A Measure of Sacrifice
Title: A Measure of Sacrifice (Part 1/8)
Authors: butterflyweb and rawthornewrites
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: GD/Top, BaeRi
Warnings: Character death, violence
Summary: Seunghyun passes out at 8:14, Seoul time. By the time he wakes, at 10:32, the fifty-six Allied Military outposts on Earth and eleven out of fifteen satellites in space have been blown to smithereens.
Author's Note: This is a follow up to A Measure of Salvation however, if you prefer the ambiguity of that fic's ending, by all means, it can still stand alone. Banner made for us by the fantastic and talented atenais_pala
The last thing he sees as rough hands drag him out of the cargo bay is Jiyong's face. The Ahma don't cry, so says myth and the intergalactic rumor-mill. They don't do the stupid thing and try to follow where they know they can't. They don't jump to defend their fellow man, allowing themselves to be clubbed in the head with the butt of a rifle. Above all, they don't scream like their heart is breaking right there, on the sickeningly shiny floor of an alien ship. They're soulless, primitive creatures. Seunghyun repeats the lie like a mantra, drowning out the sound of Jiyong's sobs. He can't stand another minute of this.
He won't have to. Thick, white pain washes over him, sinking into his system like poison. He screams without sound, doubling over only to be kicked. Move, swine, they yell into his head, taunting in languages he doesn't understand.
It's no sweeter the second time around, lies and hate slipping through his mind like oil slick with the Nabu holding the match. He tries to drag in measured, steady breaths, tries to put up defenses in his mind beyond his species' ability to create. Not for the first time, he hates his human weakness. He hates Youngbae more for not showing him how to overcome it.
A tall, scarred Nabu shoves a hand through his chest, picking him up by the heart - or what feels like it - and shoving him through a sliding door.
"This must be the med bay, huh," Seunghyun chokes, crumbling into a pile of bones and defiance, "but your bedside manner kinda sucks."
The Nabu smiles, thin lips baring white, white teeth.
So like a human to hide behind foolish bravado. You think I can't feel your fear? It's so potent I can taste it.
He thinks about everything else the son of a bitch can taste, but he doesn't say it. He doesn't have to, since the Nabu are in his head, picking apart whatever's left of him. It's what they do best, stupid fucking aliens, screwing with his mind, his species - the whole goddamn world--Another spike of pain, this time physical and real, easily pinned down to the hand that yanks his head back.
Do you know where we are now, human? How close to your home planet? Look, look right there... Your homeworld was once blue oceans and clouds. You've polluted it. We wanted you here to see the way we're going to cleanse it of your disease.
Earth is a pale blue spot against the unforgiving black, beautiful and alone, half-bathed in their sun's rays. It wound be winter in Seoul now, nearing Christmas. He fights against a reaction, against the bile that rises in his throat and the grief that threatens to swallow. He won't give them the fucking satisfaction.
He can almost feel the Nabu's smirk in the back of his mind.
His dreams are hard, unyielding stones he carries on his back. The heavy burden he's borne for a year has led to this moment, this waste. He gets to sit back and watch his world burn.
Look, the Nabu wills into his mind, can't you see?
Seunghyun wants to tell him to go fuck himself, humans are simple creatures with a simple vision. The words don't quite make it out. There's something else to see.
He remembers Youngbae as the strange, quiet man he met in that tavern, when he was looking for a medicine man to take away his nightmares and give him something to help him sleep. He remembers him when he took him back to his ship the first time, his apologetic smile when he first spoke into Seunhyun's mind. He looks nothing like the pale, lifeless body stretched out on a metal slab about a foot away from the window-viewer.
"Bae--"
The name spills from his mouth without thought, unable to check the grief it communicates in a single syllable. His body surges forward without his consent, uselessly, strong fingers pulling him back by his hair, clamped around his wrists. Youngbae's eyes are open, staring, unseeing, and Seunghyun chokes on the sob that rises in his throat.
Can't hear him, can you, human? Call to him, see if he'll answer you now...
"Motherfucker, I'll kill you," Seunghyun hears himself shout, "I'll destroy your whole fucking planet--" Pain rips through him, cutting off the tirade. This is just what Youngbae tried to prevent, but he can't pretend that he wouldn't put a bullet right through every Nabu in sight if he had a gun in his hands.
Maybe they're right.
His eyes burn, his vision blurs, his own traitorous reassurances come back to mock him. He told Seungri that Youngbae would be fine. He was strong, he could hold his own. He was one against hundreds, thousands, a strong oak in a high wind and now he's lying there, broken--the pain is grotesquely physical, threatening to bend Seunghyun in half, to cripple him entirely.
The Nabu laugh. They're not amused, they're giddy with his vivid suffering. He can't help think it's like poking at a fish flailing on dry land, like he used to do, back home, on Earth. As a child.
These are children with guns, nukes and worse. They shove him down and leave him there, tearing down his world piece by piece. Seunghyun steels himself through sobs and anguish, fingers digging into his own reflection in the floor.
He's never wanted the soft whisper of Youngbae's voice in his thoughts so fucking much. He can't do this by himself. He's human, only human, so weak and ineffectual in the grand scheme of things. Youngbae promised to help him, to stay with him.
The scarred Nabu moves to the window, his footsteps too loud on the metal deck, thin lips pressed together in a hateful smile. He turns, eyes falling on Seunghyun.
This is humanity? This is our fall? He bares his teeth, like an animal. You're pathetic. And you'll watch your world burn for its audacity.
Another kick buries itself in his ribs, knocking the air from his lungs, leaving him crumpled on the silver floor, the remnants of salt on his cheeks.
Some species of silent conversation goes on between them and Seunghyun knows, from what Seungri remembers, from what Youngbae told him, ages ago, that they're connected to the ship. They know everything that goes on, hear every voice. Symbiotic, man and machine bound to function at their peak. They leave him there with their scarred brethren as he takes a short scalpel to Youngbae's shirt. His movements are slow and measured, frayed, bloodied cloth spreading open under his fingers.
"Stop," Seunghyun chokes. "Don't touch--"
A look filled with contempt is thrown his way. He's of no use to us anymore.
It's like a lash across the chest, the black pain that flares at the words, Seunghyun's jaw clenched so tight, he all but tastes blood. He attempts to stagger to his feet, savage impulses moving past the burn of his muscles.
"Get your fucking hands off him--"
Your ways are nonsensical, human. Don't presume to teach us how to recycle our dead. It's meant to be scientific, dispassionate, the Nabu are controlled, zen-like creatures. They aren't meant to take pleasure in the misery of others. So the sight of a smile on a mangled face is more than out of place. It's enough to move Seunghyun forward.
"I'll kill you if you touch him."
If nothing else, it makes the Nabu turn, calculating blue eyes pinning him in place like a bug behind glass.
You never heard his screams, the Nabu taunts, eyes glittering as they stay fixed on Seunghyun's. The fool called out for you. Such a shame to see trust so misplaced.
There's a lie in that. There's a challenge. Seunghyun remembers schoolyard games and bullies mocking for being too big, too young, too short. Too stupid. He remembers the surge of anger and the desire to prove himself. It's what pushes him now, like a slow burning fire suddenly drenched in gasoline.
He's on him in a few shaky steps, knuckles bleeding where they bury themselves in Scarface's bony cheek. It's a sloppy punch and he pictures his coach on the boxing team at the Academy calling him a pussy for it, but it's the best he has, given the circumstances.
The blow he receives in return knocks him to the ground, the Nabu grabbing him by the hair, the sucker punch neat and clean and nearly enough to break his nose. The power behind it puts him down, sprawled on the slick metal floor, the alien looming over him with a look of sickening satisfaction behind his hate.
He doesn't let him enjoy it for long.
Baring his teeth, he moves as quick as his beaten body will let him, delivering a vicious kick to the back the Nabu's knees, sweeping them out from under him.
For all that these fuckers see the future, the Nabu doesn't sense this coming until he's flat on his ass, the air knocked out of his lungs. He looks bewildered for about a second before a clean swipe of his right leg knocks into Seunghyun's kneecap, a popping sound preceding the scream that ensues.
"Fuck!"
You think you can take me, swine? Look at yourself, you're already dead. Scarface climbs over him, long limbs bending awkwardly and without grace. Nothing like an Ahma. We were to keep you alive, so you could see how hopeless your cause truly is... but I think I can make an exception.
He can taste blood in his mouth, feel it trickle from his nose and across his chin, leg bent at a sick angle. The pain makes his movements sluggish, an aborted right cross is knocked to the side like a harmless swat, the Nabu seizing his throat with a long-fingered hand, squeezing hard enough to make Seunghyun see spots.
He smashes his fist into the Nabu's side with all the strength he can manage, hoping to break ribs, to break his grasp, and from the corner of eye, he sees Youngbae's still form. Desecrated, profaned by this fucker, and it makes his vision bleed red.
Seunghyun forgets pain. Forgets fear and the primal instinct that's bidding him run, run fast and protect himself. He puts every ounce of his strength into the punch. It's only enough to make the Nabu waver, his hand shifting to catch himself against the crystalline floor, but it's enough. Seunghyun seizes the moment, the opportunity, and wraps both hands around the Nabu's throat.
Their bodies are slightly different, vocal chords absent in one and present in the other, brains at different levels of development on the evolutionary scale. But they are profoundly similar in one thing: they both need fully functioning organs to survive. His fists tighten around a thin, long neck, squeezing, squeezing so hard he can feel the Nabu's pulse beat through him like a dim, distant drum. He digs in, gnashing his teeth as hands try to loosen his hold. A punch catches him in the eye, but it's weak at best. He doesn't let go.
Fingers catch in his hair, thumbs attempt to gouge his eyes out, elegance forgotten in the sudden desperation to cause pain. The Nabu's eyes are bloodshot, hateful, the pain in Seunghyun's body a siren's call to surrender, but he forces himself to hold. To choke the life out of him, baring teeth in a primal display of aggression, letting the adrenaline push him through.
Die, he thinks hatefully, desperately, pushing his thumbs against the Nabu's jugular.
There's a sickening crack, the sound of bone shifting against bone and then, suddenly, the Nabu goes limp against him, his weight slumping forward over Seunghyun's prone body. He's still warm and fear of reprisal, if nothing else, keeps Seunghyun from letting go for a long moment.
Slowly, discomfort and better judgment start to creep in, past the momentary panic. His mind begins to work again. First assessment: the Nabu isn't breathing. There is no heartbeat, no sound of his voice in Seunghyun's head. Second assessment: his pals will no doubt realize it in a few seconds and Seunghyun won't be able to take on a shipful of telepathic murderers, with or without an adrenaline rush.
He shoves the body on top of him to the side, his knee instantly protesting the movement.
Crying out, he grits his teeth, pushing his knuckles into the metal floor, trying to refocus the pain. Fucking mind over matter. He can do this. He doesn't have any time to waste, no time before the Nabu realize what has happened and come to kill the rest of them.
Seunghyun clenches his jaw, features blanched and hands shaking, taking the palm-sized drive from his pocket. He'll mourn Youngbae when he's sure he's not about to follow him into death, he decides, shaking with the effort it takes to drag himself along the floor like a slithering worm. Youngbae would tell him to stop being so negative, he thinks, forcing his gaze on the computer console and away from his friend's body.
Every step is an ordeal, agony ricocheting up his spine and into his brain like electricity, but he pushes through it, unsurprised to find his hand trembling so bad he can barely fit the drive into the console once he reaches the wall. Seungri said to put it in and press play, nothing more. He said Daesung was smarter than Seunghyun would ever be, when it came to computers. It was the last thing Seunghyun got to hear before they pulled them off their ship and onto this floating prison.
Put it in, flip side up.
Press--His vision threatens to go dark, but a burst of light, like a star going supernova in front of him forces him awake. A nuke cuts through Earth's atmosphere, the impact more beautiful and terrible than anything Seunghyun's seen in his life.
Press play.
No sooner does he press his finger to the key than his weight gives out from under him, crumpling to the deck as his vision swims. It hurts more than anything he's ever experienced, a sick, constant throb crawling through his body as his head falls back against the floor, gaze caught by the fire that burns in Earth's atmosphere.
The ship rattles briefly, as though hit by return fire. Seunghyun doesn't need to have a Nabu's intelligence to tell that it's absurd. He turns his gaze to Youngbae's body on the metal slab just as the air around him becomes electric, becomes life.
Daesung gasps, a hand clutching his empty chest. "Holy fuck, what--where am I?"
He looks at Seunghyun, at Youngbae, and for all that he's a brilliant machine and their last hope, recognition is slow in coming. The hologram kneels beside him, the touch spectral as he brushes Seunghyun's bloody face, fingers passing through the skin. There's a kind of dread on his features, carefully crafted and studied from thousands of Earth films.
"You--you need medical attention. I'll get Seungri, he can--"
"Daesung," Seunghyun rasps, voice destroyed, the cause still preserved in the bruises on his throat. "Daesung, you remember, don't you? We're not on the ship. Do you remember what Seungri told you?"
Painfully human eyes flicker as they look at him, as they take in the planet burning before them. Computers can't cry, just like Ahmas, just like Nabu can't die on a metal slab in orbit to a planet that can't be worth all of this. Seunghyun bangs his fist into the floor.
"Daesung!"
Doors slide open, three Nabu coming after them with weapons drawn and fuck, this is how it ends, this has all been for nothing, just a half-baked plan pieced together by three sub-intelligent life-forms--
Daesung is gone and Youngbae is dead and all of it was just a waste--
The Nabu take in the body on the floor, neck twisted at an unnatural angle, and drag him up by his hair, pressing a gun to his temple.
Human filth! The female shrieks, her eyes blazing and her hands tight on her weapon. You will pay for this, you will--
There's a sudden, almost sickening silence, the Nabu cruiser shuddering around him, fingers going ever so slightly lax in his hair. The look of confusion on their faces makes them seem almost childlike and harmless, like pretty, humanoid dolls whose strings have just been severed. They collapse, one right after the other, dominoes crashing to the ground with eyes open and unseeing. Their lungs still move.
"It's me," a voice crackles through the ship, phantom-like and reassuring. "I have control of the ship. Seunghyun, hang on to something, okay? This is going to get worse before it gets better."
How much worse, he wants to ask, but Daesung has gone silent, the ship tilting as they pick up speed. Seunghyun closes his eyes. He doesn't need to see it to know that they've turned Nabu guns onto Nabu ships.
That the plan, hinging on desperation and a hope, had made it into fruition.
Wavelengths, Daesung had said, ages ago. Brainwaves. It was all about finding the right frequency. The one that connected the Nabu to their ships, that would render them helpless in the hands of a creature even more evolved than a race of precognitives. Daesung.
His head hits the crystalline floor, his strength leaving him. Seungri remembered it best and at the right time, too. He knew Youngbae would be taken first, he guessed that it would come to this. Youngbae had agreed, lips opening without a sound before he swallowed the rest of their scheme. The Nabu could have killed any of them the moment they found them, that they didn't spoke of the depth of their evil.
Fight terror with terror, Seungri had suggested and Jiyong had kissed him, hard, held him tight until they were pried apart by brutal, gun-wielding hands. He had saved his yelling for when Seunghyun began to taunt their guards. He hadn't cried until they took him away to witness his world's end. Just as they had planned.
His gaze slides to Youngbae's unmoving body. He didn't see this coming.
He pushes himself up shakily, painfully, biting down on the edge of his tongue. He can feel his jaw twitch with the urge to sob, fingers curling around corner of a table. Trying to pull himself up, to see him. They have to take him with them. They won't leave him here.
The ship trembles as they unload missiles into the Enemy, Daesung taking charge like they knew he would. It's only now, with the element of surprise on the side of the Nabu that they can steal it from them, carving out a spot of hope in the middle of outright destruction. Seunghyun closes his eyes, putting his trust in a computer program with a better moral compass than Youngbae's entire race.
Resting his weight painfully on his good leg, he stands, feeling his stomach lurch at the sight of Youngbae's blank gaze.
"Bae," he whispers softly, swallowing hard. Lifting a hand slowly, reaching to close his eyes. To give him dignity in death.
His breath catches as he touches him.
He's still...he's still warm. His chest moves, very slowly, breath barely there, but unmistakeably present. "Da--" Seunghyun catches himself, swallowing back his instinct. He can't call for help, not yet. They have a job to do. Daesung has to finish this.
"Hang in there," he tells his friend softly, his voice choked, as though Youngbae can hear him. As though he could lie here, like this, if he heard him.
"Seunghyun!"
Jiyong's voice is distinct and sharp, slicing through the cloud of pain and exhaustion that's threatening to pull him under. It cuts through the grief and the gnawing fear, easing him into a warm embrace. The Ahma flies through the room, over fallen bodies without even looking where he lays his feet, lithe and alien before wrapping himself around Seunghyun's mangled body.
"Careful," he chokes, resting his head on the other man's shoulder, holding him back just as tightly. "We have to--we have to get Bae help, something's wrong--"
Seungri screams, raging as he all but shoves past them to grab at Youngbae's shoulders. "No, no, no." The words are a frantic litany, dread etched into the Ahma's features. "Wake up. Why isn't he waking up? What happened--why--Wake up! Wake--"
"He's alive," Seunghyun tries to say, shifting in Jiyong's arms to reach for the other Ahma. "He's just, I don't know..."
Teeth snap at him, a near-feral hiss directed his way, stopping his hand in mid-air. Fear is stark in Seungri's eyes, primal, his hands shaking as he lifts Youngbae from the table, cradling him against his chest. Possessive.
"You're bleeding," Jiyong murmurs, cupping his cheek. His hold suddenly turns tight around his waist. Suffocating. "You're... Seunghyun? Seunghyun... aheri, stay with me. Come on, baby... baby, please..."
"I'm okay," Seunghyun breathes softly, eyes slipping closed, exhausted and in pain. "Don't worry. Don't..."
He doesn't get to tell him not to be scared. He doesn't get to do much of anything as he slumps in Jiyong's arms, black encroaching over his vision like a spiderweb. It drowns out every sound, every thought about time and Earth and Youngbae.
Seunghyun passes out at 8:14, Seoul time. By the time he wakes, at 10:32, the fifty-six Allied Military outposts on Earth and eleven out of fifteen satellites in space have been blown to smithereens. The Earth's population has been decimated, whole continents bathed in panic.
The first thing Seunghyun sees is the Myungdong Cathedral, its long thin spike piercing the darkened sky. His hospital bed is inexplicably soft.
He is alone.
Authors: butterflyweb and rawthornewrites
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: GD/Top, BaeRi
Warnings: Character death, violence
Summary: Seunghyun passes out at 8:14, Seoul time. By the time he wakes, at 10:32, the fifty-six Allied Military outposts on Earth and eleven out of fifteen satellites in space have been blown to smithereens.
Author's Note: This is a follow up to A Measure of Salvation however, if you prefer the ambiguity of that fic's ending, by all means, it can still stand alone. Banner made for us by the fantastic and talented atenais_pala
The last thing he sees as rough hands drag him out of the cargo bay is Jiyong's face. The Ahma don't cry, so says myth and the intergalactic rumor-mill. They don't do the stupid thing and try to follow where they know they can't. They don't jump to defend their fellow man, allowing themselves to be clubbed in the head with the butt of a rifle. Above all, they don't scream like their heart is breaking right there, on the sickeningly shiny floor of an alien ship. They're soulless, primitive creatures. Seunghyun repeats the lie like a mantra, drowning out the sound of Jiyong's sobs. He can't stand another minute of this.
He won't have to. Thick, white pain washes over him, sinking into his system like poison. He screams without sound, doubling over only to be kicked. Move, swine, they yell into his head, taunting in languages he doesn't understand.
It's no sweeter the second time around, lies and hate slipping through his mind like oil slick with the Nabu holding the match. He tries to drag in measured, steady breaths, tries to put up defenses in his mind beyond his species' ability to create. Not for the first time, he hates his human weakness. He hates Youngbae more for not showing him how to overcome it.
A tall, scarred Nabu shoves a hand through his chest, picking him up by the heart - or what feels like it - and shoving him through a sliding door.
"This must be the med bay, huh," Seunghyun chokes, crumbling into a pile of bones and defiance, "but your bedside manner kinda sucks."
The Nabu smiles, thin lips baring white, white teeth.
So like a human to hide behind foolish bravado. You think I can't feel your fear? It's so potent I can taste it.
He thinks about everything else the son of a bitch can taste, but he doesn't say it. He doesn't have to, since the Nabu are in his head, picking apart whatever's left of him. It's what they do best, stupid fucking aliens, screwing with his mind, his species - the whole goddamn world--Another spike of pain, this time physical and real, easily pinned down to the hand that yanks his head back.
Do you know where we are now, human? How close to your home planet? Look, look right there... Your homeworld was once blue oceans and clouds. You've polluted it. We wanted you here to see the way we're going to cleanse it of your disease.
Earth is a pale blue spot against the unforgiving black, beautiful and alone, half-bathed in their sun's rays. It wound be winter in Seoul now, nearing Christmas. He fights against a reaction, against the bile that rises in his throat and the grief that threatens to swallow. He won't give them the fucking satisfaction.
He can almost feel the Nabu's smirk in the back of his mind.
His dreams are hard, unyielding stones he carries on his back. The heavy burden he's borne for a year has led to this moment, this waste. He gets to sit back and watch his world burn.
Look, the Nabu wills into his mind, can't you see?
Seunghyun wants to tell him to go fuck himself, humans are simple creatures with a simple vision. The words don't quite make it out. There's something else to see.
He remembers Youngbae as the strange, quiet man he met in that tavern, when he was looking for a medicine man to take away his nightmares and give him something to help him sleep. He remembers him when he took him back to his ship the first time, his apologetic smile when he first spoke into Seunhyun's mind. He looks nothing like the pale, lifeless body stretched out on a metal slab about a foot away from the window-viewer.
"Bae--"
The name spills from his mouth without thought, unable to check the grief it communicates in a single syllable. His body surges forward without his consent, uselessly, strong fingers pulling him back by his hair, clamped around his wrists. Youngbae's eyes are open, staring, unseeing, and Seunghyun chokes on the sob that rises in his throat.
Can't hear him, can you, human? Call to him, see if he'll answer you now...
"Motherfucker, I'll kill you," Seunghyun hears himself shout, "I'll destroy your whole fucking planet--" Pain rips through him, cutting off the tirade. This is just what Youngbae tried to prevent, but he can't pretend that he wouldn't put a bullet right through every Nabu in sight if he had a gun in his hands.
Maybe they're right.
His eyes burn, his vision blurs, his own traitorous reassurances come back to mock him. He told Seungri that Youngbae would be fine. He was strong, he could hold his own. He was one against hundreds, thousands, a strong oak in a high wind and now he's lying there, broken--the pain is grotesquely physical, threatening to bend Seunghyun in half, to cripple him entirely.
The Nabu laugh. They're not amused, they're giddy with his vivid suffering. He can't help think it's like poking at a fish flailing on dry land, like he used to do, back home, on Earth. As a child.
These are children with guns, nukes and worse. They shove him down and leave him there, tearing down his world piece by piece. Seunghyun steels himself through sobs and anguish, fingers digging into his own reflection in the floor.
He's never wanted the soft whisper of Youngbae's voice in his thoughts so fucking much. He can't do this by himself. He's human, only human, so weak and ineffectual in the grand scheme of things. Youngbae promised to help him, to stay with him.
The scarred Nabu moves to the window, his footsteps too loud on the metal deck, thin lips pressed together in a hateful smile. He turns, eyes falling on Seunghyun.
This is humanity? This is our fall? He bares his teeth, like an animal. You're pathetic. And you'll watch your world burn for its audacity.
Another kick buries itself in his ribs, knocking the air from his lungs, leaving him crumpled on the silver floor, the remnants of salt on his cheeks.
Some species of silent conversation goes on between them and Seunghyun knows, from what Seungri remembers, from what Youngbae told him, ages ago, that they're connected to the ship. They know everything that goes on, hear every voice. Symbiotic, man and machine bound to function at their peak. They leave him there with their scarred brethren as he takes a short scalpel to Youngbae's shirt. His movements are slow and measured, frayed, bloodied cloth spreading open under his fingers.
"Stop," Seunghyun chokes. "Don't touch--"
A look filled with contempt is thrown his way. He's of no use to us anymore.
It's like a lash across the chest, the black pain that flares at the words, Seunghyun's jaw clenched so tight, he all but tastes blood. He attempts to stagger to his feet, savage impulses moving past the burn of his muscles.
"Get your fucking hands off him--"
Your ways are nonsensical, human. Don't presume to teach us how to recycle our dead. It's meant to be scientific, dispassionate, the Nabu are controlled, zen-like creatures. They aren't meant to take pleasure in the misery of others. So the sight of a smile on a mangled face is more than out of place. It's enough to move Seunghyun forward.
"I'll kill you if you touch him."
If nothing else, it makes the Nabu turn, calculating blue eyes pinning him in place like a bug behind glass.
You never heard his screams, the Nabu taunts, eyes glittering as they stay fixed on Seunghyun's. The fool called out for you. Such a shame to see trust so misplaced.
There's a lie in that. There's a challenge. Seunghyun remembers schoolyard games and bullies mocking for being too big, too young, too short. Too stupid. He remembers the surge of anger and the desire to prove himself. It's what pushes him now, like a slow burning fire suddenly drenched in gasoline.
He's on him in a few shaky steps, knuckles bleeding where they bury themselves in Scarface's bony cheek. It's a sloppy punch and he pictures his coach on the boxing team at the Academy calling him a pussy for it, but it's the best he has, given the circumstances.
The blow he receives in return knocks him to the ground, the Nabu grabbing him by the hair, the sucker punch neat and clean and nearly enough to break his nose. The power behind it puts him down, sprawled on the slick metal floor, the alien looming over him with a look of sickening satisfaction behind his hate.
He doesn't let him enjoy it for long.
Baring his teeth, he moves as quick as his beaten body will let him, delivering a vicious kick to the back the Nabu's knees, sweeping them out from under him.
For all that these fuckers see the future, the Nabu doesn't sense this coming until he's flat on his ass, the air knocked out of his lungs. He looks bewildered for about a second before a clean swipe of his right leg knocks into Seunghyun's kneecap, a popping sound preceding the scream that ensues.
"Fuck!"
You think you can take me, swine? Look at yourself, you're already dead. Scarface climbs over him, long limbs bending awkwardly and without grace. Nothing like an Ahma. We were to keep you alive, so you could see how hopeless your cause truly is... but I think I can make an exception.
He can taste blood in his mouth, feel it trickle from his nose and across his chin, leg bent at a sick angle. The pain makes his movements sluggish, an aborted right cross is knocked to the side like a harmless swat, the Nabu seizing his throat with a long-fingered hand, squeezing hard enough to make Seunghyun see spots.
He smashes his fist into the Nabu's side with all the strength he can manage, hoping to break ribs, to break his grasp, and from the corner of eye, he sees Youngbae's still form. Desecrated, profaned by this fucker, and it makes his vision bleed red.
Seunghyun forgets pain. Forgets fear and the primal instinct that's bidding him run, run fast and protect himself. He puts every ounce of his strength into the punch. It's only enough to make the Nabu waver, his hand shifting to catch himself against the crystalline floor, but it's enough. Seunghyun seizes the moment, the opportunity, and wraps both hands around the Nabu's throat.
Their bodies are slightly different, vocal chords absent in one and present in the other, brains at different levels of development on the evolutionary scale. But they are profoundly similar in one thing: they both need fully functioning organs to survive. His fists tighten around a thin, long neck, squeezing, squeezing so hard he can feel the Nabu's pulse beat through him like a dim, distant drum. He digs in, gnashing his teeth as hands try to loosen his hold. A punch catches him in the eye, but it's weak at best. He doesn't let go.
Fingers catch in his hair, thumbs attempt to gouge his eyes out, elegance forgotten in the sudden desperation to cause pain. The Nabu's eyes are bloodshot, hateful, the pain in Seunghyun's body a siren's call to surrender, but he forces himself to hold. To choke the life out of him, baring teeth in a primal display of aggression, letting the adrenaline push him through.
Die, he thinks hatefully, desperately, pushing his thumbs against the Nabu's jugular.
There's a sickening crack, the sound of bone shifting against bone and then, suddenly, the Nabu goes limp against him, his weight slumping forward over Seunghyun's prone body. He's still warm and fear of reprisal, if nothing else, keeps Seunghyun from letting go for a long moment.
Slowly, discomfort and better judgment start to creep in, past the momentary panic. His mind begins to work again. First assessment: the Nabu isn't breathing. There is no heartbeat, no sound of his voice in Seunghyun's head. Second assessment: his pals will no doubt realize it in a few seconds and Seunghyun won't be able to take on a shipful of telepathic murderers, with or without an adrenaline rush.
He shoves the body on top of him to the side, his knee instantly protesting the movement.
Crying out, he grits his teeth, pushing his knuckles into the metal floor, trying to refocus the pain. Fucking mind over matter. He can do this. He doesn't have any time to waste, no time before the Nabu realize what has happened and come to kill the rest of them.
Seunghyun clenches his jaw, features blanched and hands shaking, taking the palm-sized drive from his pocket. He'll mourn Youngbae when he's sure he's not about to follow him into death, he decides, shaking with the effort it takes to drag himself along the floor like a slithering worm. Youngbae would tell him to stop being so negative, he thinks, forcing his gaze on the computer console and away from his friend's body.
Every step is an ordeal, agony ricocheting up his spine and into his brain like electricity, but he pushes through it, unsurprised to find his hand trembling so bad he can barely fit the drive into the console once he reaches the wall. Seungri said to put it in and press play, nothing more. He said Daesung was smarter than Seunghyun would ever be, when it came to computers. It was the last thing Seunghyun got to hear before they pulled them off their ship and onto this floating prison.
Put it in, flip side up.
Press--His vision threatens to go dark, but a burst of light, like a star going supernova in front of him forces him awake. A nuke cuts through Earth's atmosphere, the impact more beautiful and terrible than anything Seunghyun's seen in his life.
Press play.
No sooner does he press his finger to the key than his weight gives out from under him, crumpling to the deck as his vision swims. It hurts more than anything he's ever experienced, a sick, constant throb crawling through his body as his head falls back against the floor, gaze caught by the fire that burns in Earth's atmosphere.
The ship rattles briefly, as though hit by return fire. Seunghyun doesn't need to have a Nabu's intelligence to tell that it's absurd. He turns his gaze to Youngbae's body on the metal slab just as the air around him becomes electric, becomes life.
Daesung gasps, a hand clutching his empty chest. "Holy fuck, what--where am I?"
He looks at Seunghyun, at Youngbae, and for all that he's a brilliant machine and their last hope, recognition is slow in coming. The hologram kneels beside him, the touch spectral as he brushes Seunghyun's bloody face, fingers passing through the skin. There's a kind of dread on his features, carefully crafted and studied from thousands of Earth films.
"You--you need medical attention. I'll get Seungri, he can--"
"Daesung," Seunghyun rasps, voice destroyed, the cause still preserved in the bruises on his throat. "Daesung, you remember, don't you? We're not on the ship. Do you remember what Seungri told you?"
Painfully human eyes flicker as they look at him, as they take in the planet burning before them. Computers can't cry, just like Ahmas, just like Nabu can't die on a metal slab in orbit to a planet that can't be worth all of this. Seunghyun bangs his fist into the floor.
"Daesung!"
Doors slide open, three Nabu coming after them with weapons drawn and fuck, this is how it ends, this has all been for nothing, just a half-baked plan pieced together by three sub-intelligent life-forms--
Daesung is gone and Youngbae is dead and all of it was just a waste--
The Nabu take in the body on the floor, neck twisted at an unnatural angle, and drag him up by his hair, pressing a gun to his temple.
Human filth! The female shrieks, her eyes blazing and her hands tight on her weapon. You will pay for this, you will--
There's a sudden, almost sickening silence, the Nabu cruiser shuddering around him, fingers going ever so slightly lax in his hair. The look of confusion on their faces makes them seem almost childlike and harmless, like pretty, humanoid dolls whose strings have just been severed. They collapse, one right after the other, dominoes crashing to the ground with eyes open and unseeing. Their lungs still move.
"It's me," a voice crackles through the ship, phantom-like and reassuring. "I have control of the ship. Seunghyun, hang on to something, okay? This is going to get worse before it gets better."
How much worse, he wants to ask, but Daesung has gone silent, the ship tilting as they pick up speed. Seunghyun closes his eyes. He doesn't need to see it to know that they've turned Nabu guns onto Nabu ships.
That the plan, hinging on desperation and a hope, had made it into fruition.
Wavelengths, Daesung had said, ages ago. Brainwaves. It was all about finding the right frequency. The one that connected the Nabu to their ships, that would render them helpless in the hands of a creature even more evolved than a race of precognitives. Daesung.
His head hits the crystalline floor, his strength leaving him. Seungri remembered it best and at the right time, too. He knew Youngbae would be taken first, he guessed that it would come to this. Youngbae had agreed, lips opening without a sound before he swallowed the rest of their scheme. The Nabu could have killed any of them the moment they found them, that they didn't spoke of the depth of their evil.
Fight terror with terror, Seungri had suggested and Jiyong had kissed him, hard, held him tight until they were pried apart by brutal, gun-wielding hands. He had saved his yelling for when Seunghyun began to taunt their guards. He hadn't cried until they took him away to witness his world's end. Just as they had planned.
His gaze slides to Youngbae's unmoving body. He didn't see this coming.
He pushes himself up shakily, painfully, biting down on the edge of his tongue. He can feel his jaw twitch with the urge to sob, fingers curling around corner of a table. Trying to pull himself up, to see him. They have to take him with them. They won't leave him here.
The ship trembles as they unload missiles into the Enemy, Daesung taking charge like they knew he would. It's only now, with the element of surprise on the side of the Nabu that they can steal it from them, carving out a spot of hope in the middle of outright destruction. Seunghyun closes his eyes, putting his trust in a computer program with a better moral compass than Youngbae's entire race.
Resting his weight painfully on his good leg, he stands, feeling his stomach lurch at the sight of Youngbae's blank gaze.
"Bae," he whispers softly, swallowing hard. Lifting a hand slowly, reaching to close his eyes. To give him dignity in death.
His breath catches as he touches him.
He's still...he's still warm. His chest moves, very slowly, breath barely there, but unmistakeably present. "Da--" Seunghyun catches himself, swallowing back his instinct. He can't call for help, not yet. They have a job to do. Daesung has to finish this.
"Hang in there," he tells his friend softly, his voice choked, as though Youngbae can hear him. As though he could lie here, like this, if he heard him.
"Seunghyun!"
Jiyong's voice is distinct and sharp, slicing through the cloud of pain and exhaustion that's threatening to pull him under. It cuts through the grief and the gnawing fear, easing him into a warm embrace. The Ahma flies through the room, over fallen bodies without even looking where he lays his feet, lithe and alien before wrapping himself around Seunghyun's mangled body.
"Careful," he chokes, resting his head on the other man's shoulder, holding him back just as tightly. "We have to--we have to get Bae help, something's wrong--"
Seungri screams, raging as he all but shoves past them to grab at Youngbae's shoulders. "No, no, no." The words are a frantic litany, dread etched into the Ahma's features. "Wake up. Why isn't he waking up? What happened--why--Wake up! Wake--"
"He's alive," Seunghyun tries to say, shifting in Jiyong's arms to reach for the other Ahma. "He's just, I don't know..."
Teeth snap at him, a near-feral hiss directed his way, stopping his hand in mid-air. Fear is stark in Seungri's eyes, primal, his hands shaking as he lifts Youngbae from the table, cradling him against his chest. Possessive.
"You're bleeding," Jiyong murmurs, cupping his cheek. His hold suddenly turns tight around his waist. Suffocating. "You're... Seunghyun? Seunghyun... aheri, stay with me. Come on, baby... baby, please..."
"I'm okay," Seunghyun breathes softly, eyes slipping closed, exhausted and in pain. "Don't worry. Don't..."
He doesn't get to tell him not to be scared. He doesn't get to do much of anything as he slumps in Jiyong's arms, black encroaching over his vision like a spiderweb. It drowns out every sound, every thought about time and Earth and Youngbae.
Seunghyun passes out at 8:14, Seoul time. By the time he wakes, at 10:32, the fifty-six Allied Military outposts on Earth and eleven out of fifteen satellites in space have been blown to smithereens. The Earth's population has been decimated, whole continents bathed in panic.
The first thing Seunghyun sees is the Myungdong Cathedral, its long thin spike piercing the darkened sky. His hospital bed is inexplicably soft.
He is alone.