among us | minsung

lee minho: task one

➤ Game 366
     | 0:00

Minho secured his knife in the deep pockets of his suit and adjusted the collar. Helmets weren't required, and Minho preferred to avoid them. They clinked when he walked, and in the early days, he had multiple incidents of slamming his helmet against the vent cover. The participants received their roles only forty seconds ago, and Minho was pleased to be the Impostor. When he held the knife, he was in control, and it settled the anxiousness lingering deep in his bones. He heard the stories surrounding his name, the fear of parents, and the quivering of children, and he wasn't proud. But he didn't have time to ponder his fading morality, the games had begun.

The officials shoved him into the center of the cafeteria and fled the scene, feet clomping on the metal walkways. Minho glanced at the seven terrified faces standing around the table. He recognized Lee Felix, the boyfriend of the Captain's son, and Hwang Hyunjin, Felix's cousin. Pink and purple were familiar to him, but he hadn't bothered to learn their names. Green was Seo Changbin, and his eyes bore into Minho's, leaking admiration. Minho tilted his head to the side, and Changbin bashfully averted his gaze. Odd. Minho looked at the shaking man standing directly to his left. His red suit hung from his body and draped loosely across his arms in a way that mimicked ghost costumes from what the elders called Halloween. His fingers picked at the thick fabric nervously, and his bottom lip was cherry red from the irritation of his teeth. He was new, clearly, but Minho saw a determination in him that the other six lacked. They expected death, this person denounced it.

The timer started, and Minho counted the numbers under his breath. 5... 4... 3... 2...1. Minho walked down the hallway leading to the storage room and turned into Communications. No one came into communications unless he sabotaged the comms, which made it an ideal hiding location. The list of tasks Minho was supposed to "do" was sent to the small screen integrated into the sleeve of his suit. The screen was face-activated and housed the player's list of tasks, taskbar, and sabotage options. Minho tapped the sabotage icon and selected the Reactor. Lights flashed, and he heard the pattering of feet on the metal before he slipped, undetected, from Communications and ran to Navigation. The alarms blared in his earpiece, but the sound was familiar. Newbies weren't accustomed to the shrill beeping, and teenagers especially never lasted with their earpieces.

Minho jogged to a stop outside Nav and briefly checked the camera. No red light. No one was watching. The determined boy from the cafeteria was fiddling with the colorful wires in the electrical box, brows furrowed in concentration. He pressed the frayed ends together and yelped when the shock zapped his fingers. Minho knew wires better than he knew the contours of his face, the chestnut hue of his hair. Either this person was colorblind or oblivious. Red grabbed the wires again, rolling his shoulders as if preparing for a war against electricity, and pressed the pink wire to the yellow. Minho surged forward and shoved Red to the side only seconds before the wires sparked.

"You have to connect the colors, dopey. Are you stupid?" Minho rolled his eyes and grabbed the blue wire, effortlessly connecting it to it's matching counterpart. Red approached him cautiously, and Minho was reminded of his position. He was an Impostor, not a Crewmate. This man was nothing more than an obstacle to his success.

The Reactor was stabilized, but nobody was around besides him and the terrified man in front of him. He unsheathed his knife and lunged, pinning Red to the ground. Red screamed and kicked in a weak attempt to knock Minho off his torso, but Minho was stronger. "What are you fighting for, anyway?" Minho panted, sweat dripping down the back of his stuffy suit. Red's writhing body went pliant beneath him. His throat was uncovered, and Minho could easily plunge his knife through Red's honey-skin. But he froze. He wasn't sure why when he was fighting for his own life as well, but the hand holding the hilt of his knife fell to his side.

"I'm fighting for my daughter," Red admitted fiercely.

"You wouldn't be here if you had a daughter," Minho countered, tone cool as ice. "Don't lie to me when you're at my mercy, little sparrow."

Red stared at him inquisitively. Minho saw the passion in his eyes turn to a murky mix of pure terror and helplessness. All of his victims had the same eyes when they looked at him. Red talked about his daughter and his pupils sparkled. No one talked about Minho and sparkled, they shook.

"You're Lee Minho, aren't you?" Red stuttered. Yes, he was, but he was also so much more! He wanted to scream. He didn't kill for fun, he wasn't a monster, but Red's eyes said otherwise. Minho needed to prove he wasn't a monster. To himself or Red, he wasn't certain.

"Let's make a deal, hm? I won't kill you if you promise not to expose me. We'll both get out of here alive, and you can go back to your daughter. If I die, I promise you will die with me." Minho stood and brushed the dirt from his knees. "Do we have a deal, little sparrow?" Minho held out his hand, and Red took it. His palm was soft and uncalloused. He didn't have stubborn blood caked under his fingernails and buried in the wrinkles of his knuckles.

Red backed away and touched the frayed ends of the yellow wires together. They crackled to life, and he cheered quietly. He and Minho were both fighting for survival, but while Minho was rough palms and muscled thighs, Red was proud smiles and undying hope. Minho leaned on the doorway and watched. He would protect Red from the harsh truth of the games. They would both live, and his eyes would sparkle again, maybe one day towards Minho.

"My name is Jisung, by the way," Jisung said, slamming the cover of the electrical box shut.

Minho tilted his head and grinned. "Whatever you say, little sparrow."