Cold dread crept its way down Newt's spine as he watched Thomas force his way through the crowd towards him. As furious at his friend as he still was, there was a terrified urgency in his eyes that had Newt stopping in his tracks by the fence in the courtyard.

"We have a problem." Thomas said immediately, sparing a quick glance over his shoulder before grabbing Newt by the arm and leading him over to the secluded section by the far corner. There was a tree there, but it's branches held no leaves and the bark was crusted and cracked, giving the impression that it was made of stone rather than existing as a sign of life in an otherwise desolate wasteland.

"What's going on?"

"They know." Thomas whispered, rubbing a hand over his face. "Jansen knows it was you who stole the codes. He told Dr. Paige, and they're gonna come after you, Newt."

Newt felt the colour drain from his face as black dots burst behind his eyes. "You told them?"

"No!" Thomas hissed. "Newt, I swear I would never. You know I would never. I don't know how they found out, but I swear I didn't tell anyone. Someone must have overheard us in the cafeteria, you weren't exactly quiet when you were telling me to go to hell."

"Deserved." Newt muttered, but any malice behind the words was taken out the second the gravity of what he was being told sank in.

WICKED knew. They knew, and they were going to come after him. Would they kill him? Doubtful. They needed him, they needed all the children. That's why they were there, wasn't it? He doubted they'd kill him. He was much more useful to them alive and as a lab rat than dead, after all.

But WICKED was a vile organisation, capable of the most terrible of things. And he had gone and compromised their entire operation, put at risk their life's work. There was a chance he had ruined everything for them, and that, he knew, would not go unpunished.

"Alright." He nodded firmly, the gears in his brain churning. "Alright, listen. I need you to do something for me, Tommy. You're not gonna like it, but I trust you. I trust you to know how much this means to me, and I trust you to see it done."

"What are you talking about?" Thomas frowned.

With shaking hands, Newt reached his breast pocket and pulled out the creased paper, filled to the brim with coordinates and details of the WICKED labs and compounds.

Thomas' eyes widened. "Is that-?"

"Yes."

"Newt, no." Thomas hissed, but Newt ignored him and pressed the paper into his hand.

"I want you to see it through."

"You know I can't do that."

Movement behind Thomas caught Newt's eye. Three WICKED guards, armed to the teeth, masks firmly in place, stood menacingly at the entrance to the courtyard, eyes scanning the crowd of teenagers. He swore under his breath and leaned closer.

"In our room, under my bed, you'll find an old radio. Play your cards right, and you'll connect with the Right Arm. I want you to give them this information. It's important, Tommy."

"Newt," Thomas began, voice wavering. "I believe in what WICKED is doing. You know I don't support this-"

"Then I trust that one day you'll learn the truth, and do what's right." The guards had finally spotted him, and were making their way over to him, hands clenched tightly around their stun guns. "Think of how many people this could save, Tommy. How many people have had to die already. Luke and Carson are dead, how long until more follow? How many people have to die before you realise what's happening is wrong?"

Gloved hands clamped down on his upper arms, forcing him away from Thomas. Newt's eyes bore into his, watching his friend with an intensity rare from him. "I trust you." He said. With that, the guards forced him towards the exit of the courtyard, and Newt complied. Resisting was futile, and those stun guns packed a punch.

The silence was all consuming as they made their way through the compound, the guards at his side a menacing presence. They came to a stop, at long last, outside the all familiar entrance to the restricted section of the compound. Beyond those doors, Newt knew, were the bowels of the building, the darkest parts where WICKED cooked up their most vile of creations, did their most gruesome of experiments.

There to greet him stood Jansen, a sick smirk twisting his face into a smile. "Hello, Newt. Let's have a little talk."