Oh, I'm good. Seriously, after all these years, you'd think I would stop amazing myself. But here I am, still doing it.

We'll start firing till they drop or we drop.

Listen,' Thomas said, slowly getting to his feet, hoping Minho wouldn’t be stupid enough to try anything. “There’s something about us. We’re not just random shanks who showed up on your doorstep. We’re valuable. Alive, not dead.” The anger on Jorge’s face lessened ever so slightly. Maybe a spark of curiosity. But what he said was 'What’s a shank?

Thomas had a depressing - and scary - thought. 'Am I . . . replacing someone? Did somebody get killed?' Minho shook his head. 'No, we're just training you - someone'll want a break. Don't worry, it's been a while since a Runner was killed.' For some reason that last statement worried Thomas, though he hoped it didn't show on his face.

Awww," Minho said. "That's almost as sweet as that time she slammed the end of a spear into your shuck face.

Whatever had happened to him [Newt] out there — maybe even related to his lingering ankle injury — had been truly awful.

I'm a Crank. I'm slowly going crazy. I keep wanting to chew off my own fingers and randomly kill people.