All That We Are | NEWT (tst)

Eight | TEMPEST

Night Three

Ada was done with the vents.

So, so unbelievably done. In fact, she was fairly certain that if she ever saw an ounce of steel ever again that it would be far too soon. Her hair was catching on it, on the loose screws and protruding lids, her palms scraping and tearing as she hauled her way through as fast as possible. She had lost the hair tie somewhere in the chaos, and didn't care enough to look for it as she pushed her aching body through the narrow space.

Unlike the previous times, stealth was not a concern. What did it matter, that the people below them – whoever was still awake at the late hour – could hear them? What did it matter, when Janson and his crew of fucked up stab happy minions were on their way to sedate and harvest everyone she held dear.

She had thought the maze was bad, but apparently rock bottom had a basement.

Her heel connected with what she was pretty sure was Thomas's face, but she didn't stop to apologise as she shoved herself into the larger tunnel and through the grate that the others hadn't bothered to put back onto the wall.

Hands grabbed at her arms immediately, pulling her through, and she was vaguely aware of Thomas crashing into the room behind her as bewildered shouts split the air.

"Thomas!" Minho was ignored as Thomas vaulted for the door, not even looking at the others.

"We gotta go," he said simply, all frantic urgency, "we gotta go, right now."

"What's going on?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Jack asked.

"Ada, sheets," Thomas said, but she was already moving towards the beds, ripping off the duvet and tearing the sheet from the mattress. It was pale blue and soft in her hands, and she dodged Newt's outstretched grip as she hurried to the door, tying the sheet around the handle and securing it to the pipes that ran beside the metal as tight as possible.

She ignored the fact that anyone with basic strength would be able to get through easily, focussing instead on looping it around as many times as physically possible. She ran out of fabric, and was left with nothing to occupy her shaking hands as Thomas turned back to the others.

"What do you mean we've gotta go?" Newt asked, but he wasn't looking at Thomas.

He was looking at her, and that terrified glint in his eyes was back, and God Ada wished beyond anything that they could go back to the safe bubble they had created in that bed two nights ago. When it was just the two of them and soft kisses and gentle touches and an entire future before them, a happy future.

"They're coming," Thomas's words were mumbled in his panic, and Ada could barely hear him as he scanned the room for anything they could use to protect themselves. "We gotta go, they're coming, they're coming for us-"

There was nothing, Ada knew that, likely by design. WICKED would never leave them with anything that could even remotely be used as a weapon.

The sheets, maybe? If she wrapped one tight enough around someone's neck, she could cut off their air supply. But the guards were bigger than her, stronger, with weapons powerful enough to subdue her before she even got close enough.

She eyed the beds. She couldn't exactly take someone out with a pillow.

God, she wanted her knife back.

"What happened in there?" Frypan demanded, turning his attention to Aris, but he was standing shell shocked in the corner of the room, face still wet with tears. "Aris, what happened?!"