The Deadliest Generation: The Maze Of Monsters

Sacrifice Tournament

Hey guys, I can't apologize enough for this being late, but some stuff happened and I got caught up in it. I also nearly burned my vacuum :D (don't ask). (Also, yes, I'm referencing the amazing Stanley Barber from I Am Not Okay With This in the title.)

Tw: Death, descriptions of death, implied suicide, blood, gore, loads of description (seriously guys, I kinda got a little carried away.)

Thomas kept a steady pace as he ran with the other Glader's along the stone, smooth pathways that twisted and turned their way to the Cliff.

He'd grown used to running the Maze, knowing what the sound of his feet hitting the floor of the Maze was, knowing how it smelled, of metal and damp and of an indescribable smell of a science laboratory, and how every corner revealed new patterns of ivy, but no obvious, yielding exit.

But this time it was terrifyingly different.

He wasn't just accompanied by Minho, who's even breathing and controlled, steady, practised and slow pace that was a sharp contrast to Thomas's uneven steps and trying not to focus on his own hitched breathing. 

He was accompanied by a crowd of people, all with different paces, different experiences, different breathing patterns, different weapons that clanged or thunked when they hit another. 

The red lights of the beetle blades darted across the wall in bright flashes.

Thomas knew that even if he buried himself inside the Glade, if he even got out of this place tonight and washed himself clean of it, he'd still feel like he was being watched, examined by prying, curious eyes.

The Creators were definitely watching, and there was clearly going to be a fight. 

You okay? Teresa suddenly but gently asked as they ran, a gentle thing that reminded Thomas that someone was there.

Yes, of course, I love risking my life fighting things made of rubber and steel. I cannot wait to see them, he replied with humour in his voice, hoping and wondering if he'd ever feel that again.

Yes, what a king of humour you clearly are, love it. Teresa answered, and Thomas relaxed at the smile he felt in her voice.

Teresa was running right next to him, nudging Thomas gently, but Thomas kept his eyes glued ahead, thanking that she knew to stay near him. We'll be okay. Just stay by me and Chuck.

Ah, two princes fighting for me. What a princess I must be.

I'm kidding, Teresa. I just wanna know that you're there.

Teresa nudged Thomas again, letting him know that that was okay.

The group kept running at a steady pace, and Thomas wondered how long the non-Runners would hold this pace for. He didn't want anyone getting tired by the time they had to fight the Grievers.

As if he heard Thomas's thoughts as well as Teresa could, Newt fell back, and tapped Minho on the shoulder, muttering a quick, "you lead the way now," and Minho nodded at him, giving Newt a small smile.

Minho ran to the front as Newt held back, Thomas almost passing him until Newt started jogging lightly again, his limp slightly more pronounced. He looked almost haunted with the eerie glow of the Maze reflecting on his face, a grimace standing out. 

"You okay?" Thomas asked Newt, and he seemed to snap out of his train of thought, watching Thomas as he tried to work up a response. 

"Kind of," he said with a shrug, and lapsed into thoughtful silence again. 

Thomas left it at that, following Minho through all the twists and turns that led to the Griever Hole.

The courage Thomas had worked up had turned into dread and fear, waiting nervously until they reached the long alleyway that lead to the last turn that before the Cliff - the Griever Hole.