❝Every scar tells a story❞
𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐙 𝐱 𝐅𝐄𝐌!𝐎𝐂 - ATEEZ storyline au
🎞️ . . . Tales and folklore had taught us not to play with space and time for that the strings connecting the universes are easy to twist and tangle. Where one version of...
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𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝟥𝟨.𝟧 ——————————————————————
A RED LIGHT blinked repeatedly in the rather dim space it was located in. The tiny dot seemingly unimportant for those who do not know about its purpose. Topping the stacked cartons that had, after weeks, become caked with dust, the small device that radiated the signal was brought to life once more.
A man rushed through the corridors of the underground hideout of the resistance organization Black Pirates. He stumbled past the fellow protestants — limping and clutching his hand on the beige bandage of his arm, attempting to ignore the phantom pain that crept up and down in the nothingness where his arm should have been.
Left Eye, distinctive with the broken glasses and tousled hair of his, shuffled to his knees in front of the small light that he hadn't seen for too long.
He hurriedly scrambled to pull forth a wrinkled, thin piece of paper that had yellowed with the time it rested in his pocket and a pen which had already laid at the ready besides the machine.
A signal was transmitted, leaving Left Eye in a haste to scribble the cryptic beeping in a row of strokes and dots; Morse code, as always.
Sweat dripped from his forehead, his breathing erratic and hand cramped with the tight grip he used to keep the pen between his fingers with. How he had successfully made it back to the headquarters after the dispute in the Android Guardian's bunker? A mystery to remain.
Dropping the ballpoint with a loud clattering sounding in its wake, the man raised the sheet of paper with trembling fingers as his eyes scanned over the symbols he had drawn, already translated into words and messily written beneath.
... ._ _.__ __ _._ _. ._ __. ._ _ . . __..
A graphic that, for the untrained eye, wasn't worth a thing, but at that very moment, nothing could compare to its value for the resistance. A few members had already gathered around the older, curious on what he was doing as they waited expectantly.
A moment later and Left Eye was up on his feet again, shouting from the bottom of his lungs so that his voice would be carried through the whole of the hideout. "They're back!" He yelled, the paper slipping from his grasp, "They came back!"
Roars and cheers erupted within a second. The leaders were back, so Left Eye stated. They would return and take their rightful position on the very top — leading them outlaws into the world they were robbed of.
The paper gradually swayed in the air and down to the concrete below, completely forgotten admits the celebrating people as it laid idly on the ground. Right beneath the code, there were not more than a few words written. The inky black lines drawn in a haste, and yet their meaning were clear to decipher.
In big, bold and messy letters was written what might as well has been the turning point of the whole of strictland.
