WICKED games 3 (Newt x female reader) [COMPLETED]

5

The streets stink. We had to leave the truck, so we're walking, trying to stick together. People jostle us constantly, and it's an effort to keep a hold on Newt's hand. Ahead, Brenda walks with her hood drawn up, Jorge beside her and Thomas in front. Frypan brings up the rear.

"We gotta stay together," Thomas tells us for the third time, pushing past a woman with matted dark hair and filthy skin.

"We are the voice! From the voiceless!" We turn around, people are parting behind us, making way for a van to come through. On top of it, sits a man with a megaphone. "They hide behind their walls," he shouts, "they think they can keep the cure for themselves, while they watch the rest of us wither and rot! But there are more of us," he continues, driving past us, "than there are of them! And I say we rise up and take back what is ours!"

"What the hell?" I mutter, eyeing the receding van. Overhead, WICKED's choppers and bergs patrol the skies. All around us, people are shouting, following the van. We don't really have a choice but to go with them.

"That's it," Thomas shouts, "that's our way in!" He takes off through the crowd, the rest of us running to catch up.

"Thomas!" Jorge shouts, "This is not what you're looking for!" Thomas, unsurprisingly, doesn't stop. "All these people," Jorge shouts, "trying to get in, you think you can find something they can't?"

"I came this far," Thomas says, "I'm not turning back now."

"What the hell did we get ourselves into?" Frypan says beside me, looking around. Everywhere, people are shouting and holding various signs, waving fists in the air.

"Let us in! Let us in! Let us in!" Over and over again.

Newt and I have lost sight of Thomas, Frypan, Jorge and Brenda, but chances are they'll be at the front. Thomas is just like that. Newt looks around, frowning and walking straight.

"Don't say anything or look around," he mutters to me, "but I think we're being followed." He speeds up, limping rapidly across the street and into the crowd. We burst through the front, finding the other standing at a barricade.

"Hey, guys," he says, grabbing Thomas, "we gotta go now! Look," he points behind us, to where a man with a large red face mask is pushing towards us.

Thomas pulls a gun from his belt, but before we can do anything, a grinding sound from the walls makes us turn. The crowd falls silent. Atop the walls, huge guns are turning to point towards us.

"Guys," I say, grabbing Brenda's arm, "guys we need to need to get out of here!"

Behind us, the people have the same idea, running away in a huge mass. Then the first blasts hit. They send sprays of dirt from the ground, bodies flying as the guns adjust to point into the crowd.

We run into an alleyway, dust exploding outside. I crash head on into the man with the red face mask on, and he grabs me by the shirt, lifting me into the air and throwing me into a van with Frypan and Thomas.

"Newt!" I scream, fighting to get back out.

"(Y/N)!" He's trying to get away from his own guy, kicking and yelling. But they're too strong. I bite down on the guy's shoulder, and he shouts and backs away. I hurl myself from the van, running to get to Newt but he grabs me around the waist, hitting the side of my head on the door as he swings me back in. I collapse, dizzy from the blow. The door slams and the van takes off, tires squealing over the concrete ground.

"(Y/N)," Frypan helps me sit up, "are you ok?"

"Yeah," I groan, pressing a hand to my head. It comes away bloody. "What is it with my goddamn head?"

"Here," Thomas says, pulling a bit of cloth from his pocket, "press on it."

I do, and the bleeding stops pretty soon. Sitting in front of us, divided by a wire barrier, are three face mask guys, all with guns. Three isn't too many, and the van is cramped so guns are useless.

"Don't think about it, (Y/N)," Frypan warns, and I look at him, an eyebrow raised.

"I wasn't,"

"Yeah you were," Thomas says, "you had that look on your face."

"What look?" I ask.

"The one that says "I'm about to do something stupid but heroic and probably violent,"" Frypan replies.

"Pffft, you guys are full of klunk. I don't have a "look.""

"Yeah," they chorus, "you do."

The van screeches to a halt and the door opens, another face mask gun guy telling us to get out. We do, the bloody rag still in my hand. Three other vans are pulling up, one of them shaking madly and emanating grunts and shouts. The doors burst open, a face mask gun tumbling out onto the floor. Jorge leaps on top of him, punching his masked face.

"Where is she?" he shouts, "Where is she?"

We all run forward, but are stopped by face mask guns, their guns pointed at us.

"Ok, ok!" I shout, backing up with my hands held out.

"Woah, woah, woah, take it easy." Newt's voice comes from the other side of the room, and I look to see him standing the same way I am. We lock eyes and a flash of relief passes over his face. I wink at him. 

"Hey, hey, hey," Brenda rushes over to Jorge, "I'm right here. I'm right here."

He gets up, leaving the face mask gun on the ground.

"Everybody relax," red face mask gun says, turning away from Jorge and Brenda, "we're all on the same side here."

"What side?" Thomas breaks free of his captor, facing the guy. "Who the hell are you?"

He pulls of his mask, and I take an involuntary step backwards.

"Hey Greenie," Gally says.

"Does he ever die?" I whisper to Frypan, who shrugs.

Thomas is walking towards Gally, tension in every line of his body. "Gally?" he asks.

"Oh shit," Frypan whispers beside me, just as Thomas lunges forward, punching the other guy in the face. Gally goes down, and Thomas lands on top of him, drawing back for another punch. From the other side of the room, Newt pushes past Jorge and skids down beside Thomas, catching his fist in the air.

"Woah," he says, "stop it."

"He killed Chuck." Thomas is shaking.

"Yeah, I know mate, I remember. I was there too, ok?" Newt looks at Gally, lying on the floor under Thomas. "And I also remember," he adds, "that he was half out of his mind." He looks around at all the guns pointed at them, then whispers to Thomas. Whatever he says must be good, because Thomas backs up, getting off Gally and waking back to where me and Frypan are standing. Newt follows. 

Gally gets up, rubbing his cheek. "I kinda had that coming," he admits, looking around, "Anybody else? Fry? Newt? (Y/N)?"

"Do you know this guy?" Jorge asks.

"He was an old friend," Frypan answers, not taking his eyes off Gally.

"How?" I say, staring, "How is this possible? We watched you die."

"No," Gally looks me dead in the eyes, "you left me to die. And if we hadn't found you when we did," he continues, "you'd be dead right now." He scans our faces, I can't look him in the eyes. "What the hell are you doing here?" He asks.

"Minho," Newt answers simply, "WICKED has him here. We're looking for a way in."

Gally looks at us like we're nuts, which we probably are. "I can help with that," he says, "follow me."

"We're not going anywhere with you," Thomas says, and I look at him sideways.

"Thomas he can help us,"

"She's right, but suit yourself. I can get you though those walls." Gally says, then steps back.

"Fine," Thomas glares at the other guy, "but one move and I'll-"

"Yeah," I break in, "we know, but you'll have to get in line."