1. FIGHTER - the maze runner, newt

Chapter 46

American Oxygen - X Ambassadors
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The wooden floor creaked beneath my weight, it's eerie call tracking my every move. My boots made prominent thuds against the fragile wood, pausing when I swung open the equally fragile door. I smirked when I met the dark eyes of the man waiting impatiently behind said door.

"Well...how do I look?" I grinned, lifting my arms out.

Newt's playful eyes skipped across my outfit and the weapons dressing my youthful frame, the corner of his pursed lips lifting up the longer he stared.

The outfit was nothing out of the usual. I dressed myself in my blue jeans, tucking my black t-shirt into the waistband and black belt. The sports bra underneath was made to help a sister out when she needs to run. And finally, I had slipped on my double-knotted combat boots.

A simple outfit which I have worn many times - with the stench to prove my point.

However today, I clipped on my brown and black Runner's pack, filling it with necessities like the numbing cream, one bottle of the Serum, a bottle of water, the piece of amber glass Newt had gifted me with, and my leather jacket.

Surprisingly, it all fit nicely.

Weapons also decorated my appearance. Two machetes dangled from my belt loops securely, as well as a hatchet on my right hip. Over my shoulder hung my quiver full of freshly carved arrows, and the spear which remain clipped to the back of the pack. My hands were dressed in black fingerless gloves, clutching onto the wood of my trusty bow.

Newt nodded shamelessly, "Not too shabby."

"I think I just might win this year's annual Glader Beauty Pageant," I mused, smirking at Newt's puzzled brow, "If I do say so myself."

A look of recognition crossed Newt's face as he recalled the joke from a few weeks back.

A snort left his nose before playful pinching my left cheek. In response, I couldn't help but chuckle while swatting his hand away.

"I don't know, Amesie. Minho might take the lead this year." Newt grinned down to me, nodding his head towards Minho's room.

As if on cue, Minho clampers out into the hallway looking frantic. His eyes quickly scanned the floor, seemingly in search for something, before landing on us. His dark almond eyes beamed towards the two of us, lifting a firm finger in our direction.

"Hey sweethearts, have you seen my brown boots?" Minho asked curtly.

"What's wrong with your running shoes?" Newt shrugged, nodding towards the black sneakers Minho currently wore.

The Keeper's gaze flickered down to his feet before scrunching his nose up and shaking his head.

"They don't match my Runner's pack." He sighed exasperatedly, gesturing to the brown pack clipped around his chest. 

For a brief second, Newt and I exchanged glances, Newt's eyebrows raising as if to say "I told you so". A quiet scoff left my throat as I turned away from Newt's smug gaze.

"Wow. Sounds like a problem." I blinked at the Runner, sarcasm dripping from my lips.

"Yeah. It is. One that neither of you seem to be helpful with. So, excuse me as I go find someone useful." Minho spoke sardonically, smoothly jogging past us and disappearing down the stairs.

We stared after his long-gone form after he left us standing in his dust, debating whether we should feel smug or insulted. Either way, it resulted in Newt and I erupting into little fit of snorts and chuckles.