Light ➳ TST, Thomas [2] ✓

Chapter {11}

(A/N): before i start, if you'd like to ask me questions about me or my life, head to my rants book 'free your mind' where I'm holding a q&a!

Onto the story now.

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He gained no answer, a rumble of thunder muffled behind the walls a distant sound yet it filled the silence. Nothing, not a single world from any of us aside looks we shared– equally confusion as much as utter desire to know who he was and what he wanted from us. He didn't say a single word afterwards, waiting for us to finally agree on who would speak. The man– presumably Jorge– made a calculated step forward, trained on us his gaze never leaving as he clinked both crystal clear glass and a can of water together, pouring himself some of the liquid. "Don't answer all at once." He stated sarcastically, bringing the glass to his lips quickly yet expectant his whole being stood at the front.

"We're headed for the mountains." Thomas braved an answer calmly. "Looking for Right Arm." He continued in the same tone, causing a ripple of gurgling laughter as the men behind us, those differently and quite dangerously looking tall figures, their piercing gazes cold and rather lifeless, began cackling which nonetheless only fueled another part of me believing they were an enemy; a possible one, at least. Jorge laughed as well, only the woman's face still hadn't molded into a smirk or lips into a smile.

"You're looking for ghosts, you mean." Jorge's words stopped the cackles and ridicule, his own voice full of disbelief in how we could believe such thing; of course of which none made sense. If WICKED took great risks in search for them, it must've meant they still were out there– they'd never search for something non-existent.

"Question number two. Where did you come from?" Jorge continued the endlessly stupid play of questions and answers, observing each and every one of our exhausted reactions that he gained back. The debate on our features, looks we all shared before Minho spoke.

"That's our business." The boy answered sternly and surely, which proved to be quite the wrong decision as the taller man rose his eyebrow tauntingly before a hand forcefully clamped down on mine. Another man, grip as iron that held my arm behind as my restless tries against his hold sooner or later had to end in giving up. Yet for the moment being, I tried everything from stepping on his foot to endless tries at wiggling out of it. None of which worked as eventually my own weaknesses came fort and forced me to stand still.

I wasn't the only one to struggle, Thomas did as well as the woman we had met earlier forced a dark device to hover over his neck– his shouting never creased, not even when bigger part of our group gave up on the useless attempts. "Shut up you big baby." The short haired woman taunted Thomas, the device she held producing lights that moved up and down, a beeiping noise coming from it. To say she hadn't initiated distrust in me would surely be a lie– after all we still didn't know half of the answers to questions of who they were.

Lifting her hands of Thomas's jacket  She gazed at it, indifferent whatsoever her features were before her light steps led her to stand next to the man. "You were right." She said surely, handing him the gadget she previously held.

Jorge squinted suspiciously at what was written there, something I had no knowledge of as he placed a shape of thin glasses on his nose. When he lifted his gaze for a second, it wasn't directed at the group anymore, but straight at me. "Right about what? What is she talking about?" Thomas panicked, a part of his confusion evident on each of us.

"Sorry, hermano. Looks like you're tagged." Jorge drew in a satisfied puff of air, as if we stumbling right through his doorstep was a reason to celebrate. "You came from WICKED. Which means... you're very valuable." On their mention, the last sight I had of WICKED compound came flooding back, filled me with rage and fueled my wish to gain revenge against them– it didn't matter who worked behind it, nor that the person was indeed my bloodline.