The train yard was swallowed in dust.

Boxcars rusted into the rails, tracks bent like snapped ribs. Burned posters flapped on fences that no longer kept anyone out. The soldiers had cleared through this sector days ago, rounding up mutants and torching any signs of life. But some survived—some slipped between cracks like weeds.

A quiet grunt echoed from under a collapsed platform.

Jungkook lifted a concrete beam with a snarl, strength rippling through his arms unnaturally. He wasn’t normal anymore. His mutation left his bones fused with coiled sinew and stored mass—density shifting, muscle stacked far beyond human limits. His tank top was stained and torn, and dust clung to his sweat. He threw the beam aside like paper.

Footsteps made him spin around, fists clenched.

But it wasn’t a soldier.

It was Namjoon, emerging through a bent fence, shoulders hunched, eyes glowing faint gold beneath the hood. His body wasn’t solid anymore—constantly flickering between transparency and flesh. Phasewalker, they called him. Able to walk through matter, but always at risk of falling between worlds.

“You’re loud,” Namjoon said. “If they’re tracking vibration, you already gave us away.”

“Us?” Jungkook barked. “I don’t even know you.”

Namjoon tilted his head, then froze.

A soft ripple in the air. Then a low, melodic hum.

They both turned.

From the rooftop, a figure slid down in near silence—long coat fluttering. Jimin, his voice a weapon. His mutation warped his vocal cords into something beautiful and deadly. Siren resonance—he could disorient, stun, or seduce with a tone. Right now, he looked calm, but they knew better than to ask him to sing.

“I was here first,” Jimin said. “You all just showed up.”

They didn’t get to answer.

A pulse of cold rolled in from the shadows—mist curling off the gravel.

Yoongi stepped out, frost clinging to his shoulders. His breath fogged. The air around him shimmered with soft white light. A Cryo-nerve, capable of lowering temperature around his body in an instant. He was pale, eyes sharp, skin covered in frost-scars from losing control too many times.

"Shut up," he said. "They’re close."

From behind the stacked cargo crates came a sudden hiss.

Hoseok crawled up the side, sharp black scales lining his forearms. His mutation gave him rapid regeneration and enhanced reflexes—monitor lizard hybrid. His tongue flicked out instinctively before he caught himself. “You idiots are screaming lunch menu,” he muttered. “Keep it down.”

And then came wings.

Feathers drifted into the air as Seokjin landed roughly from a jump. His body twisted mid-air, talons slamming into the ground. A falcon hybrid, vision sharp, speed unmatched in a dive. He stood slowly, pulling a scarf around his neck to hide the feathered base of his throat.

“This place is crawling with heat signatures. I spotted at least two patrols west.”

Last to join them was Taehyung—sliding through the rusted doorway of an old engine car. His fingers glowed with faint blue fire, licking at his wrists. His gift was strange—emotion manifestation. The stronger he felt, the more it bled into energy. Anger burned. Fear froze. Right now, he was radiating confusion.

"Why are we here?" he asked, eyes scanning them all.

Namjoon’s voice was low. “Because we don’t have anywhere left.”

They didn’t know each other.

Didn’t trust each other.

But for some reason, none of them turned away.

Then—

A crackle in the gravel.

They froze.

Not soldiers.

Someone else.

Watching.

Still hidden in the smoke.

Jimin narrowed his glowing eyes. “Another one.”

Jungkook’s fists flexed. “Friend or trap?”

Yoongi’s breath left his mouth like steam. “Not human. But not like us, either.”

Taehyung stepped forward slowly, hand flickering with emotion-fire.

"Whoever you are," he said softly, "step out. Before someone burns you by mistake."