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Even if he'd wanted to assess the situation, Seokjin's hold on Minjun was secure enough to keep his face enduringly hidden underneath his arm. He could feel the elder shaking beneath him, and that presented enough information about the commotion.
A chorale of gunshots made his ears buzz, grinding them on Seokjin's sweatshirt for any type of relief.
The situation, mind you, was as bad as it sounded.
A group of four assassins had stormed the dining room, clad in black, heavy-duty uniforms with blood-curdling weapons in each hand. They didn't make it very far. The biggest of the quartet managed to push a blade through Jimin's shoulder, however, the young gang member gave his best performance in twirling round and shooting the man from below his jaw.
Another two were butchered almost immediately by the individual bullet that Namjoon delivered upon their entry, fearful for the sanctuary of his gang members.
The last one, a tall, athletic woman, pursued close to Seokjin. His defenceless vulnerability was a target for the assassin, him and the fragile boy on his lap.
Fortuitously, three gang members kept their sights on the two at all times, and her head was obliterated in a firework of blood and brains almost instantly.
Surprised at the weak downfall, Mamamoo eventually began their turn. It started with a bullet from Hwasa's gun, scraping the collar of Jungkook's dress shirt. His eyes dimmed and he smiled a sickly grin, lifting his pistol.
The short woman's courageous face wavered, having no backup as the three other ladies were shooting away at the rest of the — uninjured — males. She was responsive to lift her firearm, ready to beat the man to it, but her actions were cut off by a brisk, searing pain through her thigh.
Hunks of meat tore away from her leg as the bullet wracked through it, blood already jetting out and oozing down her leg in severely large amounts. She fell, her behind smacking against the dining room floor as she cringed and yelled, holding the gun up once again.
Jungkook's watch never left Hwasa, seeing her anguished yet determined eyes narrowing on him.
Only the upper half of her head was available to view from her seat under the table, so that's where Jungkook directed his pistol, wasting no time in blowing a hole between her eyes and sending her head sailing backwards.
Six against three.
The knife in Jimin's shoulder tousled as he evaded the fire from Wheein's handgun but continued persevering onwards. As the official weapons supplier for BTS, it was inconceivable that the boy would only be armed with a gun at any time.
Momentarily, his hand sank into the pockets of his coat, and when they pulled out he held a few six-edged shurikens, toying with them and spinning them over his fingers. Another bullet came tearing in his direction, but the gunman was more alive and he ducked at the sound.
Wheein stood amazed, watching his nimble reflexes, entirely frozen until she reevaluated the situation. His hand reared to his ear, looking as if he were to project a javelin.
And then, he flourished his arm forward, flicking his wrist in a way that made the rigorous movement from his injury unimportant. All three ninja stars tore at the girl. She had no time to dodge them, she hardly saw the fashioned metal before they were lodged in her body.
One star protruded from her neck, unquestionably clean through her windpipe, and another stuck out from her collarbone. The last sat down the core of her nose, splitting it in two and sending an abundance of crimson fluid out onto the floor.
Wheein suffered, puffing and panicking at the newfound torture in her neck and the grievous throbbing in the middle of her face. While distracted and gradually sinking to the floor to join Hwasa in their inevitable death, Jimin pulled out his revolver and finished the woman off — aloud and with a pitiful explosion of brain matter.
"Shit, nice one." Yoongi trotted past the older boy, eagerly bearing a machete. Yoongi took his role within the gang very solemnly and being the torturer gave him the convenience of having access to the most ridiculous weapons and instruments in the house. He charged with it, staying out of interest of the two unknowing females as he rounded the dining table, lurking behind Solar.
They were occupied with firing useless shots at his gang, and Solar hadn't noticed him until the tortuously sharp tool he held was drawn down the length of her spine. A high-pitched outcry came from her, falling when Yoongi landed his foot on the back of her legs.
Moonbyul, prompt to act upon seeing her two dead gang members and Solar writing around in agony with her spine exposed on the floor, whipped her gun around so that it faced Yoongi instead of Taehyung.
Her finger depressed onto the trigger just as Yoongi danced his arm upwards and mangled into her dominant hand.
While she had aimed at his face, the sweltering injury made her hands jerk and the bullet that left her gun ended up embedded in the arsonist's hip. He dropped, grunting and holding his hand to the gunshot wound below his abdomen.
Solar, fussing at the sight of her two fingers suspending down from her bleeding hand, bent beside Yoongi and took ahold of his machete. He watched her, winded from the pain.
Just as she went to dive the knife into his chest, a clattering bang sounded and a switchblade, extended out in its unused condition, flew through the air and burst its way through the side of her cheek.
She spun and looked furiously at the men, accidentally dumping the machete onto Solar's leg, and opened her mouth to protest. The blade made this remarkably difficult as a tidal wave of blood spilt from her lips the second she separated them.
Below her, Yoongi scavenged his knife and plunged it into the girl's belly, watching with a clenched jaw as she collapsed against the wall and slid her way down to the ground.
"Please... please," Solar sobbed, her face directed at the three bodies of her friends as she lay incapacitated under Yoongi's gaze. He made eye contact with Namjoon, whose hands were stuffed with extra knives — in case the one he threw at Moonbyul wouldn't be enough.
"Hoseok," Yoongi requested, summoning the medic closer.
"Shit, Yoongs, didn't realise she managed to get you." Hoseok panted, wasting no time in helping the arsonist to his feet and escorting him away from the tension-filled dining room.
"Please," Solar sang out once more. She gained the attention of Namjoon, who pottered over to the exposed member of Mamamoo.
He knelt to her level and looked into her lifeless eyes, "you're scum." And then, the leader of BTS stood and used every muscle in his body to work up the strength before stomping down hard onto Solar's face, his heavy-duty boots pulverising low into her features.
Watching her spasm even after he pulled his foot away, Namjoon rolled his eyes at the nuisance and used Yoongi's resting machete to slice into the top of her head.
"That was—"
"Epic!"
"Taehyung, what the fuck?"
"Hey, how's Minjun?" Namjoon deflected his eyes to Seokjin who sat cradling the teenager and pressing his hands over the boy's ears.
The sniper released his death grip and Minjun took his opportunity to sit upright. His eyes looked around the room frantically, scrutinising the scene to try and comprehend what had just happened.
"You okay?" Jimin questioned, walking up to the pair with his hand held over his shoulder - fingers acting as a makeshift tourniquet. Minjun looked over his shoulder at the not so well-known boy and nodded, his eyes narrowing once he caught sight of the injury.
The short boy gulped, flinching to reach out to the hurt hacker, but stopped himself when the suffering in his knee stopped him from moving.
"It's okay," Seokjin smoothed Minjun's leg, "Jimin will get helped as soon as Yoongi is patched up."