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Jungkook
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East Side
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It's terribly hot even this late in the day. I limp through the streets along the outskirts of the East Side, along the lake and out in the open, swarmed within the crowded bunch of other people. My wounds are still healing.
I wear the army pants that man gave me, and a thin white shirt Jimin found in a trash can. My cap is pulled down low, and I've added a bandage patch over my eye to add to my disguise. It's nothing unusual, really. Not in this crowd full of workers with factory injuries. I'm on my own today, Jimin's keeping a low profile a couple streets down, hidden from the crowd in a small building on the third floor ledge. There's no reason to risk both of us if I don't have to.
The all familiar sounds surround me: Street vendors call out to the passerby, selling whatever food they could get their hands on. Sellers linger around grocery stores, trying to win customers over. An old, run down car passes by. Boats sail around the lake, And the shore's flood sirens are silent.
Some areas are blocked off. I stay clear of them—the soldiers marked them as quarantine zones.
The speakers that line the buildings crackle and pop, and the Jumbotrons pause their ads—or, in some cases, warnings about another Colony attack— to show a video of the flag. Everyone stops in the streets and says the pledge.
When the Premier's name comes on, we salute towards the flag shown on the Jumbotron.
When the pledge ends, life resumes. I go to the Chinese themed bar covered in all kinds of graffiti. The attendant gives me a wide smile with some teeth missing, and ushers me inside. I thank the man, stepping in myself. This is a good place to dig up some information.
It's dark. The air smells of smoke, fried meet, and some alcohol. I make my way through the mess of dirty tables and wobbly chairs—quickly snatching food from unguarded plates as a go, then stuffing it beneath my shirt—until I reach the bar door. Behind me, a large circle of people cheer on a fight. I guess this bar tolerates illegal gambling. If they're smart, they'll be ready to bribe the street police with their winnings, unless they're willing to admit that they're making tax-free money.
The bartender doesn't bother to check my age. He doesn't even look at me.
"What'll it be?" He asks.
I shake my head.
"Just a water, please."
Behind him, I could see the crowd roar after one of the fighters was stricken down. He gives me a skeptical glance. His eyes shift to the bandage on my face.
"What happened to that eye, kid?"
"Fence accident. I tend pigs."
He makes a disgusted face, but at least he's interested in me now.
"Real shame, kid. You sure you don't want some beer to go with that? Must hurt."
I shake my head again.
"Thanks, but I don't drink. I like to stay alert."
YOU ARE READING
EPIC~Vkook BTS Fanfiction |DISCONTINUED|
Fanfiction|DISCONTINUED| dangerous flood almost destroys the whole world. The remaining population tries to adapt on its own with what resources they had left. Eventually, the world has turned into a more advanced, "dystopian" society. But, an infectious dise...
