Lines We Cross ||Front Man x Reader||

The door opened into a long, brightly lit hallway. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting everything in a sickly, artificial glow. I adjusted the mask on my face, trying not to feel like I was suffocating in the stiff, oversized uniform. The guard's blood was still drying under my nails, but I shoved the thought aside. No time for regrets now.

I didn't get far before another guard stopped me. He had a square on his mask same as me. From the files I'd gone over, I knew squares were higher-ranked. I'm guessing he had more authority though. Great. Just what I fucking needed.

"You," he barked, pointing at me. His voice was sharp and commanding, leaving no room for argument. "You're on setup duty. Move it."

"Uh, yeah. Got it," I said, keeping my voice as steady as I could. Thankfully, the mask muffled enough to make it hard to tell who I really was. He didn't seem suspicious. Yet.

I followed him down the hall, merging into a group of guards milling around. Roll call? What the fuck? My pulse quickened as I tried to blend in, sticking close to the ones with square on their masks. They were mid-ranked, which meant less attention on me. Hopefully.

A clipboard was shoved into my hands by one of the squares. "Here," he muttered, not even looking at me. "Mark off the zones as you check them."

"Yeah, sure," I said, glancing down at the board. It was filled with rows of numbers and cryptic notes I didn't have time to decipher. I figured walking around and pretending to do shit was my best bet, so that's exactly what I did.

I wandered through the hallways, occasionally glancing at the clipboard and jotting down random marks to look busy. Every time someone passed me, I gave a quick nod or avoided eye contact altogether. So far, so good.

But, of course, my luck ran out.

"Hey."

The voice stopped me in my tracks. I turned slowly to see a triangle standing a few feet away, arms crossed. His posture screamed authority, and the way he was looking at me made my skin crawl.

"Yeah?" I said, keeping my voice neutral.

"You sound different," he said, tilting his head. "When I asked you about the Zone Three setup earlier, you sounded."

Fuck. "You're mixing me up with someone else," I said quickly, brushing him off. "I've been on Zone Two all night." I started to turn away, but he grabbed my arm, stopping me in my tracks.

"I'm not buying it," he said, his voice low and threatening. "You're coming with me."

I didn't give him the chance. In one swift motion, I twisted his arm and flipped him over onto his back. The move was instinctual, years of training kicking in before I even realized what I was doing. He hit the ground with a thud, but to my horror, he managed to pull his gun as he fell.

"Don't fucking move," he snarled, aiming the weapon at me.

"Shit," I muttered under my breath. My mind raced as I stared down the barrel, calculating my next move. Before he could fire, I lunged forward, knocking the gun out of his hands and slamming my knee into his stomach. He groaned, the air rushing out of him, and I used the moment to grab the back of his head and slam it into the ground.

He went limp.

"Jesus fucking Christ," I breathed, dragging his unconscious body to the nearest closet. It took some effort to stuff him inside, but I managed, locking the door behind me. My heart was racing, and my hands were shaking, but I couldn't stop now.

Adjusting the mask and grabbing the clipboard I'd dropped, I forced myself to take a deep breath. I'd dealt with worse. Probably.

"Just keep moving," I muttered to myself, stepping back into the hallway like nothing had happened.

It was going to be a long fucking night.