ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʟᴇᴀʀ ᴇɴᴇᴍʏ || ᴊ.ᴡʏ + ᴄ.ꜱ

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟐

San's vision was foggy and limited through the two glass panes shaped as ellipticals around his eyes, so he focused all his energy on breathing while he was able to. Standing at a rather shaky attention in the lineup, he trailed his sight to where the soldier in charge stood firm in the center of the ten of them with what San sensed as one of the most intimidating auras despite not being able to see any expression from the large mask consuming his face, same as the rest of them.

"I'm so fucked." He heard what sounded like Yeonjun mutter under his breath before the entire line jumped at the ear-piercing shout of the soldier.

"Everyone ready?" He shifted his foot forward, jutting his head out like he was inspecting everyone in the line to see if they were trembling from the anticipation.

"Yes sir!" The chorus of shouts surrounding San brought him some comfort, at least he wasn't alone in experiencing the unknown turmoil they were about to face. He had the sudden urge to hold onto someone or something, but resisted, in favor of acting as if he had everything together, fists clenched and eyes focused solely in front of him.

Wooyoung was placed closest to the door and watched as another soldier stood and closed it firmly, leaving in its place a visible cloud of dirt and dust, but his attention was brought back to the other soldier as the squeak of him turning the wheel to free the CS gas sounded through the small room, allowing the poisonous fumes to seep out and rid of any breathable air that might've been left. Wooyoung's stance was rigid, his knees so straight he could feel a faint sense that he might buckle forward and pass out. Not that the imagined scenario was that far out considering the air quality they were amidst. The buzz of feet shuffling against the concrete floor and the soldier speaking in a low tone to another one adjacent to him kept Wooyoung feeling generally uneasy, especially after recalling their lead soldier's warning about how 'excruciating' the pain to come would be.

The room was becoming more clouded, slowly and yet more aggressively the fumes seeped into the room, and Wooyoung found himself squinting from the sting in his eyes, the mask seemingly helping very little with the new influx of gas enclosing around them.

"Attention!" The soldier's voice interrupted the nervous whispers from down the line, and San perked his shoulders up straighter, eyes watering and hands shaking. "Start twisting the air filter off the mask to the right!" San's breath faltered at the command.

"Yes sir!" The voices were muffled and almost robotic through the mouthpiece, as they carried out the action required of them, trembling fingers trying to twist off the circular air filter.

With each twist the gas filtered through bit by bit into the small opening, unhesitatingly, entering every crevice of San's face, mercilessly pouring down his lungs like a thousand tiny knives tearing at and aggravating his throat, his lungs rendered completely helpless, even stabbing at his eyes, leaving them a watering mess. He was a wreck, not expecting the pain to succumb him in the most volatile way as it had. He didn't want to experience the feeling much longer, fingers desperately twitching to screw the filter back on.

"Place it on your head--move, move! Hold it there!" Time passed slowly and the sounds of strained whimpers and the occasional guttural cry from those next to him blended together in a flurry as they fidgeted and paced around while trying to bear the unprecedented level of pain. Maybe only seconds had elapsed but San felt the pain amplify as each one ticked by, the liquid uncontrollably flowing out of each hole in his face.

"213! Do you think you'll have time to whine and cower on the battlefield?!" Yeonjun jumped from next to San, the gravely and threatening bite from the soldier interrupting all of their cries of suffering for that brief moment.