WICKED games 2 (Newt x female reader) [COMPLETED]

4

It feels like forever before a guard opens my door, telling me to follow him or her. I sigh, doing as they say.

After a lot of twisting and turning through corridors that all look the same, we eventually reach a white door, no different form any of the others. The guard opens it, pushes me through. I jump at the bang of it closing behind me, then look around.

I'm in a laboratory, tables and beds and equipment lined up in neat rows, scientist and/or doctors hurrying everywhere.

"Subject A1?" I didn't notice the woman before, but now I see her standing to my right, a clipboard in hand. She smiles at me, a real smile, not like Janson.

"(Y/N)." I say stiffly, and she smiles again.

"Sorry, (Y/N), I'm Dr. Crawford."

"Why am I here?"

"We just need to run some tests, you'll be out shortly. Don't worry," she adds, seeing my frown, "all the others are doing the exact same thing, though in different rooms and at different times, of course." I nod curtly. "If you'll just follow me..." she starts walking towards a treadmill in the corner, and, not really having much else to do I follow.

The next hour is just tests, tests, and more tests. I had to run on the treadmill for twenty minutes, at gradually increasing speeds until I thought that I wouldn't be able to go any faster if my life depended on it. The whole time, the doctors stood around and monitored me.

Next is blood tests. I have no problem with needles, so it wasn't that that bothered me, more the thought of these people, WICKED, having samples of my blood. It makes me squirm.

"Ok," says Dr. Crawford, "one more thing and then we'll get you back to your room." She leads me to what I recognise as an MRI machine, except this one is way more complex looking than they should be.

I stop, not sure if I want to lie down on that bed and be strapped in while someone takes pictures of my brain.

"Don't worry," she says, patting the mattress, "it won't hurt. All we want is some pictures, then you're free to go." Well that's a load of klunk if I ever heard one.

Not seeing a real choice, I reluctantly lie down, allowing a band to be clipped across my stomach, and my wrists and ankles to be tied down.

"Just a precaution." Dr. Crawford assures me. "Now," she continues, "I'm going to ask you think of certain things while we do this, we just want to see the brain processes certain chemicals, the ones that cause the six basic emotions."

A loud beep comes from the machine, and it whirs to life, humming all around me.

"Something happy." Crawford instructs, "think of something that makes you happy."

I frown. What makes me happy? Then it comes to me. My friends, they make me so happy. I picture them in my mind, Minho's sassy eyerole, Thomas's slightly confused frown, Frypan yelling at us to get out of his kitchen, Teresa's blue eyes gleaming through the window of the slammer. I picture Newt's soft brown eyes, his messy blond hair and bright smile. I think about the way he says "bloody hell," his adorable British accent.

"Perfect." Crawford says, "Now think of a time you were surprised, maybe you were caught doing something, a time when something that caught you off guard."

What? That's not how surprise works. I try to think of a time something surprised me. Minho comes to mind, the time he walked in on me and Newt making out. My face heats up. That certainly caught me off guard.

"Wonderful job." Crawford tells me. "Now, this one might be a little harder. I need you to think of something sad."

Sad? I don't want to think of anything sad. Chuck pops into my mind, his small, still body lying where we left it. he was too young, too young to be sent to the Maze, too young to die. I press my lips together, I will not cry.