Virtual vs. Reality (Newt x Reader)

2

Newt followed his target with the sights as they ran down the street, three men in black uniforms with large guns chasing after him.

The boy was currently laying on his stomach on the roof of a building with a sniper gun, at the moment checking to make sure Alby's intel was correct.

From what it looked like, it was.

The boy running down the street had been identified as Minho. A description and grainy picture that had been shown to Alby gave Newt enough to track the boy down.

So here he was.

After he'd confirmed the boy running as Minho, he switched the sights over to the other three men, firing off three shots in quick succession, taking all of Minho's pursuers down.

Said boy seemed very confused at the sudden lack of pursuit. Newt turned the sights back to him to take a better look at his face.

To his surprise, Minho didn't take off running in the other direction, but instead walked carefully back to the men who'd been previously chasing him, bending down by the leader's body. He found the bullet wound in the side of his head, then traced the direction that it came from. The next time Newt zeroed in on his face, he was staring right back at him.

Having now been spotted, Newt packed up the gun and slung it across his back. Alby had poked fun at Newt's weapons, to which he'd responded that he wanted to be prepared.

He also knew how and when to use all of them and carrying them felt natural.

He turned and opened the trap door that led to the stairs and headed down to the ground floor of the building. Minho had approached the door, a knife in his hand. This brought a small smile to Newt's face.

"Newt," he said as he pushed the door open. He held his left hand out. Minho stared at it, then took in the letters branded on his wrist. He then held out his own left hand to shake, revealing a glimpse of his own brand.

"Minho," he responded.

"I know," Newt said. "You're welcome, by the way."

"I didn't need your help."

"You looked rather scared."

"No, I was setting them up."

"Sure you were." Bantering with Minho felt rather natural, as if he'd been doing it for years. "Anyway. It's best if we don't hang around here. More of those guys will be flooding in here to collect you."

"I could take them."

"Not without a gun. That tiny knife won't do you a bit of good against ten guys that are probably five times bigger than your puny-"

"Okay, okay, I get it, slinthead." Newt let a smirk cross his face. "You gonna take me to your secret lair or something?"

"Something like that." He brushed past Minho and walked over to the other men, bending down and wiggling one of their guns out from under them. He studied it, checked to make sure it was loaded and what is was loaded with, deemed it satisfactory, and tucked it under his arm. He stood up and turned to Minho, who was staring at him. "What? Can't let a perfectly good gun go to waste. Grab one of those other ones and follow me." 

~

"Hey there, Minho. Nice to meet ya. I'm Alby." Minho shook hands with said boy, glancing around their makeshift base. "I know. It ain't much. But right now, it's just the three of us and a bunch of guns, thanks to Newt over there." 

"You watch your bloody mouth. I'm doin' all the heaving lifting over here!" Newt shouted around a mouthful of sandwich. He swallowed it and looked pointedly at Minho. "You poke fun at it like him and I'll use one of those guns on you." 

Minho didn't appear in the least bit nervous, wandering around the base. There were a few tables and chairs scattered around - it had been a restaurant before Alby and Newt had started turning it into a base of operations. They'd boarded up the windows and enforced the lock, cleaning it up a bit around the edges.

"It's shabby," he said after he'd made his rounds. He pulled out a chair, dusting it off before thumping into it and kicking his feet onto the nearest table. Newt took another bite out of his sandwich before unsheathing one of his daggers and tossing it at Minho. It thunked into the table next to his feet, causing said boy to pull his feet off.

"Feet off the table," Newt said around his food. "We're trying to clean it up."

"Couldn't have picked a better place?" Minho said, replacing his feet on the table and folding his hands behind his head. "I mean, I'm inhaling more dust than oxygen over here." Another dagger hit the table, right next to the first.

"Feet off." A groan later, Minho put his feet on the floor after a death glare from Newt. The latter finished his sandwich and stood up, collecting his daggers and sheathing them.

"What's your guys' game plan, then?" Minho asked. "You've got a base of operations; you need it for something."

"Well, stay away from the VC321xb47 men," Alby said.

"The who?"

"Flare guys," Newt clarified. "We've been memorizing their brands, though. Makes us sound smarter." Alby rolled his eyes.

"Okay, okay," Minho said. "Is that it?"

"Well, there's more of us. You know that, right? More WCKD kids," the dark skinned boy said. "I find them, then Newt goes and gets them."

"So, he's your errand boy."

"Runner," Newt inserted, flipping out his pen knife and grabbing a napkin, running it down the length of the blade.

"Okay, that. How long have you been doing this?"

"Couple weeks," Newt said. "We've pinpointed several boys branded with 'WCKD' during that time. I go and fetch them. Found a lot of bodies. You're the first living one I've found." Minho lifted an eyebrow. The blond boy crossed his arms. "Not all of us are apparently as good at surviving as we are."

"What'll it take for me to be 'Runner'?" Minho asked out of the blue. Newt tilted his head. "I mean, I'm good at running, I'm good at hiding, surviving, the whole show. Staying here and 'holding up the fort' doesn't sound super appealing, anyway."

"'Holding up the fort' is important," Alby said, leaning against the wall. "This is where you're going to be staying for a while, unless you plan on going back out there and getting chased down again."

"Look. I've been surviving these past couple of weeks," Minho said, looking between the pair. "What makes you think I can't do it again? Especially with weapons and a partner?"

"So you don't want to go alone?" Newt asked, genuinely impressed.

"I could. I mean, you have been, right?"

"I s'pose." He glanced at Alby. "I think you should take a break. Rest. Get all fattened up and then we can discuss you comin' out there with me." He pushed himself off the table he'd been leaning against, sheathing the pen knife and tucking it away. "Anyway. I'm gonna go get some shut eye before I head out again tomorrow. Suggest you two do as well so we're running on a fresh set of brains."

Then, without waiting for a response, he walked to the back of the restaurant where they'd set up the bunkers, climbed onto one of the top bunks, and promptly fell asleep.