Never Stop Running

T W E L V E

"Ah, if it isn't the famous Stiles Stilinski, the best friend of True Alpha Scott McCall," the frail looking man, presumably Lawrence, declares while grinning excitedly at the suddenly small looking brunette teenager.

Deucalion sat himself on a wooden bench off to the side with a satisfied grin on his wrinkled face. Then, his expression shifted to a regretful frown. "Unfortunately, Lawrence, Stiles is suffering from memory loss at the moment, and he currently identifies as Thomas. We're hoping that the bite will restore the memories," he sighs, and Lawrence glances up from his kneeling stance in front of Thomas.

"Why wasn't I made aware of this? Deucalion, I wanted a conversation with Stiles Stilinski, not some experimental child!" The ancient vampire immediately became angry, and Thomas backed himself all the way against the wall in fear, even though his face showed some indignance at the comment. Newt's brown eyes flickered between the three other figures in the room, staying on Thomas a bit longer than the others.

Deucalion actually looked a bit scared at the outburst, and he caved his shoulders a bit. "I know who did it, sir. Her name is Ava Paige, and she can fix it! I swear! Then you can have your talk and turn them like we discussed!" His shaking fingers flicked his cane out before he began shouting for Charles and Abigail, two new yet loyal members of his pack. He ordered for them to bring Ms. Paige back and all of the equipment she would need.

Meanwhile, Lawrence keeps a steady gaze on Thomas, who stares right back almost challengingly. Newt wanted to shout at the boy, telling him how stupid he was being provoking an all-powerful vampire, but he knew that would only make matters worse. So he settles for keeping his gaze on both of them just to be safe. Then Lawrence rose from his position and left the room without another glance, leaving the two teens confused.

"Okay, what the hell did old me get into that everyone knows him and wants him?" Thomas asked, his voice reaching impressively high octaves for a male his age. He was obviously annoyed, though he should be used to the attention considering his previous position at WICKED.

Newt shrugged, kind of bothered by this too. He knew that the only reason he was in this current situation was because of his relations with the boy next to him, but Newt couldn't find himself wishing to be anywhere else with anyone else. "Look Tommy, it doesn't matter. We're not alone in this. Your old friends, Minho, Teresa... you know they're coming up with a plan right now to get us out of this without turning us into vampires."

The way Thomas shifted his hands made it seem as though he wanted to bury his head in his hands, but all he was able to do was rattle the chains around his bony wrists. "Please stop saying that word. It's making this situation that much more real when you say it, and I don't like it," the boy almost whines, squinting his eyes at the impending headache behind his forehead.

Before Newt could do his best to comfort him, Lawrence reentered the concrete room with a small metal tray and a smile on his face. "Why not, Stiles?" the man asked, and Thomas grumbled something about it not being his name. Lawrence ignored him easily as he busied himself with the two syringes, and both of the teenagers wince at the sharp needle. "Don't you like the idea of heightened senses? Newfound strength? Better reflexes than any human could imagine? Quickened healing? Amazing speed and agility?" He hums as Thomas chooses to stay quiet.

Smart choice, Newt thinks to himself with a roll of his eyes. "What's that for?" He asks, nodding his head to the cloudy liquid in the syringe.

Lawrence raises his gaze to the blond for a split second before returning his soulless eyes to the task at hand. "It's needed to keep you quiet during the operation. Don't worry; it won't hurt at all," the man continues with a small smirk that makes the boys think differently.