Tired of Running

71|| subject a7

// now we're torn, torn, torn apart
there's nothing we can do \\

•

Minho groaned as he woke up. He was face down on an uncomfortable cot. He rubbed his face tiredly. What had happened... He looked around his surroundings, squinting. He was sore. His head ached. Bright white light flooded his eyes from above him. A hospital? Yelling was heard from somewhere further in the building. No. No no no...

Minho jumped to his feet, slamming himself against the door, "HEY- HEY-" He pounded his fists against it, a few nurses scurried passed, looking scared. He continued to yell, pounding on the door. All he was left with was white walls, a small cot with a blue blanket and a small window he could barely see out of. What had happened? Minho looked up and down the white hallway, chills creeping up his spine. Something was wrong. He could just feel it... He couldn't remember anything after he passed out... Minho was feeling the aftermath of the shot, but he soon realized it was his heart that ached.
Harper.
He was just relieved she was safe with this Newt...

Minho sat back on the small hospital style cot, leaning against the wall, assessing his situation. He figured it was heavily guarded but would some how be able to escape... The door buzzed as a keycard was inserted from the outside. Minho stood to his feet, looking impatient. He was already ready to beat whoever was on that side of the door.
The Rat Man was smiling at him.
"Good morning, Mister Park. We were hoping you would wake up soon." Minho gritted his teeth, "You-" Janson laughed, "Yes, I'm afraid so," Two armed WICKED guards stepped out from around the corner. "Come with us, please..." He wasn't asking.
Minho narrowed his eyes, looking around the room quickly. It looked like a hospital to him. Several more rooms were down the hall- complete with viewing rooms and offices. So this was WICKED... The real WICKED. Minho's blood boiled.

"Quite smart, you and your friends, trying to befriend the Right Arm to escape us..." Director Janson clicked his tongue as he opened another series of doors. "But really, at what point did you think it would work?" Minho smirked, looking at the man with as much distaste as he could manage this early, "I'd say it went pretty well since I'm the only one here." Janson sighed, nodding once, "I suppose you're right. You did your best trying to fight... Shame about how it ended. But... We must have our cure. Whatever it takes." Minho stopped, looking at the man coolly, "I won't be helping you shuckfaces with anything. You may as well just kill me now." Janson hummed, "Ah. Yes.. I thought we may hit this little obstacle... You think you don't have to cooperate... Because your friends are safe. Therefore you don't have any... ah, leverage, yes?" Minho smiled smugly, not even giving him the satisfaction of answering. Janson nodded once, "I see.. Well. I suppose that's fair. Except for one thing... Your friends may be safe, but your little girlfriend...is.. not so fortunate."

Minho's blood ran cold. The fire inside him had extinguished with just a few words, "No," he couldn't breathe. "What did you do-" He turned to Janson furiously. The guards raised their weapons, causing Janson to smirk. "Ah.. There it is.. Leverage, as you would say." He put a hand on Minho's shoulder and squeezed it, "You're going to help us, Mister Park. Or she dies. At least... She dies much faster than she is already..." He clicked his tongue with a smirk. Jansen's head cracked against the wall as Minho slammed him into to the ground. Minho screamed, once again hitting whatever he could before the guards restrained him. Janson dusted himself off, straightened his tie and wiped the fresh blood from his nose, looking disgusted and a bit embarrassed. He hated this kid almost as much as Thomas. The smaller guard pressed a syringe quickly into Minho's neck. All too soon, he was once again falling into an empty blackness.