The Trigger (A Newt fanfiction)

Chapter 17

People grunt as I move past them, and I whisper the occasional 'sorry'. When I finally make it to the front of the group, I understand what the problem is. In front of us is a couple that can't be any older than we are, conversing with Jorge. They look horrible.

"Come on, have some fun," the women says, her voice distant, tugging on Jorge's arm. He shakes it away, disgusted.

"I'm sorry, but we have to keep going," Jorge replies, not bothering to hide the annoyance in his voice.

The male guy pulls out a gun and shoves it against Jorge's side. Jorge flinches ever so slightly, but doesn't dare to move a muscle.

"My lady wants you all to come inside for a drink. I suggest you listen to her," the man whispers, his head inching closer and his eyes narrowing. I scrunch up my nose in disgust. I just caught a big whiff of alcohol, even from where I'm standing.

Movement catches my eye, and I see shadows nearby. I glance to the right, and see men looking down at us, snipers in their hands. I gulp. Looks like this place is heavily guarded, even in the Crank City.

Jorge keeps the man's gaze. "Fine," he says calmly. "But I hope your club can handle more than 20 teenagers."

The man smiles in delight, his yellow teeth on display. "Of course. I'm Jett by the way."

We're all ushered inside without a choice; it's either this or getting shot up by Jett's friends. The place is booming with music, women are dancing in skimpy costumes, and people are laughing like fools. One person isn't even moving. Jett announces he is going to get us drinks, and then walks away.

"Why don't we just fight back," I hear Minho ask in a harsh tone.

"Because, you bloody idiot," I hear Newt whisper back, "They have the gun power to kill every one of us. Might as well just play along."

"Newt's right," I agree, and they both look at me. "We might as well do what Jett says and then we can devise a plan."

Newt's gaze lingers on me for a moment, as if he is still trying to remember who I am. And then he looks away.

Jett comes back, balancing a platter of drinks on his hand. Drunk women cheer for him and he smiles foolishly. Looks like he is known around here. Either that, or those women really like watching men carry around platters full of alcoholic beverages.

He begins handing each one of us a drink. People hesitate for a moment, but then remember to play along. Jett hands me a shot glass full of the potent liquid, and smiles. "I made yours special, cutie," he winks, and goes off handing shots to the others.

"Excuse me?" I ask him, but either he doesn't care or he doesn't hear me, because he keeps going down the line. I glance at the liquid in the shot glass. My stomach churns, and I'm half tempted to pour it out on the ground.

"Cheers, to surviving!" Jett announces enthusiastically, glancing around at the group. When he notices no one taking a drink, his face scrunches up in anger. "Take a drink or else I'll have my friends blow your hands off."

Everyone exchanges glances, and then they take a sip. I don't, however, a little afraid at what Jett meant by my drink being 'special'.

I cringe as I watch Minho and Lucy down the drink. Jorge does as well, and so does Brenda. Sweat rolls down my forehead as Jett inspects the group, making sure everyone took a drink.