war¹ 

–noun

1. a conflict carried on by force of arms, as between nations or between parties within a nation; warfare, as by land, sea, or air.

2. a state or period of armed hostility or active military operations.

3. a contest carried on by force of arms.

4. a struggle: a war for men's minds; a war against-

Junsu slammed the tattered dictionary closed and leant back in one of the ten rickety chairs around the table that they called the Hub. It was covered in an array of notes, maps, charts, diagrams, transceivers, wires and crumbs (courtesy of the Hub turning to a dining table at meal times).

None of the other five inhabitants batted an eyelid at Junsu's crash of anger or heavy breathing, probably didn't even notice. He clenched one hand into a fist and stared down at the book still pressed beneath his other palm. How could war be such an easy thing to define? And how could they make it sound so eloquent? There was no mention of death in the definition and there was nothing articulate about the blood, the loss, the fear, the sickness. No mention of the way it slowly devoured you from the inside out or how it erased all traces of innocence or how it turned the places you'd loved to call home into wastelands of dust and debris and rust.

The creatures they were fighting, the ones they called Metal Heads, were ruthless and barbaric and didn't care for any of that. They were ugly beasts with most owning jagged bodies similar to that of a panther though they shared none of its feline grace. Their sharp teeth matched their claws and grotesque natural armour plated their shoulders, elbows and calves and it was so solid that bullets were useless. It glinted silver in the light contrasting with deep blue fur. Their most distinct attribute was the pulsating yellow skull gem that was believed to be the Metal Head equivalent of a brain, slippery to hold and about the size of a hand. It was somehow ejected from the skull after death, continuing to glow with a light that never went out, and though scientists had done their best to extract information, they hadn’t had any luck. Some soldiers collected them as trophies of their kills and, so far, that was the only use for them.

They had arrived many years ago in the form of a meteorite crashing to earth and had steadily spread outwards from the crash site, their numbers seemingly endless. The element of surprise had been on their side and hundreds of lives had been lost before any resistance was put into operation, though by then it was still too late for many. The Metal Heads had completely disregarded any pleas for peace or surrender and took no care for women or children. They would even turn against each other in the blink of an eye, the pulsating glow of their skull gems piercing the night.

“We'll strike here and here,” commanded Jaebeom, his finger jabbing concisely at the two locations on the map of the city's sewers. Broken from his fuming, Junsu looked up at the leader of their small outfit.

Jaebeom's naturally narrow eyes were narrower than usual as he glared around at them all fiercely. He was a small man, smart, deadly in a fight and a master of concealment who would as soon slit your throat as look at you. He was an important asset, someone who could make difficult decisions in a heartbeat and without regret. They would have fallen apart long ago without him.

Junsu followed Jae's eyes around the room, gaze falling on Taecyeon, Chansung, Nichkhun, Wooyoung.

Taecyeon was the stoic type. Quiet and reserved, he was self-assigned security to Jaebeom. He was like a shadow materialising by Jae's side with eyes like a hawk. Though he was a lot bigger than Jae, it didn't make him any less effective, something that Chansung had also learnt to work with.

Chansung was their unit’s resident bear known for his idiotic laugh. He had an appetite that he was frequently scolded for and though he was often seen sneaking food from the kitchen, no one reprimanded him. He was legendary with a knife and was also the youngest amongst them, no doubt the reason for their leniency.

Nichkhun was the looks of the unit: dark eyes, blond hair and a cheeky personality that would surely make the women swoon (if they would ever encounter any which, so far, they hadn't). He only ever seemed to be happy when handling his explosives and he liked making calculations, something Junsu would never understand. He was also quick to anger and used sarcasm as a reflex.

Wooyoung was the cutesy, lean boy with chubby cheeks. But looks are always deceiving. It's something you learnt to commit to memory in their profession. He looked defenceless and useless in a fight but he was sly and always managed to weasel his way out of impossible situations, just like a fox which he so strikingly resembled.

And then you had Junsu, the man without any extraordinary skill who seemed to just get by by trying to look at everything feeling a little detached, like it wasn't really happening. As if this war, that had been raging since before he was born, before his father was born, a war they were steadily losing, was just a metaphor of life and its fragility. He shook his head absently and his dark hair fell gracefully over his forehead, coming to rest above dark eyes that were always pensive.

He glanced at the four empty chairs at the table, his stomach clenching uncomfortably at the memory of the four who used to occupy them. It had been two months since that failed mission and though you learnt to forget quickly, the absence their deaths had caused wouldn't go away.

Kwon had been the life at the base, loud and boisterous, seemingly the owner of a switch he would flip to serious as soon as he ventured outside. It was dead at camp without him.

Changmin had been the oldest and a seasoned fighter who had been there even longer than Jae. Despite this, he recognised Jaebeom's skills at leadership and stood back and followed his orders with respect. He could have gotten away and retreated back to base, but his loyalty was strong and he refused to leave his unit for the mission, the first and only time he'd disobeyed Jae's orders. It had cost him his life but it had been a price he'd been willing to pay.

Seulong was a friendly man who had admired Changmin and Jaebeom and had liked listening to Nichkhun's sarcasm; he'd said it was a fresh change from the sound of the issuance of orders. He and Chansung had had quite an intimate relationship but, then again, Chansung had gotten intimate with most of them (the magnae, Jinwoon, and Jaebeom and Taecyeon being the only ones free from his clutches).

The hardest loss to come to terms with had been Jinwoon. He'd only been sixteen years old, the youngest they'd ever had, and though putting someone that young out in the field had seemed unthinkable, the war effort was becoming desperate. He hadn't had a chance to experience a life, but thinking again, Junsu supposed, none of them had. They'd always tried to shelter him, only giving him the easy missions or any jobs at the Hub, but their efforts were futile in the end. His last mission was meant to be safe, relatively danger-less, a piece of cake. It turned out to be otherwise and they lost four good men. They all ached at the loss of Jinwoon's smile.

Before the incident, Jae had always been fierce, cracking jokes you weren't sure you were meant to laugh at. Now you knew he was never joking.

With the absence of contact with women, they learnt to adapt and it wasn't only Chansung that slept around. They all knew about Jaebeom and Taecyeon behind the scenes. The two never batted an eyelid in front of each other and none of the others mentioned it but everyone knew. Nichkhun and Chansung both had similar tendencies to have whoever, though they would rarely have each other for some reason. Chansung seemed to be slightly jealous of Jaebeom and Taecyeon's relationship, seemed to want that sense of attachment with someone. Wooyoung would always pretend to whine to wind up Nichkhun (whom it particularly annoyed) because Wooyoung knew exactly how and where it would end up; they all avoided the bunks when it happened. As for Junsu, he took his chance whenever he could, but the base was small and public, something he wasn't comfortable with and hadn't adapted to as well as the others.

They spoke about women sometimes, all elaborating on the women they had had before being shipped out (apart from Wooyoung who had never had the chance and had since concluded he must be gay because of it). The thought of having a woman now was strange to them and was something Junsu didn't like to think about too often. The mood would drop at the mention and Jaebeom and Taecyeon would slip away, not so unnoticeably, the curtains of Jaebeom's bunk shut securely. They learnt to keep it down and learnt to sleep through it. Whenever Junsu was on night shift and it happened, he would have to fight away his own mental ache of loneliness.

“You got that, Junsu?”

Junsu snapped out of his thoughts to find himself the centre of attention, Jaebeom's fiery gaze fixed upon him.

“I said have you got that?” asked Jae again.

Junsu looked down at Jaebeom's finger still indicating the points of weakness in the sewer.

“I got it,” he answered, pinching his arm to keep from drifting away again.

“Good.” He addressed all of them again. “Only three of us are needed. Khun, you know what you need to do. Junsu, Wooyoung, you two go with him. You probably know the layout of the sewers best.” The three of them nodded curtly.

“You got it, Boss,” said Nichkhun with a lazy salute.

A foot nudged Junsu's below the table, and he looked over towards Chansung who was staring at Jae with shaking hands. Jae didn't miss the look Chansung was giving him.

“Got something to say?”

Chansung opened his mouth but before he even had the chance to form words, Jaebeom's fist came crashing down onto the table, a few diagrams fluttering to the floor. “I don't like it either!” he shouted. “We all want to give some payback but this is how it is! We can't all go and we can't make any more stupid mistakes that are gonna cost us more lives, so sit back and shut up!” He was breathing heavily.

Junsu's eyes flickered between Jae and Chansung and the others, gauging everyone's reactions. They all knew that revenge was just a grave more for yourself than your enemy, but that didn't mean Chansung was any less angry. He crossed his arms and leant back, following Jae's orders to a tee. Taecyeon’s fingers brushed Jaebeom’s elbow and he visibly relaxed.

“Good.” Jae said again, obviously satisfied. “You'll leave at 0300 hours,” he instructed, and they nodded once again before leaving to prepare for what would no doubt be a very long day.