"Power to the women who are venom."
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A rivalry between a secret anti-government organization and its deviant counterpart; will seven boys and a girl lead justice to be served?
2034 has brought upon the presidency of Allison Diggory, a woman both l...
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Acts of kindness are not something you are used to.
From assisting an old woman to cross a street to the bare minimum of compassion to strangers after buying some groceries from your local market, goodwill is not something to be brushed aside. It's meaningful, able to make anyone's day just that little bit better.
Whether you've been through a loss, a bad day at work, or even that of a breakup, some kind words and a bright smile are worth the extra effort. Who wouldn't offer even the grouchiest of people some charity?
You wouldn't.
Twirling the Poseida pistol in your hand, you quietly ponder over the reason it was given to you in the first place. Why would Jeon Jungkook, a man from a rich family who has all of the money on the work, offer you such a priceless item? Does he know exactly how rare Poseidas are? They're exclusive to just his family, and you're sure they only make enough for each family member, so why in the hell would he just give it to you?
"You'll be needing it more than I ever will."
You scowl. 'The hell I won't.'
Frustrated, you pocket the item. Just as you do, your head snaps up to the opening of a door. Taehyung leans on the side, an impudent glare to his eye as you glare daggers.
"Don't you knock?" you let out. You make no sudden movements. 'Can't let him find me with a Poseida of all things on me.'
"The shower is two rights from here," Taehyung ignores your jab to his behavior. "Everything you need is in there. When you're done, meet me in my office. We've got work to do."
Left with nothing else to do, you follow his instructions begrudgingly.
"Dick," you mutter, shoving past him in the doorway to make a statement as you trudge towards the end of the hallway.
Taking the first right, you bring a hand up to your head, feeling dizzy. When was the last time you ate?
The bland hallways with flickering hanging florescent lights reappear familiarly in your vision. Lightheaded, your stomach growls as if on cue. 'I've been here for . . . four days now? I think?'
How have you not starved to death?
Ignoring your own rumbling stomach and aching headache, you take another right. A door, this time a dull cream white color with a faded golden doorknob, shows on the side of the wall. A simple plate reading 'Bathroom' marks the door.
You open the knob, turning it to be met with a generic looking bathroom. The tiles on the floor are cream white, a toilet in the corner and a marble sink right next to you as you walk in. You look around. A rather small shower sits in front of the toilet, a vintage painting in the center of it all topping it all off. The room is clean, unused.
