fire on fire

v. a fatal contradiction || jungri

some definitions! (just in case lol)

spoils: dirt that is used at foxholes to hold up a gun

Basic Combat Training: recruit training program where recruits train to become graduate and become soldiers; usually lasts 22 weeks

private (e-1): lowest Army rank, normally held by new recruits while at Basic Combat Training

wilco: walkie talkie lingo; "message has been understood, action will follow."

A soldier drops into the foxhole, bringing down a rain of spoils.

Jungkook, who's propped up against the five-feet dirt wall, uses his helmet as a shield, and when the debris finally settles down, he peers at the new addition.

It isn't until the head lifts - black hair tangled with wayward twigs, cheeks smeared with soot and grease, and lips cracked from the lack of water - that Jungkook can confirm the person's identity. Even in the midst of war, everything about her is so familiar. Those focused eyes, such a contrast to the chaos outside this little trench, stares at him, unblinking and constantly on surveillance. The V-shape that decorates the space between her eyebrows whenever she's frowning is visible again. Her hands are gentle when she places the M4 Carbine on her lap, which isn't a surprise; after all, her rifle has always been her stable source in life, worthy of her utmost respect and reverence. (And not much received that attention from her.)

"Sergeant Jeon."

Her voice is a silent reassurance, spoken with a confidence found only from people safely sheltered in their bunk rooms. It's admirable, really, the extent to which she can keep her calm even in the face of extreme danger. Almost as if she has ascended into the ranks of the Amazon warriors she worshipped, the kind that blazed into wars with only their spear and bravery.

"Kim Yerim."

---

Jungkook, in his second year as staff sergeant, first met Yerim after he commanded "Fall in!" and his unit of seven private (E-1) recruits jogged into the classroom, each stopping an arm's length away from the other. Being the first day of Basic Combat Training, his voice was as sharp as a glass's edge, as loud as a bomb's explosion when he declared, "Count off!"

All seven recruits looked to the left, except the first one, who shouted, "One!"

The next one followed, as he faced the front, "Two!"

And they kept on counting off until all seven members were turned towards Jungkook again. He studied their postures, making note of the way their thumbs were a centimeter to the side and their feet weren't all pointed in one direction, before saying, "Good morning, recruits. Today marks the start of what?"

"Phase one," they all answered.

He frowned. "I can't hear you."

"Phase one!" they tried again.

Marching up to the third one on the left, Jungkook asked, low and stern, "What are you here for?"

His victim stared into his eyes, although he didn't fail to notice the way they darted to his polished boots before quickly flying back up. One of the biggest mistakes a recruit could make, especially for a first impression: a second of wavering meant a year's worth of weakness. "Phase one of Basic Combat Training," the recruit answered.

"Are you positive?" Jungkook barked. "Because I've heard fucking mice squeak louder than you." He leaned down, so close the recruit began to fidget, hands nervously fluttering at his side. "If I have to bend this close to hear you, then you don't deserve shit in this place. Understand me?"