The Defective Soldier || Newt

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟑𝟖

𝕋𝕙𝕖 ℂ𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕜 𝔸𝕟𝕕 𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣

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The night couldn't go worse, or so William thought, which he then immediately regretted. He was in no position to test his luck, or the doctor's simulation, whichever turned out to be the reality that he was living. Only one thing was clear: he became more of a hindrance than a help by the minute.

Minho had to help him out of the pool, but, as he placed a minimal of his weight on his injured leg, as he tried to get up on his two feet, a flash of pain travelled all the way from his ankle to his knee. His mouth fell agape, but he quickly covered it with his hand, needing to portray a facade that could permit him to go back into the building. The piercing feeling didn't leave, though. It stayed, pricking into his bones like broken glass. But he ignored it without a moment of doubt and carried on, doing his best to help Mae out of the water.

The purple veins on his friend's neck were much larger than before the jump, practically eating up to the middle of Mae's neck. Newt's, however, were much worse, reaching up to his face. Without letting anyone see, and while Thomas was already trying to encourage everyone to run, William exchanged knowing glances with his true and only leader. They had to get Newt out of the city, which, judging by Thomas's brief encouraging words, wouldn't be difficult.

Shouts much louder than Thomas's voice overthrew the so-far silent surroundings, stopping Mae before she could even propose splitting up. A large group of guards approached from the entrance of the building, pointing their guns while barking orders. The group could hardly believe it. They had just evaded one problem to fall right into another.

"Oh, you gotta be kidding me," Thomas breathed out.

The guards drew nearer by the second, prompting them to group up with Thomas and William as their centre. Of all things William could think about, managing to get a weapon was his top priority. No matter if it could worsen his condition. With the utmost discretion, he reached out to Newt. Their hands grazed against one another, but neither minded, much less when William's gently slid down Newt's thigh until reaching the holster, where he tried to get a hold of the gun in hopes of being quicker at shooting than the guards.

"Uh-uh-uh! Don't even think about it!" In a blink of an eye, three of the six guns were aimed at different people. "Get on your knees with your hands in the air."

Like an orchestrated betrayal, three of the six guards turned to their comrades and shot. The three unlucky ones fell to the ground immediately, twitching as a blue light flickered around their bodies.

Even after such an act of defiance, William couldn't shake the worry off his mind. The remaining three guards approached quickly, and his hands were itching to get a hold of a gun. With a swift movement quicker than the guards' steps, he took Newt's gun and pointed it at the closest guard just as they took off their helmet, almost losing his balance in the process.

Surprises came in groups that night, apparently. Before William stood a much changed and older Gally. It could be difficult to recognise him at first. The Gally in front of him was in no way the young boy who was so afraid to set foot in the maze only a couple of years back, but there was no mistaking him. The boy's characteristic eyebrows had never been habitual among the people he had met over the years.

"Gally?" Minho called, just as confused as William was.

"Minho." Gally nodded, then glanced from the room they had just jumped off to them. "You shanks are nuts."

"George, Rowan, take off the helmets," ordered Mae, giving William a side glance as she continued talking, "you're gonna get shot at this rate if you don't."