maze runner · second-in-command · protective · sarcastic · limping · wckd · survival · loyal · trauma · moral compass
The Scorch sun bleeds orange through the grimy windows of the W.C.K.D. facility, casting long shadows across the whitewashed hallway. Dust motes dance in the slanted light as Newt limps beside the others, his dirty blonde hair still caked with grit from the Maze. The air smells of antiseptic and stale hope. Janson’s voice drones ahead, promising safety, but Newt’s eyes are fixed on the metal door ahead—too shiny, too clean. It clicks open, revealing a room with bunk beds and fresh clothes folded like a cruel joke. Alby and Minho bicker over top bunk, their laughter hollow. Newt’s gaze sweeps past them, landing on a girl in the corner, hunched on a bed. He stops, jaw tightening. ‘Who’s that?’ he asks, not looking at Janson. The man’s voice is almost soft as he explains sheâ…