A girl like Yoo Yeonjung doesn't belong in a ruin like Starship, but Jiyeon keeps seeing her everywhere around HQ, chin held high like she's the savior everyone says she will be. Jiyeon isn't as easily convinced.
Even through the crack in a training room door, from a glimpse in the mirror, Yeonjung is unmistakable. Jiyeon's curiosity gets the best of her. She peers in, inevitably nudging the door open as an afterthought. It's both helpful and annoying, how the force of her intentions always shifts the world around her without her permission.
Yeonjung is sitting with her knees to her chest against the wall, head tilted back towards the ceiling. How boring could she get? Jiyeon dares to think she might be safe, for a second, but no—
"Bona," Yeonjung says, void of the reverence people usually say that name with. She unsticks her head from the wall, eyes locking with Jiyeon's.
"No one calls me that anymore."
"Right. We won't have any reason to for much longer," Yeonjung says.
Jiyeon's skin prickles. They're just retiring her name, not retiring her.
So this is the company's best kept secret, who even Sojung won't tell her anything about. Like one person can fill the gaping hole left behind in the last month by their most beloved heroes hanging up their capes for good. This crumbling corporation, this godless city that Sojung won't ever give up on, the only reason that when it goes down, it'll take Jiyeon with it. What can Yeonjung do to save that?
Yeonjung gets to her feet, eyes sliding off of Jiyeon as if she's a second thought.
Jiyeon's blood spikes, flashing with annoyance, panic. How dare she—?
Just as Yeonjung is about to shoulder her way past her, Jiyeon sidesteps her way into the doorway. "Where do you think you're going?"
"What, are you not entertained? I don't have time to play games with a hero who's losing her touch."
How many times has Jiyeon heard that whispered behind her back? Masqueraded as powerpoint presentations in dreadful meetings with the board? It's not a question of how much money her face will make when it's plastered on a billboard, because come on, that's their one guarantee. It's a question of if her control will fizzle out when she needs it most again.
Yeonjung's wrong. They're all wrong. Whether they like it or not, she's still the best they have. They can't keep her off-duty forever.
Jiyeon doesn't even have to think before the rack of dumbbells is in the air, a swarm of weights forming around the room, circling Yeonjung. Jiyeon can't even lift one with her own two hands, but this is so much more satisfying. She doesn't even have to lift a finger.
"Does it look like I'm losing my touch to you?"
Yeonjung just looks unamused, not a flicker of fear nor awe in her eyes. The company's found a real diamond in the rough, Jiyeon thinks. Someone who acts like she's untouchable, even in a moment when she has every reason not to—that doesn't make you a hero. That just makes you plain stupid. It makes Jiyeon want to hit her where it hurts.
"Did they promise you could be a hero? That's what they tell everyone. You would be lucky if their real plan is to make you my sidekick," Jiyeon says. She practically sees red at the thought. "I don't care what the company says. I don't need some kid holding me back."
Yeonjung's face sours as if she's repulsed by the very thought. "Who says I'm going to be your sidekick?"
Jiyeon feels the air shift, the suspended cloud faltering. If that's not what Yeonjung's here for, then what?
Jiyeon sees it in sickening clarity, then, what Yeonjung thinks she is—
Her replacement.
It happens too fast for her to stop it—or maybe she could, but her heart's not in it. Her thoughts waver for only a split second and everything goes toppling to the ground, down towards Yeonjung.
Suddenly Jiyeon's in front of city hall, cars dropping from the sky like her approval ratings would for the whole week and then some after. She knows the pattern well enough now: the dominoes don't stop once the first one falls.
That first one, hovering right over Yeonjung's head: on impact, a kill shot at best.
It only takes a second. Then it's just Yeonjung standing in the wreckage, untouched. Unmoved.
Yeonjung's slow glance around oozes with a merciless point proven. The dumbbell that should have bashed her head in is lying next to her, bent in half, and fuck, Jiyeon can get herself out of anything, out of the argument she's going to have with Hyunjung for demolishing a whole training room, easy, but she can't get herself out of the lurch of terror that wracks her, right then. Her exit is on the horizon, is standing right in fucking front of her, probably signed off on by some exec she hasn't gotten fired yet. Out of her control.
What is she to the company when they've managed to snatch up the one living, truly unstoppable person on the face of the entire planet?
"No wonder Sojung told me to stay away from you," Yeonjung mutters. "She forgot to mention that you'd try to kill me."
The words sting, not just because of the betrayal. Jiyeon refuses to believe she could be predictable enough to be summarized as simply as a handbook would. Though maybe Sojung just knows her well enough that to her, she can be.
"What else did she tell you about me?" Jiyeon demands.
"That I could learn something from you," Yeonjung says flatly. "But I guess she can't be right about everything."
Jiyeon stands frozen as her future carbon copy, bright red hair burned into her vision, pushes past her, leaving her alone with the ruin of her own design.
[FILL] heart stop, kill shot
Tags: superheroes, meet-ugly
Permission to Remix: Yes
-
A girl like Yoo Yeonjung doesn't belong in a ruin like Starship, but Jiyeon keeps seeing her everywhere around HQ, chin held high like she's the savior everyone says she will be. Jiyeon isn't as easily convinced.
Even through the crack in a training room door, from a glimpse in the mirror, Yeonjung is unmistakable. Jiyeon's curiosity gets the best of her. She peers in, inevitably nudging the door open as an afterthought. It's both helpful and annoying, how the force of her intentions always shifts the world around her without her permission.
Yeonjung is sitting with her knees to her chest against the wall, head tilted back towards the ceiling. How boring could she get? Jiyeon dares to think she might be safe, for a second, but no—
"Bona," Yeonjung says, void of the reverence people usually say that name with. She unsticks her head from the wall, eyes locking with Jiyeon's.
"No one calls me that anymore."
"Right. We won't have any reason to for much longer," Yeonjung says.
Jiyeon's skin prickles. They're just retiring her name, not retiring her.
So this is the company's best kept secret, who even Sojung won't tell her anything about. Like one person can fill the gaping hole left behind in the last month by their most beloved heroes hanging up their capes for good. This crumbling corporation, this godless city that Sojung won't ever give up on, the only reason that when it goes down, it'll take Jiyeon with it. What can Yeonjung do to save that?
Yeonjung gets to her feet, eyes sliding off of Jiyeon as if she's a second thought.
Jiyeon's blood spikes, flashing with annoyance, panic. How dare she—?
Just as Yeonjung is about to shoulder her way past her, Jiyeon sidesteps her way into the doorway. "Where do you think you're going?"
"What, are you not entertained? I don't have time to play games with a hero who's losing her touch."
How many times has Jiyeon heard that whispered behind her back? Masqueraded as powerpoint presentations in dreadful meetings with the board? It's not a question of how much money her face will make when it's plastered on a billboard, because come on, that's their one guarantee. It's a question of if her control will fizzle out when she needs it most again.
Yeonjung's wrong. They're all wrong. Whether they like it or not, she's still the best they have. They can't keep her off-duty forever.
Jiyeon doesn't even have to think before the rack of dumbbells is in the air, a swarm of weights forming around the room, circling Yeonjung. Jiyeon can't even lift one with her own two hands, but this is so much more satisfying. She doesn't even have to lift a finger.
"Does it look like I'm losing my touch to you?"
Yeonjung just looks unamused, not a flicker of fear nor awe in her eyes. The company's found a real diamond in the rough, Jiyeon thinks. Someone who acts like she's untouchable, even in a moment when she has every reason not to—that doesn't make you a hero. That just makes you plain stupid. It makes Jiyeon want to hit her where it hurts.
"Did they promise you could be a hero? That's what they tell everyone. You would be lucky if their real plan is to make you my sidekick," Jiyeon says. She practically sees red at the thought. "I don't care what the company says. I don't need some kid holding me back."
Yeonjung's face sours as if she's repulsed by the very thought. "Who says I'm going to be your sidekick?"
Jiyeon feels the air shift, the suspended cloud faltering. If that's not what Yeonjung's here for, then what?
Jiyeon sees it in sickening clarity, then, what Yeonjung thinks she is—
Her replacement.
It happens too fast for her to stop it—or maybe she could, but her heart's not in it. Her thoughts waver for only a split second and everything goes toppling to the ground, down towards Yeonjung.
Suddenly Jiyeon's in front of city hall, cars dropping from the sky like her approval ratings would for the whole week and then some after. She knows the pattern well enough now: the dominoes don't stop once the first one falls.
That first one, hovering right over Yeonjung's head: on impact, a kill shot at best.
It only takes a second. Then it's just Yeonjung standing in the wreckage, untouched. Unmoved.
Yeonjung's slow glance around oozes with a merciless point proven. The dumbbell that should have bashed her head in is lying next to her, bent in half, and fuck, Jiyeon can get herself out of anything, out of the argument she's going to have with Hyunjung for demolishing a whole training room, easy, but she can't get herself out of the lurch of terror that wracks her, right then. Her exit is on the horizon, is standing right in fucking front of her, probably signed off on by some exec she hasn't gotten fired yet. Out of her control.
What is she to the company when they've managed to snatch up the one living, truly unstoppable person on the face of the entire planet?
"No wonder Sojung told me to stay away from you," Yeonjung mutters. "She forgot to mention that you'd try to kill me."
The words sting, not just because of the betrayal. Jiyeon refuses to believe she could be predictable enough to be summarized as simply as a handbook would. Though maybe Sojung just knows her well enough that to her, she can be.
"What else did she tell you about me?" Jiyeon demands.
"That I could learn something from you," Yeonjung says flatly. "But I guess she can't be right about everything."
Jiyeon stands frozen as her future carbon copy, bright red hair burned into her vision, pushes past her, leaving her alone with the ruin of her own design.