IT STARTED WITH A MAZE - Newt x Reader (F)

- MASKED MEN -

Behind me, I sense it before I see it - the heavy weight of eyes locked onto my back. I spin around, heart ticking faster. The masked men lean casually against their battered truck, shadows swallowed in the crowd, but their presence screams danger. "Let's keep moving," Newt murmurs, his voice steady despite the tension wrapping around us like a suffocating blanket. "Make it to the front."

Brenda quickens her pace, Fry matching her steps. My nerves snap taut, the crowd's pulse thundering in my ears. "Newt," I whisper, voice sharp.

He glances over his shoulder. "Yeah. I see them."

To my right, the man with the buzzed head strides with cruel purpose, parallel but closing in. Several meters away, but gaining. "We have to get Thomas," I say, breaking into a jog. Newt follows without hesitation, limped slightly. The crowd closes in, a living wall of bodies pressing against us. I shove and weave, every step a battle, hands clutching, legs tangling, breaths ragged. Faces blur, urgency rising like a tide threatening to drown us all. Finally, I reach Thomas and place a hand on his shoulder. "We have to get out of here," I say, voice low but urgent.

Newt slides in beside us, eyes locked forward, unwavering. A deep, grinding whirring tears through the air. The crowd freezes. Conversations die mid-sentence. Hands drop from shoulders, fingers unfurl like petals falling to the ground.

Everyone's gaze snaps forward. Up on the rim of the wall, soldiers stand like statues, rifles cradled in their arms. But there are bigger objects amongst them. The dark masses shift- mechanical, menacing. "Are those...?" Fry breathes, voice barely a whisper.

"Guns," I say, heart plummeting.

Panic surges like wildfire. People stumble backward, pressing away from the walls. "Let's go, guys," Jorge urges, voice taut with urgency.

But Thomas's eyes are fixed - unblinking - on the weapons, the soldiers, the deadly game unfolding above us.

Although it's not bullets that shoot.

It's bombs.

The ground ahead of us suddenly explodes in a violent eruption, a deafening blast that shatters the air and sends a towering plume of dirt, rock, and smoke skyward. The force hits like a hammer to my chest, rattling my bones, shaking the earth beneath my feet. The world tilts dangerously for a moment, dust choking the air, thick and suffocating, wrapping around us like a living, breathing monster hungry to swallow everything whole.

Chaos erupts all around.

I spin on my heel, heart pounding in my ears. The sharp crack of the blast is quickly swallowed by screams and shouts as people scatter in every direction like terrified prey. Newt's hand grips my arm with fierce urgency, yanking me forward. "Thomas?!" I shout, the word cracking but desperate to be heard. I just need to hope he's following.

The crowd surges like a living wave, fracturing and breaking apart, frantic feet pounding against the cracked pavement. The air is thick with choking dust, particles swirling like ghosts in the sunlight, blurring every edge. Explosions keep tearing the earth, each one closer than the last, sending shockwaves that ripple through the crowd. We stumble and lurch but somehow manage to stay on our feet, adrenaline fueling every desperate step.

We veer sharply to the right, ducking into a narrow alley that offers some protection from the chaos erupting behind us. The walls close in tight, dust swirling in thick clouds at our backs, the sharp scent of smoke and burning metal filling my nostrils. "Let's go! Keep moving!" Jorge's voice cuts through the haze, commanding like a lifeline.

"We have to get out of here!" Thomas shouts in echo. I refrain from telling him that we're trying.

I push ahead, heart hammering, taking the lead. "This way!" I yell over my shoulder. My breath comes in ragged gasps, lungs burning as I sprint. The pounding of our feet echoes off the alley walls, a frantic rhythm chasing us forward.

But I'm cut short. Two rough hands slam down hard on my shoulders, yanking me backward with brutal force. "Hey! Get off her!" Newt yells, charging at the attacker like a wild animal.

"Let me go!" I fight against the grip, twisting and pulling with everything I have, desperation lending strength to my limbs. The man with the buzzed head says nothing - not a word escapes his lips - but his dark eyes behind the black mask are cold, unyielding, fixed on me like a hunter stalking prey. I want to tear that mask from his face, to see the shithead behind the emptiness. They drag me back hard, the world spinning as I resist, muscles screaming in protest.

Newt is grabbed next, his face twisting in shock and anger as another pair of hands seize him. Fry and Brenda are pulled away from the group, dragged backwards with harsh, unrelenting force. Even Thomas, just a step behind, is yanked off balance, stumbling before strong arms haul him backwards into the crowd.

Our screams pierce the thick air, raw and desperate, slicing through the chaos like knives. The alley fills with the sounds of struggle - feet pounding on concrete, harsh grunts, the tearing of clothing, the sharp intake of breath, and curses swallowed by dust.

But, of course, no one comes to our rescue.

The captors move with cold precision, their grip ironclad and merciless. They know no hesitation. We thrash and fight, but their strength is overwhelming. Panic floods through me, burning hot and suffocating.

Before I can resist any longer, I'm shoved hard into the back of a waiting van. The door slams shut behind me with a metallic bang that echoes like a verdict. My captor presses my body flat against the cold metal ground of the vehicle, holding me tight for a moment longer than necessary, his grip unyielding - a silent warning.

Seconds later, Thomas and Brenda are thrown inside after me. The cramped space offers no room to move. We're shoved together against the rear wall, the chill of the metal seeping through my clothes, biting into my skin. My heart pounds in my ears, the world reduced to the cramped, suffocating space and the harsh breathing of everyone packed inside.

Across from us, the three men settle into their seats, masks obscuring every inch of their faces, guns resting ominously in their laps. Their eyes, dark and unreadable behind those cruel black visors, flick between us.

It's the cold efficiency of their movements that truly puts me on edge.

Then the engine simply hums to life, a low growl vibrating through the van's frame, the metal walls enclosing us like a cage.

~