The Shadows

The sound of wind and rain whipping through trees. The sound of the ocean in the background, as calming as ever despite the situation.

“Just stay quiet, okay? Stay quiet.” (Y/n) whispered.

ARMY AIRFIELD 4 AM

Choi (Y/n) , bursts out into the rain and wind of a tropical storm, still zipping up her is in a airforce jumpsuit. Her left arm sling. She carries a hard-back kradio bag, used to hold radio equipment, gingerly at her side, shielding her face again the rain, looking out into the low visibility downpour... The dark shape of a man waves to her with a runway flare.

“Where's the Magic Shop?” She asks.

The field looks like a grey and white fog, with different points of color and huge dark shapes moving nearby; signal lights and the flying juggernauts of World War 3. The man's shape has vanished.

“HEY! Hey for Pete's sakes! Surreal.”

she pushes out, still struggling with her jumpsuit's zipper, into the wet downpour, protective of her kradio bag- A FIGHTER COMES OUT OF THE STORM- Y/n has to stagger out of its way, nearly chopped to pieces by the propeller.

“Goddamn it, where are you?” She whispers to herself.

There's a rumble, an a huge flash of lightning, for a moment silohuetting a massive dark shape in luminous white... A B-17 Flying Fortress. The bomber that defined World War 3. It's already rolling forward up the tarmac. The boom of thunder throws Maude into action. She runs towards the B-17 as it turns, lumbering onto the runway. For a moment, lightning frames her tiny form against the behemoth.

As (Y/n) approaches, she notices a single- what is that? A cord? Sure, a single loop of cord hanging off the bottom of the plane. Before she can get better look, the cord suddenly seems to the retract, slithering up into plane, out of sight. She blinks, wiping rain out of her eyes. It was nothing. It must've been. She hurries under the plane, around the propellers, to a hanging ladder. With one arm, she pulls herself up, nearly falling as the plane turns on to the runway, into- INT. THE MAGIC SHOP CABIN The cabin of the B-17 is dimly lit, the engines are VERY LOUD, it's cramped enough already that by the time (Y/n) pulls herself up she's nearly nose to nose with Kim Taehyung, Mid 20s, Serious expression on his face and already furious. Noticing (Y/n), he grabs her by her collar.

“The fuck do you think you're doing, get off now—“

“I—“

Taehyung slaps her in the face.

“Don't fucking talk back, get off now!”

“ I'm on this flight!”

“Get off the fucking plane!”

“No, I'm assigned to this flight—“

Taehyung begins jostling her towards the door, paying her injured arm no mind. Behind them, at the tail gun; Jungkook, Mid 20s, a skinny twerp, cranes his neck, already strapped into his seat, unable to get a look at the ruckus. He's stuck facing directly backwards with his gun for take- off.

“What the hell is going on up there?” Jungkook yells out of confusion.

“I'm assigned to this flight—“

Taehyung shoves her back, and Y/n holds her ground, protective of her radio bag—.

“I'M ASSIGNED TO THIS FLIGHT, DON 'T FUCKING TOUCH ME AGAIN—“

Taehyung makes to hit her again, but then makes a big show of "summoning his patience."

“We can't have any extras, this isn't a tropical joyride—“

(Y/n) pulls out a crumpled, rain stained document, shoving it in Taehyung's face so aggressively he steps back.

“I'm commissioned to this flight, look. It's an order from Major Jung.”

Taehyung just stares at her. The engines start revving up, louder and louder, and he rips away the order, looking at it under a bare bulb. Behind them, Jeon Jungkook squeals around like a kid in a car seat, trying to contort himself to get a look.

“Seriously what the fuck is happening back there, is that a woman, I can't hear shit! Is there a woman? Someone tell me what the fuck is going on!?”

As Taehyung reads, (Y/n) looks up further into the cabin, where she can see the legs of the top turret gunner. He ducks down to check out the noise, revealing Min Yoongi, Late 20s, lanky with dark hair. They make eye contact; he looks as confused as Taehyung does angry, and (Y/n) nervously clutches her radio bag. The plane begins to speed up, and Taehyung nods, lowering the paper, pulling open a hydraulic hatch beneath him. It leads to the ball turret.

“What are you doing?”

“There's no damn room up here, no seat left. It's been cleared for cargo, get in the Sperry.”

“You want me to get in the turret?”

“Are you deaf?”

(Y/n) grabbed the bag tighter.

“Did you not read the order, I'm supposed to guard this—“

“Tough shit, take it in there you, hold's full!”

(Y/n) glances in horror down at the hatch to the ball gunner pod, a tiny, almost entirely transparent chamber filled with gunnery equipment hanging on the bottom of the plane.

“The fuck are you waiting for, we're taking off!”

She stares at radio bag for a moment, deeply conflicted.

“Can you pass it up to the astrodome?”

“Top turret? Why?”

“ There'd be room up there—“

“Get in the fucking turret right now or you'll be on your ass when we take off—“

“No, if I'm getting in there, you're bringing this to the Astrodome turret, and you be careful with this, it's fragile, are we clear?”

Taehyung suddenly brings a finger right up in her face and she flinches backwards.

“Where the fuck do you think you are—“

Jackson Wang, Mid 20s, leans out of his waist-gunner position up ahead of them.

“I'll get that for you cutie,”

(Y/n) falters, clutching the radio bag protectively.

“It's fragile.”

“Not a problem sweetness, I'll keep it right side up, bring it to the top turret.”

“Fuck”. Taehyung mutters.

There's lurch as the plane gains speed. (Y/n) gingerly hands off the radio bag to Jackson , and he takes it further up into the plane towards Yoongi, as (Y/n) climbs down into The Magic Shop’s Ball Turrent.

The ball turret is a plexiglass sphere hanging off the bottom of the behemoth like a single glass ball. To get in, you have to bunch in alongside a machine gun, forced into a fetal position in the most vulnerable and dangerous position on the aircraft, unable even to straighten your legs. The runway is already flying by beneath; it's immediately disorienting and terrifying, like jumping out of a moving car.

(Y/n) falls into place, and Taehyung seals the hatch shut behind her. It's freezing cold in there, and wet, the ground racing by, rumbling- Gardner hurriedly straps herself in, as the B-17 lifts off into the air... The ground under her is abruptly replaced by ocean as they climb higher. Higher into the storm, the tiny turrect shaking violently.

Higher. Higher and higher. (Y/n) looks down at the fading lights of the airstrip behind her, a tiny constellation in the pre-dawn downpour, getting further and further away. It's almost pitch black out there. There's a strange noise from somewhere to her left, barely audible over the engine, and she turns, cocking an ear. Was that. It wasn't laughing. Out there in the darkness. The underside of the plane barely lit by the flashing navigation lights on the wings. She shivers, and then perks up, noticing something. A faint shape off out below and in front of the plane, flying in the distance. There- and gone.

(Y/n) blinks, thinking, and then searches around- there they are, there's the headphones and mic. she pulls them on getting ready to speak when she hears—

“—bitch shoved her paper in my face, so I threw her in the ball turret.”

“I've got her cargo in here with me.”

“Well you aren't to touch it, Orders from Major Jung” Taehyung says, clearly annoyed. A new voice speaks, smooth, confident.

“This is Namjoon. Wait, you're telling me we have a passenger on board? The fuck?”

“Some woman with her arm broke.”

Another new voice speaks up, grumpy, sour.

“This is Jin.”