Run | TMR X PJO [ Editing ]

Seven | Group A

First things first. Percy quickly figured out running around the Maze all day was tiring. And he should have probably listened to Minho when it came to the sword—it was heavier than he would have liked. Despite the lumbering weight, he was unable to stop because of Minho. Whenever he even began to show signs of slowing down, the Keeper would yell at him "to move his hole." If he complained enough, Minho would let them stop for a quick break. Percy was definitely out of shape, and both of them knew it. 

"No more breaks," Minho growled after the fifth stop. "We're stopping twice as much as we need to." 

Percy sighed. "But Min, the sword's heavy."

"Shank, don't call me Min!" he told him off sharply. "No nicknames, okay?" 

"Okay Min Min," Percy replied sassily.

"Shuck it, let's go," Minho snarled. It was too easy to piss him off. He took off sprinting, and Percy struggled to follow. It took a lot of concentration to keep at his heels. 

It wasn't so bad, running in random directions and slicing vines along the way. He rather enjoyed picking up the sword and running it along the wall to cut off some vines to mark their path. Left, another left, a few rights here and there. Soon enough it was getting dark. Percy was soaked with sweat, but they made their way back to the Map Room, where Minho showed him how to record what they had ran that day. It was kind of boring, so being Percy, he dozed off and was snoring by the time Minho finished talking.

"Get up you shank. It's dinner."

By the time he had opened his eyes, Minho was halfway out the door. "Okay Min Min," Percy teased. He laughed when he was shot a dirty look but decided it was best for him to shut up.

Dinner was uneventful. He sat with Minho, Thomas and Chuck, being careful not to call his friend Min Min. It was so uneventful, Percy figured something will happen sooner or later. His potatoes were mashed by his fork too many times to count. Everyone was in good spirits and went to sleep after Newt and Alby had ordered them to, and even that didn't spoil their mood. 

Until they heard the Griever.

The Doors had closed for the night. The Gladers were settling down when they heard a piercing cry. They all ran out. The Doors were being rammed against. Something was trying to break them down. Surely the Grievers couldn't get to them. The walls were too thick, even for the monsters. There was another sickening crack. 

Uh oh.

And another crack.

Alby pushed the others out of the way. "Builders, get the spare wood. Board up the walls."

As soon as the Builders rushed to the Doors armed with big planks and such, the crunches stopped. There was some scuttling, then nothing. It was as if the Grievers never showed up. The Doors showed no sign of damage. Newt declared the Glade to be safe and told everyone to go to sleep.

Before Percy fell asleep, he had the nerve to mumble at Minho with a small snicker. "Night, Min Min."

His friend glared at him and turned over.