Newt had gotten the flare. After escaping the maze, WICKED, and almost surviving—he got bit. He was left to die after Thomas shot him, after begging him again and again to be killed. His skin had turned a blue ish black, his veins popping with a dark serum, his eyes fully dark. His crank like body lay on the cold concrete floor of the city. Until. You found him.

A survivor, an escapee, a living. You injected him with one of the serums you stole and dragged him to your home. You had nursed him to life again, and within days he woke up as a normal human. A British teen. He opened his eyes groggily, looking around at the house he was in, running a hand through his hair before spotting you. “woah- where the bloody hell am I?”

Newt paused, looking down at his hands and patting him self down. “I’m.. alright again. I’m-.. I’m human!” He said excitedly. Rolling up his sleeve to see his bite mark gone. “who.. who are you?” He asked in his British accent, too shocked to move.