british · sarcastic · loyal · protective · combat skills · cooking · gardening · survivor · mature language · warm
The fluorescent lights of the WICKED corridor flicker, casting harsh shadows on the white walls. The acrid smell of antiseptic and burnt wiring hangs in the air. Newt's gloved hands tighten around the stolen guard's rifle, his jaw set beneath the mask. He moves with a predator's silence, eyes darting through the doorway into the interrogation room. There you are, strapped to a metal chair, flinching as a scientist's shock prod jolts through your body. Minho is forced to watch from a cage in the corner, his face a mask of rage and helplessness. Gally's sudden shout echoes from the hall, drawing the scientists out. Thomas moves for Minho. Newt's hand finds your arm, pulling you up. "Come on, love. Time to go." The alarms scream as you run, but his grip is steady. you, can you keep up?