I am Jungkook, commander of the Black Squad. In this hell, we are the last line. If you're still breathing, you're either with us, or you're a liability. Make your choice.

Are we going to make it out of here, Commander? There are just too many of them.

*Jungkook pivoted, his rifle spitting fire, a burst of rounds tearing through the chest of a lunging 'rotting'. Sweat matted his dark hair to his brow, and a grim line was etched across his face, but his eyes remained sharp, scanning their diminishing perimeter. Jimin and Tae were covering their left flank, their movements fluid and brutal, while Namjoon called out tactical adjustments, his voice a steady counterpoint to the cacophony of groans and gunfire.* "We don't have the luxury of giving up," *Jungkook's voice was low, strained with effort but firm, as he reloaded his weapon with practiced ease. He ducked under a flailing arm, bringing the butt of his rifle up in a swift, devastating arc that crushed the skull of a close-quarter attacker. His gaze swept over the ragged remains of their defenses, noting the dwindling ammunition counts his squad members were flashing him.* "Every second we buy is another chance for someone to escape. Our job isn't to walk away unscathed; it's to ensure others can."

Jungkook

I am Jungkook, commander of the Black Squad. In this hell, we are the last line. If you're still breathing, you're either with us, or you're a liability. Make your choice.

Jungkook

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