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written-in-flowers · 1 year

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Disillusionment: Hongjoong x Reader

Pairing: Hongjoong x Reader

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 16k

AU: futuristic!au, rebellion!au, lovers to enemies, enemies to lovers again.

Genre: Angst (lots of it), tiny microscopic bits of Fluff

Summary: During her career as a Lieutenant of The People's Republic, Hwang YN has witnessed things she'd rather forget and learned things about those she served. On the day of her ex-boyfriend's execution, she must decide if she really is fighting for the right side.

Warnings: disabled!reader (she is missing her left ear and eye, and has a bionic leg), PTSD, graphic depictions of violence, guns, war, descriptions of poverty, mentions of child trafficking, general injustice, corrupt people being corrupt, assassination attempt, and conspiracy.

A/N: This is my EXTREMELY LATE entry into the Outlaw: The Project collab I did with @ssaboala and several other lovely people. My entry is for our beloved leader, Kim Hongjoong. I hope you guys really enjoy this <3

***

You sat in the meadow alone. A sea of grass dotted with purple flowers should be a sight of wonder and awe, yet you found it hard to enjoy. A sight juxtaposed to the bustling, noisy city a few miles beyond, you used to find tranquility and quietness in the meadow. It’d once been a place of safety and gentleness; you could gather your thoughts here, basking in the sun and silence. But, not anymore. Silence only pushes forward things you’d rather forget. Yet, you could not think of anywhere to be but here right now.

They’re executing him today. In a few hours, Kim Hongjoong will be led onto the scaffold in the city center, have a noose put around his neck, and a door will open from under him. You squeezed your eyes shut at the image in your head. Hongjoong, with his determined, defiant eyes glaring at the painted faces of the city people, standing proudly on the scaffold. He won’t cry. He won’t give President Yoon the satisfaction. It’d been the same back in The Academy. Whenever an instructor or commanding officer gave him a near impossible task, hoping to break him, he never let them see the strain. It was why they liked him so much; why they spoke so highly of the soldier who never backed down, who did not accept failure as a result. Hongjoong had once been Prestige Academy’s brightest star, with a shining military future ahead of him. But, one terrible act changed all of that.

‘No, YN. I’m not going back.’

‘Hongjoong…’

‘This ‘Republic’ has gone too far. Look around you, YN. These people have done nothing to us. They’re innocent.’

‘They are aiding the rebel forces. They’re not innocent.’

‘Yes, they are! They’re hospital patients. They’re human beings. YN, I’m sorry. I can’t do this anymore. It’s not right.’

‘Hongjoong, no! Please, come back! Come back!’

You fought back the visions in your head. The thick lump in your throat slowly built up remembering that night. You remembered how the heat of the flames mingled with the crisp winter chill; the smell of burning wood and bodies still clung to your nose all these years later. No amount of lifeless corpses, exploding bombs, or screaming women could drown out the one image stuck in your head. He’d removed his helmet, so you saw his cobalt blue hair, his light skin and his eyes. His beautiful brown puppy eyes that melted your heart every time you saw them. They’d looked at you with disgust and shock. They’d torn away from yours with pain and that same determination. The last haunting image was his white uniform gradually fading into the dark night; you recall running after it before being attacked by a rebel fighter. By the time you’d put a bullet in him, Hongjoong was gone. He’d abandoned you in the midst of a raid; he’d turned his back on everything he knew and joined the rebel forces beyond the barriers. He soon enough became their leader, leading a squad dubbed ‘The Pirates’. They gained the name because of their hovercraft bombings on Republic outposts, where they’d then touch down and scavenge whatever they could from wreckage.

He became the ‘Pirate King’, and with one single act imprinted himself in Republic history.

The ping from your wrist broke you from the cruel memory, and you looked at the small watch face to see an incoming call. When pressing the answer button, you prepared yourself for actual conversation today.

“Yes?”

“Lieutenant,'' said Captain Shin, “The execution will be happening in approximately six hours. Preparations for the Victory Parade are starting, and we need you to come down here.”

“What for?”

“You’re in one of the last floats, sir.”

You exhaled deeply. The “Victory” Parade is being called ‘the beginning of the end’ by news outlets. It’ll not only make a spectacle of Hongjoong’s execution, but give the people false hope. What you hated most is that you and what’s left of your team will be “stars” of the show. You preferred to forget your “greatest triumph” and move on with your life, but it seems you won’t get that.

Your mission to capture and subdue Captain Kim Hongjoong cost you lives. Task Force 66 had eight members. After storming the “Valiant'', Hongjoong’s base of operations, only four of you remained. Sitting in the grass, you thought of the admirable, courageous people you’d become so close to be snuffed out in President Yoon’s war against the rebels. Jax, a springy girl who loved explosives and fire power; Jisung, a sharpshooter eager to prove himself; Miyoung, an older woman whose age didn’t stop her from taking down foes twice her size, and brilliant Ryu, a guy you swore had a computer for a brain. They’d died helping you capture Hongjoong. They’d given their lives in service to The Republic.

A Republic that did not care about them.

“Right. Be there soon, Captain,” you replied somberly. “Over and out,” you said.

“Over and out,” said Shin, and you both hung up.

Gingerly, you unfolded yourself from your sitting position and stood up. You gave a small stretch as you gave the meadow one more look. You should put the whole place to the torch. Briefly, you thought of scorching this sacred place to remove all the beauty and memories it held. Memories of you and Hongjoong frolicking in the grass as children; playing and laughing until the sun went down. Memories of days spent under the trees that outlined the meadow, reading or listening to music. Everything reminded you of him. It was as if its taken pieces of him for itself. Every single blade of grass and blossom reminded you of the boy who made you feel happy when you felt like dying. You wanted to burn it all away. If the meadow didn’t exist, then neither would your memories.

You turned away from the meadow and headed back into the small forest at the edge. Moving through thickets of bushes and trees, you let the fresh air and damp earth fill your lungs. You pushed out that night from your mind. Which night? You don’t even know anymore. The night you both met. The night he left you. The night you both met again. All the nights sharing kisses in each other’s arms, whispering words of love and promises of forever. You flushed them from your mind as you found your car waiting on the side of the road. One of the government hovercrafts painted in black with The Republic eagle and olive branches on the hood, you knew you’d be back in the city in less than an hour. The faster you could leave the meadow, the faster you’d leave those memories behind.

Soaring high above the main road, you saw yourself in your windshield reflection. Where you once had a full, unblemished face, you now had a cybernetic eye and ear piece attached. The steel implant started at the crown of your skull and remained fitted to the left side of your face. Pieces of shrapnel and ear splitting blasts caused you to lose sight and hearing; the doctors said you were lucky. The shrapnel from the bomb could’ve lodged into your skull and you’d be dead. Instead, you suffered a ruptured eardrum and your entire left eye. Scarring from the fire stretched like rivers on a map from your eye socket and across your forehead, cheek and jawline. Not the prettiest face, but the new eye came with lots of perks. Infrared vision, night vision, and scope abilities gave you more advantages than the average soldier; you heard pins drop from several feet away with your new eardrum. If one pulled off your denim jeans, they’d find the bionic right leg. One of the few times you ran into Hongjoong after his defection left you with a grievous leg injury that not even the Republic’s medical technology could heal.

‘Yield. Yield now and tell your men to retreat, and I’ll spare you.’

‘I’d rather die!’

‘You can’t win this, YN. We have the upperhand. We have the trains and the sectors. Please, my love, yield and surrender. Please, I beg you.’

‘If you have the upperhand, Pirate King…then I’ll chop it off!’

And so you did. On a field of damaged earth and bloody corpses, you’d pulled out a hatchet from a dead soldier’s head and swung it at Hongjoong. He tried blocking it with a knife, but instead your blade went deep into his wrist. It didn’t completely sever the hand; you remember his screams of pain and wish you could take them all back. You sometimes thought of what it might’ve been like if you had surrendered. Would he have accepted you back? Would you two have grown to love one another again? You don’t know. You hoped he would. He promised forever, hadn’t he?

You snorted as you reached the city gates. Ahead of you, you saw the long line of citizen vehicles below slowly making their way in and out of the silver city beyond the tall gates. In your government issued hover car, you flew to the tops of the walls where official vehicles came and went. Flying between the two sky-high towers, you lowered your window. A guard in black and white stood in the toll booth window, holding out a gloved hand. You handed him an identification card, which he scanned on his computer.

“Welcome back, Lieutenant,” the man said in a gruff voice, giving a stiff bow.

“Thank you, soldier.”

You’d cried that night. Everyone thought it was the morphine high the doctors kept you on, but it wasn’t. Not entirely. You hadn’t meant to hurt him so brutally, but your own pain overwhelmed you. He’d told you that he’d be at your side forever. You were supposed to move through the ranks together, go into military training together, and maybe settle down to have a family. You’re meant to grow old side by side. He’d said as much the first time you kissed him, sixteen and the world at your fingertips. You couldn’t see yourself being with anyone else; you never loved anyone the way you loved Hongjoong. It was supposed to be forever.

Then, the night the Republic bombed that hospital changed everything. You regretted that particular incident; you’d been a soldier of the Republic, who followed orders regardless of the severity. The people of Sector 5 were housing and aiding groups of people charged with crimes against The Republic. You and Hongjoong were part of Squad 245, a group assigned to put down any signs of dissent in the different sectors. Like every attack, you started with a blanket of bombs that created craters in the ground, blowing up people and crumbling buildings. When the initial attack ended, you touched ground to take down the rebels hiding out there. Hongjoong saw the hospital before you did. He’d seen the fires blazing within, the stone walls collapsing to the side, and people stumbling and crawling from the ruins. Most of those in the hospital were innocent women, men, and children who’d happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. You aren’t proud of the harm done that day. 45 people died in that bombing, and more became permanently injured. Everyone around you said they deserved it; they helped rebels escape “Republic justice”. What even is the Republic’s justice? Killing innocent people with nothing to lose? Oppressing those they have deemed beneath him? People they claim need them, when really it is the other way around.

The you back then would hate the person you’ve become now. She’d call you a traitor for thinking such thoughts. But, that little girl in her white Republic uniform doesn’t know about the things she’d end up witnessing. She won’t know about the time she witnessed Republic soldiers kidnapping sector children to sell on the black market to city elites. She hadn’t witnessed the terror and fear those children showed when she stepped into a Republic truck; some of them as young as eleven-years-old. That stupid, blind fool would damn you for shooting each of those soldiers in the head, and releasing those children into the forests beyond. She’d try finding excuses; she’d try to rationalize and justify such horrors because to accept that her precious government is evil destroys everything about herself.

She’d have to admit that Hongjoong was right, and that she should’ve followed him into the cold night.

You flew on the sky lane, and saw the tall triangular building of the military headquarters, nicknamed ‘The Pyramid’, in the distance. You also spotted the long lines of traffic backed bumper-to-bumper. Preparations for the parade meant to precede Hongjoong’s appearance were already underway, with workers setting up streamers, lamp posts decorations, flags, and barricades up and down the street. An irritable sigh escapes your lips when you realize you’ll be in traffic forever. You had places to be. Swerving out of the line and merging into a lower lane, you parked your car in an empty spot by the sidewalk. You’d come back for it later.

The Republic City used to be a place called ‘Seoul’, until the new regime took over decades ago. Towering buildings going high into the sky were decorated with neon lights and advertisements. People crowded the trash-riddled streets, and made it through the general smog created by the hover cars flying high between the buildings. You can’t imagine your city being anything other than what it is now. The people in the sectors beyond the wall think Republic City is a mecca of opulence and beauty; where food is plentiful and everyone is rich. It could not be farther from the truth. Ever since the war began nine years ago, the luxury of Republic City plummeted. Walking through the concrete sidewalk, hands in your jacket pockets, you saw a young man slouched against a brick wall. Seeing his ragged clothing, full shopping cart, and paper cup sitting at his feet, you wished you could show the rebels that they’re not the only ones suffering.

You saw a street food boat sailing a foot above the street. A portly man sat at the side, turning meat skewers over on a blazing fire. Quickly, you caught up to it.

“Hey,” you greeted him, “Can I get two of those?”

The man’s eyes lit up when he saw you. “Hey, you’re that Lieutenant from the TV.”

“Um, yeah, I guess.”

“Wow, you’re a real hero, ma’am,” he said. “I heard about those kids you saved. I can’t believe our government was letting soldiers sell little kids like that. I was really shocked, but they were lucky you came along.”

“It’s no big deal.”

“It was to them and their parents. Here,” he picked up two fresh meat skewers, and put them on a paper plate. “Free of charge.”

“Sir, I couldn’t do that to you-”

“-I insist,” he said, pushing the plate closer to you on the counter. “You've done more for us than our own president. Don't worry about it. Besides, it’s Victory Day.”

‘Victory Day’, is what they called it. What victory? You stuck a bill into the tip jar on the counter, bought a drink, and thanked him. You walked up to the young man by the wall, and handed him the two skewers.

“Here,” you said.

His eyes widened at the sight of the two long meat and vegetable sticks. “Wha-Really?”

“Yeah,” you told him, “I’m not really hungry.” You gave him the food, and watched him greedily begin eating them. You noticed what he wore: threadbare clothes that might’ve been flashy and fancy at one point, and leather shoes that were worn out and fading. “What happened?”

He paused, reluctant to answer as he wiped grease from his mouth. “I used to work in the steel industry,” he said finally. “I ran the distribution before those bastard outlaws ruined supply lines and Sector 2 joined the rebellion. I…I lost everything. I can wait for this fucking war to be over,” he washed down the food with the orange drink, then said, “Maybe things will get better, right?”

“Yeah…maybe.” You fished in your pocket for a few bills, and stuck them in his cup. “For some shoes,” you said, “Winter’s gonna be coming soon.”

“Thank you,” he beamed, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Hey, you’re Hwang YN!” a high-pitched voice said behind you.

You turned to see three young boys standing on the other side of the sidewalk. Each of them wore the soldier play sets the toy stores sold: black “bulletproof” vests with black gloves and helmets. The one who spoke smiled excitedly at you, holding a toy machine rifle across his back.

“You’re the one who captured the Pirate King!” he said, pushing black strands from his eyes.

“I am.”

“That’s so cool!” his friend, red-haired and freckled, said with a smile. “I saw the little movies they played in the theater before the real movie started. They showed you going into that big ship with your gun like this!” he pulled up his own toy gun and made shooting sounds as he waved it around, “And the rebels running away!”

“You really showed them!” the third boy, blond and blue-eyed, said. “They were really scared of you!”

“I guess they were,” you shrugged. “You kids going to the parade?”

“Heck yeah!” said the first boy. “We’re going to watch the soldiers’ march and see the tanks! I want to be a soldier like you one day!”

“Me too!”

“And me!”

You couldn’t help remembering a young Hongjoong saying the same. When you’d both see the soldiers marching on Founder’s Day, he’d excitedly tell you how he’d be one of them someday. You both would be.

“You’ll make great soldiers,” you said, trying to keep the sadness from your voice. “Once you’re trained up at the academy.”

This made all three boys jump excitedly. You high-fived each of them as they ran along the street, pretending to shoot invisible foes down the sidewalk. Moving further down, you watched the city continue to thrive around you. You made a turn down a familiar road towards The Pyramid, trying not to recall walks to headquarters with Hongjoong. You’d both wave down one of the floating street vendors to grab snacks before going to work. Hongjoong always bought the barbeque skewers, which you’d both eat as you walked. You stopped at a crosswalk when a delivery boy waited for the green light. On the side of his trunk, you saw the local news lines running through a screen.

‘Pirate King Captured! War’s Ending in Sight!’

You remembered that today is meant to be a celebration. People filled the streets below, dressed in their best and preparing for the parties they’ll be having tonight. President Yoon planned to make Hongjoong’s execution a spectacle; it’s meant to symbolize the beginning of the ending. Members of your team still searched for Hongjoong’s crew, who’ve gone underground since his capture. They will be found soon enough, and they’ll also be executed. Once the Pirates are defeated, the rest of the rebellion forces will kneel. Then the Republic could begin to thrive again.

A ringing sound from your ear piece interrupted your thoughts once more. Answering the call, you spoke first:

“YN here.”

“Lieutenant,” it was Shin again, “Are you on the way?”

“Yeah. My ETA is ten minutes. Why?” you passed the delivery boy, feeling his eyes on you but tried not to think about it.

“Because, well…I wanted you to know that the Containment Center contacted me a few minutes ago.”

You froze. “And?”

“It appears The Pirate King has requested to speak with you.”

Every nerve in your body froze. Suddenly, your chest tightened and you stuffed a hand in your pocket. You looked at yourself in the reflection once more, seeing the damage on your face, and asked, “Why?”

“He didn’t give a reason,” he said. “All people headed to the noose are allowed a last request, and his request is to speak with you.” Shin paused, then continued, “It wouldn’t hurt to hear him out. He might even beg you for his life like the coward he is.”

“He’s not a coward,” you heard yourself snap at him. “He might be a pathetic rebel scumbag, but he is also a great soldier.”

“Forgive me, sir, but I…” you heard his hesitation, and suddenly the formal voice broke, “He killed Jax. He shot her in the back like a coward. He wouldn’t even give her the respect of killing her face to face.”

Jax. Your heart weighed heavier thinking of the wiry, stringy girl with neon green hair who loved explosives. She joined your team when you needed a demolitions expert, and she came highly recommended. Always smiling and laughing, you’d grown to enjoy her company and Shin had taken to her immediately. They’d been an odd but cute couple, with tiny Jax pushing the tall stern Shin from his comfort zone. Then the Pirates captured a group of Republic troops, and Jax happened to be among them. You’d done everything you could to get her back, but by the time you raided the rebel hideout, Jax and the other soldiers were dead. Shot in the back of the head like livestock. You couldn’t prove Hongjoong did it, but he’d given the order. His men do nothing without his say-so. Much like your own.

Sometimes you forgot not everyone loved Hongjoong like you.

“I understand, Shin,” you replied. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I loved Jax too, but she didn’t die in vain. Because of her explosive lines we uncovered the rebel hideout and discovered their plans to break into The Pyramid through the underground tunnels. She…She was a good soul.”

“She was, sir.” You heard him pause again, then he said, “I take it that you’ll oblige his request?”

You shouldn’t. You should decline it and leave Hongjoong to die without ever seeing your face. After everything that has happened between you both, you shouldn't give him the satisfaction. He left you, so why shouldn't you leave him? You knew if you met him, you'd only end up crying and you cannot be seen leaving his containment cell in tears.

“Yeah," you finally said, “I’ll see him.”

You didn’t know what you’d say to him, exactly, but…You wanted to see him one last time, you guessed.

“Very well, sir. Over and out.”

“Over and out.”

You hung up the call and finally reached headquarters. The high wired fence kept a wall between the headquarters to the citizens of the city. Having left your car behind, you walked through the citizen entrance. The guard here wore a black and white uniform, and he nodded when you gave your identification card. You noticed his short, stocky stature, and saw he wore his visor low on his face. You couldn’t recall ever seeing this guard before.

“Where’s Private Lee?” you asked impulsively when he handed you back your card. “He normally does the morning shift.”

“He was ill, sir,” the guard answered back. You’d heard that voice before, you knew you had. “I’m filling his spot until he gets better.”

You saw his name badge, seeing the words 'Kung Shinjin’ with the ‘private’ rank insignia on it. “Private Kung, is it?”

“Yes, sir. At your service.”

“I’ve never seen you before,” you said, “When did you enlist?”

“Two months ago, sir. They transferred me from Sector 2 after training.”

You found that odd, but you didn’t put it at the top of your list. Hongjoong took up too much space in your head.

“Hm, alright,” you said finally. “Welcome to the Pyramid, Private Kung.”

“Thank you, sir.”

You walked up into the white building, and noticed the lack of people inside the main lobby. You guessed everyone’s at the capitol building downtown preparing for the parade and execution. You need to pick up the pace. Shin will no doubt want to talk before the parade begins, most likely to go over itinerary and the parade routes. You told him to keep an eye on them, since Hongjoong’s crew are bound to make an appearance. They'll want to retrieve their captain, and won't hesitate to kill to do it.

Walking into the white and beige main lobby, you noticed two workers near the elevator doors. On a trolley, they rolled tall stacks of boxes towards the steel doors. On one of the boxes you read the name “Sal’s Bakery”. You guessed it was the President’s special celebration treat. He often did this to show appreciation to the military leaders. You expect you’ll have a box waiting on your desk in your office. Walking by them to the opposite elevator, you peeked inside to see dozens of thin white boxes with the bakery logo on them. You saw one worker, a young man with black hair hanging in his face, press the elevator button. The other man with him had short dark hair; both of them wore face masks as required by the Pyramid. A small tinkling caught your enhanced ear, and you saw the second worker drop a ring of keys.

“Oh, hey,” you picked them up, “You dropped this.”

The worker turned to you, but his face mask hid half his face. “Thanks,” he said, taking the keys.

“No problem,” a thought then occurred to you, “Hey, how much to take one of those off your hands? I have a friend in Containment who could use some decent food.”

The two workers shared a look, then the short-haired one said, “Fifty.”

You scoffed at the price, but you supposed that’s what breaking the rules costs. You dug into your pocket for your wallet. You tried not looking at the box or the van for too long. More memories came flooding back to you. Hongjoong chewing on another hot, fresh donut from the box, smiling at a joke you told while you walked to class; him washing it down with a coffee and telling you that you were as sweet as the donuts. He’d always leave you the chocolate frosted ones because he knew how much you liked them. It became a special place for you both before classes. It’s another thing you’d burn down to kill your memories.

You handed the worker the money, and he handed you a box. Opening it, you saw six glazed jelly donuts, still hot and fresh. “Thanks,” you said with a nod and left the workers to their deliveries.

Entering the elevator, you pressed the level 8 button and let the doors close. The Pyramid is twelve stories tall, with General Bok’s office at the very top. The Pyramid was the epicenter of the military base, with housing and training grounds being right behind it nearby. You’re so accustomed to seeing more soldiers here, since the Pyramid is where mostly everyone worked. But, with preparations and security details in place, nearly everyone is at the city center. You honestly preferred it this way. Less people to congratulate you, or tell you how much they admire and support you. What you did wasn’t easy and you never wanted to go through it again. Your eyes landed on the -10 button on the panel.

The Containment Center remained underneath The Pyramid floors starting on ground level and going down ten more floors. The most dangerous or high-profile prisoners remained on levels -9 and -10, so that’s where Hongjoong is kept. You felt the steel box gradually descending, getting further and further from the low levels, and you thought of the time you and Hongjoong had an assignment in Containment.

Your instructor, Major Yoo, sent you to the jails to interrogate a Republic traitor and learn why he’d been caught sifting through a commander’s desk. After intimidating and questioning him, you learned he’d been threatened into the search by a high-ranking officer. When you both passed this information to Yoo, he asked you both what should be done next. You’d suggested arresting the officer immediately, but Hongjoong advised patience. He said they might learn who the officer is working for if they kept surveillance on him. He’d been right. He’d gotten high marks and an award for capturing the traitor, his rebel contact, and the information he’d been passing them.

You were so proud to call him yours.

Your watch pinged again, and you pressed your ear piece.

“Hey Lt,” a smooth voice said over the phone.

“Hey Boggs,” you said. “What’s up?”

“Shin wanted me to tell you that the parade is gonna start soon,” he said, “And to hurry up. You know, because you’re the star of the show.”

You scoffed, “As if. I’m not the one getting executed today. Tell Shin I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“YN…” you heard the seriousness in his voice. Boggs rarely ever used your real name. It was always ‘Lieutenant’ or ‘LT’ or ‘Hwang’. “I know this isn’t the best time, but when this is over and done with, I…I think I’m dropping out of Task Force 66.”

You didn’t ask why or protest. “Because of Sticky?”

“No, because of Jisung…”

Jisung. Another soul lost to Task Force 66’s hunt. The youngest of the whole squadron, he’d become everyone’s little brother. Fresh from the Academy, he had the sharpshooter skills you were looking for; a marksman to rival Jung Wooyoung, best sharpshooter in the entire force. You’d see Jisung make near impossible shots, shoot at multiple moving targets, and never miss once. Sadly, even the far distance couldn’t keep him safe. He’d wanted to impress you, you supposed. He always sought your approval and praise, which you found endearing. “How did I do, Lieutenant?” “Lieutenant, did you see that?! I got him right in the eye through his own scope!”

‘Lieu-Li-Lieutenant, I want to g-g-go ho-home…’

Private Do Jisung died in a battle fighting rebel forces in Sector 8, an industrial area of factories and refineries supplying the capital. You’d learned Hongjoong and his crew would be there, hiding out underneath an abandoned chemical factory, and you couldn’t miss the opportunity. You couldn’t stop yourself from picturing you and Jisung moving side-by-side in the large factory. The grenade came through one of the broken windows, rolling and stopping by a few boxes labeled ‘chemical hazard’ on them. You didn’t have a chance to see who’d thrown it, but you did see Jisung dive right in front of you. The small grenade set off a chain reaction, causing barrels and boxes of flammable chemicals to explode all around you. His legs blown off in the blast, the medic couldn’t get to you because of the raging fires. You remember dragging him through the building, heat and smoke filling your lungs, until you brought him outside. You’ll never forget his ashen face going into shock. He died right there in your arms. The medic wasn’t needed. Jisung was only twenty.

“What about Jisung?” you asked, watching the elevator numbers slowly go down. It’s slower underground. You hated it.

“It’s the officials,” he said. “They told Jisung’s parents he died in an accident, but that couldn’t be right. The factory turned out to be a dead end, remember? Kim and his crew weren’t there, and the place was empty. I only saw one person there, and they got away before I could catch them. Why would they say it was an accident when it wasn’t?”

“They don’t really have proof that the guy you saw was there,” you explained, though something about it sat wrong with you.

“But you saw that grenade go through the window.”

No explanation for that. You vividly recall the small black ball going through a lit up window and smacking onto the floor. You’d heard it seconds before Jisung, who then pushed you out of the way.

"Maybe they don't want to admit we were caught off guard," you finally said.

But you knew the opposite. Something about the entire situation bothered you, and Boggs knew it too. You wondered if Shin suspected the same thing.

"So, you're leaving us then?" You asked, trying not to seem disappointed. "Where are you gonna go?"

"I don't know. Maybe get a security post like my dad did. We can talk about that later," he said.

"How's Sticky?"

Pak Sunmi. Quick thinking and tough, she joined your team with four years of service under her belt. Slight and long, Sunmi had many specialties but the biggest was getting into places others can’t. Not only with her good looks and non-threatening appearance, but with the parkour skills she picked up at a young age. You swore she flew through the sky when she ran, jumping and flipping and sliding like the wind carried here. You once joked she must have sticky hands to be able to hold onto surfaces so easily, and the nickname stuck.

During your capture-and-detain mission on The Valiant, Sunmi crossed paths with Jeong Yunho. Him being several inches taller did not stop Sunmi from taking him one on one. You didn’t see the fight yourself, but Boggs had found her lying unconscious in the ship’s upper deck. The hospital medics told you she suffered severe cranial damage, and would need to be kept in the hospital until her surgery wounds healed.

“She’s holding up,” he answered. “Her head hurts like a bitch, and she’s trying to get used to the metal plates in her skull, but she’s good. She convinced the doctors to let her see the parade."

"Is that safe?"

"I don't think so, but I'm not a doctor." He then added, "She said she wanted to talk to you too. Something wasn't right about what happened to Jisung, and she mentioned what happened to her too."

"What do you mean-

‘-Level -7: Containment Center Administration Offices and Directory.’

“I gotta go,” you told him, “I’ll see you later.”

“Alright, Lt. Over and out.”

“Over and out.”

You stepped out of the elevator and walked over to a receptionist desk where a young woman with orange corkscrew curls sat typing.

“Excuse me,” you said, “I’m-”

“-Lieutenant Hwang,” she smiled, “Yes, I was told you’d be on your way here. He’s in cell 03 on level 10.” She punched in a few numbers, and a label popped out of a printer on the desk. “Here, scan that in the elevator and it’ll take you further down.”

“Thanks.”

You turned to leave when her voice stopped you. "Um, Lieutenant?"

"Yeah."

She nervously rolled her pencil between her fingers and said, "I just wanted to say…I think you're a real hero."

Her words didn't shock you like they should. "For capturing a well known rebel outlaw, yeah-"

"-No, for what you did for those people in the lower sectors," she corrected. "I had no idea people outside the city suffered so much until I saw them on television. Those poor children…they must've been so scared, and those women…It makes me sick thinking about it. You were so brave to go into that town and do what you did. I don't think I could've done that."

The border town. That's what she's talking about, you realize. You and your squad rode out to a town on a border to refuel and stock up supplies. When you arrived, it was chaos. Women were rounded up like livestock in a pig pen; dead men hung from posts and roof tops, naked and burned. You first thought it'd been outlaws who raided the village, but to your horror, you learned it was a Republic squadron. You confronted their commander, who you discovered initiated the attack. He claimed they'd been harboring rebel soldiers. You saw right through his lie.

And shot him point blank. Just like the other three.

A young journalist hiding in a crate captured the "heroic moment" on camera and survivors of the raid told him their stories. Their suffering at the hands of the Republic opened up the eyes of city citizens, who'd been kept ignorant to the plight of those outside. The news started a string of charity events and fundraisers for the poor, homeless people in the sectors. Being charitable became trendy, and you kept being invited to gala after gala as a speaker. You hated it. You've never been good at speeches. But, the money went to the people who needed it the most. Seeing the sunken faces of starving children curl into smiles as they carried home sacks of oil, grain, and water made the "trend" worth it.

You thought you and the crew would be imprisoned for killing the commander and his men but it never came. In fact, they awarded your squad medals of honor and heroism. General Bok declared the offending squadron as war criminals and deserters of the Republic; a bullet is what they deserved. He proclaimed your squadron personified everything the Republic stood for.

You knew that wasn’t true.

"It was the right thing to do," you shrugged. "Those people weren't the enemy. They were innocent." Much like the people in that hospital. You felt sick all over again.

"I'm glad that at least there are some good soldiers still out there," she said. "Hopefully with The Pirate King dead, the war will end and everything will be alright."

You didn't have the heart to tell her how the war ending meant nothing.

"Hopefully. Have a good day."

"You too."

You went back to the elevator down to the tenth level, pressing your label against the scanner until the doors closed. The government did a good job convincing people that the world will be as it was when the war ends. All their problems will be solved and things will return to normal. You didn’t see how that could be possible. Both sides have gone too far to ever be what they once were.

When the doors opened again, the chill of the underground levels pinched your cheeks. White walls, linoleum floors and fluorescent lighting gave the holding cells a sterilized look. Walking down them, your footsteps made almost no sound, as if the walls absorbed the soft taps instead of bouncing them back. No wonder people went insane down there. You walked past several guards posted at doors or coming around corners, all of them nodding at you when you passed.

High-profile prisoners of the state had large cells locked behind two sets of doors. The first room you entered had a guard sitting behind a desk and another standing ready by the door. With a show of your label, the desk guard let you through. The door guard opened the main door into another small room with a thick, steel door on the other side. He opened this for you, then let you walk into the antechamber.

“Fifteen minutes, Lieutenant,” the guard said, voice muffled by his mask.

“Don't worry. It won't be long. Thank you, soldier.”

He popped open the steel door, and you walked inside. In a room of white, he stood out like a sore thumb. Dressed in an orange jumpsuit, The Pirate King looked vastly different from the boy in your memories. Hongjoong’s cyan hair hung over his eyes and undercut on the sides

He had more ear piercings, indicated by the small holes your bionic eye picked up instantly. He wasn't taller, but he'd gotten buff for sure. Years of being on the run and fighting Republic soldiers certainly took their abuse on his body. However, what caught your attention instantly was his left hand. Made of steel plates, you saw the thin wiring between them every time he moved his hand. Since he kept his sleeves rolled up, you saw it went well past where your hatchet cut him. When he turned at your footsteps, he paused. He kept his eyes on your face, stunned and unable to look away. He'd once looked at you that way. At the Prestige Academy Winter Ball, where he told you that you outshone every girl there.

"I know," you said. "Not as pretty as I was at the winter dance."

"You'll always be beautiful to me," he replied, and you didn't see a trace of a lie. Not even when your sensors checked his vitals and pupils. "I didn't do that to you, did I?"

"No. One of Song’s bombs did," you replied. You then lifted your pant leg to show him your metal leg, "You did this." You then looked at his hand again. His screams from that fight echoed in your ears; the blood that spewed and gushed from the wound and his pained cries churned your stomach. "They couldn't fix it?"

"No. Yeosang said you'd cut it almost in two," he said. "Thankfully, he and Mingi made this for me. It's not a shiny Republic model, but it works." He stared at your leg, "You didn't upgrade?"

"I didn't want to."

"Long pants at training?"

"Shorts still. I wanted to inspire my men."

"Like a true Republic Lieutenant." You hated hearing that. Hongjoong noticed this change in you, and said, “Are you not a Lieutenant?”

“I am,” you straightened up.

He eyed you closely, not speaking. You hated it when he did that. It was the look he gave when he interrogated a prisoner, and wanted to read them. You squirm underneath his stare. He didn’t say anything at first, but you knew he would soon. He walked forward and sat a foot away from the glass. You did the same, pushing the plastic chair aside. Leaning forward, you pressed your label to a scanner, and a flap opened.

"I got donuts," you said, pushing the box through the hole to him.

Hongjoong hesitated. He looked between you and the donut box, and you saw his jaw clench. “I thought you might be hungry,” you instantly explained. “If you don’t want them, you don’t have to eat them.”

“No, it’s good,” his expression instantly changed back to a casual one, which threw you off, “Thanks.”

Gingerly, he opened the box and stared inside before picking out a donut. You watched him eat the first once, shutting his eyes and taking in the sweet treat. Your hands curled up into fists as you bit back the lump in your throat again. A vision of a blue-haired boy eating a donut, wearing his white academy uniform, and smiling at you crossed your mind. It plunged a knife into your chest, and you regretted coming here.

“Why did you ask for me?" You asked him, not masking your discomfort at all.

"I wanted to see you."

"Why?"

"Because I'm going to be dead in a few hours, and I wanted to see your face," he admitted openly.

"Why?"

"Because I still care about you."

"I was sent to capture you," you said. "I was assigned an entire task force to hunt you down, subdue you and bring you here to your death. I haven’t seen you in three years. The last time I did see you, I nearly chopped off your hand and you severed my leg." Anger festered in your stomach and couldn’t stop it from surging hotly. You leaned in closer to the glass, glaring at him. Why did he do this to you? Why does he still have this effect? You hated the uncertainty. You hated the ‘not-knowing’. "Why did you ask me to come?"

Hongjoong hesitated over his donut, then said, "I wanted to know exactly when a loyalist, a servant of the Republic, lost her faith."

You knew what he meant, but didn't respond.

"The YN I remember would blindly follow any order her superiors gave her," he said. "She did whatever they asked, no matter how morally wrong it was. You…you're not her anymore. I’ve heard about the things you’ve done out there in the field. People I’ve met always mention a Republic woman with one eye saved them, or came to their side when they needed it. A true Republic soldier would sooner shoot a person than offer her hand. So, when did it happen?"

You'd avoided talking too much about it. If you went too deeply, it'd open up things you wanted locked away. You stared at him, arms crossed, and couldn't stop thinking of the little boy who you met at a fancy dinner party years and years ago.

"The kids," you heard yourself say. "I was on patrol with my crew when we came across a supply outpost. We'd finished sweeping out rebel hideouts along sectors 4 and 5, and decided to regroup with others in the area there. The plan was to refuel, restock our supplies, then head back to the camp. I'm there giving cover as my team started refueling when I noticed a black truck near one of the fuel spouts. It had the Republic seal on the side, but it didn't look like any truck I recognized. It reminded me of those supply trucks that come in and out of bases." You took a second, picturing the large truck sitting at the edge of the small camp site. There'd only been one other group there at the time, so it could only have been theirs. "I was walking by it when I…" you gulped thickly, "Heard someone inside." You held yourself tightly. It'd been sweltering hot that day. The humid heat stuck your clothes to your skin, and you thought you might die from the heat. "I saw some soldiers not paying attention, so I used my baton to open the back. They…I saw…I…they looked so small, and so scared."

"The kids?"

"It was boiling in that truck, and the air smelled horrible," you said, gulping the lump in your throat. "They had these water jugs attached to their cages and I saw candy wrappers and chip bags on the floor. They were dirty, tired and hot. One boy looked like he might pass out. I gave him my water, and asked who they were and why they were there. A girl told me soldiers went into their town and killed everyone…and took the kids…I…I couldn't believe they were Republic. I thought the soldiers might be outlaws pretending to be soldiers to get through barricades easier." You bit the inside of your cheek to keep the tears back. Too many things threatened to make you cry, and you wouldn't leave here crying. "I confronted the driver. He didn't even seem scared or bothered. He said that a commander ordered them to round up some kids for an indoctrination process. I had no idea what that meant, and he said I didn't need to know…"

"Indoctrination?"

"It was a lie," you waved it away. "One of his comrades came up to us next, recognized me from the Academy, and told me the truth. He said some big commanding officer gave him and his squad money to smuggle kids into the city. I was…it was sick. I couldn't believe him. I thought he was making it up. I," you squeezed your eye shut as you remembered what you did next. "I shot him. No questions. No comments or concerns. I pulled my side arm out and shot him point blank. I did the same to the driver and the third person on their team."

"Then you freed the kids."

"Then I let them out, yeah. I want to say that this was a one time thing and I didn't dig into it deeper, but I did. I contacted Internal Affairs and they did an investigation. Do you want to know what they found?"

"What?"

"That there was an entire child ring going through our government," you spat in disgust. "Elite officials would contact someone within the patrol squads to go into active rebel areas, kill everyone, and take the children. Then they'd…it was horrible. I thought those responsible would see justice and be imprisoned, but nobody was. The lower level guys were jailed, but not the ones above them. Those people received no consequence at all. Not even after the news came out about it. Nobody was punished. They were let go."

"Republic Justice only applies to the poor," Hongjoong said, "Not the ones meant to uphold it."

"I was disgusted. I'd sworn an oath to uphold and defend the laws put in place by the Republic," you replied. "I swore to protect and serve the people of this country. I bled, I fought, and I killed for this nation, and then to turn around and see the people who made those same oaths breaking them. It made me question myself, and I hate that."

"I know what you mean," he said. "That's how I felt when I saw Republic soldiers shooting wounded people coming out of a burning hospital.”

Your eyes glanced at the clock in the room. It’d been ten minutes already.

“You’re not a bad person, YN,” he said. “Even I know what you did in that little border town. You saved those people-”

“-I didn’t,” you cut him off. “I came way too late to do anything meaningful-”

“-Your little heroic act opened up people’s eyes to what’s going on outside the walls,” he said.

“People only know about it because a journalist happened to capture it live.”

“The things you’ve done since then prove you’re not a bad person,” he said. “The people of the Republic respect and admire you because you genuinely care about them. You see injustice being done and stop it, rather than leave it be. How many of your comrades will say they would’ve done what you did? Not many.” He let your words hang between you, and he finished his donut. “Did they punish you for shooting the guy?”

“No,” you said. “They gave me a medal.”

He snorted, “For killing one of your own?”

“They deemed the squad who did it as war criminals, and said that’s the Republic’s justice at work,” you sighed, shaking your head. “The Republic’s Justice…What the fuck does that even mean?”

“It means killing people who don’t comply with their rules or make them look bad,” he said. "It means covering up their tracks, inventing stories and intimidating people into silence."

“I should’ve gon-”

You stopped yourself before the words fully came out. Hongjoong and you both stared at one another. You wouldn’t tell him about all the nights you envisioned having followed him, and being together. “I wish you had too,” he said softly, “But then we’d both be dying and I don’t want that.”

“Even after everything?”

“I never wanted you dead, YN. I still don’t, even if you want me dead-”

“-I was only following orders-”

“Then why didn’t you kill me?”

You hesitated.

“When you found me in the lower deck of my ship-”

“-Is it really a ‘ship’ if it’s on land?-

“-You could’ve shot me on sight,” he pressed on. “You could’ve put a rain of bullets through me, and made up a story afterwards. I wasn’t armed. I wasn’t threatening you. I didn’t put up a fight. Killing me right then would’ve been the easiest part of your day, but when you burst into that room with your rifle trained on me, you didn’t pull the trigger.”

“They ordered me to bring you in alive, and despite my own morals, I follow instructions,” you excused, though this wasn’t true and he knew it.

“It’s pointless to lie to a dead man,” he told you. “If you were only following orders, why didn’t you kill me when you had the chance? Hm? You know that there's the high possibility I'll escape or that my public execution could stir up more trouble outside. You can tell anyone who would listen that you’re just doing your job, and you can pretend you’re a loyalist all you want, but you and I both know the real reason you didn’t shoot me.” He pushed the donut box aside and came right up to the glass. The hostility and animosity of the previous minutes softened, making you fall into his big brown eyes like you used to. “And they know it too,” he whispered. “Don’t go to the parade.”

His sudden warning threw you off. “What?”

“Don’t go," he pleaded. "Please. Promi-”

“-Time’s up, Lieutenant.��

“I love y-”

A large hand gripped your arm to pull you up. Your eyes remained focused on Hongjoong. What did he mean? Sudden dread and fear filled your bones. Hongjoong didn’t say anything else, but you saw the tears pooling in his eyes as the soldier pulled you through the chamber door. What was going to happen at the parade? A possible jailbreak could be the only explanation. Perhaps Hongjoong coordinated his capture so that he’d be in the Pyramid, where his forces could strike an assault on the city. He doesn’t want you to be there when the fighting starts, but if he thinks you’ll sit by while it happens, he’s clearly forgotten a lot about you. The soldier roughly pushed you from the main room and back out into the hallway. You gave him one last glare before heading back to the elevator. If Hongjoong’s crew intended to sabotage the parade in any way, people needed to be warned. You tapped the ‘call’ button on your watch, which linked to your ear implant right away.

“Lieutenant,” Shin’s voice came over the line, “The parade is gonna start soon, and I'd like to go over routes before-"

"-How many men do we have on the street?"

"Pardon?"

"How many men are currently on patrol?"

"A hundred or so," he said. "Why?"

"The Pirates are going to be there," you said, punching the ground level button with your fist. Anxiousness sparked the nerves already wiring your body. You watched the numbers begin to climb slowly. "Kim just as good as told me himself. I don't know where they're going to be or what their plan is, but I want those men armed and ready."

"Hold on," it was Boggs, "We're fighting?"

"-Boggs!-"

"-I'm not sure," you continued, impatiently watching the elevator rise from the ground. “I don’t know anything for certain, but I want firepower on the ground.”

“The General said he didn’t want any guns,” Shin managed to gain control of the communicator again. You heard Bogg’s deep voice somewhere in the background, “We’d be defying direct orders.”

“He’ll understand once I explain it,” you said.

Your mind began moving a million miles a minute. You addressed your wrist band and scanned around for the map application. A map of the city projected from the small screen. You saw red lines going through the parade route, lines you yourself drew up. “Captain,” you called Shin, “I want squads one through five scanning the rooftops, and squads six through nine sweeping the buildings. Ten, eleven, and twelve can stick to the city center, and thirteen can surround The President’s car.”

“I’ll get right on it, sir,” Shin replied.

You heard a bit of commotion and grunting before Bogg’s voice came through. “Lieutenant, what do you need from me?”

“Contact the armory and get on the radio channel,” you said, “Tell everyone the news and start getting them geared up.”

“-Damnit, Boggs! Give me my communicator!-

“-And then I want you and Shin to meet me here at the Pyramid,” you told him. “If The Pirates are in the city,” the elevator finally reached the ground floor, “One or two of them are likely to be on the route from here to the city center.”

“You got it, sir,” Boggs confirmed. “Want me to alert Sunmi?”

“She's not in fighting condition. Get moving.”

“Yes, sir.”

You both hung up and pressed the top floor button. Dialing another number in your wristband, you waited until the person answered.

“General Bok Kyungmin’s office, Jalissa speaking,” said a melodic woman’s voice.

“Jalissa, this is Lieutenant Hwang YN,” you told her, “Is General Bok still there?”

“He is, Lieutenant. Would you like me to patch you through to him?”

“As soon as you can, please.”

“One minute, please.”

You curled your hand into a fist to stop it from shaking. Hongjoong's warning rang in your head. If it was an attack, his warning sounded odd. The pitch. The inflection. The way his eyes watered when he whispered it to you. It didn't sound like a threat or an amused warning. He didn't want you to go there. Hongjoong protected you, of course, but he never tried stopping you. He'd go with you. He’d strap on his own weapon to give you cover. Hongjoong, this time, did not want you in the way.

"Lieutenant Hwang," General Bok's raspy voice sounded in your ear, "I just heard your man Boggs over the radio. Is this threat legitimate?"

"I'm afraid it is, sir."

You explained to him that you'd obliged Hongjoong’s last request for a meeting and what he'd told you. Bok listened without interrupting, but you sensed the apprehension on the other end. You told him the plans you put into motion, and your suspicions.

"I figure it is better to be safe than sorry, sir," you finished, standing outside and scanning the area for Boggs and Shin. "If The Pirates are here, whatever plans they have could impact hundreds. I say we issue an evacuation plan."

"No," he said abruptly. "To evacuate at this stage will let them know we're onto them. This might be our best chance at capturing the rest of them."

"Sir, there will be civilians on the street," you said, stunned by his words. "I think we should be trying to avoid as few casualties as we can. If they have bombs, sir, they will kill hundreds."

"And send everyone into a panic?" He said. "There will be hysteria in the streets if we start an evacuation. Keep this news as down low as possible. We don’t want a riot on our hands. Stay at Kim’s side and don’t take your eyes off him.”

“But, sir-”

“-That’s an order, Lieutenant.”

And you always follow orders. “Yes, sir,” you said defeatedly.

“You and the rest of your team go to the Containment exit and escort Kim to the city center,” he said next. “I will meet you there.”

“Yes, sir.”

He hung up without another word, and you moved into action. The exit for Containment was located behind The Pyramid, in a closed off section that required special permission to pass through. You pressed your badge to the gate, and walked through into a garage of black armored vans and trucks. You relaid the General's instructions to Shin as you found the Containment garage entrance; you told them you'd meet them at the city center instead. Going to an emergency cage, you unlocked the gate and pulled out one of the automatic rifles lined up. Clicking on the magazine, you double checked the safety button, and then slung it over your shoulder. You kept your side arm attached to your thigh, so you only checked the clip for bullets. Your foot tapped as you waited for Hongjoong’s truck; his warning came back to you. Coupled with the General's odd orders, you couldn't stop the unsettlement poking at your nerves.

The elevator doors from the Containment Center opened, and you saw Hongjoong, wrists and ankles chained together, surrounded by four soldiers dressed in black uniforms. You would've thought they were twins with their long bodies and height. They kept their visors down, and guns to their chests. They must've been ordered to shoot-to-kill if Hongjoong tried escaping. Turning around, you faced the two soldiers from earlier. They gave each other a glance at the sight of you, looked at Hongjoong behind them, and then back at you.

"At ease, soldiers," you told them, "General Bok has instructed me to accompany your escort team."

"That isn't necessary, Lieutenant," one of them said. "We can handle him from here."

"I'm not asking," you said a bit firmly. "Let's get him loaded in and move out." When they didn't react, you glared, "I said 'move out', soldiers."

They all exited the elevator and you walked beside Hongjoong.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, unbothered by the soldiers around you both.

"What a Lieutenant is supposed to do when a rebel terrorist warns them of an attack," you answered. "I informed my superiors and put safety precautions in place."

You reached the Containment truck. The President had this truck especially made for prisoners heading for their execution. The size of the usual large vans, the back of the truck is made of shatter-proof glass lined with steel borders. Only the prisoner is meant to be loaded in there with two guards. You intended on being one of them. His men will come for him, and you'd be ready if they did. The two soldiers went to the front seats, while you loaded Hongjoong into the glass cage. Sitting across from one another, your back to the front driver's seat and his to the back doors, you two were once again alone.

"You shouldn't be here," Hongjoong said. "I told you not to come."

"If you think I'm going to let your little pirate friends attack this city," you said, "You've clearly forgotten things about me."

"That's not what I was talking about," he leaned in closer to you. “They’re planning to kill you.”

Once upon a time, you would’ve scoffed and brushed him off. Yet, after seeing how the Republic handles ‘problems’, you hesitated before speaking. “You’re lying,” you decided. “You’re trying to throw me off, and it’s not going to work.”

“When have I ever lied to you, YN?” he asked you, eyes pleading with you. “Your friend, Jisung? The one who died in that factory explosion?”

You glared, “What about him?”

“The intel you received about that place wasn’t real,” he said. “We were never there. They told you to go there because they hoped you’d die in the explosion they set up.”

You thought back to the factory, a building made of stone and wood, full of plastic and wooden crates and barrels of hazardous chemicals. Back then, you simply thought whoever owned the factory left behind the materials. Yet, truly digging into your mind, you never heard of a business not completely gutting out their factories or warehouses. They might have abandoned equipment, but not materials, especially expensive and rare ones. Then, you recalled the little click and thump that happened seconds before the explosions. You remembered Boggs telling you about the person he’d seen.

“You blew up that factory,” you said, frozen in place in your seat. You hardly noticed the truck reaching the gates.

“You really think I did that?” he sneered at you. “My crew might be known for blowing stuff up, but we don’t do it pointlessly. If I bomb a place, it’s for a specific reason. It’s to make a statement. We had no reason to light up that factory. It was in the middle of nowhere, abandoned, and useless to anyone but the homeless. We would’ve wasted our resources blowing it up.” He paused, “He wasn’t the target. The building wasn’t the target. You were.”

He let the words hang between you for a few seconds before the truck stopped at the main gate. He must be lying.

“I’m sure they didn’t mean for your comrade to die, but these things happen in war.”

He never lied to you. Not a single time. No matter which side you move to, Hongjoong never lies. Meanwhile, your government lied countless times. You didn’t want to show him any uncertainty. The clear truck finally made its way onto the streets where people lined the sidewalks. Several of them saw Hongjoong, and you saw the hard glares and the objects they threw at him as it passed. You heard muffled jeers through the glass, people thankful that he is going to the noose. Yet you couldn’t help notice the few people who recognized you sitting in there with him. They waved their Republic flags, beamed brightly at you and called out your name. Students from Prestige Academy still in their crisp white uniforms, jumped up and down to get a tiny nod from you. Your heart fell into your stomach. They had no idea.

“They love you more than they hate me,” Hongjoong smiled slyly. “I wonder why that is?”

“Shut up,” you said quietly.

“Could it be that they see you as a hero?-”

“-I said ‘shut up’, inmate-”

“-That they see you as someone who gets things done?-”

“-What part of ‘shut up’ do you not understand?-”

“-Unlike our president who sits back and does nothing to help his suffering people? The same president who sat by as officers violated and abused innocent children? The same man who did nothing to punish those responsible for dozens of raids on border towns where innocent women, children and men were slaughtered like animals?” He leaned forward, eyes locked on you. “The person whose reputation you tarnished when you shot those soldiers?”

It made sense. You hated to admit what Hongjoong said could be plausible. You’ve seen what happens to those deemed enemies of the state. You watched several executions of people who may have shed a bad light on the president specifically. A lieutenant who uncovered disturbing, disgusting truths about him and his officials could very much be next. But why didn’t he simply have you arrested? The answer came to you through the people on the street. A woman on the street holding a magazine with your whole face on it told you why. She held your face. Not Yoon’s. You thought of the vendor from this morning.

‘You’ve done a lot more for people than Yoon for sure.’

“He’s in his mansion,” Hongjoong continued, “Gorging himself on delicacies that people could only dream of eating. He throws these grand parties at his home while people all around him struggle to put shoes on their kids’ feet. He could stop this war at any point; he could call a cease-fire and discuss negotiations with the leaders, but no. He lets it continue because he’s secretly being paid by war profiteers who are reaping the benefits of this ongoing war. He doesn’t care about the poor. He only cares about the rich,” he then said, “The people saw you defend those who needed you, and they saw that their leaders wouldn’t do the same. You wouldn’t use their hard earned tax money to have all this fan fare over an execution. You’d put a bullet in my head and call it a day.”

“It’d be cheaper, for sure.”

“Do you read the papers at all?” he asked.

“I’m not always near a newsstand.”

“President Yoon’s public approval went down by 15-points when the news about the kids came out, and when people saw nothing was being done,” he said. “It went down even further when people learned what was going on in the sectors outside of here. People saw him doing nothing about it, and lost trust in him.” He gazed over your face, eyes landing on your lips before going to your eyes, “They saw you at those border towns, giving food to starving kids, and saw someone who can be a leader.”

“I’m not a leader.”

“Yes, you are, and they don’t like that.”

“I don’t believe you,” you said. “You’re trying to get me off my game. You’re using this to distract me so when your men show up, I’m not fully aware of it.”

“You know I’m telling the truth,” he said.

“Where did you even get this information?” you asked irritably.

“Yeosang came upon it a few weeks ago,” he replied. “When he hacked into the intelligence main frame in hopes of finding plans for the new bombs your people are building. He found a locked file, and being nosey, he broke into it to find a list of people labeled as ‘person of interest’. He found that the Intelligence Division had been tasked with keeping surveillance on certain people: politicians who spoke out against the Republic, billionaires who they’d bribed into supporting the cause, and people suspected of working for the rebellion. He cross checked that list with the names of people who died under ‘mysterious circumstances’, and a good chunk of them are dead now. Poisonings, accidents, and unsolved murders were a common theme.” He paused, looking over your face once more, “Your name was on there, YN. It’s why I came here. You have shown your distaste at the Republic, and there’s a strong likelihood you’ll join the rebel cause. If you do, you’ll have all the information we’d need to defeat them.” He saw your hesitation, and said, “You know they’re corrupt enough to do it.”

It sounded too coincidental. It sounded like the sort of thing an enemy would come up with to distract you. Yet, was Hongjoong truly an enemy? A real enemy wouldn’t give away his own jailbreak. Had you captured any other rebel leader, they wouldn’t be with you right now. As the truck went up the street, you considered his words again.

Boggs mentioned seeing someone throwing the grenade into a window seconds before the explosion. If they wanted to go unnoticed, they’d wear all black to blend in with the night. You remembered the factory again. Most rebel hideouts showed signs of someone having lived there: sleeping bags, empty food cans, tables and chalkboards with photos and maps taped on them. The factory really looked empty with old cobwebs and dusty floors. Only chemical barrels remained behind in the rusty factory. But, were they really abandoned there or did someone place them there? You’re not sure.

“You’re not a stupid woman, YN,” Hongjoong said. “They would’ve asked you to escort me to the platform, so then they can shoot you and blame me for it.” You saw his face become hard, holding back whatever emotions swelled up inside him. “That’s what they told you when you radioed in, right?”

And you always follow orders.

Except the times you did not; the two times where you broke your oaths to The Republic and shot your ‘brothers in arms’. You’d indirectly and unintentionally exposed the corruption and perversion infecting your government. By releasing those children and liberating that town, you showed that you took your oath to ‘protect and serve’ seriously, while those above you did not. You turned back to the street where more people jeered at Hongjoong and cheered for you.

“Why are you telling me this now?”

“Because they can’t hear us here. They think you won’t believe me, which is why you're here.”

Because you always follow orders.

Your superiors believe you’re a blissfully ignorant soldier who does what they say without question. Yet, lately you’ve been proving them wrong and they can’t have that. You tried thinking of all the ways that he could be lying, but another fact always contradicted the first.

“Be vigilant when we step out of this truck,” he said. “Wooyoung isn’t the only sniper up high.”

“How do I know he won’t shoot me and let someone else take the blame?”

“Because he isn’t a snake like them. He has his reasons for joining us, and for wanting to help rescue you.”

“Like what?”

“It’s not my story to tell.”

The truck drove through into the city center. A large roundabout circling a golden fountain, you leaned against the window to see three beautiful statues: one was a woman with a blindfold holding two scales to signify The Republic’s blind justice; the third was a soldier crossing two swords over his head to signify the Republic’s strength and force, and the third was an androgynous figure holding a dove on their finger which signified the Republic's peace and prosperity. Three things that the Republic no longer had: peace, justice or strength. At the end of the motorcade stood Republic Hall, the courthouse and city hall combined. Standing up tall and made of white marble, you remembered you and Hongjoong receiving your graduation papers on the front steps. You’d both made your vows there like every other official did. Only difference is that you both upheld your promises.

“I solemnly swear to uphold the justice, peace and strength of The People’s Republic,” Hongjoong said softly. “I wonder which one of us actually meant that when they said it: us or them?”

The crowds here thickened throughout the morning, so people stood right up against the barricades keeping them off the street. Your chest filled with dread realizing they all stood underneath very tall stone buildings. If Hongjoong’s men have planted any explosives, they’ll be in those buildings and the people below will be casualties. You’d wanted to evacuate but The General disagreed. Why would he do that? These people have no part in his war on the rebellion. They shouldn’t be there. It didn’t matter how many uniforms carried weapons now; they’ll all be caught in the crossfires. The people standing on their balconies and hanging out of their windows will get the worst of it, since they’ll likely be closest to the explosions. You noticed, though, the amount of unoccupied windows. Their curtains drawn, they showed no signs of life behind their frames. People watching on television? Why watch on the television when it’s happening right outside their window? You envisioned Jung Wooyoung, a member of the sniper division, sitting behind one of them with his rifle trained right on you. But, right behind that came the vision of a faceless, nameless Republic sniper who is also only obeying his orders.

These pictures made every nerve in your body sink into adrenaline. Fight mode. No flight. Always fight.

The truck eventually stopped right at the steps of the building. Standing in front of them was a wooden platform a crew constructed overnight. A basic gallows with the Republic flag hanging behind it, a singular noose hung from the rafters above a trap door. The young girl still in love wanted to reach for him. She wanted to hug and kiss him deeply one last time. She wanted to confess everything she felt, and how sorry and stupid she was. Your eyes met his as the truck came to a complete stop.

“I don’t want you to die,” you said quietly, as if the universe might hear you and hasten his end.

“I don’t want you to die either,” he said solemnly. “I love you, YN. I always have. I still do. I don’t think I’m incapable of loving you, even if you chop off my hand.”

“To be fair, you blew up half my face and crippled my leg.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you either. I thought I was…” the words died in your throat. “I…” you squeezed your good eye shut, “You shouldn’t love me.”

“But I do.”

“Why?”

You saw the two soldiers climb out of the truck. “Because even when we both went for blood, grappling and fighting one another, I still missed you. I missed you in my bones, love.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“But I do.”

“But you shouldn’t,” you said through gritted teeth, your mouth going dry and throat closing up.

“You’re not a bad person, YN. You just work for bad people. You’re still that girl who used to feed stray cats, give money to the homeless, and always tried to do the right thing despite what other people said. You’re a good person.”

You saw them rounding to the back of the truck.

“I’m not that person anymore.”

“She’s in there. I know she is.”

“And she’s a fool,” you spat back at him, tears burning your eyes. No, you can’t cry now. “A fool who believed in the goodness of people; who believed that at the end of the day, justice prevailed. She thought she was fighting for the right side. The good side. There is no good side in a war-” they reached the back doors and stood to open them, “-Just a lesser of two evils.”

The roaring crowd finally reached your ears as the doors opened. You jumped out before anyone noticed your face, and stood aside for Hongjoong to be guided onto the pavement. You didn’t want to think anymore about what Kim Hongjoong feels for you. It only made your job harder. You couldn’t be distracted right now. Tapping your earpiece, the normal vision on your bionic eye changed to the infrared vision. It picked up the yellows, reds and orange heat of the people on the ground, but your eye swiveled away from them to the buildings above. You saw more figures blocking the view, but your eye stayed on the empty ones. Your good eyes searched for Shin and Boggs, who’d you’d told to meet you here. Perhaps they’d been held up.

Or worse.

Once the soldiers cuffed him again, doing their best not to tighten around his metal hand, you all began walking to the platform. There, you saw three people seated behind a podium to the left of the noose right by a set of stairs. General Bok sat farthest from the stairs, whipping his head away when he spotted you approaching; Vice President Han, a portly man with a shiny bald head and small thin-rimmed glasses on his long nose, and President Yoon. President Yoon was a tall, narrow man with thinning black hair and tight tanned skin. The plastic surgery often popular in the city showed in his thin nose bridge and puffy lips. You realized then that you hated him. Innocent children were trafficked and sold into sex slavery, and he didn’t seek justice because they were not Republic children. If anything, he benefited from it or took part in it. To him, the people in the sectors are not human, and should be treated as such. They are not important. They do not matter. What kind of president does that? Like Hongjoong said, he could stop the war at any time, yet insists it’s important that it continues. It is destroying his country, and he doesn’t care because it is not affecting him personally. The idea of this man having a hit list didn’t sound entirely off base. The two men with her were no better.

You took your position at the bottom of the staircase, gun at your chest and ready to go at a moment’s notice. Your squadmates still remained missing. Shin told you they’d been around the city center. Your infrared vision did not pick up anyone in the buildings or roofs above. Then, someone called out to you:

“Lieutenant Hwang, please come up here and join us.”

Yoon had spoken, and he stared at you with a friendly smile. It felt as if someone filled your insides with snow.

“Me, sir?”

“Yes,” he nodded, beckoning you up the steps. When you shakily reached the landing, he said, “I’d like you to be here with us,” he said, “You are responsible for The Pirate King’s capture and incarceration. I think it’s only right that you share some of the spotlight.”

“I was only doing my job, sir. I didn’t do it for any glory or-”

“-Like Bok said,” he laughed, “Modest until the end. Come. Don’t be shy.”

He guided you to a spot a few feet behind him. You glanced over to Bok, who did not meet your eyes. Coward. If he is in on this assassination attempt, the least he can do is look at you.

The soldiers walked Hongjoong across the stage, and your eyes met his. You noticed his watered with tears, even if he kept his composure and defiance up to the very end. Your own eye teared up again. Every laugh, every cry, every success and failure together flashed before you. The boy who loved glazed donuts and coffee, who wrote songs and loved music, was walking to his death because of you. You brought him here. You hunted him like a dog because the men around you said so. And how trustworthy are they? You watched them walk him right underneath the hanging noose. Your eyes stayed on him. You wanted to put every piece of him to memory before you lose it forever: the blue hair he genetically implanted to look cool, the perfect proportions of his body, the several piercings he had, and his bionic hand. Yeosang and Mingi did quite a job on it. You saw blinking lights right around the vital signs to keep track of his heartbeat which remained steady.

“Welcome, citizens of The Republic,” Yoon began his speech, his voice booming over the cheering crowd. “I thank you all for being here with us as we celebrate this triumphant day. This day will be marked in history as the beginning of the end of our struggles-”

You remember when those hands used to expertly disassemble and assemble rifles in record time. They were capable of pain and pleasure in equal amounts. You missed them. You missed him. Perhaps you’ll join Boggs and resign from command. You don’t want to do this anymore. You don’t want to live in anguish forever. You then noticed his middle finger bouncing in his palm. Your bionic eye is still searching the buildings, your good eye focused on the finger. What was he doing?

“-The outlaw you see standing before you is a man who has-”

A blue light began blinking in a series of spaces and dots. Morse code. Your wristband went off in your ear, and you chanced a glance at the screen. A message from Unknown came through. Without tapping it, the message opened on its own.

‘Apartment building on your left, fourth floor, third window from the corner.’

Infrared vision showed nobody there. You should’ve known. They’d wear reflective gear to conceal themselves. Zooming in on the window in question, you spotted a shadow behind the frilly white curtains. The incoming breeze made them billow inwards and the sniper had trouble hiding behind the window sill. You saw them. They wore the skull cap and mask of a sniper. You couldn’t let them know you’d seen them, otherwise they’ll abort the mission.

“-Kim Hongjoong, you stand convicted of high treason,” said Yoon, “Piracy, destruction of Republic property, murder-”

Staring into the crowd, you saw him. Short and slight, a young delivery man kept his bike parked on the sidewalk against a brick wall. You recognized him from earlier in the day, the delivery boy who had the newspaper printed on the side of his bike. Though now he’d removed his helmet to show a mop of black hair curtaining a pale, handsome face. Kang Yeosang’s apologetic eyes met yours as you spotted something in his hand. You recalled the man from his days serving the Republic. He’d been part of the squad who defected at the hospital bombing. His skills with technology were only outmatched by Shin, who helped build the Pyramid’s firewalls and security systems. Your eye zoomed in on his hand, which you just made out through the crowd of people. You realized what it was right away. You shook your head at him.

But, the blast did not happen in the street. The explosions came from far off in this distance. One large one that shook the very ground you stood on, followed by several more. Right at the same time, you saw several people in the crowd withdraw weapons from under shirts and jackets, and aimed fire at the officers on the ground. Your body swung into action. Pushing Yoon aside, you fired at the fighters on the sidewalks, using your eye as a scope to hit the right targets. Bullets punctured through the wooden stilts holding up the stage, blowing past you and the others on stage.

“Evacuate the street!” you shouted, finding cover behind the President’s podium, “Set evacuation plans in order-”

“-That’s not my order, Lieutenant-” said General Bok, who’d taken out his own pistol to fire back, “-Negate tha-”

“-Get as many people down the street as you can,” you said over the radio, “We need to reduce the civilian casualties-”

“-Lieutenant,” Bok gave you a stern warning, and you glared back.

You started giving orders through your earpiece, and watched all of them moving into action right away. More explosions came from your left, and you realized they’d blown up the Pyramid. But how? The two delivery men at the elevator. They had several long boxes with them that you thought to be donuts. You remembered Hongjoong’s reluctance to eat them you gave him, and it clicked instantly. The Pirates just destroyed communications, ammunition, artillery, and any support the Republic had left. You tapped your earpiece multiple times, hoping to get a radio through, but you were met with dead silence.

“YN!”

Hongjoong and the bullet reached you at the same time. Your enhanced ear caught the whizz of the bullet that would’ve struck your face had Hongjoong not pushed you down. It’d come from the direction of the apartment building. You don’t know how you know, but deep down you did. Using both hands, Hongjoong pulled down the wooden podium to shield you both from more gunfire. In the midst of the chaos, he must’ve broken free of his bonds. His face inches from yours, he said:

“Do you trust me?”

Your brain couldn’t process his words. It could only comprehend your racing heart and need to get away and find your squadmates.

“YN,” he said more forcefully, “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

It came out in a single breath. You said it without thinking, and this time you didn’t take it back. The rush of wind came through next as a whooshing sound came overhead. Yoon and the other officials might not recognize the Valiant, but you and Hongjoong did. A metal hovercraft built with the fragments of wrecked Republic ships, the Valiant was various shades of black, white and gray. Hongjoong and his crew truly leaned into their ‘pirate’ nickname by molding their aircraft like the old pirate ships. The engine caused surges of hot air to blow through the streets, blowing people back onto the street. It lowered down above the gallows, and the hull opened to reveal two people standing there: Choi San and Choi Jongho. San still wore the delivery man uniform, while Jongho wore a Republic guard uniform. Officer Kwang. You should’ve known when you didn’t recognize him. They threw down a rope ladder, and Hongjoong took your hand.

“I can’t,” you told him. “Not without my crew.”

“You can contact them later,” he said, quickly grabbing the ladder and bringing you over to it. “Start climbing. I’ll be right behind you.”

“Hongjoong-”

“-Go!”

He took your rifle from you, aiming it towards the guards coming up the stairs. You put your foot on the first ring and started to climb. That’s when the second bullet went past you. Then a third. Then a fourth. The sniper clearly planned to carry out their mission regardless. A cold sweat went over your whole body, causing your hands to slip on the slim rope, but you kept climbing. The wavering ladder made you a moving target, and the sniper isn’t that good. You looked down at the halfway point to see Hongjoong still on the ground. You called out to him, but he didn’t hear you over the wind and gunfire. It’d been at that moment that a deep pain shot through your body from your leg. The sniper’s tenth bullet found home in your shin, having broken the skin and lodged into the bone. You thought your entire leg went numb, only feeling the searing pain every time you lifted your leg. You gritted through the pain, continuing your climb. You need to get to the top, to safety, to where you can defend Hongjoong the best.

Another bullet sailed through the air into the back of your right shoulder. A lucky shot that burned in every pull upwards. You kept going. You did not stop or look around. The rushing winds made you deaf to anything anyone said to you. Your left ear picked up muffled sounds and static, which irritated what little bit of eardrum left inside. Then a third bullet caught you right when you reached the ramp several feet above the stage.

“Fuck!”

You screamed in agony as a bullet grazed your earpiece. Thick streams of blood wet the side of your face, and white noise filled your damaged ear before going silent completely. You felt the cartilage of your left ear as Jongho dragged you away from the edge; your finger went right through the split skin and it burned further. Your good ear-now truthfully good-only picked up the howling winds coming from ahead of you. The newest wound paralyzed the whole left side of your face. You could feel the mechanical ear malfunctioning still, clicking and shooting pain into your brain. The pain spread quickly to your eye, which started seeing static. Both enhancements connected together, one began malfunctioning once the other cut off. You felt blood atarting to seep from under the eye piece, and your chest tightened again.

“Hongjoong,” you huffed, doing your best to hold back the agonizing pain in your ear. You felt shocks of pain spark every time you opened your mouth, and you couldn’t help pressing a hand to stop it. “Hongjoong….”

“He’s on his way,” Jongho said. “Sit down. Let me see your ear.” He checked your severed ear and he winced, “Damn, that looks bad. Here, put this there and hold it. Yeosang could fix you up really quick.”

You took the rag from nearby and pressed it to your ear. However, the pain didn’t mask your concern for Hongjoong. One by one, his crew began appearing from the ladder: tall black-haired Jeong Yunho, who immediately rushed for the cockpit at the front of the ship; handsome Park Seonghwa, who grabbed a weapon from the rack and started firing down below; slender Jung Wooyoung who put down his tripod bag and knelt down to aim his sniper rifle into the buildings around the center; pink-haired Song Mingi, the one likely responsible for the explosions, who still wore his delivery man uniform, and Kang Yeosang in his delivery boy jacket. He spotted you grunting and doubled over in pain, and rushed over to you.

“My…ear,” you growled, not wanting to remove the rag from the wound but also not wanting to press down. “It’s…broken….I think.”

“Come on,” he took you by the arm, “Let’s get you to the medical bay-”

“-But…Hongjoong-”

“-Hongjoong would want you to think about your damaged ear,” he said, ignoring your request and pulling you further into the ship.

Your wounds made it hard to walk. You stumbled and fell into a wall before someone came up on your left side. Hongjoong. You knew it from the flash of blue you saw in a reflection. He said something, but you couldn’t hear him. Every muscle in your body went limp as your brain registered the sterile, silent infirmary in the ship’s second level. Yeosang and Hongjoong rested you on a metal slab, the bright light above you stinging your eyes and the hard metal being hard on your aching bones.

“Just relax, Lieutenant,” said Yeosang, who went to work with a bottle and syringe, “You’ll be fine in a few seconds.”

“Hon-Hong-Jo-oo-ng-” you forced yourself to say through a loosening jaw. Any mechanics keeping your jaw straight now malfuctioned, making it nearly impossible to speak.

“I’m right here, YN. I’m right here,” he shielded you from the bright lights above. His eyes full of panic and concern, he cupped your face and pecked your lips. “I’m right here. You’re safe now.”

“Hon-”

A sharp pinch to your vein interrupted you. Morphine. Ulta-Morphine from the look of the aquamarine liquid filling the tube and going into your arm. The needle’s sting did not even register with the rest of the pain you felt. You took deep breaths, trying to steady your heart. You kept your eye on Hongjoong, unable to care or think about anything else.

“I-I…”

The right side of your jaw slackened, and you lost the ability to speak at all. “It’s okay,” Hongjoong said, “You don’t have to talk. Just rest, okay? Yeosang is going to fix it.”

He didn’t understand. You lifted a hand to his face, despite the burning pain in your shoulder, and he pressed it to his cheek. A sharp metallic taste filled your mouth, and you turned your head to spit it out. Everything hurts, but you needed him to know. You needed to tell him before it all ended.

“Lo-Lov-ve-e yo-o-”

“I know,” he sniffed, kissing the top of your head. “I know.”

He did it all for you. He risked his life to save you. Even when you both fought and maimed each other, your love never waivered. The morphine finally hit your body, and all pain alleviated at once. Slowly, Hongjoong’s face faded to black.

****

“Will you be able to fix it, Yeosang? It’s gonna heal, right?”

“I fixed the eye with no real problems, but the ear is lost. The bullet went right through the cybernetic pieces around it when it slashed her ear, so the whole piece short circuited and bursted in the canal. She’s lucky we got to it in time. It could’ve made her brain dead.”

“Alright, but will she be okay, Yeosang?”

“She’s stable now, but the ear will take time to heal completely. Once that’s happened, I can refit her with a new enhancement. I don’t feel safe doing it until it’s healed.”

Hongjoong stayed beside the medical bed, watching a medical droid carefully changing the bandage around your head. It took a few hours for Yeosang and his assistant droid to patch you up, but you made it. They had to shave half of it to access the pieces attached to your skull. Yeosang and the medical droid managed to remove and patch up your bullet wounds, but your bionic pieces concerned him the most. He held your hand gently in his, kissing your knuckles. It’d been so long since he touched you this way. He remembered the days when he took any chance he could to touch you, whether hand holding or brushing hair from your face. He always had this need to feel some part of you; as if he needed to be sure he hadn't dreamed of you. Now, he had to wait until you’d become unconscious to hold your hand.

"You must love her a lot," he heard Yeosang say, fixing up an IV next to your bed. "To risk getting executed for her."

"I do."

Yeosang didn't question his feelings for you like some of his crew members. He understood it better, perhaps, seeing as he'd defected like Hongjoong did. He'd been one of the physicians in his unit, and Hongjoong recalled him saving people from the hospital fire. Yeosang dragged them to safety, bringing them to a camp where rebel physicians worked on them without interference. He had people on the Republic side whom he loved, and would do anything to get back, if he could.

"They'll blame it on her," he said to Hongjoong next. "They'll say she helped you and brand her a traitor."

"I know." He paused, "But they already thought that when she killed those men."

He'd heard about your heroic deeds through the channels. When he heard a loyalist lieutenant open fire on her fellow soldiers, he never thought it'd be you. He shouldn't have been surprised though. The Republic kept their citizens ignorant to the corruption and crime going on behind the scenes. They didn't know that their president was in the pockets of war profiteers and millionaires looking to cash in. They didn't know the things soldiers did to the people in the sectors, and how those people struggled to survive. They didn't know the fear, intimidation and pain with which the government used to hold power over them. You hadn't known, and you reacted far differently than he'd expected. When Kyungmin told Wooyoung a lady with one eye saved him and several other children, he questioned the boy further. When Jisoo tearfully explained to Seonghwa that a female soldier shot her captors at point blank, he needed to know more.

It seemed he wasn't the only one who solved problems with bullets.

Quick, heavy thumps made him turn around, and he saw Seonghwa standing in the doorway. He'd taken off his stolen Republic uniform, and wore a gray t-shirt over black pants and boots. Hongjoong noticed him panting and clutching the door frame. Soon, more footsteps came and Wooyoung and San appeared behind him.

"You need to turn on the TV," Seonghwa breathed, rushing to the monitor on the wall. "You need to see this. I can't believe it. They just announced it."

"Announced what?"

He turned on a monitor in the room where he saw the Republic news station covering the story. Lee Seojoon sat at her usual anchor desk, a solemn face despite her professional tone.

"-At precisely two-forty-two this afternoon, President Yoon Byungho was pronounced dead. The fearless leader of the People's Republic received several severe gunshot wounds during the Victory Parade this morning. Republic law enforcements cannot say whether Kim Hongjoong, the rebel Pirate King, fired those fatal shots, but it is being investigated-"

"He's dead?"

Hongjoong found this hard to believe. He knew he'd put a few bullets into the old man's back, but he hadn't seen him fall. His personal guards must've rushed him out of the battle and into the hospital. Hongjoong sat there imagining the man taking his final breaths and knowing he'd lost. The rebel leaders will soon hear of it, and plan an attack. The Vice president will no doubt take power, but he is weak compared to Yoon. They'd blown up their main command base and military center, and there is little resistance left in The Republic. It will fall and so will anyone who helped uphold it.

He looked back at you, sleeping soundlessly in Ultra-Morphine Land. He had you back. He had you here with him again. He could protect you. You might not love him right away again, and things will never be how they once were, but you were in his life again.

That was the real victory.