Radioactive

Going out was a terrible idea, Tim even warned them not to, but neither of them knew that until they were getting captured, Tyler’s touch being ripped from Michael’s as the enemy pulls them from each other. One of the men holds a shard of glass to Tyler’s throat, threatening to kill him if Michael struggled any more, and his worry for the young boy immediately causes him to stop struggling.

“Please, don’t. Don’t hurt him, please,” his voice comes out weak, his eyes pleading up at the leader of the group. The man wasn’t listening, however, he was gloating at Tyler, a smirk on his face. Although he had a look of pride on his face, he was looking at Tyler as if he was a bauble, a useless, shiny toy that he could bat around. “Stop looking at him like that!” Michael snaps, his eyes quickly turning from pleading to bright in fury. His mind was a maelstrom of emotions, fear coursing through his veins, but also adrenaline as the thought sets in his mind that they were being captured, probably to be used as hostages.

The leader smirks again. “Oh? What’s this? Your little friend over here isn’t a toy?” he asks, his voice low and gravelly. He walks over to Tyler and takes his chin in between his forefinger and thumb, roughly turning his head to look up. The blond boy’s eyes were damp with tears and wide in fear, a small whimper coming from his throat as he tries to get away, but in vain. “He’s very cute. Not sure what else to do with him other than make him run,” he hums softly, stealing a glance back at Michael to see him struggling to get out again. “Danny,” the man snaps to the person holding Tyler, who digs the glass into his neck a little stronger and causes him to cry out in fear. “Oli, you too,” he orders the man holding Michael.

Suddenly, Michael feels his knees give out, and he falls to the ground in chagrin, his eyes turning down to look at the dirt. He hears a cry from Tyler, signalling something was happening to him too, and Michael’s head snaps back up at that, seeing the man, Danny, tugging his arm and making him walk. Somehow, in the few minutes after their capture, the captors had managed to bind their wrists together, using rope they were carrying. Michael’s hands were tied tight, as were Tyler’s, but Tyler was freaking out more than Michael was.

“Will you stop treating him like an adult?!” Michael pleads. “He’s the exact antithesis of one! Haven’t you realized that?!” he adds, his voice straining as the leader of the group begins to walk away. “He’s impotent, it’s obvious. Treat him gently!” he calls, grunting when he was forced to his feet, shoved along towards Tyler and the others. He tries to run and catch up, but he’s quickly jerked back, snickers and cackles coming from the men holding him.

“This is complete nihilism, you know,” he spits at the leader, who gives him a look, before laughing.

“You think I listen to your petty laws? Oh hell no. And Billie Joe is even worse about listening. He is our leader after all,” he smirks a bit before turning back to keep walking forward.

• • •

The small group of five arrive back at the enemy camp after another few minutes of walking, with loud, fearful crying from Tyler. The leader had smacked him once to get him to be quiet, and Michael almost ripped his head off with words, trying to comfort Tyler from a distance, glaring at the man. In retaliation to Michael aggressiveness, the leader took them to the big group leader, Billie Joe, or just Billie.

Billie was sitting in a small house/cabin, scribbling something down when the group arrive. He glances up and sees that there’s prisoners, a grin spreading across his lips. “Oh? Prisoners? Mitch, I’m proud of you,” he praises the small leader, who smiles and shoves them forward.

“What should we do with them, Billie?” he asks, watching Michael to make sure he didn’t break out of his restraints, which was possible for him to do. His eyes were glued on Tyler, to make sure he was okay.

Billie hums softly, watching them. "Put that one in the labyrinth," he orders, pointing a finger at Tyler.

Michael's eyes widen when he hears that, and Mitch smirks, gladly grabbing Tyler's arm and tugging him back. "Want this one to be the bait?" He asks, jabbing a finger at Michael, earning a nod from Billie. Michael couldn't believe the completely bestial actions that the blond was going to be put through, knowing they wouldn't be let off easy.

The two were lead in different directions as soon as they left Billie’s house/cabin, and Michael struggles a little more as he’s led to a small, confined area, sat down and strapped to a chair so he can’t move. He grunts a little, opening his mouth to spit something at Mitch and Oliver, who were standing in front of him, but he’s met with the taste of fabric in his mouth, a gag being tied around his head to keep him from yelling, causing him to growl and just glare daggers at the two men.

In front of him, there was a slightly narrow gap, ferns and different types of underbrush arranged in a block formation, multiple different blocks stacked and bound together to create columns and walls, set up evenly to where it was practically a maze, and Michael knew this was the labyrinth that Billie was talking about. All of the walls of ferns were lined in barbed wire on the top, most likely to keep whoever was trapped in from climbing up the ferns and getting out that way, though, the walls had to have been at least fifteen feet high, much taller than any average person.

“I see you’re admiring our maze, hmm?” Michael hears Mitch’s voice next to him, and he glances up. “It’s our prized possession, we’ve spent years building and perfecting it, yet, it needs some emendations done to it, from where prisoners destroy the walls,” he explains, his arm resting on Michael’s shoulder, making the brunette fume in anger. He couldn’t shake it off, so he had no choice but to just deal with it. “But, yeah, we’ve spent so long building it and it’s where we throw all out prisoners,” he hums. “Some of them don’t make it out,” he adds with a chuckle, causing Michael to tense up and whip his head up to look at Mitch with wide eyes.

Mitch laughs, pushing off of Michael’s shoulder and walking to the entrance of the space he was trapped in. “Your little friend might see some bodies in there,” he smiles smugly at Michael, before slipping down a small corridor and disappearing, leaving him alone.

On the other end of the labyrinth, the entrance, Tyler was getting unchained and shoved into the makeshift prison, a gate being locked behind him. He freezes in place, his eyes darting around in fear, not sure what to do. He feels a prod on his back, then a sharp cackle of ‘run, rabbit, run’ from behind him, and he immediately takes off running down the first stretch of the labyrinth. His clothes had gotten changed into a bland, diaphanous white t-shirt, and a pair of torn up, ratty sweatpants, supplied by the camp he had been taken to. They weren’t very thick, so the slight breeze blowing behind Tyler was making him cold.

He turns a few corners, tears still streaming down his cheeks from being separated from Michael, his breathing heavy and erratic. He stops running in the middle of a passage and looks around, whimpering.

“Michael?!” he cries, swiping at his eyes a little and trying to dry his tears, before taking off down the passage again.

Where Michael was sitting, he can hear Tyler’s cries for him, and it was paining him to think that he couldn’t help him at all. Oliver is still sitting in the room, in a chair similar to Michael’s, except he isn’t trapped. He’s watching the screen on a small monitor, and at a close look, Michael sees that it’s Tyler, projected on the screen as if a small camera were following him around.

He’s confused for a few moments, wondering just how innovative they were at this camp, but realizes that while he’s waiting for Tyler to find him, since he can’t help him by calling, he could observe his surroundings and find out some useful information he could tell Tim when they got back, assuming they would be getting back.

He returns his attention to the screen after a few more seconds of looking around, not finding anything useful. He sees Tyler getting stuck, his frustration and fear mixing together as he just wants to get out and find Michael. The blond would turn the corner, and be met by an effete impediment, which just causes him to let out a cry of frustration. Michael feels horrible, wishing he could do something to help him, seeing how he’s so lost without any guidance. He glances to Oliver, making a noise and kicking a rock to get his attention, gesturing him over.

The taller gives him a wary look, but rises to his feet and walks to Michael, standing, his arms crossed over his chest, next to him. Michael rolls his eyes and gives him a look, causing Oliver to snort and untie his gag.

Michael makes a face as the cloth is removed, letting his tongue dampen again before he speaks. “Can I help him? Please? Or you do something. He’s not in the right mindset to strategize and figure his way out,” he pleads, and Oliver sighs, waving his hand dismissively, holding the cloth. Michael thanks him briefly before turning to face the opening again. “Tyler?!” he calls as loud as he can.

Tyler, who was now sitting, cross-legged, in the center of a passage, hears Michael’s voice and scrambles to his feet. “Michael?!” he cries, feeling the tears that had long-since stopped begin to trickle from the corners of his eyes again. He spins around a few times, trying to locate where the voice was coming from, his heart racing and his mind blurry, as well as his vision growing slowly hazy from the tears. “Micah! Wh-where are you!?” he sobs, his voice trailing off as he wanders down another passage, feet shuffling against the ground. He hears one more call from Michael, but he’s not sure what he said, all he knows is that he needs to keep walking to find his friend, and he needs to hurry.