Namjin Oneshots

Chapter 11: The Final Countdown

The facility’s corridors seemed endless, each turn feeling more disorienting than the last. Alarms blared in the background, echoing off the sterile metal walls, while Namjoon and Seokjin ran at full speed, their footsteps muffled by the sound of chaos around them. Every shadow felt like a threat; every corner, a trap. The narrow hallways pulsated with red emergency lights, casting ominous reflections off the cold surfaces.

"Take a left!" Yoongi’s voice crackled through their earpieces, guiding them through the labyrinth of the facility. "There’s an exit leading to a service hatch, but you have to get there fast. The guards are closing in."

Namjoon’s jaw tightened. His eyes darted around, analyzing every possible route, every obstacle in their path. "We’re almost there. Just hold on."

Seokjin’s heart pounded in his chest, adrenaline pushing him forward even as fear clawed at the edges of his mind. He had seen the truth. The grotesque reality of ‘Project Atlas’ and the terrible legacy his father had built—it all hung over him like a dark cloud. There was no going back now, no pretending it didn’t exist. His father had crossed every line, and now Seokjin had no choice but to stand against him, no matter the cost.

Suddenly, the corridor ahead was blocked by a group of armed guards. They moved quickly, spreading out in tactical formation, their weapons aimed at Namjoon and Seokjin.

"Get down!" Namjoon barked, pushing Seokjin behind him as he drew his own weapon. The hallway erupted in a deafening exchange of gunfire. Namjoon moved with precision, ducking behind cover and returning fire, his every shot calculated.

Seokjin’s pulse raced as he pressed his back against the wall, clutching a small weapon Namjoon had handed him earlier. He wasn’t used to this—this life-or-death intensity—but he knew there was no time for hesitation. He took a deep breath, steadying his trembling hands before leaning out just enough to take aim. He squeezed the trigger, the recoil jolting his arm as the guard closest to them went down.

"We need to move!" Namjoon shouted over the chaos, his voice urgent but controlled.

Seokjin nodded, adrenaline surging through him as they pushed forward. Namjoon led the charge, dispatching the remaining guards with ruthless efficiency. His movements were smooth, fluid, like he was born for this kind of danger.

With the immediate threat neutralized, they sprinted down the next hallway, following Yoongi’s directions.

"They’re rerouting reinforcements to the south wing," Yoongi informed them, his voice tense. "You’re almost out, but you’ve got maybe three minutes before they lock down the entire sector."

Namjoon glanced over his shoulder at Seokjin, his expression grim. "No more delays. We get to the exit, or we’re dead."

Seokjin nodded, pushing through the fatigue that threatened to slow him down. His mind flashed back to the containment unit they had just left behind. The organism—*The Catalyst*—was still there, locked away in that cold, glass prison, a symbol of everything they were fighting against.

"Do you think we got enough?" Seokjin asked breathlessly as they ran.

"We got more than enough," Namjoon replied, his eyes forward, focused. "It’s all in the data Yoongi pulled from the servers. They can’t hide it anymore. Once we’re out, we blow the whistle on everything."

Seokjin swallowed hard, the weight of what they were about to do pressing down on him. "And my father…"

Namjoon’s eyes flickered with something unreadable—sympathy, maybe—but his voice remained steady. "We’ll deal with him. But right now, we survive."

They reached the end of the corridor, where a heavy metal door marked the exit. Namjoon punched in a code Yoongi had sent them, and the door hissed open, revealing a narrow staircase leading down to a service tunnel. The air was colder here, damp and musty, the smell of rust and earth filling their lungs as they descended.

Yoongi’s voice came through again, this time more urgent. "You’re not out of the woods yet. I’m seeing movement in the tunnel ahead. They’re trying to cut you off."

Namjoon cursed under his breath, his eyes scanning the darkened tunnel ahead. "There’s no other way out, is there?"

"Not unless you want to rappel down the side of a mountain," Yoongi replied. "Keep moving. I’ll do what I can to delay them."

Seokjin’s nerves were on edge as they moved cautiously through the tunnel. The walls were damp, and the faint sound of dripping water echoed around them. Every step felt heavier, every breath more labored. His mind raced with the enormity of the situation—how close they were to exposing the truth, how close they were to being caught.

Suddenly, Namjoon held up a hand, signaling for Seokjin to stop. Up ahead, shadows moved in the faint light of the tunnel. The guards were there, blocking the way, their weapons ready.

Namjoon turned to Seokjin, his voice low but firm. "We need a distraction. Something to throw them off long enough for us to slip through."

Seokjin looked around, his mind scrambling for an idea. Then, his eyes landed on a stack of rusted metal pipes leaning against the tunnel wall. It wasn’t much, but it might be enough.

"I’ve got an idea," Seokjin said, motioning to the pipes.

Namjoon followed his gaze, understanding flashing in his eyes. "You sure?"

Seokjin nodded, though his heart was pounding. "I can do it. Just be ready."

Namjoon gave him a curt nod, then moved into position behind a concrete pillar. Seokjin took a deep breath, grabbing hold of the pipes and giving them a hard shove. They clanged to the ground with a deafening crash, the noise reverberating through the tunnel.

As expected, the guards’ attention snapped toward the sound, their weapons raised. In that split second, Namjoon moved like lightning, taking them down before they could react. The guards crumpled to the ground, and the tunnel was silent once again.

Seokjin exhaled a shaky breath, his body trembling from the adrenaline. Namjoon was at his side in an instant, pulling him forward. "Let’s go."

They sprinted through the remainder of the tunnel, emerging into the cold night air. The mountains loomed above them, dark and imposing, but for the first time in hours, Seokjin felt a flicker of hope.

"We’re clear," Yoongi’s voice came through, and Seokjin could almost hear the relief in his tone. "I’ve scrambled their signals. You’ve got a window—maybe ten minutes before they figure out what’s happened."

Namjoon led them to a small path that wound down the mountain, hidden among the trees. They moved quickly but carefully, keeping an eye on the facility behind them. As they descended, Seokjin’s mind raced, trying to process everything they had just witnessed—the horrors of ‘Project Atlas,’ the experiments, the bio-engineering… and the betrayal of his father.

When they finally reached the bottom of the mountain, Yoongi was waiting for them in a black SUV, the engine running.

"Get in," Yoongi said, his expression unreadable as they climbed into the vehicle. "We’ve got what we need, but they’ll come after us with everything they’ve got once they realize we’re gone."

Seokjin buckled his seatbelt, his hands still shaking. "What now?"

Yoongi glanced at him through the rearview mirror, his voice calm but determined. "Now, we burn them to the ground."

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