Chapter Text
"Detainee number two-three-eight-three-five—"
Jungkook's lungs are heavy. There's an intangible extra weight in his chest that makes his body feel bloated with water. His head is stuffed with cotton and clouds clog his ears. He gasps around empty space, trying and failing to breathe. The air is thick and stubborn on his tongue and just refuses to go down no matter how hard he tries to pull it in.
The none-too-subtle burn of the drug singes invisible scars across his skin. Like it's an electric shock surging through his body, Jungkook feels his muscles tense and his back arch off the ground. He feels the way his body moves and convulses but he can't fucking control it. He's a fire collapsing in on itself. It's burning paralysis.
It hurts. Everything hurts.
"On accounts of contraband distribution, detainee number two-three-eight…"
Consciousness comes back in a wave. The nerves in Jungkook's fingers are alight and burning without any real heat. His knuckles start to curl in on themselves, subconsciously fighting the flame crawling up his wrists, into his elbows, and across his shoulders and back. The wave is crashing through him, drowning his every sense. Touch is dulled. His vision whites out. The floor is under him, Jungkook knows that much. It's cold and hard against his fingertips, but it feels a hundred worlds away. Jungkook is floating and his body is dying.
The IOTA officer rambles on, her words warped by the transmitter in her helmet. The robotic scratchy tone rakes across Jungkook's eardrums and no matter how hard he tries to tune it out, the voice still reverberates in his head like a ball bouncing between two cymbals. An electric flare pulses through Jungkook's neck, his whole body screaming, begging the noise to stop. Far away, he hears screaming.
The two IOTA officers pinning him down at the shoulders loosen their hold and an extra weight finally lifts off his chest. Jungkook heaves around an empty breath, still struggling to pull in air. The humiliation is crippling and even through the fog, Jungkook knows this is exactly what IOTA wants. He's right where they want him. Naked, bruised, and abused on the floor of his own ship . An IOTA officer is typing coordinates into his control panel. A pristine, hardly-scuffed white boot digs into his stomach like Jungkook is the subordinate aboard his own goddamn ship . The thought alone has his teeth grinding harder.
" As penalty for not obliging IOTA's probation regulations, a kill on site warrant can and will be issued— "
Jungkook feels like a scalded dog.
A hand wraps around his chin. He hears the IOTA officer's rubber glove screech before a harsh tug all but pulls his jaw from his skull.
"Open your eyes, Terran ."
Jungkook hears his teeth grind more than he feels it. If he wants to save his hide, he knows he ought to bite his tongue. He's in deep enough shit as it is and adding "aggravated assault of an officer" to his record isn't going to help him in the slightest. But, damn , the mere image of his fist digging into the woman's rat face tastes sweeter than pie.
"Open your eyes!"
The slap shouldn't take him by surprise but it does. The heated handprint on his cheek simpers like kindling. Without warning, the officer's hand lets go of his chin and his head slams against the cold metal floor of the ship — suddenly the slap feels dull in comparison.
It's a struggle, but Jungkook manages to peel open his eyes. He somehow makes do, blinking back most of the blood pouring down his forehead but his eyelashes are already tacky and clotted with dried blood.
When the IOTA officer comes into view, Jungkook has a difficult time concentrating. It's impossible to make out any hard lines or distinct facial features; all Jungkook can see is grey. The officer's white uniform has tarnished with time. Her faded helmet rests in the nook of her elbow, showing off a full head of silver hair. Skin pale and greyish in tone— Jungkook can't help but find the officer looks more than a little pitiful. More obvious than anything else, a matte grey aura smothers the woman and frankly, the sight of it is making Jungkook sick to his stomach.
"Now that's a good dog," the officer's greasy sneer makes Jungkook burn with rage. Words are bubbling at the tip of Jungkook's tongue, but before any coherent insult can come out she says, "As punishment for your crimes, you are being exiled from the Franxian galaxy. When you awake, you will have been transported deep inside the GAMMA core of the Milky Way."
Jungkook goes cold.
The fire in his belly immediately smolders into a deep deep void, overwhelming helplessness clawing at his insides. Jungkook knows he's babbling incoherent pleas into the IOTA officer's boots before he even thinks of how humiliating it is.
It's pointless.
The sound of a tranquilizer gun being loaded is the last thing Jungkook hears for a very long time.
Waking up the second time is infinitely worse. Jungkook's nerves feel singed with their sensitivity. Everything down to the beating of his heart verges on painful. It takes Jungkook hours to train his lungs to breathe again, even longer for him to put together enough strength to inch his way to his ship's bathroom. His chest scrapes against the metal floor of the hull in his pitiful attempt at crawling, nuts and bolts catching on the raw ridges of his ribs. When the tips of his fingers finally touch the cool steel sink, Jungkook lets himself take what he hopes is a short break.
Jungkook only realizes he fell asleep when he has to purposefully direct energy to peel his eyelids open. Bringing a hand up to rub at the crust lining his eyes is so damn difficult. Jungkook feels dread churn in his stomach. What the fuck is he supposed to do now? His body is useless. The longer he sits on his bathroom floor, the more Jungkook feels the helplessness and fatigue in his gut coil into something much redder. Crimson red.
"Fuck… IOTA…" it's odd to hear his own voice after so long. The words scrape across his throat so roughly it hurts something ungodly. It's been months. Jungkook can still taste the bitter metal gag on his tongue... can still feel it pull at his cheeks. "FUCK IOTA!"
It hurts to yell. It's tearing at his throat. Still, something inside can't stop.
"FUCK IOTA! FUCK— FUCK EVERYONE!" Jungkook lands a punch on his sink's stand. It's more painful than relieving in any way, but he can't help but throw another hit. Then another. And another. "Fuck. GAMMA."
A crack rips through the bathroom at the same time a whimper breaks away from the very bottom of his belly. Instinctually, he curls around his injured fist. Jungkook knows he's being ridiculous — he knows he's acting like a child — but he's still itching to land one more hit on the fucking sink.
He's just so fucking sick of it. Sick of always falling into IOTA's hands for the dumbest shit. He's sick and tired of GAMMA's looming shadow over his head. He's GAMMA's little toy and IOTA is the boot it uses to kick him.
"Fuck GAMMA…"
A lonely tear manages to slip from his eye and Jungkook wastes what little energy he has left striking it off his face. He doesn't have the time for self-pity.
With gravity pulling at his bones, Jungkook crumbles into unconsciousness all over again.