(A/N: This AI image is freakyyyy )
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"We can save the chat for later, please focus!"
A sweaty Owen pushed carts filled to the brim with scraps of mental, his voice carrying through the streets as he addressed everyone. He passed by Oliver, who was just as disheveled as his brother after running back and forth. Regardless of being the overseers of the project, as they had been assigned to by their leader Hyunjae, the twins refused to stand by as their peers worked hard. The guards surrounding the area were the only ones allowed to stand around, keeping everyone inside safe.
"Owen, the roamers are getting a little antsy, we better reinforce the barricades," a guard spoke, stopping Owen in his tracks. The latter sighed in frustration, turning to the guard and wiping his forehead from sweat.
"Who's been down there? Around the enclosure?" Owen asked.
"There's several guards around there. We can't leave it unsupervised," the guard shook his head.
"Try to stay out of view. The more you parade yourselves around them, the more they're going to push back," Owen sternly commanded, picking up the handles of the wheelbarrow and moving along. The guard seemed unsatisfied with the answer, fidgeting in place before catching up to Owen once more.
"So we don't do anything?" He asked.
Owen shook his head, "They shouldn't be able to break through, we made sure to keep it a tight fit. Plus, it would be using up too much material that we need out here."
"Owen, I really think-"
"Look man, I'm in charge here," Owen interjected, "We left them alone before we started working in the area and they made no effort to break out. Out of sight, out of mind. If they don't see you, they won't try to eat you," Owen sighed, "Just...work with me here, I don't want to be a dick."
The guard scowled, but nodded nonetheless, storming back to his post with a huff. Owen watched him leave with a disappointed sigh. He put the plight behind him, pushing the wheelbarrow down the road, through and around the several workers that worked under a bright sun. It was amusing to see the people avoid the shadows cast by the buildings, opting to stand in the sun to keep warm. Hands would become stiff and feet would grow cold, and people could only take a small break before resuming. It was not easy, even for those that were always ambitious and above average in strength.
It wasn't easy even for Namjoon and his people, who had once built the very walls of their camp with their bare hands. They were back to helping create a safe haven for others, possibly including themselves. The leader, once a submissive, fearful man had dug himself out of rock bottom, building his future from the ground up and refusing to let any ounce of cowardice jeopardize it. His fear of failure became his flaw, and as time progressed, Namjoon turned cold and heartless. For the good of everyone, his own people grew accustomed to his indifference, but now that there was someone new to hold him accountable for his behavior, Namjoon seemed to grow aware of his actions.
"Namjoon!"
The man blinked, turning to Jungkook distractedly. The boy searched Namjoon's gaze, stepping back from his task. Namjoon cleared his throat, nodding and approaching the car once more. Jungkook stopped him.
"I've been calling your name two or three times," Jungkook said, "You alright?"
Namjoon kept his stern expression, appearing unfazed by Jungkook's concern. Jungkook felt rejected by the walls Namjoon had placed around his heart, but he was used to it.
"I'm fine," Namjoon shrugged off, just like Jungkook knew he would.
"Okay, let's focus then," Jungkook muttered.
"Are we close to the bridge?" Namjoon asked as he resumed his work. Jungkook huffed, words strained as he replied.
"We're actually pretty close. There's about a mile or so left, it shouldn't take long for us to finish," Jungkook said, "Why?"
"I miss being home," Namjoon casually replied, leaving Jungkook a bit surprised.
"That makes two of us."
Beside the two, Taehyung and Jimin filled in gaps between cars, stepping carefully into stores and retrieving useful objects. Jimin bore his gun as he did so, the silencer glinting in the sunlight as he cleared out the decrepit bank. The walls once made of glass had shattered, giving way into the small space. Blood was splattered on the glass divisors but only no corpses were visible in the lobby. The door to the restricted area was ajar, sunlight filtering into the dark hallway. Curious, Jimin stepped into the hallway, lighting up the path with his flashlight and quietly approaching the doors.
"What are you doing?" Taehyung called out, causing Jimin to jump. He turned to Taehyung with wide eyes.
"Holy shit dude, can you make your steps a little louder. You pop up out of the blue and scare the living daylights out of people," Jimin whisper-yelled, turning back around and continuing to walk forward. He opened all of the doors, only seeing empty spaces, offices and conference rooms.
Taehyung chuckled, "I call that my piéce de résistance. Many crave my godlike skills-"
"Shh!" Jimin hushed, eyes glued to the room he stood before, "Tae, come here."
Taehyung noticed his smile, surprised to have been called by a nickname. He peered over his shoulder to the others, who were far too busy to pay them any mind. Taehyung shrugged and followed Jimin, staring at the way his eyes almost twinkled. Taehyung raised a brow, standing behind Jimin and into the room.
Taehyung's skepticism dropped, his own eyes widening. They stood stunned, turning to each other with widening smiles.
The two ran into the room elated, their footsteps echoing and their laughs like old tunes bouncing from wall to wall. They stepped into the vault, the safe door wide open, giving access to the seemingly endless and tall stacks of cash. They were dusty as Jimin and Taehyung picked them up, and though they coughed after inhaling it, they cracked up and excitedly waved the cash around.
"Oh my God!" Jimin laughed, his eyes watering at the amount of money. The memories of hungry nights they spent in their studio apartment in the worst neighborhood in town seemed to come to the pair almost simultaneously. The harsh winters and hot summers without AC or a heater, only having each other to keep them warm or wave the fan in the other's face. They'd always hoped to splurge on useless purchases, however the lack of funds and having to live paycheck to paycheck did not give any leeway for entertaining purchases.
Now they had money to throw up in the air.
And so they did.
Taehyung ripped off the seals that bound several stacks of Benjamins, which influenced Jimin to follow suit. There were some stacks which had been eaten away by insects and vermin. The vault had been open for who knows how long, letting in the passage of time and the course of nature.
Together, Taehyung and Jimin they threw the bills above their heads, watching them fall with reminiscent eyes and joyful laughs. The paper rose and fell like confetti, covering the ground and stomped on by their dirty boots. The careless pair simply ripped more seals and threw more paper as if they were bound to no responsibilities in that moment. They absolved themselves of guilt for slacking off, giving their younger selves the luxury of healing, just for a few minutes.
"Remember how much money used to mean?" Jimin softly asked, beaming at Taehyung. The latter mirrored him, nodding slowly. To be treating money like nothing important at that very moment made them realize that regardless of their struggles to make ends meet, they never struggled to be happy.
"And now we're just playing with money that could've set us for life," Taehyung chuckled, staring at Jimin with a sentimental glimmer in his eyes. He approached Jimin, reaching out to grasp his hands.
"Money might've been able to solve some of our problems," Taehyung smiled, "But it couldn't have made me more happy than you have."
Jimin squeezed Taehyung's hands, heart warmed by his affectionate, meaningful words. The world did not know who Taehyung was, not like Jimin did. Taehyung's true self revealed itself in fleeting moments like those.
"I couldn't have made it through those hard times without you, either," Jimin strained out, trying to laugh off the trembling of his voice, "I wonder where we'd be if none of this shit happened," he mused.
"It was all part of the plan, and we stuck it through," Taehyung whispered, "We made it through the hardest of times," Taehyung rubbed his lips together, his leg slightly jumping as he grew somber, "I um...hope you forgive me for being so hard on other people...on Mara. The younger me had lost so much, and losing the only person that kept him sane through dark times would've been the last straw," he wore a far away look, "Thank God my best friend is still here, even if he's kind've mad at me at the moment," Taehyung chuckled nervously. Jimin's doe eyes stared up at him in adoration.
"I'll keep trying, for you," Taehyung swore.
"That's all I ask," Jimin whispered, "I'm just glad we made it. We'll always make it so long as we stick together. They want that sense of unity, too, ya know? Don't take that away from them," Jimin shook his head, "Things would be a lot better if we all understood each other."
Taehyung looked down at a smiling Jimin, his eyes shifting between each of his.
In what seemed like a spontaneous act of love and affection, Taehyung swooped down, his lips planting a gentle kiss on Jimin's lips.
Jimin's eyes widened. He stood frozen in place, caught off guard by the gesture and his heart beating faster every second. Taehyung watched his reaction closely, biting his lip nervously. Instead of being upset by his confident gesture, Jimin was...he was happy. There was nothing that could've prepared him for that, but then again, it coming out of the blue made it a hundred times better.
"What was that for?" Jimin bashfully asked.
Jimin's innocently oblivious nature only made Taehyung's smile widen.
"Figure it out," Taehyung teased, receiving a light hit in the arm from Jimin.
"I hate you," Jimin giggled, "But I also love you."
Taehyung melted, "I love you more."
"Where are these idiots?" Namjoon grumbled in annoyance, "We're falling behind and the others are catching up to us."
Jungkook glanced at the bank a block away, shrugging, "We're doing just fine. I'm sure they're out there doing something useful."
"Hoseok's been out with Owen and Oliver for the majority of the afternoon. I wonder when he'll come back to his own group," Namjoon begrudgingly said. He sounded upset and jealous, which amused Jungkook. The boy hadn't been too concerned about any of the others, fully aware of their whereabouts and what they were up to. Hoseok had been with the twins, up on the buildings to map out backup plans and on the bridge to further blossom the current, main event. The other two, Jimin and Taehyung, had disappeared behind the doors of the bank, suspiciously gone for quite a while. Jungkook didn't worry too much, reassured by the others that the buildings had been cleared out beforehand, contrary to Namjoon's belief. Namjoon seemed to be very skeptical of Owen and Oliver's efforts, but nonetheless continued to offer his aid in the hopes of providing his own group with better odds at survival.
"Let him have some time with his friends. I'm sure he misses them," Jungkook suggested, "I know I would miss you guys if I left for a long time."
Namjoon paused, glancing at Jungkook. The boy was distracted as he worked, solemn expression has he was filled with thoughts of Mara...and Jin of course...and Yoongi; Jungkook indeed missed. He was on the same boat as Namjoon; they both missed home.
"I would too," Namjoon mumbled.
"I know you would. You act like such a hard-ass but sometimes you surprise me with transparency," Jungkook said, amused. Namjoon rolled his eyes, his face turning a faint shade of pink.
"I'm very much able to conceal my emotions," Namjoon's defensively muttered. Jungkook smirked to himself. He pumped the jack a few times, slipping the dollies under the wheels. Namjoon waited patiently, staring hard at the ground.
"Why?" Jungkook chuckled, "It's nice when you show that you care, when you smile and talk to us like we're friends and not subordinates," he said. Although he smiled, there was a seriousness and bitterness to his tone, product of the depravity of reciprocated amity with his own people. Namjoon cleared his throat, awkwardly glancing at Jungkook.
"Emotions get in the way of things," Namjoon softly muttered, "I can't let my actions be driven by emotions."
"Not always, not when it comes to the outside world. But," Jungkook sighed, "Im talking about inside the walls. Between us, between everyone."
Namjoon grew silent, letting Jungkook's words sink in. Jungkook waited patiently for a reply that would give him insight into the mind of his leader. The two of them had grown so far apart since the first year, and from then on, the present Namjoon became the complete opposite of the old Namjoon.
"Im aware that things have changed rather drastically," Namjoon began, "But I only wanted to toughen you all up. I could not do that if I did not first make of myself an example."
Jungkook nodded, "Yeah...but you could at least let down your defenses when you're alone with us. We're on your side, no need to guard yourself against us," he spoke with doleful eyes. Namjoon sighed to himself, unable to respond as a crew member stepped up to them.
"We're having a little break to eat. Join us up at the towers," he welcomingly smiled, nodding and dismissing himself. Namjoon cleared his throat, resuming to speaking as if they hadn't had a rather personal conversation.
"Guess we should go eat," Namjoon muttered, watching as a joyful Taehyung and Jimin walked back towards them. He frowned, crossing his arms and exhaling deeply. At the sight of this, Jimin sheepishly shrugged, dragged away by Taehyung back up to the towers the people of Hyunjae and Gong's community had gathered in the day prior for lunch break. Namjoon rolled his eyes and called for Jungkook to follow.
"Come on, let's go up," Namjoon beckoned, gesturing with his head when Jungkook looked at him.
The younger sighed and nodded, "You go up, I'll go put these back," he said, not leaving until he placed the dollies and car jack back on the bed of the tool wagon, where most of the tools and materials were handed out from. There, he was greeted warmly by Haneul.
"Good afternoon, Jungkook," she smiled, "Everything alright?"
Jungkook huffed, "Yup. Just putting these back before heading up to eat," he watched her place the many tools her group had used back onto the wagon, looking around for one of her people to aid her. However, she seemed to have been tasked to do this alone.
"Let me help you," Jungkook offered, not thinking much of it as he did so. Haneul sheepishly grinned,
"Do I look that helpless?" She playfully asked.
Jungkook chuckled, "Maybe."
"Hey!"
Jungkook laughed, "Im joking."
Soon the two were done, and they headed up to the towers holding light conversation.
"I'm looking forward to seeing this city come back to life," Haneul softly mused. Jungkook hummed, distracted by his own thoughts. Haneul stared at the side of his face, tilting her head curiously.
"Something on your mind?" She asked.
Jungkook blinked, inhaling sharply, "A lot," he vaguely muttered. Haneul pursed her lips, eyebrows raised expectantly, assuming he would begin to divulge to her about his plights or any of his concerns. He left it at that, however, the silence filled with the sound of their footsteps ascending up the flights of stairs.
"You're very enigmatic Jungkook," Haneul smiled to herself.
"I don't feel the need to talk about personal matters," Jungkook muttered, "We're acquaintances," he said, suddenly chuckling to lessen the blow of the statement.
Haneul appeared disappointed to hear this, nodding with a tight-lipped smile, "Yeah. I guess so."
Upon arriving at the roofs, there seemed to be trouble brewing already. The commotion was between two workers, one rather aggressive counterpart held back by a struggling, irritated Owen. The rather passive worker seemed to be just as confused, calmly explaining the situation to a frowning Oliver.
Jungkook and Haneul retreated to their corresponding groups, welcomed with food by each of their friends. The tension between those arguing was watched closely by everyone, and Owen noticed this with a burdened sigh.
"You're on thin ice, John," Owen warned, hovering his hand over said man's chest. John, a worker from Hyunjae's camp, had begun an animated rant against a member of Gong's community. There was rumor of tension between the allied groups, the disgruntled workers further driving the narrative.
"I'm on thin ice?" John scoffed, "What about him?"
"Who started this argument?" Owen asked, observing his silence as admittance. John still seemed quite riled up, his shifting feet and heavy breathing given a wary look from Owen.
John leaned in, muttering curtly, "His people don't belong here. They don't deserve a newly built community. This is a luxury-"
"A luxury they're working for and earning," Owen interjected, "Why do you have this animosity towards them?" He asked. John glared at the man over Owen's shoulder, but the latter blocked his view by standing in his way. Owen placed a hand on his shoulder, but John recoiled from his touch, causing Owen to cross his arms in resignation.
"They're from Gong's community," John lowly spoke, "They're not our people. Just a bunch of leeches that don't wanna get left behind. When are we going to prioritize our own people-"
Owen waved him off, dryly laughing and shaking his head in disbelief, "The community anyone belongs to is irrelevant. They're not leeches as you've said, because leeches aren't helping us move these roamers, are they? They're not reaping the benefits of something they haven't worked for," Owen sternly explained, staring at John through furrowed brows. John scoffed, shrugging almost nonchalantly.
"Fine," John replied, "This is the last time I'll warn you. I don't know those people well enough to be holdin' hands and singin' fucking songs. When they stab our back-"
"Which they won't," Owen interjected.
"I'll be laughin'," he snapped.
Owen hummed, looking around and realizing they were the center of attention. Owen didn't seem too pleased about John's outbursts and inflammatory comments, turning to the Oliver with a sigh. His twin gave him a look, shrugging.
"He says John's been trying to get a rise out of Gong's people since yesterday," Oliver told Owen, "He's been making fairly derogatory remarks, making people angry. He says there's already a few people that are considering leaving. Owen, we won't get things done if he's just riling people up," Oliver warned, shaking his head in frustration.
Owen took his brother's words gravely, facing an irate John with displeasure, "Let's move you to another post," he began guiding John, who scoffed but begrudgingly obliged.
"Do me the favor," John muttered.
John stared down at the waves of idle freaks, overwhelmed by the sheer size of the horde. The long strip of road was up to the brim, blocked off in every direction and alley to keep them from escaping. He turned to the guard beside him, who glanced back at John questionably and offered no comfort to the anxious man.
"This is not what I meant," John whispered to himself, gulping and retracting from the window frame that took up the entire wall. The glass had been shattered, leaving the entire room wide open. The wind blew a steady draft into the empty room, prompting him to cross his arms to try and keep warm.
"So you just stand here and...what exactly?" John questioned, seemingly skeptical. The guard stepped up to the window, stoically pointing to the other buildings surrounding the area. They stood at the second floor of the apartment building, close enough but out of sight of the thousands of freaks.
"We watch these barricades from each of these buildings. Keep these roamers in inside," The guard explained, unwavering to the dead below.
"That's it?" John made a face, his wariness dissipating and replaced by arrogance. He smirked, humming and standing back just as the guard had. The guard eyed him but returned to surveying the streets, his rigid posture and stoicism prompting John to shift into the same stance.
"So you just do this all day, huh?" John muttered, his derisive tone not phasing the guard even slightly. John leaned back nonchalantly, exhaling with a bored expression on his face, completely unabsorbed in the task at hand. He seemed to not be taking things seriously, as if finding it ridiculously easy.
"It's not just about standing around with your hand down your pants," the guard sternly voiced, unaware of John's sneer.
"Then what's it about, sir," John jeered.
"I'm not just thinking about how I can keep myself safe. I always have to keep everyone in mind, everyone who's out there busting their ass to build us a home," the guard said, his words putting not a slight dent on John, who rolled his eyes.
"You should learn a thing or two while you're here," the guard muttered.
"I've been out there, workin' hard and all I got was the scorn of the people around me. All for speakin' the truth," John scoffed, "You vouch for your people and get stoned for it."
"You must have not gone about it the right way," the guard suggested, "Or maybe your intentions aren't in the right place." John curled his lip bitterly, but he seemed to be struck by the guards words.
"See I ain't no leader, no smart guy, nobody important. I'm just lookin' out for my people in any way I can. It feels like a slap to the face when you work hard on something, only for that to be given to someone else," John snapped, inhaling sharply, "I don't see how my intentions weren't clear enough."
"When I take a break to eat, and I sit and watch as everyone works, I can't discern our people from Gong's. All I see is many hardworking people, none working harder than the another. By being here I'm making sure those people live long enough to enjoy the fruit of their labor," the guard confidently preached, taking John's clenched jaw with satisfaction, "I take my job seriously, and so should-"
"Simmons, Baker, Rodney! This is Rodriguez, we need you all down here ASAP."
The crackle of the radio interrupted Simmons, the invocation concerning the guard and prompting him to turn to John, who didn't seem all too bothered by the call.
"Do what you gotta do," John grumbled, "I'll stay here."
The guard patted John's shoulder, handing him the radio, "I'll be with the other guards. If anything happens you let us know," he said, beginning to head out and down the stairs. Left with nobody but himself, John turned back to the wave of freaks, readjusting his collar and clearing his throat. He looked down at the walkie, sighing apprehensively.
"So I just stand here and do jack shit," he spoke to himself, rolling his shoulders to rid himself of the heavy tension, "It's not rocket science, John."
John stood there for the next hour, swaying from side to side as his feet had begun to ache. The dull pain spread up his legs, and soon his shoulders were hurting from slouching. He was hungry and bitter, muttering obscenities to himself as he shifted around uncomfortably. He crossed his arms as a freezing wind swept through the room, and he scoffed at the chatter of his teeth and the goosebumps on his skin. He seemed to have underestimated the willpower it took to stand for long periods of time in cold weather, having to focus every second of his attention to everything at the same time while trying to stay awake and not drown everything out due to boredom. Of course he would rather be out there working, but that meant admitting he was wrong, and John...well, John wasn't sorry then, nor was he sorry now.
"This is fucking stupid," John complained.
John stretched his arms out, restlessly attempting to readjust his coat to keep himself warm. His grip on the radio loosened, beginning its fall to the ground. With mediocre reflexes, John reached out to catch the walkie. He was too slow, however, his hand only palming the wind that rushed in its place. In that meek attempt to catch it, he stepped forward, just as the walkie hit the stained tile floor.
John watched with wide eyes as the walkie he accidentally kicked tumbled across the floor, over the ledge and into the abyss. John's profanities left his mouth through clenched teeth, but no amount of profanity could rewind time. He sighed, apprehensive as he looked over the ledge. He could see the walkie being stepped over by oblivious freaks, the walkie just a mere two feet from the van that barricaded them in. John quietly groaned, standing back with his eyes shifting in thought.
"This is stupid. This is stupid," John muttered to himself, huffing and puffing as he attempted to encourage himself at the entrance of the building he had been standing in. He quickly and quietly darted behind the barricade, beside the rusted cars. In his crouched position he waddled over to the side of the van, pressing himself against it and quietly sitting for a minute. He heard the groans and scuffling of dragging feet, the thumping of bodies that pushed passed one another inattentively.
John sighed, pushing himself off of the van and crouching down. He peered under the van, spotting the walkie right away. The clear sight of the walkie elicited confidence in John, and the otherwise unmotivated roamers only further reassured him.
John flattened himself facedown onto the dirty asphalt, using the tips of his feet and his hands at his sides to push him forward. The scrape of his coat on the ground blended perfectly with the sound of the roamers, and he proceeded forward slowly, inching closer and closer to the other side. He watched the feet of the roamers that passed by. He looked onwards, the feet of the tens of thousands of them intimidating John but not scaring him away. He wore a scowl, determined to get that radio back and prove just how easy it was to be a guard. Though he doesn't quite know why he had to prove a point in the first place. He believed he was capable, maybe just a little too much.
John pushed himself one last time, now at arms length of the walkie. He inhaled deeply, exhaled deeply.
His hand trembled despite his greatest efforts to calm himself as he began reaching forward. His fingers grazed the walkie's antenna, and he huffed as he strained his arm further out.
A pair of rotting feet shuffled right by the van, and in a moment of distraction, the roamer stumbled over John's arm. The roamer fell face first onto the concrete, motionless for a second as it regained its strength. John retracted his hand, gasping at the sight of its rotting, green flesh. It was missing an eye, the other jutted out abnormally as was it's protruding jaw. John's blood ran cold and he froze, watching in absolute horror as the roamer turned its head, eye staring directly at him.
"Fuck this!" John panicked, beginning to push himself back. The roamer snarled, pushing itself under the van and towards John. The man yelped, hyperventilating as he squirmed away.
However, as much force as John used, he couldn't seem to push himself out. He was stuck in place, his coat snagged by parts of the van's underside. Down came another freak, and another, and another, all tripped by the roamer that struggled to crawl forward, it's legs sticking out from under the van. They turned to John, who struggled to wiggle out of his coat. He was beyond hysterical, whining as he helplessly fought back, pushing one roamer's head away with his hand as it got closer.
The van began to sway, pushed by the growing uproar of roamers that all gathered themselves, trampling over one another to get to the food. John's eyes watered as another roamer gripped his hand, it's strength far greater than his.
In an instant, the first one had reached John as he tried to pry himself from under the van. John screamed as the roamer bit a chunk of flesh from his cheek, the wound spurting blood. It didn't take long for the others to join, tearing his face apart and eating his nose and lips, a vice grip on him while he writhed in unfathomable pain. His screams were cut short as his throat was bitten into, flesh ripped off and eaten. His breaths came out in gargles, and he laid in a pool of his own blood, his last moments of consciousness filled with terror and regret.
"John?"
Simmons' voice cracked through the walkie that lay dejected just feet beside a lifeless John. His legs were no longer squirming, but his body continued to shake about as freaks dug into him, bathed in his blood and guts.
"John, you there?"
"John!"
From under the van, one by one, freaks emerged. They crawled through the tight fit, maneuvering through John's corpse and walking freely into the empty streets. The van began to sway once more, and with ever new body added onto the stampede, the van continued to tip. The loud crash of the van fully rolling over echoed down the street. Roamers spilled onto the empty space, milky eyes staring forward towards the billows of smoke coming from the tops of the clustered buildings.
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(A/N:
We've reached 5k reads.
:,)
-wethenaive )