed against his chest, his veins popping from his muscles making Winston, Frypan, Zart, and the others gulp in fear.

"You're in the Glades, slinthead." Winston replied, "what more do you need to know?"

"A lot," the red head flips her hair over her shoulder swiftly, "are you going to let us out now or do we need to use you guys as a stepping stool?" She asked.

Frypan rolled his eyes and held out both of his hands and grabbed the red head's before he pulled her up. The others helped the Greenies out and the box goes down as the doors close. "Do you guys know your names?"

"I'm Scott."

"Lydia." Answered the red head girl.

"Allison,"

"Derek," the sour one grunts.

"Jackson."

"Erica."

"I'm Boyd,"

"Isaac."

"And I'm Danny."

The Gladers nodded in sync before Zart spoke, "great. You shanks sure are something." There was those unfamiliar slang words again, shank, shuck, slinthead, it's like these people made their own culture but Lydia knew it was something more than that. The Hale Pack was wearing the same clothes as the Gladers except cleaner and new. They must've been there for months, or hell… Years.

Scott tried to open his mouth but there was an ear piercing alarm that shrieked throughout the whole Glades and the ground rumbled, gears started clicking before they saw the small opening of the large stone doors. They stood in awe and in shock as the doors opened wider and the other Gladers ran towards it. Then the Pack noticed, they approached it but they didn't step into it.

It just made the Pack more curious into what was in there.