Everywhere, Everything//Maze Runner

Clara adjusted her helmet once, before finally following the others out of the sewer. There was a tense silence in the air as the five of them-- Thomas, Newt, Leo, Gally, and herself-- began to trek down the alley, towards the WICKED building.

Where Gally had scrounged the WICKED guard uniforms from, Clara didn't know, but she was glad that they covered her entire face. WICKED knew what they looked like, and if they wanted any chance of getting in and out, they needed to be in disguise. 

They walked down the street, holding the stolen guns at their waists. People scrambled out of their way, rushing back to their homes in time for curfew. 

Clara shifted slightly. Underneath her armour, she had on a tiny first aid kit-- just a few bandages, anti-septic wipes, the remaining tranquillizer from Winston repackaged into an autoinjector and painkillers. It would have to do until they could escape the city. Hopefully, neither Tris nor Minho were in bad shape, and even if they were, Clara was sure that WICKED had to have some sort of medical facility in there. 

The guards at the door nodded at them, but other than that, nobody looked twice. Clara frowned. It all seemed a little too easy. 

But then again, who would've expected them to make it this far? 

Together, they shuffled inwards, marching as a group. The lobby was quiet. Most of the scientists had left already, returning home for the night. Everything was a sterile white, and the floors were shiny enough that Clara was sure she would slip. In front of them, someone in a white lab coat was walking towards what had to be an elevator. 

Clara squinted. With only one working eye, the mesh of the face mask made it even harder to see, but she could swear that it was Teresa. The long black hair hanging down her back seemed so familiar. Rage flickered inside of her. The girl was the reason that they were here. She had sold them out to WICKED and was the reason that Minho had been captured trying to save Clara and the reason that Tris was gone. 

Clara clenched her jaw and followed the others. Thomas was in the front, leading their small squadron, and Clara noticed him picking up the pace; he was going to try and get them in the elevator with Teresa.

Clara followed them quickly. Teresa was no doubt aware of where Tris and Minho were kept, and she would be the key to getting them. No doubt, there would also be some of WICKED's temporary cures in here too. She could use that and give it to anyone who needed it. Give them to herself-- if needed. She knew that Tris had to be immune. It couldn't be Tris. 

They shoved into the elevator, quickly joining Teresa, who scanned them all but didn't seem to think much of it. It wasn't until the doors closed that Thomas finally acted. In a fluid motion, he slid his gun from the holster and jammed it into Teresa's lower back.

"Do not move," He hissed.

Clara's eyebrows rose in shock. She knew Thomas had some anger-- had seen it while planning the rescue from the train-- but she had never heard such pure malice out of him. She and Newt exchanged a glance. 

She frowned, scanning the boy once. Despite the mask he was wearing, there was something off with him. She had been so focused on the rescue that she hadn't considered how exhausted they all might get. Maybe she should've suggested to Thomas that they sleep. 

"Thomas?" Teresa whispered.

Thomas only dug his gun in harder. "You are going to take us to Minho and Tris. I don't give a fuck what you've done, they are coming with us,"

There was a brief moment of tense silence, before Teresa nodded, pressing one of the buttons on the door. It beeped, and the elevator began to move upwards.