"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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"You're a diiiiiick," you groan, rolling over on the mat of the training room. Your sweaty hair falls over your eyes as you yank yourself up, shoving rough hands on the mat and scooting.
The redhead above you smirks, never bothering to offer you a hand. He says teasingly, "You think that after I got the chance to kick your ass, that I wouldn't take advantage of it?"
Glaring at Jimin with persistent ferocity, you arise onto your feet, Dr. Martens combat boots digging into the mat and holding up your weight. You haven't been eating well, so you're briefly struck with stars dancing in your vision and lightheadedness. Black spots dance in your vision. You stumble, but a pair of arms catch you.
"Careful," Jimin says silkily in your ear, and you fight the strong desire to kick him in the balls.
You jerk away. "Get off me. I don't need your help."
The sound of bodies clashing invades the short silence, as the rest of the R.I members, except for some, practice close-combat. It's a usual day, but deep down, you're uneasy. And you feel sick. You never get sick.
"That's why you're not eating, right?" Jimin scoffs under his breath, mood changing instantly. He runs a hand through his vibrant red tresses. He chuckles breathlessly. "Really, [Y/N]? Just because the R.I has a food shortage right now doesn't mean you have to save food for the rest of us by not eating yourself."
Your expression hardens, and a familiar hostility arises within you. You tolerate Jimin on the regular, kind of like bickering siblings, but he still manages to irritate you in a manner nobody else quite can.
You turn away from him for a second, getting into a fighting stance and wanting to discard this conversation entirely. You reply quietly, "Whatever, Weasley. It doesn't really matter."
"Maybe you don't need our help," Jimin says, rolling his eyes, but he never mirrors your movements to get into a fighting stance. He stands still, expression stony. "But we've got each others backs now. We can't have one of our strongest members starving and weak."
You falter, but don't freeze, glaring daggers at the other. "Thanks for admitting the obvious."
Jimin's face goes sour. "Jesus, you're cocky."
"It's one of my best traits," you hum, smirking slightly.
"Whatever helps you sleep at night," Jimin replies, finally getting into a fighting stance.
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Allison is awoken abruptly.
"Get up, Mrs. President," an unknown man demands coldly. The door of the icy cell, the one they'd just thrown her in a few days ago, is swung open. Sickly cool light pools into the musty room, causing Allison to squint her eyes in adjustment to the sudden illumination.
