Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Yeosang trudged up the rusty metal stairs that lead up to Hongjoong’s office, casually tossing the USB he was carrying in the air and catching it as he went. A few of the lights in the stairwell could do with replacing. The paint on the walls was well beyond peeling and was now all but falling off in strips. It matched the rest of the old shipping warehouse that Hongjoong had made into his personal safehouse.

At the top of the stairs, Yeosang pushed open the heavy door and entered a slightly more pleasant space, if only just. At least Hongjoong kept working bulbs in all the light sockets even if the bay air was doing no more favors for the paint than anywhere else in the safehouse. The big windows on either side of the office, one set overlooking the interior of the warehouse and the other Crescent bay, worked to give the space a slightly less unsettling vibe. Though Yeosang could probably make a list as long as he was tall of people who would disagree with that statement. But their reason for being unsettled by Hongjoong’s office would have nothing to do with the interior decorating and everything to do with the man himself.

There was nothing inherently threatening about a well-dressed, if slightly trendy, man who barely topped five foot eight with a pleasant face and well groomed hair and yet Hongjoong was among the most feared criminal masterminds currently active in Hala City’s underground. He had a reputation. One Yeosang thought was fairly earned. Hongjoong was brilliant and he expected perfection and loyalty from his associates. One false step, a single mistake, the barest hint of betrayal and Hongjoong’s response was ruthless. Not physically, no that wasn’t Hongjoong’s style, but he had the connections, the mind, and the willpower to ruin anyone’s criminal career in Hala City if he was motivated enough. Yeosang had personally witnessed several hired criminals run out of town for failing to meet Hongjoong’s expectations. Which was why Yeosang considered himself lucky enough to have not only met Hongjoong’s expectations but have exceeded them to such a degree that he was one of only two people Hongjoong maintained in his crew on a full time basis.

Somewhere between the third and fourth jobs he’d ever been hired for by Hongjoong, he had impressed him enough with his skills. He was good at what he did and what he did was drones and connections. Yeosang didn’t have a large circle of connections but he had the right ones. People who were willing to drop him intel, dirt they had picked up as they moved around the seedy underbelly of the city. Hongjoong had offered him a spot on his small permanent crew under the condition that Yeosang provided the information he gathered to no one but Hongjoong. Something Yeosang was more than happy to agree to, the benefits were exceptional.

As Yeosang expected, Hongjoong was at his desk, multiple windows pulled up on his computer each displaying a different news site. The one prominently in focus showed an article for an art theft at an art gallery in Paris that Yeosang didn’t recognize the name of but he did recognize the name of the artist whose paintings had been stolen. Apparently the thief had made off with several of Raphael’s lesser known works. Yeosang approached the large, L-shaped desk and regarded the cluttered mess that covered its top as he waited for Hongjoong to acknowledge him.

“Anything good today?” Hongjoong asked eventually, holding out his hand into which Yeosang dropped the USB.

“Something that might pique your interest regarding one of our high-value targets,” Yeosang told him. “It may be of use, it may not be. That’s not my call. All I do is pass along what I’m told.”

Hongjoong chuckled lightly as he rotated the drive in the palm of his hand. “I’ll look it over. Anything else?”

“No, that’s all I had.” Yeosang gave a slight bow, preparing to make his exit.

“Will you be leaving for the evening then?” Hongjoong asked.

Evening was an interesting way of describing midnight but Yeosang just shook his head. “I’m half-way to a breakthrough on my new proto type. A few more hours of fiddling and I think I’ll have it.”

Hongjoong nodded once. “I wish you luck.”

“Thank you.” With that, Yeosang made his exit back down the stairs and to his own cluttered bench top. While Hongjoong’s was full of papers and notebooks, Yeosang’s was swimming in wires and spare drone parts.

Multiple hours, several electric shocks, one cut, and a lot of cursing later, Yeosang was no closer to his breakthrough on his new EMP drone proto-type. He couldn’t seem to isolate the pulse in a manner that didn’t cause the drone to malfunction along with his target. Honestly it was starting to give him a headache. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed his screwdriver back on the bench top and watched as it scattered a pile of screws. Maybe he should just call it a night. A glance at his desktop told him he’d been at this for well over six hours now. Perhaps a fresh-start after some sleep would help him fix this pesky little flaw.

“Little less than half-way to a breakthrough then, I suppose?”

Hongjoong’s voice startled Yeosang slightly. It wasn’t uncommon for him to get so absorbed in his work that he lost track of his surroundings but the creaky door to Hongjoong’s office was usually loud enough to give him some warning that his boss was coming. Perhaps he was more tired than he originally thought. Yeosang spun around to face Hongjoong, who quite unfairly did not look as tired as Yeosang felt.

“Nothing I won’t work out eventually,” Yeosang told him.

Hongjoong nodded, glancing around the empty warehouse. “Is San around?”

Before Yeosang could open his mouth the sound of a fist hitting a canvas punching bag pierced the quiet. It was rapidly followed by three more blows, what could only be described as a war cry, and then the distinctive sound of a kick landing.

Hongjoong turned towards the sounds coming from the open door to the left of Yeosang’s workspace. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“He came in maybe thirty minutes ago,” Yeosang provided. “Did you need him for something?”

“Both of you.” Hongjoong stalked over to the doorway that led into the space San had set up as a personal sparring gym. “San!”

Hongjoong didn’t wait for San’s response before returning to perch on the edge of Yeosang’s desk, ass against the hard edge, legs out in front of him, one crossed over the other. A handful of moments later a very sweaty San appeared, short black hair already plastered to his forehead, unwinding the protective gauze from his hands.

“Ya need somethin’ boss?” San asked, coming to a stop in front of the other two members of their little crime trio. He shoved the strips of bandages into the pocket of his black sweatpants.

“I’ve got a job for us,” Hongjoong said simply. “High priority.”

San nodded. “Who we hittin’?”

Hongjoong shook his head. “This one’s too big for just the three of us. We’re going to need some outside help.”

Now it was Yeosang’s turn to nod. Bigger jobs meant bigger scores; even with some extra hands the split would still turn out nicely. “How many?”

“Five should be the right number for what I’m planning,” Hongjoong answered. “A thief, a driver, a hacker specializing in breaking security systems, and another hitter.”

“What?! I’m not enough for you anymore?” San asked, hand to his chest clearly pretending to be affronted at the need for an additional hitter.

“This is why I’m his favorite,” Yeosang teased, smirking at his colleague. “I never complain when we need to hire another hacker.”

“That’s because all you hackers do different stuff. Hitters do one thing.” San held up a single finger for emphasis. “Hit shit.”

“Still the favorite.” Yeosang stuck out his tongue. “Maybe you should learn how to hit shit better.”

“I hit shit just fine, thank you very much!” San was rising to Yeosang’s bait perfectly. “Hongjoong’s never had any trouble when I’m around.”

“Oh?” Yeosang quirked a brow. “Got a little dicey on that job three months back.”

“He’s still alive, isn’t he?” San gestured emphatically at Hongjoong with both hands.

“Yeah, after you put twelve stitches in his leg,” Yeosang retorted.

Hongjoong pinched his brow and sighed loudly. “Children, stop it.” Instantly they both snapped their mouths shut. “It’s a B&E on a mansion that undoubtedly has a large amount of physical security. You’re good San, but even you can only take on so many people at once. We’ll need another hitter.”

“Yes, boss,” San said quickly.

“That’s only four. Thief, driver, hacker, hitter.” Yeosang ticked them off on his fingers as he listed. He wiggled all four in front of his face once he’d finished. “Who’s the fifth?”

“A grifter, and a good one too. The plan relies on a good grifter.” Hongjoong didn’t look too pleased about this but Yeosang knew Hongjoong would have analyzed every option before settling on a plan that required a grifter. “Offer the usual splits and I want everyone here in a week. Nobody remote. In-person only.”

“We’ll see who we can dig up,” Yeosang told him solemnly.

“Not that last guy we worked with. He was god awful. Nearly blew the whole operation.” Hongjoong pushed himself away from the desk.

“Noted,” San said. “Give us a few hours to ask around. I think a few of my usuals got busted a month or so back. Might have to branch out a little.”

Hongjoong waved a hand above his head as he headed back towards his office. “I trust you to select individuals of the correct caliber.”

Once Hongjoong had disappeared up the stairs, Yeosang turned to San and asked, “You got any hackers you can reach out to? The only security specialists I know either aren’t operating locally or got nabbed a bit back.”

San nodded slowly. “Yeah I got someone. Haven’t worked with him since before I hooked up with Hongjoong but we still keep in touch.”

“Is he good?” Yeosang asked skeptically.

“One of the best,” San answered.

“Then why haven’t we worked with him before?” Yeosang questioned. They almost always needed a security specialist on big jobs. Yeosang’s expertise in coding went no further than what it took to hook his drones up to a remote control or crack a simple digital lock.

“He’s uhhh,” San hesitated, looking a little unsure. “A tad eccentric. Prefers to work alone. Run’s digital bank heists when he’s not employing his skills for whatever cause has caught his fancy.”

“Oh, he’s one of those,” Yeosang said, wrinkling his nose a little.

“Yeah.” San pulled out his phone. “Well we better get callin’. I have a feelin’ the boss doesn’t want to be kept waitin’ on this one.”

Yeosang nodded and turned to fish his own phone out of the disaster spread across his desk. Sleep could wait, he could always slip down to the corner store for a Rockstar if the need arose. As he dug through a pile of drone casings under which he was fairly sure he’d last seen his phone, he flicked through his mental catalog of contacts. Thief brought only one name to mind, but they rarely worked together these days—their friendship was better off for it. Maybe San had a thief in his back pocket? Seemed unlikely; jobs that required a thief weren’t exactly San’s style.

A driver though… there was really only one guy in town who would meet Hongjoong’s expectations.

With a triumphant noise, Yeosang unearthed his phone from the bottom of his toolbox of all places. Honestly, he had no idea how it had ended up in there. With the successful location of his phone, Yeosang settled in to make some calls. It was early, a little too early for their line of work but with Hongjoong’s usual splits no one ever complained too badly.

Of course they also couldn’t complain if they didn’t pick up the phone. At least San seemed to have better luck than Yeosang. The sounds of him happily chatting away had been floating out of the breakroom for over forty minutes now. While all Yeosang had come up with was a series of disconnected lines, wrong numbers, and voicemails. He knew the driver he had in mind was still operating in the city and hadn’t been thrown in jail. Hala’s top street racer being arrested would have sent waves through all the circles Yeosang found himself in. There would have been no way to miss that. Yeosang punched in his number again, reluctant to reach out to anyone else without at least speaking to the man first. This time, the line crackled to life.

“This better be good, Yeosang. It’s ass o’clock in the morning.” The voice on the other end of the phone had the distinctive quality of someone who had just been woken up and was less than pleased.

“Hongjoong’s offers are always good,” Yeosang replied easily.

“Keep talking.”

Yeosang chuckled. Some days he was still amazed at the change in attitude when he dropped his boss’s name. Shortly after Yeosang had secured them a getaway driver, San sauntered out of the breakroom.

“How’d you make out?” San asked, nodding at Yeosang.

“We’ve got a driver.” Yeosang told him, still scrolling through his contacts. “You?”

“Security specialist secured. I have a line on another hitter. I’ve never worked with him directly but he comes highly recommended.” San plopped into one of the stools next to Yeosang’s desk. “Just waiting for our mutual friend to put us in contact.”

“Hongjoong’s not gonna be thrilled about a fresh face. What about that last guy? Jihoon?” Yeosang stopped his scrolling to look up at San.

San shook his head. “On another contract.”

“Damn. That’s a shame. He was good.” Yeosang returned to his phone.

“Any luck on the grifter front?” San asked skeptically, like he already knew the answer.

“Europe is apparently a very popular place right now,” Yeosang responded vaguely. At San’s noise of confusion, he clarified, “Seems the local grifter population has collectively decided to try their luck in Europe right now. Or they’re in jail.”

“Damn.” San leaned back, plunking both elbows on the workspace behind him, heedless of Yeosang’s very carefully controlled chaos.

Yeosang scowled at him as several piles of screws and bolts were disrupted. “I assume you’ve had similar luck then?”

“Yeah.” San nodded, blissfully unaware of the mayhem he was causing. “Thieves too. It would seem the mayor’s crackdown has been more effective than the locals like to believe it is.”

“Well, allowing the chief of police to place under-the-table bounties on arrest target numbers will certainly motivate an incompetent force. Even they’re bound to get lucky once in a while.” Yeosang pulled a disgruntled face. “I know a thief who’s still in Hala and not in jail. I’ll reach out.”

“There something wrong with him?” San asked, peering curiously at Yeosang.

“Nothing per se. He’s good at what he does.” Yeosang shrugged. “We’ve been friends since forever. Haven’t worked together in a good while though.”

“Why?” San asked.

“He’s a bit of a handful and our styles don’t exactly line up.” Yeosang furrowed his brow. “But that was when we were working just the two of us. I’m sure it won’t be a problem under Hongjoong.”

“Great. Sounds like you’ve got that handled then.” San hopped up from the stool. “I’m gonna get back to my workout then.”

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Yeosang deadpanned as San sauntered off. He called an afterthought at San’s retreating back. “Try to think of some more grifters while you’re at it!”

San waved a hand of acknowledgment and disappeared through the doorway. Yeosang sighed to himself as he pressed dial on his friend’s number. Ignoring that he’d been up since noon yesterday, it was still too early for the inevitable volume of this conversation. Hongjoong better be grateful for the things he went through for him.

Thirty minutes and the edge of headache later, they had themselves a thief. That just left a hitter and a grifter. Yeosang sent out as many feelers as he could, reaching out to even the most long shot of possibilities and hoping to turn up someone even halfway decent, but all his effort was in vain. At least from the sound of San’s conversation leaking out from the sparring room, his interrupted workout was proving fruitful on the hitter end.

Which just left them short a grifter.

Fuck.

Hongjoong was not going to be pleased.

“Okay. We’ll see you in a week then. 10:00 am. The port, sector 1, pier 8, building 1024.” San was saying into his phone as he wandered back into the main area.

“Hitter?” Yeosang questioned as San hung up.

“Yeah.” San nodded, shoving his phone into the pocket of his sweatpants. “Thief?”

Yeosang nodded. “He’s in.”

They stood there for a moment. Staring at each other, like it would magically cause one of them to produce a grifter. The sounds of the port filtered through the walls of the old building. Yeosang glanced at the clock. It was now approaching noon, so the people they associated with were typically awake and functional enough to respond to messages by this point in the day. Yeosang however was rapidly approaching non-functional. He dragged a hand down his face.

“Everyone I’ve reached out to about hiring a grifter has been no good. No one’s got anyone good right now.” Yeosang crossed his arms. “I’d rather rip this bandage off now and tell Hongjoong sooner rather than later. So unless you have been hiding a grifter due to complicated personal reasons”--San quirked an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with Yeosang’s sarcasm—“we should just go up there and tell him now.”

San bowed dramatically, sweeping his arm out in front of himself. “Lead the way.”

Yeosang huffed. “Coward.”

“Only when it comes to the boss,” San quipped.

Yeosang sighed but trudged across the empty space between his workspace and the stairs to Hongjoong’s office. It may have been a storage space for pallets between unloading off ships and loading onto trucks in the building’s previous life, Yeosang wasn’t too sure. Now all it served as was a testing ground for his drones and makeshift mechanics garage. As they climbed the rusty stairs, Yeosang tried to think of the best way to present this failure to Hongjoong. Other than leading with the good part, he hadn’t gotten very far by the time he pushed the door open.

“What motley crew did you two manage to turn up this time?” Hongjoong asked before they were even fully in the room.

The bed tucked into the far corner of the office looked recently slept in, though it was hard to tell. Hongjoong wasn’t one for tidiness. Maybe it was only wishful thinking on Yeosang’s part that Hongjoong had grabbed a couple hours of sleep while they were calling every ne'er-do-well in Hala. At least he was eating something, even if it did appear to be just a powerbar and cup of coffee at the small table situated in the makeshift kitchenette that took up the other corner of Hongjoong’s office. Honestly, if Hongjoong didn’t change clothes every day, Yeosang wouldn’t even think that Hongjoong had another house.

“Our usual driver was available and only slightly miffed I woke him up,” Yeosang told him.

Hongjoong waved a dismissive hand. “He just likes to play at being grumpy. Man has less actual bite than a golden retriever puppy.”

San chuckled from where he’d perched himself against the exterior windows. “Accurate.”

Yeosang nodded his agreement and continued on. “I don’t think you’ve ever worked with the only thief either of us could get our hands on but I’ve known him since we were children. He’s very good at what he does.”

“Putting your own reputation on the line here, Yeosang,” Hongjoong warned.

“I’m aware and I wouldn’t do it if I wasn’t sure he was the right man for the job.” Yeosang held Hongjoong’s gaze for a brief moment. Evidently Hongjoong found what he needed because he waved for Yeosang to continue.

“San managed to get us a security specialist who is apparently very good at what he does but typically a lone wolf.”

Hongjoong glanced over at San, eyebrows furrowed.

“He’s the one you’ve been trying to get to work with us for ages,” San told him with a shrug. “I guess we finally caught him at the right moment. Said something about being a little bored and it was either this or hack the FBI for UFO pictures again. Seems certain money spoke louder than possibly proving some conspiracy theories.”

Hongjoong nodded. “Good. I look forward to seeing what he can do in person.”

“I also got us another hitter.” San added.

“Jihoon?” Hongjoong questioned.

San shook his head. “Already contracted out to Seungcheol. Never worked with this guy before. Comes highly recommended by Zico. Apparently he’s been out of the military for a few years and is bouncing between crews at the moment.”

Hongjoong grunted. “Fine, but if he fucks us, Zico’s not gonna be happy.”

San nodded. “I told him as much.”

“Short a grifter.” Hongjoong commented when neither of the other two seemed eager to continue.

“It would seem Europe is fruitful this time of year,” Yeosang responded.

Hongjoong glanced at his computer across the room, still displaying the French art gallery theft article. “Yes. Yes, it would seem so.”

“I reached out to all of my contacts,” Yeosang told him, hoping to earn himself some good grace. “Everyone who’s more than a half-way decent grifter had either been thrown in jail or fucked off to try their luck across the pond.”

“Mayor’s crackdown is working,” San said a little grimly.

Hongjoong sniffed. “All he’s doing is separating the chaff from the wheat. Soon all that will be left is corrupt politicians and those of us too skilled to be caught in the mayor’s net.”

“If this is a B&E job, what do we need a grifter for?” Yeosang asked, watching Hongjoong carefully. “Couldn’t we just grab an extra thief if we need another body? Or better yet just stick with the seven we have now.”

Hongjoong shook his head. “I know this mark. We’re going to need a grifter.”

“Then what’s the plan here, boss?” San asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “If we push back the time table we might be able to convince someone to come back across the pond.”

“No, this job has a small window of opportunity.” Hongjoong pushed away from the table and stalked back to his desk. He dropped into his chair and spun to face his computer in a clear dismissal. “I have an…old friend who’s most likely making his way to the states as we speak if I know him.”

Yeosang nodded at Hongjoong’s back and then caught San’s eye and gestured at the door. They were half way down the stairs when Yeosang dared to ask, “Do you know who this ‘old friend’ is?”

“Beats me,” San said, thudding down the stairs behind Yeosang. “The boss never talks about his past and I’ve never met anyone who he’s called a friend before.”

“Interesting.”

Chapter Text

Turning down pier 8, Yunho slowed down just enough to accurately turn into the drive for building 1024 without risking slamming into the dilapidated brick front. The gravel crunched under his all black Vans as he stepped out of his sky blue, 2019 Supra A91. He reached up and smoothed his platinum blonde hair checking that his purposely dark roots were aligned in the side-view mirror. He loved his Supra to death but the constant brush of the top of his head against the interior roof really did a number on his hair. Such was the price he paid for being tall and loving sports cars.

The dust he’d kicked up still swirled around in the air but he paid it no mind as he locked his car. Taking a moment to observe the pier with distaste, Yunho adjusted his motorcycle racing style jacket. He never liked coming down to the ports. Nearly always ended up with something in a tire or a ding on his paint job. He’d just gotten the Supra repainted with black pinstriping too. With one last glance around the nearly deserted pier, Yunho headed inside, shoving through the unlocked entrance like he owned the place.

“Some safehouse this is,” he called across the cavernous space that greeted him.

“Any house I’m in is a safe one!” San called back, sounding like he was in the breakroom.

The safehouse looked the same as it had been the last time he was here. Yeosang’s drone workspace was a scattered mess of parts, computers, and tools. The same sorry excuse for a car jack sat in one corner with a toolbox Yunho knew from personal experience did not contain all the necessary tools for him to do whatever needed to be done to whatever car Hongjoong had purchased this time. The man insisted all work be done in the safehouse and yet every time Yunho had to lug half his garage across the city just to make the bare minimum upgrades that would keep him from destroying the engine doing ninety-eight down the main strip. The least Hongjoong could do was use some of his ill-gotten gains to outfit his toolkit a little better. A good set of wrenches and a motorized jack weren’t that expensive. At least the man paid better than half a year's worth of races ever would.

He was barely through the door to the break room before San was shouting his name and shoving away from the table. With an easy grin, Yunho dapped him up and asked, “How you been, man?”

“Same old. Keeping the boss from an early grave.” San grinned back at him, all toothy and sharp.

The break room was as unchanged as the workspace was. Slowly peeling laminate cabinets hung on the back wall, ancient fridge struggling in the corner, permanently stained countertops, a mildly concerning amount of rust on the sink, exactly as Yunho remembered ten months ago. The only things that didn’t look like it was a danger to his immediate health was the large table in the middle of the room and the eight chairs surrounding it. Already seated at the table were three people he didn’t recognize and one he did.

“Better you than me,” Yunho said easily as San moved back towards his seat, pulling out a chair for himself and falling into it. He nodded at Yeosang. “How’s it goin’ Yeo?”

Yeosang repeated the gesture. “I’m alright, Yunho. Heard you kept your title again.”

Feigning bashfulness, Yunho rubbed at the back of his neck. “You don’t miss much, do you?”

Yeosang shrugged. “People like to talk. I just happen to be good at listening. I also heard you nearly lost it on the third corner and some upstart kid came within a hair's breadth of beating you.”

“It was wet,” Yunho protested defensively. “Has nothing to do with my skills. And that kid just happened to be in the right place at the right time. Pretty sure he wrapped his car around a telephone pole celebrating second place.”

“Oh my god!” Someone gasped, drawing Yunho’s gaze to one of the new faces in the room. A man with dyed silver hair, oversized, round glasses and a very, very pleasant face was staring at Yunho with abject horror. “Is he okay? He like, didn’t die, did he?”

“Nah, won’t be racing for a good while, or walking for that matter, but he ain’t dead.” Yunho gave the man an easy smile across the table. “What’s your name, cutie?”

“Mingi,” he answered, a faint blush settling on his cheekbones.

“Lovely name,” Yunho told him. “I look forward to working with you.”

“Uh, same, I’m sure.” Mingi gave him a small smile.

Giving Mingi a reprieve, Yunho turned back to Yeosang. “When were you going to introduce me to the rest of our new friends?”

With a huffed sigh and a roll of his eyes, Yeosang replied, “I was getting there. Can’t do everything at once, damnit.”

“You’ve just met Mingi, he’s our security specialist. The man with far too many buttons undone is our thief, Wooyoung.” The Wooyoung in question squealed in indignation but Yeosang ignored him. “And the wannabe mobster over there is Jongho, extra muscle.”

“I will not take fashion advice from someone dressed like they’re on their way to a 2012 underground emo concert,” Jongho told Yeosang evenly, adjusting his suit jacket roughly.

Yunho snorted. They were both right in a way. Yeosang rarely wore anything that wasn’t baggy black pants with more chains, useless ties, and grommets than Yunho thought a single pair of pants could have and the chunkiest black boots imaginable but Jongho did kind of look like he rolled out of a 1950’s gangster movie. Black hair slicked back with far too much gel and an all black three piece suit with a black tie and shirt, it was hard not to make the mobster association. Wooyoung apparently agreed as well, if his poorly stifled laughter was anything to go by.

“I also do not take fashion critiques from someone wearing a silk, snake-print shirt with only half the buttons done,” Jongho told Wooyoung, looking equally unimpressed with his outfit as he was with Yeosang’s.

“He’s just jealous,” San grinned across the table at Wooyoung, clear want glinting in his eyes. “He knows he wouldn’t look half as good in that as you do.”

Wooyoung smirked back. “Pretty hard to look this good in general, but I think you could pull it off.”

“I could pull it off you,” San shot back, with a tip of his head to one side, a cocky gleam in his eye.

A hard slap on the table cut off Wooyoung’s response. “For the love of all that is unholy in this world, Wooyoung, keep it in your pants for more than ten minutes. We have to work together and I don’t need you fucking your way through the crew.” Yeosang looked more than a little disgruntled.

Wooyoung slumped back against the chair, dramatically pouting and crossing his arms over his chest. His split dyed black and blond hair falling to obscure his eyes. “Sangieeeeee, let me have my fun. I let you have yours.”

“Yes, because I have mine like a responsible adult and not with my colleagues,” Yeosang shot back.

“Do you two know each other?” Yunho cut in before they could start in earnest.

Yeosang pinched his brow and let out an exasperated sigh. “Unfortunately.”

“Oh you love me, Sangie, don’t pretend,” Wooyoung smiled lightly at Yeosang before turning to Yunho. “We grew up together on the mean streets of Hala. All we had was each other.”

“Oh don’t be dramatic,” Yeosang said, dropping his hand to glare at Wooyoung. “We literally each have families. Your mother babysat us at your perfectly middle class house. Do not make it sound like we were some sort of street urchins.”

Wooyoung stuck out his tongue. “You always ruin my fun.”

Yunho shook his head as the two devolved into petty bickering. Wooyoung seemed lively, to put it mildly. At least this job wouldn’t be boring. Hongjoong did tend to pick some of the most boring criminals this side of the Mississippi. So long as Wooyoung could be professional when it counted, Yunho welcomed a bit of personality. Jongho seemed to fall into the boring category, what with his impeccably tailored suit, disinterested expression, and all. It was hard to predict where Mingi would fall. His styled silver hair and brightly colored, oversized yet stylish outfit screamed personality, but the way he held himself was in stark contrast. He sat sort of slumped, hands tucked into his lap, like he wanted to take up the least amount of room possible. Which seemed to be a difficult task for him seeing as just eyeballing him across the table, Yunho would bet good money that Mingi’s shoulders were wider than his.

“I feel like you two have had this argument before,” Jongho commented dryly during a pause in Yeosang and Wooyoung’s spat.

“You could say that.” Wooyoung huffed, crossing his legs primly. The way San’s eyes traveled up Wooyoung’s legs at the motion was not lost on Yunho.

Taking the chance to change the topic to something less obviously worn out and less likely to provoke Yeosang, Yunho caught Mingi’s eye. “So, security specialist, huh? You ever hacked a government?”

“A couple,” Mingi answered, the barest hint of a smirk playing on his lips. “Got a t-shirt from the Dutch.”

“What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever hacked?” Yunho asked.

“I did the FBI on a dare and three hours of sleep once.” This time Mingi really smirked and Yunho knew he was in trouble. Mingi looked good when he was confident.

Yunho leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Is that so?”

“Yup,” Mingi popped the p as he straightened up revealing that his poor posture had been hiding more than a few inches of height. Not that Yunho was complaining; he’d always had a bit of a thing for guys his own height. “Only took three hours and I got to leak some pretty interesting photos of Area 51.”

“Area—“

“Wait,” Yeosang said slowly, realization dawning on his face. “Oh for fuck’s sake, you’re FixOn? I’m not working with you. Even in my spheres your reputation precedes you.”

Mingi bristled noticeably at Yeosang’s words. “First of all, I don’t give a fuck about my rep. I’m the best at what I do, that's all that matters. Second, it’s F1X0N to you.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Wooyoung echoed Yeosang. “I’m not working with someone who uses leetspeak in the year of our lord 2022.”

“You will be,” a cool voice said from behind Yunho. “So I advise you to get over it.”

Yunho turned to see Hongjoong stalking into the room, self-assured as always. As he settled into the chair at the head of the table, he glanced around at them. His expression pinched with irritation as he took them in.

“We’re short one,” he said plainly. “I guess not much has changed then. Timeliness was never his strong suit.”

“No, the only thing that hasn’t changed is how difficult this godforsaken city is to navigate”

Yunho glanced over his shoulder to find a truly gorgeous man filling the doorway. He was lithe, dressed in an impeccable pin-striped suit with purple accents. His dark hair was swept up and away from his face to reveal the shaved sides of his head. But the most striking part about him was his face, full lips, sharp cheekbones and even sharper eyes that were trained directly on Hongjoong. Yunho shivered involuntarily as he glanced back at Hongjoong. It was like the room had instantaneously dropped ten degrees. Hongjoong wasn’t exactly a pleasant man to be around on an average day but Yunho didn’t think he’d ever seen the man look so coldly at a member of his crew without them having screwed up a job first.

“You’re late,” Hongjoong ground out as the man walked across the room to the only open seat remaining, directly opposite Hongjoong. With all the grace of a dancer, he pulled it out and perched lightly on the chair.

“You’re just upset that I ruined your dramatic entrance,” the man said easily, waving a hand dismissively at Hongjoong.

A look around the table told Yunho that wasn’t the only one shocked by how this man spoke to Hongjoong. San’s eyebrows looked like they were going to lift straight off his head and Wooyoung had a hand covering his mouth. No one spoke to Hongjoong like that. At least not without fearing for their career. But this man had no fear. He met Hongjoong’s narrowed gaze easily.

“Everyone.” Hongjoong spoke without breaking eye contact with the mysterious man. “This is Seonghwa. He’ll be grifting for us. Seonghwa, this is everyone.”

Seonghwa tutted, finally breaking eye contact to sweep his gaze over the rest of the room’s occupants. “Come now, Hongjoong, you were always so proud of your crews in the past. Introduce them to me properly.”

For a moment, Yunho thought Hongjoong was going to tell Seonghwa off, but then he sighed and did as requested. Quickly, Hongjoong went around the table, introducing all of them and their expected roles. Seonghwa smiled politely and nodded at each of them as Hongjoong rattled off names.

“I look forward to working with all of you,” Seonghwa said when Hongjoong had finished.

“Yes, well now that pleasantries are out of the way”—Hongjoong gave Seonghwa a pointed look—“let’s get down to business.”

“To defeat the Huns!” Wooyoung tacked on, earning himself a groan from Yeosang and a sharp look from Hongjoong. For his part, Wooyoung looked completely unapologetic about making a 90’s Disney movie reference in the middle of a criminal plotting meeting.

“Some of you have worked for me before but a few of you haven’t. There are some rules I expect strict adherence to.” Hongjoong scanned them slowly as he spoke. “The first and most important is that from this moment until you receive your payment, you work for me. That means no side jobs, personal or otherwise.”

He glanced at Yunho and then tacked on. “Or racing.”

Yunho threw up his hands in surrender. “I know how this works. No fun for me until the job’s all done.”

Mingi snorted, quickly bringing his hand up in an attempt to cover his amused smile.

Yunho smirked at him. “He didn’t say anything about joy rides though. Let me know if you ever want to go for a spin.”

“Yunho,” Hongjoong said warningly.

“I know, I know,” Yunho said quickly. “No getting arrested is rule number two.”

“It is.” Hongjoong was still fixed on Yunho.

“They can’t arrest what they can’t catch,” Yunho told him.

This only caused Hongjoong to narrow his eyes and frown deeper. However, Mingi was still poorly hiding a smile, the tops of cheeks and crescent eyes giving him away from behind his pretty hand.

Yunho sighed and slouched further into his seat. “Fine, I’ll be on my best behavior. Drive below the speed limit, use my turn signal and everything. Right back to driver’s ed.”

“You should always use your turn signal,” Jongho deadpanned.

Yunho resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at him. Instead he responded with the very professional, “Of course, Officer, I always do.”

Jongho looked severely unamused with Yunho’s joke, as did Hongjoong.

“Getting back to the subject at hand,” Hongjoong said firmly. “As Yunho mentioned, the second rule is do not get arrested. I will not bail you out nor will anyone else on this crew.”

“Understood.” Jongho nodded, crossing his arms over his broad chest. Extra muscle indeed. The arms of his suit jacket were certainly under a little strain.

“The third and final rule, though no less important than the first two, is do not fuck up this job,” Hongjoong glanced around the table at all of them. “I only take the best of the best. I know what each of you is capable of, even if we haven’t worked together previously, and I expect nothing but your best on this job. Any slip ups, any actions that jeopardize this job or this crew will not end well for you. Understood?”

A chorus of affirmative answers sounded and that seemed to satisfy Hongjoong.

“So what’s the job, boss?” San asked, leaning back casually in his chair.

Hongjoong, grinned. “We’re going to liberate a collection of valuable gems from a local corrupt politician.”

Wooyoung leaned forward, elbows planted on the table. “You have my attention.”

Hongjoong might have Wooyoung’s attention but Yunho couldn’t help but notice as San’s attention slipped to the now very exposed skin of Wooyoung’s entire chest.

“I thought you might like that,” Hongjoong said.

“Seems like a standard B&E, what do you need a grifter for?” Seonghwa asked with a quizzical look.

“I’ve been watching this mark for a long time. He's very careful, very clever, and very well connected. No blueprints of his mansion exist anywhere digital outside of his control and any physical copies are with him. His security is top-notch and anyone I’ve hired to do information gathering on this mark has come up with very little.”

Mingi scoffed. “Give me twelve hours. I’ll have everything you need and his favorite brand of underwear.”

Hongjoong fixed Mingi with a skeptical look. “He’s running a Sooman’s EXOsafe Mark VI.”

“A Mark VI!” Mingi’s expression of cool confidence was quickly replaced with shock. “That’s a multimillion dollar system. I’ve only heard of Mark VI’s being run in tech industries to protect trade secrets. Never a private citizen.”

“Exactly,” Hongjoong told him. “We’re going to need to get a man on the inside for a little reconnaissance and to open you a backdoor.”

“And that’s where I come in,” Seonghwa drawled slowly.

Hongjoong nodded. “There’s a collection viewing party being held by the mark at his mansion in two weeks. You’re going to be on the guest list.”

“Two weeks!” Mingi exclaimed. “I can’t make a backdoor trojan into a Sooman’s EXOsafe Mark VI in two weeks!”

“Were you not just bragging about hacking the FBI in three hours?” Jongho asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, that’s the federal government. We’re all lucky they’re not still running on Commodore 64’s and dot matrix printers! The IRS does taxes with Windows XP!” Mingi was waving his hands animatedly now, coming dangerously close to hitting Yeosang as he spoke. “This is leagues more sophisticated than what’s protecting the nuclear codes. In two weeks I’d be lucky to prepare something to put a pinhole in the backdoor. Fuck opening the thing.”

“Can you work with a pinhole?” Hongjoong asked, contemplation on his face. “Is that enough for you to crack it from the outside?”

Mingi paused, hands frozen mid motion. “Probably. Most likely. Any opening is a weakness, no matter how small. And with enough forethought I can make it exploitable enough to open. But it would still take time.”

“We’ll have just about a month after the viewing before the gems are scheduled to be moved to a permanent and far more secure location.” Hongjoong said. “Is that enough time?”

Mingi lowered his hands. “Most likely.”

“Good.” Hongjoong nodded firmly. “Two weeks. Make yourself a pinhole and get Seonghwa on the guest list.”

“Well at least part of that is easy,” Mingi said. “He’ll be on the guest list with a solid alias before you can blink.”

Hongjoong nodded and then swung his attention to the rest of them. “As for you lot. You’ll be preparing for the second stage.”

Right about at this point is where Yunho started to lose focus. He knew his job, fix up the car he was given and keep them out of custody after the actual theft. Simple. The finer details of what everyone else needed to do were unimportant to his part in this. It was difficult to focus on Hongjoong droning on about how Yeosang needed to upgrade the earbuds and San needed to train the infiltration team in basic hand to hand when he could focus on Mingi instead. The pretty hacker looked like he was paying about as much attention as Yunho was. Lost in his own mind, probably scripting code if he was anything like the other hackers Yunho knew. It was cute the way his nose scrunched and his lips quirked as he contemplated the problem handed to him by Hongjoong.

“Who exactly is the mark?” Seonghwa’s gentle voice pulled Yunho out of his trance. “I’d like to do a little of my own prep work. Research is very important for a successful grift.”

Hongjoong looked up at him, face going hard. “Minsuk Yang, on the board of city governors.”

Seonghwa’s face shifted almost like he wanted to say something but decided to hold his tongue at the last moment. “I’ll look him up.”

“I’ll send you the dossier I have on him. Much more thorough than anything you can find online.” Quickly, Hongjoong swung his attention onto Yunho. “As for you.”

“Yes?” Yunho asked, drawing out the word.

Hongjoong dug into his pocket and pulled out a car key. He tossed it across the table and Yunho caught it neatly. He unfurled his hand to look at it and groaned. “Come on, man. A domestic? Really?”

Chapter Text

Jongho pushed open the door to the safehouse, stepping out of the warm summer air and into the slightly cooler interior. It bothered him that the safehouse seemed to have very little in the way of security. No obvious cameras, no inconspicuous ones that he could spot either, and not even so much a keypad on the front door. Very lax for what was occurring inside.

“Hey,” Yunho greeted, pulling his head out of the engine bay of the Ford Transit van Hongjoong had supplied him with. Grease was smeared across his forehead and the blue mechanic’s jumpsuit he wore.

“How’s it going?” Jongho asked, nodding at the van but keeping a respectable distance from Yunho.

He shivered at the thought of the dry cleaning bill for getting engine grease out of a worsted wool suit and Yunho, he had learned in the short time they had worked together, could be touchy. Jongho straightened his suit jacket as he stole a glance at Yunho’s hands. One held a small wrench and they were both absolutely filthy.

Yunho made a face at the open hood in front of him. “It’d be a lot easier if I wasn’t working with a fucking Ford.”

That was the only other thing Jongho had learned about Yunho over the last week: he had a true disdain for American made cars. Why? Jongho had absolutely no idea, but Yunho hadn’t made any secret about his opinion on Hongjoong’s choice of vehicle.

“But you will be able to make the necessary modifications?” Jongho asked.

“Of course he will.” Jongho’s head snapped to the sound of Yeosang’s voice to find the hacker striding out of the breakroom, dressed in his usual 2012 grunge look, shaggy black hair pulled into a half hearted attempt at a ponytail, energy drink can in hand. “He always does. He just likes to bitch. Don’t pay any attention to him, Jjongie.”

Jongho wrinkled his nose at the nickname Yeosang had unceremoniously bestowed upon him. It was so childish sounding to his ears. Not something fit for a combat veteran with multiple tours of duty.

“Yeosang.” Jongho inclined his head in greeting as the drone specialist came to a stop next to the open engine compartment. As he brought his head back up his hand automatically went to fix the lock of hair dangling over his right eye. He’d recently decided to change how he wore his hair and it now had the annoying habit of flopping in his eye.

“Oh fuck you,” Yunho said playfully, shoving at Yeosang’s shoulder and subsequently leaving a grease smear across the bare, rounded, rather firm looking muscle. “You bitch just as much about your drones.”

Yeosang glanced at his shoulder, shifting the edge of his black muscle tee to get a better look. “I am designing never-before-seen prototypes. You, on the other hand, are making the same modifications you made to the last three vans.”

“And they never make it any easier for someone over six feet to fit into these spaces,” Yunho shot back.

Yeosang rolled his eyes, leaning casually against the side of the van. “Should have thought of that before you decided to become a giant.”

Yunho grinned at him. “You’re just jealous of my good genes.”

Yeosang fixed him with an unimpressed look. “When pigs fly. Height isn’t everything. Look at Jongho over there. Between him and you, I’d be more frightened of meeting him in a dark alley.”

“Thanks? I think.” Jongho furrowed his brow trying to decide if Yeosang had complimented or insulted him.

“You’re welcome.” Yeosang nodded in his direction.

Yunho for his part looked mildly offended. “It’s his job to look scary, not mine.”

Yeosang shrugged. “You also have the physique of roughly a wet noodle. How is it that the keyboard jockey over there has more muscle mass than you?” Yeosang gestured at where Mingi was quietly minding his own business, focused intently on his computer, oversized black headphones on his ears.

Yunho followed Yeosang’s outstretched arm. From his angle, Jongho could see Yunho’s eyes wander over Mingi’s back. The tight black t-shirt the hacker was wearing wasn't exactly leaving much to the imagination. A fact Yunho seemed to notice as his gaze linger just a little longer than necessary. Finally Yunho swallowed thickly and shrugged, seemingly putting in a lot of effort at looking back at Yeosang.

“Guess he works out,” Yunho muttered before diving back into the engine in front of him.

Yeosang met Jongho’s eye with a wicked smirk. It wasn’t hard to guess what he was thinking. The obvious attraction between the driver and the hacker had been on display since their first meeting. Jongho just hoped they were professional enough not to let it fuck up the job. But seeing how they couldn’t seem to do more than flirt like shy teenagers with a first crush, Jongho wasn’t too worried. San and Wooyoung on the other hand… now that was playing with fire.

“So,” Yeosang said, still leaning against the van but now fully turned towards Jongho. “What brings you to these parts?”

It struck Jongho that Yeosang was probably no stranger to the gym either. He doubted that the definition in his biceps and chest were from working on drones. Well defined muscles in complete contrast to the delicate nature of his facial features—a dichotomy Jongho found intriguing even if it would take a professional torture team to get him to admit that out loud.

Jongho fixed him with an unimpressed look. “I work for Hongjoong too.”

Yeosang waved a dismissive hand. “I know, I know but you don’t have prep work for this portion. Figured you’d be holed up in a gym or whatever it is you hitters do with your spare time.”

“You literally work with a hitter full time,” Jongho said.

“Yeah and all he does is work out,” Yeosang tossed back. “You still haven’t said why you’re here.”

“What’s it matter to you?” Jongho questioned stiffly.

Yeosang seemed to enjoy needling him and Jongho wasn’t quite sure what he’d done to deserve such treatment. Nothing Jongho seemed to do was above critique for Yeosang.

Yeosang shrugged, shoving off the van in one smooth motion. “Just curious.”

“San wanted to compare hand-to-hand styles before we started training you and Wooyoung,” Jongho said, following after Yeosang as he headed towards his work space without thinking.

It was a disaster. A pile of electronic parts Jongho couldn’t hope to identify, plastic casings, and various tools littered the entire surface save for a small area directly in front of a stool. How Yeosang got anything done was beyond Jongho.

“Well, San’s not here,” Yeosang said as he situated himself on his stool. “Haven’t seen him since last night when he was slipping out the door with Wooyoung attached to his hip.”

Jongho glanced at his gunmetal grey watch as he perched on the empty stool next to Yeosang. “He said noon.” Surreptitiously, he adjusted his suit jacket, ensuring his twin glocks in their harness were out of sight. They might all be criminals but Jongho didn’t favor announcing he was armed unless it was strictly necessary.

“Yeah, well, I’m sure he said that before he got Wooyoung in the sack.” Yeosang reached out and pulled a tray of delicate looking electrical parts closer to himself.

“What does that mean?” Jongho asked.

Yeosang sighed. “I’ve been told Wooyoung can be… tiring in bed to say the least.”

“Oh.” Jongho really didn’t know what to do with that information.

“I’m sure he won’t be too much longer,” Yeosang told him as he picked up a flashlight. “Until then, make yourself useful and hold this so I can see what the fuck I’m doing.”

Jongho stared at the flashlight being held in his direction. “Why?”

“Because if I don’t get these finished before the stupid gala, Hongjoong’s gonna wring my neck and San took his swimming on its last outing. So instead of just upgrading eight earbuds so top tier the CIA doesn’t even have this tech I need to repair said tech first. So be a doll and hold the damn flashlight.” Yeosang wasn't even looking at him as he spoke, digging through the clutter spread out in front of him with one hand.

Jongho took the flashlight and flipped it in a quick motion to shine on the tray in front of Yeosang. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just make a new one?”

Yeosang paused his search for whatever tool he needed to fix Jongho with a look that clearly implied he’d just asked the most idiotic question imaginable. “Oh jeez. You’re right, why didn’t I think of that? Just out here making life more difficult for myself.”

Jongho didn’t justify Yeosang’s sarcasm with anything more than a stern look. With a shake of his head, Yeosang turned back to his search, muttering under his breath. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just make a new one? My ass.”

“Do you want my help or not?” Jongho asked with mounting frustration, clicking the flashlight off.

“Don’t ask dumb questions about my job,” was Yeosang’s response as he extracted a tool from under a stack of drone blades. “And I won’t question you in the field.”

Jongho grunted. That seemed to be as good of a truce as he was likely to get from Yeosang. He clicked the flashlight back on and maneuvered it to what seemed like the optimal position by how Yeosang bent low over the tiny parts.

“Your hair looks good by the way,” Yeosang mumbled a moment later.

“Huh?” Jongho asked unintelligently.

“Less gel today.” Yeosang was speaking to the disassembled earpiece in front of him. “It looks good. The half bangs thing suits you. Less mobster-y.”

“Oh, uh, thanks.” Jongho said, glad Yeosang was focused on his work. He was pretty sure the tips of his ears were turning red right now.

***

The safehouse was a hub of activity when Seonghwa strolled in just after noon. Yeosang was bent over his workspace with Jongho next to him holding a flashlight. Mingi was intently working at his computer, lines of code scrolling by on his monitor. And Yunho was making an unholy clatter from underneath the van’s engine compartment. So all in all, no different than the last few times Seonghwa had stopped by to check in on the preparations.

Looking up at the large windows overlooking the first floor, Seonghwa gave a cheery wave. Just in case Hongjoong was watching. Behind the tinted glass, Seonghwa could swear he saw a figure turn away. Internally, he sighed. Hongjoong hadn’t ever been the warmest man to walk the earth but the years apart seemed to have made him down right frigid. Seonghwa hadn’t exactly been expecting to pick up right where they’d left off—too much time had passed for that—but he hadn’t been expected to be treated like this either. Hongjoong only seemed to acknowledge his existence when it was directly related to the job.

Tucking his emotions back into the little corner of his mind he allowed them to reside, Seonghwa strolled across the room stopping next to where Yunho’s legs were sticking out from under the van. He crouched down, carefully adjusting his suit pants as he did. “How’s it going under there?” he called.

A muffled bang was immediately followed by a “fuck, ow,” from Yunho, who quickly slid out from under the van, rubbing at his temple as he appeared.

“Apologies,” Seonghwa told him sincerely. “It was not my intention to startle you.”

“All good.” Yunho waved him off, sitting up. “I smack my head just about every time I go under a car.”

It didn’t miss Seonghwa’s attention that Mingi was now half turned towards them, one ear partially exposed from his headphones. Perhaps there was one thing that could break the hacker’s focus.

“Do you work on all your own cars?” Seonghwa asked, standing up.

Yunho nodded, working himself into a standing position. “Yeah. Don’t trust no one else.”

“Are you self-taught?” Seonghwa was curious now.

“Kinda?” Yunho cocked his head like he wasn’t quite sure. “I started at a mechanic’s shop around the corner from my house when I was in high school but I wouldn’t say they were the best teachers. Got more out of Google than I did half the guys in that shop.”

“Interesting.” Seonghwa maneuvered to peer into the open engine bay. Several major pieces had been removed or otherwise disconnected. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, uh.” Yunho glanced at the engine as well. “Just some upgrades. I’m a little rough on cars so the stock parts don’t hold up well.”

“Replacing the intake valve?” Seonghwa asked as he took stock of what area Yunho seemed to be attempting to access. “Are you replacing it with carbon fiber?”

Yunho looked a little shocked. “Yeah, I am. How did you know?”

Seonghwa shrugged and gave Yunho a half smile. “I wasn’t always as prim and proper as I am now.”

“What’s your opinion on teflon-lined versus standard polycarbonate tubing?” Yunho asked, shrugging half out of his mechanics jumpsuit to reveal a black t-shirt.

Behind him, Mingi had lost all pretense of working now, screen still behind him as he twisted on his stool to watch Yunho. With timid eyes, Mingi swept his gaze up and down Yunho’s form.

“Teflon-lined was after my time.” Seonghwa chuckled.

Yunho shrugged as he tied the arms of his jumpsuit around his waist. “Just thought I’d ask. Been a hot button topic around the racing scene.”

Leaning forward, Yunho planted his hands on the edge of the open engine bay as he peered into it. His eyebrows furrowed as he reached in and fiddled with a few parts. “Might be time for a break, not like I’m gonna get this finished anytime soon. It’s lucky we don’t need the van for the gala. With all the work that’s needed, I’ll be lucky to have it finished by the actual heist.”

Seonghwa couldn’t help the little smile creeping across his lips as he watched Mingi watch Yunho. It seemed like so long ago that he had experienced something as pure as a crush. It was a sweet reminder that the world wasn’t all bad.

“Yunho,” Seonghwa said, cutting off Yunho’s rambling. Yunho hummed in acknowledgment, looking over at him. “It would seem you have an admirer.”

“Huh?” Yunho’s mouth twisted in confusion.

Seonghwa jerked his chin in Mingi’s direction. Yunho followed his indication just in time to catch Mingi spinning back to his computer, an obvious blush crawling up the back of his neck.

“Oh,” Yunho said softly, gaze fixed on Mingi’s back. “Ain’t that something. A cutie too.”

Seonghwa chuckled and gave Yunho a pat on the back. “Just don’t go fucking things up in the name of love.”

With a snort, Yunho brought his attention back to Seonghwa. “I don’t think it’s the two of us you’ll have to worry about.”

“What do you mean?” Seonghwa asked.

“I've never been one to play it fast and lose with crew members, those two however,” Yunho nodded towards something behind Seonghwa.

He turned around to see San with an arm slung around Wooyoung’s neck as they unceremoniously entered the safehouse. They were giggling, heads tipped towards each other, seemingly ignorant of the rest of the crew. Seonghwa narrowed his eyes; there was something distinctly spent-the-night-on-a-bedroom-floor about the way Wooyoung’s shirt was rumpled.

“Finally,” Jongho called, breaking up their giggle fest. “You said noon. It’s after twelve thirty.”

Jongho looked disgruntled, face hard as he took in the two of them. Seonghwa would certainly think twice about pissing Jongho off if that look was being aimed at him. San's uncaring hand wave said he felt differently.

“This ain’t the army, bro.” The eye roll was audible in San's voice.

Jongho’s face darkened but seemed to think better of actually starting an argument. Lovely, one more thing to be concerned about. Friction between crew members was never a positive.

“I’m sure Hongjoong will put a stop to it before it becomes a real issue,” Seonghwa told Yunho as he watched San and Wooyoung approach Jongho and Yeosang out of the corner of his eye.

“Yeah.” Yunho drew out the word like he wasn’t convinced. He shook his head, before turning back to Seonghwa. “Did you need something from me or…?” Yunho trailed off.

“Oh no, I’m actually here to see Mingi. I was just curious about how your modifications were going,” Seonghwa answered.

“They’d be going faster if Hongjoong would let me work at my own shop,” Yunho grumbled, frowning down at the engine.

With a chuckle, Seonghwa said, “I see his control freak tendencies haven’t changed, then.”

Yunho cocked his head to one side, “Have you known Hongjoong a long time?”

“You could say that,” Seonghwa responded lightly. “Though I haven’t spoken to him for almost an equal amount of time.”

“Oh?” Yunho inquired. “What happened?”

“I’m afraid that’s a story for another time.” Seonghwa nodded politely. “If you’ll excuse me, I shouldn’t keep Mingi waiting any longer.”

“Sure, sure.” Yunho stepped closer to the van, kicking a couple of wrenches out of the way. “Sorry for prying.”

Seonghwa shook his head as he passed. “It was a natural question. Nothing to be sorry for.”

***

Mingi willed the heat in his cheeks to subside as he aimlessly pulled up different windows on the screen in front of him. It was so stupid, getting caught staring at a cute boy like he was in high school again. Ridiculous, he was over thirty. Why couldn’t he be more confident? Like Wooyoung. That man saw what he wanted, went for it, and got it. And yet here Mingi was, blushing like a fool because Yunho had caught him checking him out.

Not like he had a chance probably. A guy who looked like Yunho with his reputation around Hala’s street racing circuit, could pull whoever he wanted on a nightly basis. He probably never went to bed alone. Not that Mingi would know what that was like.

“Hello.” Seonghwa’s pleasant voice broke Mingi’s spiraling train of thought.

“Hi,” Mingi said, lowering his headphones to sit around his neck.

Seonghwa pulled a stool closer to Mingi’s computer and sat down gracefully. “You said my alias was ready?”

“Oh! Yes!” Mingi exclaimed, hurriedly pulling up the necessary windows. “Had a bit of fun with this one. Always loved putting together backstories but I don’t get to do it often in my usual line of work.”

“I see. It’s still believable, correct?” Seonghwa asked, a small amount of concern in his voice.

“For sure, for sure,” Mingi reassured him with a smile. “I just might have gone a little bit deeper than necessary for this job. I don’t think anyone’s going to be concerned with where you went to middle school for example.”

“I don’t anticipate that particular detail coming up,” Seonghwa agreed.

“But what will come up is your name,” Mingi told him. “Which is Sebin Jang.”

“And why has Sebin Jang been invited to this illustrious event?” Seonghwa questioned, eyes roaming over Mingi’s screen.

“You’re new money. Been riding the tech boom for a few years now. I just hacked the guestlist and added you on—cheaper that way—but if anyone asks, you’ve been a very generous donor to Yang’s last few reelection campaigns,” Mingi told him.

“Understood.” Seonghwa nodded. “Anything else?”

“Your company is called TVXQ and it specializes in software. VPNS, antiviruses, that kind of thing.” Mingi pulled up a few more windows. “Both your parents are still alive, divorced though. You have a sister who works for your company. I’ll send you everything in an email but I just wanted to go over it all in person. Make sure there wasn’t any glaring issues or anything I missed.”

They spent a good fifteen minutes discussing the finer details of Seonghwa’s alias. Seonghwa made a few suggestions that Mingi implemented quickly, adjusting some portions of Sebin Jang’s backstory to make it more natural.

“This seems very reasonable. A multiple-time donor would certainly have an invite to an event like this.” Seonghwa nodded, scanning over the details in front of him once the changes had been made. “Though I’m not sure when I’ll need some of this information.”

Mingi shrugged. “Like I said, I was having fun.”

“Please email these to me when you have a moment,” Seonghwa said, pulling Mingi’s keyboard closer to himself. Mingi tried not to be bothered as Seonghwa made himself at home at his computer, pulling up the notepad application. “This address is fully encrypted.”

“Uh, sure,” Mingi said, gently pulling his keyboard and mouse back in front of himself.

“How’s the pinhole coming?” Seonghwa asked.

Mingi groaned. For all his confidence he was coming up against several brickwalls. He’d known it would be difficult and with unlimited time it might even be a fun challenge. On a deadline though, it was anxiety inducing.

“That good, huh?”

“Hongjoong’s asking for the near impossible,” Mingi told him. “Basic EXOsafe systems are difficult enough but a Mark VI is nearly impossible. I’ll be lucky if I get this done in time.”

“Not lucky,” Seonghwa said gently. “Skilled. I’m sure you’ll come through.”

“Hey, Mingi!” Yunho interrupted them from across the room. “You have lunch yet?”

Mingi glanced over at him, a little surprised that Yunho was speaking to him. “Uh, no.”

“I was gonna run over to Star 1117, wanna come with?” Yunho had an almost hopeful smile on his cute face.

“Oh, uh…” Mingi glanced at Seonghwa.

“I think I have everything I need. Just send it all to me and I’ll make sure to memorize it.” Seonghwa smiled at him knowingly as he stood up. “Have fun. Thank you for the alias.”

“No problem,” Mingi told him sincerely even as he could feel the heat rising in his cheeks again. He raised his voice and called back to Yunho, “Yeah, I’m in.”

Yunho’s bright smile hit Mingi right in the heart. “Great! I’ll drive.”

“Don’t get me killed,” Mingi groaned, much to Seonghwa’s amusement.

***

“Are you coming, army boy?” San asked with a sneer, as he headed towards the sparring room, arm still wrapped around Wooyoung.

Jongho leveled him with a look so unamused it rivaled Hongjoong's best withering glare. That said, those had never bothered San either, so Jongho was barking up the wrong tree. Tough guy shit didn't ruffle his feathers; never had, never will.

“You're late, he's helping me now,” Yeosang said, not looking up from whatever little bit of tech he was bent over. “It's your fault I even need to waste time on this nonsense anyway. How many times do I have to tell you, water resistant is not waterproof!”

“At least once more,” San tossed back playfully. “It's not like I wanted to go swimming in Crescent Bay anyway. Fucking goons had guns.”

“And you don't?” Jongho asked, a note of disbelief coloring his usual deadpan tone.

“No guns,” San and Yeosang said in unison.

“Damn, you'd look hot with a gun,” Wooyoung purred.

“And you have a danger kink.” Yeosang sounded long-suffering, not bothering to look up. “Sannie doesn't do guns. Leave it alone. Both of you.”

Jongho huffed at the same time Wooyoung whined. San owed Yeosang his next three energy drinks. He had very few personal rules but no guns was at the top of the list. A fact he really didn't feel like explaining to a guy who clearly had a contrary opinion and an obvious general dislike for San. Nor did he feel like explaining it to the guy he was pretty sure was fast becoming more than just a quick fuck during a contract. Weakness wasn't hot.

“Come on Sannie,” Wooyoung said, tugging San's arm. “How about you teach me how to throw a proper punch while Jongho here finishes his shift as a light stand?”

Jongho scowled but ultimately didn't rise to Wooyoung's obvious bait. San also didn't miss the way Yeosang nudged Jongho's thigh with his knee, glancing up slightly at the other hitter. Interesting. It had been a while since drone-boy had shown even a little interest in another living breathing human. His ever-rotating anime crushes did not count no matter what Yeosang said.

“Go help Wooyoung be less of a useless gay,” Yeosang told him, glancing over his shoulder at San with a smirk. “Lord knows he punches like one.”

Wooyoung squawked. “Hey! I resent that!”

“I've taken one of your punches before,” Yeosang deadpanned, turning back to his pile of wires and circuitry. “I'm speaking from experience. Toddlers hit harder.”

“That might be unfair,” Jongho said, the edge of his lip quirking up just a little, even though his tone was still neutral. “Some toddlers hit pretty hard. I had to babysit for my brother once, hardest job I've ever pulled.”

Yeosang giggled. “You're right. I'm being uncharitable to toddlers. Wooyoungie hits like butterfly wings.”

That got a snort from Jongho, which San also found interesting. Apparently mister stoic might have a bit of a thing for 2012 grunge and sarcasm.

“Come on, Woo,” San said, turning away from Yeosang's desk. “If there's one thing I can do, it's teach a useless gay how to hit. I managed to straighten out Yeosang.”

“Nothing straight about me, darling, and you know it!” Yeosang called after them.

San led Wooyoung into the backroom that functioned as his personal gym. He'd spent the last few years they'd been in this particular warehouse outfitting this dingy room with a couple of heavy weight punching bags, a speed bag, a rack of weights, a squat rack, a weight lifting bench, and a sparring mat. All his own money, despite arguing with Hongjoong that it should all count as a business expense seeing as how he spent most of his time acting as a damned bodyguard for a reckless asshole. Hongjoong had not agreed. It had been a long argument; San was still a little put out about the whole thing.

Wooyoung separated himself from San as they entered, taking the space in with his big eyes and plush lips falling open as he spun in a slow circle. San took the opportunity to appreciate his gorgeous legs in their tight pleather pants, his pert little ass unfortunately hidden by the oversize button down he was wearing.

“So this is where the magic happens?” Wooyoung asked as he turned to face San, eyes very obviously sliding across San's chest and shoulders.

San shrugged, giving Wooyoung a wicked grin. “If by magic you mean sweat and effort, sure.”

Wooyoung shrugged, bouncing a little on his toes as he turned back to the room. “Whatever you want to call it. Just teach me how to punch so I can prove Yeosang wrong.”

“I can teach you, but you still won't stand a chance against him in a fight, sweetheart,” San told him honestly. “I’ve seen you naked and I've seen Yeosang shirtless more times than I can count. He's got about twenty pounds of sheer muscle on your skinny ass and he knows how to use it.”

Woonyoung looked completely unbothered by this statement. “I don't want to, like, fight him, I just want to sock him good, just one time. Just like surprise him.”

San laughed. “That I can help you with. Come here, sexy.”

San guided Wooyoung over to one of the punching bags, standing closer than was strictly necessary, San modeled the proper way to make a fist and slowly threw a punch. Wooyoung watched attentively, but it was hard to tell if he was actually paying attention or just watching San's arm flex.

“Now you,” San said as he pulled his arm back.

“Like this?” Wooyoung asked, doing his best to mimic San's actions.

“Mostly,” San told him, reaching over to fix his thumb. “Don't put your thumb in your fist. You’re liable to break it if you actually manage to connect with anything.”

“Right.” For the first time since San had met him, Wooyoung actually looked serious about something. “Can't go breaking my fingers. Makes my whole job a lot more difficult.”

“I imagine it would,” San agreed. “With any luck, you won't actually need any of this stuff. I'll be with you the whole time.”

“I'd put my life in your hands any day,” Wooyoung threw back shamelessly.

San groaned. “You're gonna be the death of me, I swear to god.”

“Oh come on, I haven't even shown you half of what I can do in bed yet. No dying on me any time soon,” Wooyoung winked at him.

“I certainly enjoyed what you showed me last night.” San let his voice pitch lower, a touch of huskiness coloring his voice. “I'd be interested in learning more of your skills.”

“Later, gorgeous,” Wooyoung grinned, wicked and alluring all at once. “Show me how to hit shit first.”

San laughed. “Alright, alright. Keep your thumb like that and then do it again but faster.”

San ran Wooyoung through a few simple drills. He was a quick study, and followed direction better than San would have guessed. He also never missed an opportunity to flirt. Not that San had a problem with that. By the time Jongho and Yeosang wandered in, he had Wooyoung throwing a technically correct punch, though not a very hard one.

"So you can be taught, Wooyoungie,” Yeosang teased.

"Fuck you,” Wooyoung tossed back with no heat.

Jongho just shook his head and looked at San. "You ready?”

"Yeah," San looked Jongho up and down, taking in his tailored three piece suit. "Are you?”

Jongho eyed him silently for a second before turning and striding a couple of steps towards the currently empty weight lifting bench. With his back to all three of them, he carefully shrugged out of his suit jacket. He spent a moment folding it in half with deliberate movements before putting it down. San glanced at Wooyoung and rolled his eyes. The man was damn fussy for a hitter, every other hitter San knew would have just tossed the jacket at the nearest stationary object and hoped for the best. If they'd even been wearing a suit in the first place.

“There, ready to go,” Jongho said as he turned around.

San rolled his eyes. “Whatever, bro. Let's spar. First to tap loses. Best of three. No face, no below the belt, try not to draw blood. Hongjoong's rules, not mine.”

Jongho shrugged easily, looking entirely out of place as he stepped onto the sparring mat with polished dress shoes. "Works for me.”

San rolled his shoulders back and stepped forward as well, squaring himself up against the other hitter. They were roughly the same height, but Jongho was solid where San tended to be cut. San smirked as he raised his guard. Power only worked if Jongho could connect. San had it on good authority that he was a ‘slippery bastard’ of an opponent.

Jongho gave nothing away as he raised his own fists to match San's stance. Yeosang stepped up to the edge of the mat and looked between them as he raised one arm. San held Jongho’s steady gaze, unwilling to lose even this battle of wills.

Yeosang let them hang in suspense for a moment, arm above his head. Then just when San was about to snap at him, he yelled, “Fight!”

As the word left Yeosang's mouth, San leaped forward, ducking low under Jongho's guard to drop a series of quick body jabs. Or at least, that was his plan, but Jongho stepped neatly to the side and landed a solid hit to San's ribs before he could right himself. In that moment, San knew that nothing about this fight was going to go how he had expected. They went around in circles, exchanging blows, each trying to get the opportunity for a grapple. Jongho wasn't any faster than San expected, but he was smarter.

The exhilaration of a really good fight rushed through San’s veins. They went blow for blow, each sizing the other up. Jongho was lighter on his feet than San would have expected, not rooted to the floor like a lot of other power-hitters San had faced before. San was pretty sure he was stronger than Jongho had assumed. A couple punches had him wincing pretty hard. Adrenaline and instinct fueled him, kept him moving, never staying still for longer than it took to drop an elbow or connect his fist. Blood rushed in his ears, narrowing his focus to nothing but where Jongho was and his next move. Faintly he was aware of Wooyoung and Yeosang cheering them on in the background but he didn't process their words. He was a one track train with no stops.

Jongho got the first pin, forcing San to tap with an arm bar and a knee planted firmly in his spine. San got the next one, grappling his way into a triangle choke on Jongho. The third match however was not easily settled. They'd exchanged a number of blows—love taps really—as they paced around the mat. San was more hesitant than he had been previously. If Jongho got him to the mat first, San genuinely wasn't sure he'd have the energy to grapple with him. No, if San wanted to win this one he was going to have to be the one to take things to the mat. Annoyingly, Jongho seemed to have come to the same conclusion, attempting to take San's legs out from under him at any opportunity. A moment's hesitation and this would be over.

They danced around each other, trading blows for another minute. In the end it was a split second that did him in. A mistimed dodge and Jongho pressed his advantage. San was on his back with Jongho's knee in his solar plexus, wrists held in Jongho's iron grip between them, almost as fast as he could blink. For a moment he considered fighting back just to annoy the other hitter a bit, but ultimately decided that ticking Jongho off wasn't what he had in mind when he'd suggested they get used to each other's fighting style.

Panting, he wiggled his finger to just barely tap the back of Jongho's hand. “I yield.”

Fluidly, Jongho released San and stood up. Something close to a smile flickered across his face. “Haven't had a fight that good in a long while.”

San propped himself up on his elbows, but chose not to put any more effort into getting up. “I was going to say the same thing. Best of five?”

Jongho arched a brow at him, considering. “No. But I'm free for a rematch tomorrow.”

“I'm gonna hold you to that.” San grinned up at him, nice and sharp.

Jongho was blocked from his view quite suddenly by a fussing Wooyoung. Towel in hand, he fawned over San.

“Fuck, that was so hot,” Wooyoung told him, pressing the towel to his temple.

San chuckled and let Wooyoung fuss over him. “Danger kink, huh?”

“Hey!” Wooyoung slapped playfully at his chest, expression anything but angry. "Don't kink shame me!”

Chapter Text

Chapter 4
Seonghwa stepped into the entryway of Minsuk Yang’s mansion and resisted the urge to wrinkle his nose. Money could not buy taste. Everything about the entryway was tacky. From the mosaic flooring interspersed with slabs of marble in a checkerboard pattern to the hideous Roman-inspired columns and thick, red velvet drapes. To top it off everything was covered in far too much gold leafing. The whole thing was terrible to behold. Truly a hideous assault on the eyes. Yang deserved what Hongjoong had planned for him for his crimes against interior decorating alone, forgetting any actual crimes the man had committed.

“Please follow me, Mr. Jang.” The staff member assigned to Seonghwa bowed their head politely before striding off towards the long hallway visible through the open doors to the right of the room.

Seonghwa did as instructed, following the man through the hallways. The hallways were no better decorated than the entryway.

“Yunho,” Mingi’s voice whined slightly in his ear. “Did you pick your smallest car or do you not own anything with a decent back seat?”

Yunho’s response was preceded with a sigh. “I’m a street racer, not a soccer mom. The Evo is the only thing I own with a back seat.”

“And the van wasn’t available because…?” Hongjoong’s smooth voice asked.

“Because I ran into some problems switching out the timing belt and brake pads,” Yunho answered. “I apologize.”

“I presume it will be ready in time for the big event?” Hongjoong asked coolly.

“Yes. Just a few more minor tweaks. Should be good to go for test runs in a couple weeks,” Yunho replied.

“Please ensure that it is. We can’t afford to be short any pieces,” Hongjoong said stiffly.

“Yes, boss,”Yunho responded dully.

Seonghwa stifled a chuckle, biting his lower lip a little at the mental image of Yunho behind the wheel of his fancy sports car, pouting like a chastised child. He did feel a little bad for Mingi, shoved in the tiny backseat of Yunho’s little sports car. As someone with long legs as well, he had sympathy for the tall hacker, undoubtedly trying to balance a laptop on his knees.

The decorations in Yang’s mansion did not improve in taste as he followed the staff member politely down the corridor. Feigning admiration for the terrible, yet undoubtedly expensive, art in horrible matching gilded frames that lined the hallways, interspersed with statues and vases on Roman-column style pedestals, Seonghwa took note of security measures. There were cameras in the corners and anti-theft devices on every piece of art and statuary in the hallway. Not simple devices either, but complex ones that Seonghwa himself would think twice about dealing with. Of course, if he did a grift right, the mark would be unlocking those for him. Nothing in this hallway was worth the trouble, anyway, expensive reproductions or modern garbage sold to rich bastards who wouldn't know a Picasso from a Rembrandt. He wasn't worried about the cameras either; the lapels of his suit were woven with a thread that reflected ultraviolet light. Invisible to the human eye but devastating to camera lenses.

Seonghwa kept his face carefully neutral as the staff member led him down one corridor, made a right down another hallway, and then a left. As they walked, Seonghwa caught glimpses of sitting rooms, dining rooms, and even a gaming room, all hideously decorated with outrageously expensive decor, all outfitted with the same top level security. He also noticed several security guards lingering in corners. Whatever Yang had in this monument to his own wealth, he was extremely concerned about at least some of it being stolen.

The staff member led him down the last hallway. The decor here was the worst yet. Somehow, there was more gold, and now red velvet curtains framed the art pieces. At the end of the hallway was a large set of doors, carved and gilded. From behind them, soft music and the low drone of many voices wafted.

The staff member opened one ostentatiously ornate door with a soft, “Enjoy your evening, Mr. Jang.”

As he stepped into the room, Seonghwa paused and gave himself a moment to take in the scene. The large room, with ten-foot ceilings and huge windows overlooking the back garden, was clearly Yang's private gallery. The room very obviously took up at least a third of the width of Yang's mansion. There was plenty of space for more paintings on the walls, these of much better taste and some artists Seonghwa even recognized at a glance. Dotted around the floor were waist high pedestals, still Roman-inspired, but instead of sculptures or vases of questionable origins, these held little glass cases. Inside the ones nearest to Seonghwa were a pair of huge ruby earrings and a clustered display of unset sapphires and diamonds. He suspected the other cases held similar, equally expensive items. Situated in between the displays were little clusters of ornate couches and low tables, occupied by Hala's elitist of the elite.

“Seonghwa, update,” Hongjoong’s tiny voice demanded in his ear.

Seonghwa turned to inspect the nearest painting as he responded in a mutter, lips barely moving. “I'm in the gallery. It's all the way in the back of the right wing, overlooking the garden. There's about fifty people here, give or take. Yang's whole gem and jewelry collection is on display.”

“Do you see Yang?” Hongjoong fired back, not even acknowledging Seonghwa's intel.

“I have just been seen to the gallery. Only just through the door,” Seonghwa told him smoothly. “So no, I have not laid eyes on Yang.”

There was a small sound on the other end of the comm that might have been a harrumph, but Hongjoong didn't actually say anything.

“Keep an eye out for USB ports,” Mingi told him. “There might not be accessible computers but even a sound system is likely to be hooked into Yang's network, so my program will still work. Any port should do the trick.”

“Understood,” Seonghwa responded. He took a beat to see if there would be any more ‘helpful’ comments before speaking again. “I'm going to work the room now. Please do not interrupt.”

As he turned away from the painting, Seonghwa snagged a champagne flute off a passing server's tray and settled into the persona of Sebin Jang, new money tech CEO. He was pleased to note that he had correctly guessed the preferred style of dress for Yang's closest associates. Formal, expensive suits with wealth flaunted at every opportunity for the men. The women were wearing bright floor length dresses, undoubtedly from expensive designers with even more expensive, flashy jewelry. One woman passed by Seonghwa and he swore the necklace she was wearing was more diamonds than precious metal.

His own Versace custom tailored suit with subtle pinstriping fit right in. The gold rolex he'd pulled from his personal collection was the perfect amount of flair. He'd chosen a deep red tie, a subtler nod to Yang's political party than the lapel pin with their symbol he'd pinned to his suit. He'd also added a gold, double-chained tie chain for a little extra new money feel. He'd pulled his hair back, slicking it to mostly cover the shaved sides of his head. Sebin Jang was new money, so the slightly rebellious hair cut was understandable but in a situation like this he would certainly attempt to tone it down. Seonghwa had left a few strands loose about his face, drawing attention to his best features, his eyes and his cheekbones. A touch of neutral makeup, just an enhancement to his already striking features, finished off the look.

He was betting a lot on Yang remembering him only as a skinny kid with a penchant for being a punk. Back then he had preferred appealing to targets's sympathies with sob stories and tragic tales of woe. It had taken him a long while to learn the elegance and sophistication he leaned on these days. Not to mention his hair had been much longer and he'd picked up some tricks with makeup to obscure his features over the years. Hongjoong was convinced the man had all but forgotten them. Seonghwa wasn't so sure, but the only way to find out was to meet the man himself.

As he raised the champagne to his lips, he caught the eye of a woman who was lingering nearby. He tossed her a casual wink as he took a sip and then slid over to a display case near the one she was pretending to admire. He kept his body turned slightly towards her as he inspected the collection of carved gem brooches—an invitation to join him, not a demand. She waited a moment, coyly watching him out of the corner of her eye before she gracefully stepped to stand by the adjacent side of the display from him.

“Good evening,” she said in a low, pleasingly musical voice. “I don't know if we've been introduced before. I'm famously bad at remembering faces and names.”

She tittered, raising a slim hand decorated in stacks of glittering rings on her slender fingers, to cover her mouth. Her eyes betrayed no embarrassment however, just amusement and a tinge of hope.

“I would never forget a face as beautiful as yours, so I am sure we have never met,” Seonghwa told her. Flattery went a long way. “Sebin Jang. I'm afraid I don't often attend events such as these.”

“Yoohyeon Kim, pleased to meet you Mr. Jang.” She batted her long eyelashes at him, her painted eyes sparkling under the light.

“Daughter to a local politician. 25. Trust fund baby and socialite.” Hongjoong muttered in his ear as though Seonghwa hadn't studied the guest list and Hongjoong's accompanying dossier on each invitee.

“Just Sebin please,” Seonghwa told her softly, ignoring Hongjoong. “You'll make me feel too old to be in your company if you address me with such formality.”

She giggled. “Sebin, then. It's lovely to make your acquaintance. What keeps you away from our little parties so frequently that we've never met?”

Seonghwa pulled his eyes away from her for the first time since she had joined him, casting them to the side in a show of embarrassment. “I'm a bit shy. I find it makes me terribly awkward in social situations no matter how much I wish it wasn't so.”

“I don't find you awkward,” Yoohyeon told him softly, peering at him from under her lashes. “You're very charming.”

Seonghwa turned to look at her, carefully arranging his expression into a show of mild surprise and appreciation, with a touch of disbelief. “That's very kind of you to say.”

“Why don't I introduce you to some people?” Yoohyeon suggested.

Seonghwa offered her his arm. “I would be in your debt.”

She giggled again, as she slid her hand into the crook of his elbow. “I believe it is you who is doing me a favor. Having such a handsome man escort me tonight is an honor.”

Just like that, Seonghwa had his in. Yooheyon introduced him to a group of people he was already intimately familiar with, thanks to Hongjoong's and undoubtedly Yeosang's intel. From that introduction, he worked himself into their good graces, earning himself more introductions and chances to rub elbows with Hala City’s upper crust. Steadily, he worked his way through the room, meeting, talking to, schmoozing with, and flirting with more and more influential people. As he did so, he kept an eye on the display cases Yang so very obviously wanted to be the focal point of the evening. His full collection of gems on display in an ostentatious display of wealth. Some of the pieces Seonghwa recognized as having been reported missing and stolen from a few auction houses around the States.

He also kept his eye out for a place to stick Mingi's USB. He’d seen a few options, a sound system built into the back wall of the room and what looked like a small security terminal tucked behind a curtain on the far wall. The plan was to plant the USB right before he left, just in case it tripped the security system. Hongjoong was also hoping that Seonghwa could get an audience with Yang himself and a chance to plant the USB directly into his personal computer.

Several hours later and far too much flattery later, Seonghwa thought he was getting close. He had yet to actually see Yang. The man was apparently playing the elusive millionaire this evening. But Seonghwa had dropped a few hints that he wasn't afraid of getting his hands a little dirty and that he had a strong appreciation for a good chunk of Yang’s collection. Hopefully those hints had fallen on the right ears.

“Excuse me, Mr. Jang,” a low voice whispered in Seonghwa's ear as he sat on a low couch, untouched whiskey in one hand and Yoohyeon draped against him on the other side, as he chatted with some of Yang's closest associates.

Seonghwa turned to find a smartly dressed staff member standing next to the arm of the couch. “Yes?”

“Mr. Yang has invited you to his private office to discuss a business matter.” The staff member's face and tone of voice made it very clear that this was not an invitation to be refused.

“I'll see you later, darling,” Seonghwa told Yoohyeon as he untangled himself from her to stand.

“I look forward to it, Sebin.” Yoohyeon gave him a smile but let him go.

Still holding the whiskey in one hand, Seonghwa followed the staff member, staying behind the man by a few steps. The feeling that always came with a high stakes grift was building in Seonghwa's gut as he strode across the gallery. The heady feeling that one wrong move, one misspoken sentence, and it would all be over. He needed to put on a spectacular performance for Yang.

This might be our only shot, Seonghwa,” Hongjoong said in his ear.

“I am aware,” Seonghwa muttered back, voice low and lips barely moving. “I understand what's at stake, Joongie.”

“You lost the right to call me that years ago,” Hongjoong responded icily. “Stay focused. We can't afford to have the operation blown at step one.”

“Have a little faith, I'm still the best in the game,” Seonghwa told him haughtily.

“Wouldn't have brought you on if you weren't,” Was Hongjoong's testy reply.

Yunho and Mingi had either muted their mics or were wisely choosing not to react to the current conversation. Given that they would be stuck in a tiny car with Hongjoong for at least a couple more hours, Seonghwa sincerely hoped it was the latter. Neither of them struck Seonghwa as having an actual death wish, Yunho’s need for speed aside, so it probably was.

“Then let me work,” Seonghwa whispered as the staff member came to a stop in front of a shockingly simple door compared to the rest of the mansion, half hidden behind a curtain.

The staff member nodded and pushed the door open. Seonghwa nodded in return and stepped through into a dimly lit and very modern looking office. All white furniture, strip lighting, and straight lines. Behind him the door was pulled shut with a quiet click.

This had to be Seonghwa's least favorite room yet. At least the others had character; this was just sterile. There wasn't even a single picture of the wife and children Yang was cheating on with no less than three separate women at the moment. At the desk sat a round-faced Korean man with short cropped hair, dressed in a slick black suit. A crystal tumbler with a large ice cube and dark liquor sat on the pristine desk surface in front of him. There was something unsettling about the smile he aimed at Seonghwa as he crossed the room.

Minsuk Yang.

A man Seonghwa hadn’t seen in many years and had never been sure how he would react if he did see him again. But he was on a job. Personal feelings needed to be set aside, no matter how long he'd carried them, or how deeply.

For a long moment, Yang just studied him. His eyes visibly traced over Seonghwa. Each beat brought mounting tension with it. This was the make or break it moment. Everything they had been planning could be dead in the water. Eventually Yang smiled at him with no warmth.

“Sebin Jang,” Yang addressed him coolly. “It's rare I'm not on better terms with a donor of your standing.”

In the space of a heartbeat the anxiety left Seonghwa. It would seem he'd bet on the right horse this time.

“Ah, I'm not much for events, public or private,” Seonghwa told him as he sank easily into one of the white leather barrel chairs across from Yang's desk.

He let the whiskey dangle loosely from his fingers as he held eye contact with Yang. Casually, he crossed one long leg over the other, foot bouncing gently from side to side. He was the picture of relaxed and unfazed as Yang searched his face. As he settled, he let his eyes roam over Yang's desk. His computer had a rear mounted CPU but with the way Yang was situated and the set up of the chairs, Seonghwa dismissed the idea of planting the USB in this office out of hand. Unless Yang decided to have a dramatic stare out the window mid-monologue like some sort of movie villain, there was no way Seonghwa was slipping the drive into his computer.

“What brought you out this evening then?” Yang asked easily.

“I have a weakness for all things that sparkle and I had heard such fabulous rumors about your collection I couldn't resist an opportunity to see it in all its splendor for myself.” Seonghwa said easily. “I must say the rumors don't do it justice. I could swear some of those pieces on display have been missing for years. You must have some fabulous connections. Truly, I'm jealous.”

“With time and patience one learns where to find certain ‘missing’ objects. After that, it's just the small matter of having the funds.” Yang gave him a contemplative look, eyes catching on his rolex.

Seonghwa snorted. “Funds are not my issue. It would seem my reclusive tendencies are the source of my problems.”

“Yes, I've seen the quarterly reports from your business. I imagine you're pulling in a tidy sum for yourself.” Yang folded his hands on his desk, giving Seonghwa an appraising look.

“You could say that.” Seonghwa gave a little laugh, and took his first sip of whiskey.

There was a beat of silence and then Yang spoke again. “Things have been changing in Hala recently.”

“The police seem to have their hands full with the mayor’s crime crackdown,” Seonghwa said easily, taking a guess as to what Yang was referring to. “They've been very successful recently, it would seem.”

Yan nodded, expression becoming slightly less guarded. “It would. However some of us who are in possession of some formally ‘missing’ objects are a little concerned.”

“Oh?” Seonghwa responded, quirking an eyebrow and leaving the floor open for Yang to continue.

“Concerned that the police may be a little overzealous. That our connections and standing may not be enough to clear up any… misunderstandings should we be found in possession of too many ‘missing’ items,” Yang explained seriously.

“I see,” Seonghwa said, equally serious.

“With crime as it is in Hala and how bold some of the criminals have gotten recently, I am planning to move my collection to a secure bank vault in a few weeks,” Yang told him.

“Hence the grand exhibition this evening,” Seonghwa said knowingly. “One last chance for you and your closest associates to admire such beautiful pieces.”

“Exactly.” Yang nodded. “I couldn't bring myself to put them away for an undetermined amount of time without giving them a proper sendoff.”

“Nor would I,” Seonghwa told him, understanding painted on his face.

“That said, I think it would be prudent to sell a few of my more contested pieces before putting them in someone else's hands.” Yang gave him a pointed look. “You never know what someone may do for a little bit of money or just to screw over a rival politician.”

“That may be wise. I would hate for any misunderstandings to derail your illustrious career.” Seonghwa schooled his features into grave concern. “I myself have been considering just leaving Hala all together. The climate has not been too friendly to men in my position recently. I hear Brazil or Montenegro may suit me better.”

“Something I myself had considered,” Yang admitted. “But I find myself too entrenched in Hala's wellbeing to bring myself to leave. So I am seeking some alternate solutions.”

“Such as parting with some of your collection?” Seonghwa asked.

Yang nodded once. “Exactly. And since you may be leaving Hala, perhaps you would be more interested in a few of the pieces I am looking to sell than some of my other similarly entrenched associates.”

“I'm certainly not opposed to perusing the pieces you are willing to part with and possibly discussing terms should any of them catch my eye,” Seonghwa kept his voice carefully neutral. “With the understanding that I would be taking a risk, when it comes to such discussions.”

“Naturally.” Yang's smile was tight as he inclined his head. “Not tonight though. I prefer not to mix business and pleasure. You understand, I'm sure.”

Seonghwa inclined his head in acknowledgment. “A wise policy. Too easy to make a rash decision when there are women and alcohol present.”

“Precisely.” Yang took a sip of his own glass of dark liquor. “Please leave your contact details with my assistant and we will set something up in the next few weeks.”

Seonghwa stood, understanding when he was dismissed. “I am a busy man but I will tell my secretary to make whatever accommodations are necessary to fit your schedule.”

With that, Seonghwa saw himself out of the office. He gave a business card Mingi had made up for him to the staff member on the other side of the door. It listed a phone number for a burner phone that a reluctant Yeosang was in possession of. Seonghwa agreed with Hongjoong on this one. He may not have known any of them very long but of their little crew, Yeosang was most suited to playing secretary. He shuddered at the thought of exuberant Wooyoung or extremely stoic Jongho attempting the position.

As if by sixth sense, just as Seonghwa stepped away from the staff member, his ear bud crackled to life.

“Did you plant the USB?” Hongjoong demanded to know.

Before he could reply, Mingi spoke up. I told you, I would know if he did.

“Then let me rephrase,” Hongjoong said testily. ”Why didn't you place the USB?”

“Because the man never left his desk and he never took his eyes off me,” Seonghwa hissed. “I didn't think he'd take too kindly to me reaching for his desktop in the middle of our conversation.”

Hongjoong sighed, rough and clearly frustrated in Seonghwa's ear. In a different life, that would have sent shivers down his spine, now it just pissed him off even more.

“Please tell me you have a backup plan,” Hongjoong demanded.

“Who do you take me for? An amateur, fresh to the streets and wet behind the ears?” Seonghwa shot back quietly, now pretending to admire a truly awful painting that no one else was showing even an iota of interest in. “Of course I have a back up plan. Mingi said any computer would work. Even a sound system. Yang has his state of the art system on full display just down the wall from me. Three minutes and Mingi will have his pinhole.”

“Is it a Paradigm? Mingi asked before Hongjoong could respond.

Seonghwa sighed. “I only caught a glimpse from across the room. I have no idea what the brand is.”

“Tell me if you see any brand markings while you're hooking the USB in.” It wasn't truly a demand but it was a close thing.

“Why does the brand matter?” Yunho asked as Seonghwa moved to the next painting.

“Paradigm systems have a nasty security weakness but it's not super well known because the company keeps it on the DL. Rich guys love the damn things though, keep patching them directly into their networks.” Mingi sounded excited. “I've hit a few influencer types as a DJ before just to get myself access. Leagues easier than trying to hack from the outside. Plus influencers always pay stupid money for entertainment if they think they'll get extra clout. Bonus money!”

“Extra clout?” Yunho asked, sounding just as confused as Seonghwa felt.

“I mix on the side when I'm bored. Built myself a serious back catolog and then thought fuck it.” Seonghwa could practically see Mingi's shrug. “Made myself one of those masked DJ personalities that were all the rage back in the 2010s. Stupid easy too. People go nuts for an air of mystery. A few social media bots to rack up hits and suddenly I've got my music all over TikTok and Spotify. Managed to leverage the whole thing for a few of my main projects too. Influencers go crazy trying to book an artist who never does anything but private events.”

“Huh,” was Yunho's mystified-sounding response.

Seonghwa understood that. It was hard to picture the reserved, shy, and perpetually anxious Mingi working a crowd as a high energy DJ. Trying to merge the two concepts almost fried Seonghwa's brain as much as the painting nearest to the sound system. Putting that mystery aside, Seonghwa studied what he could see of the system out of the corner of his eye. The front was completely smooth with the exception of a digital display showing the current song, selected sound program, and the time. Which meant any connection ports were probably on the back. Unfortunate but not unworkable. The bottom right corner of the device said ‘Paradigm ATZ 112922’ in stylized silver letters.

Seonghwa relayed this information to Mingi, who responded with much enthusiasm. Something about poor coding and a lot of techno jargon that went over Seonghwa's head. Over Hongjoong and Yunho's as well, based on the vague responses from the other two.

“Mingi, there's no ports on the front. Do you know if the ports are on the back or sides for this model?” Seonghwa asked, interrupting Mingi's rambling.

“Back. Should be a bank of USB ports on the bottom left if you're looking from the front.” Mingi told him quickly.

“Perfect,” Seonghwa muttered half to himself, half to Mingi.

He spent another minute staring up at the painting in front of him. No need to rush anything. The sound system wasn't going anywhere. Better to let any watchful eyes get bored, write him off as just another wannabe art critic.

"Modern garbage,” he whispered at the awful piece above him.

”Not everyone is into Renaissance,” Hongjoong quipped pointedly.

Seonghwa smiled to himself. So, Hongjoong had been keeping tabs on him. Fascinating.

“Raphael is a wonderful artist,” Seonghwa responded.

Hongjoong's only response was a snort. Seonghwa let the subject drop and took a step closer to the painting.

He spent a moment studying a few spots very intently, pretending that the splashes of bright color held some sort of secret for him to puzzle out. When he felt he couldn't stare at this particular piece any longer, Seonghwa subtly moved onto his real target. He stole a quick glance over his shoulder—the nearest guard was half asleep and the only other one with a direct line of sight seemed more interested in the women bending over a display case in front of him.

Under the guise of appreciating the art hung above the sound system, Seonghwa sidled over to his right. For a moment he stood a little back from the wall, pretending to take in the painting. He slid his hand into his pocket and readied Mingi's little USB between his fingers. Then he stepped forward, eyes still focused on the painting, pretending he was interested in a particular detail at the bottom of the canvas. When he was close enough he let his hand with the USB slide into the narrow gap in the wall where the sound system was housed. After a brief moment of fumbling he located what felt like a free USB port and pushed Mingi's device home. Pulling his hand free, he took one step to his left, brow furrowing in contemplation as he took in another minute detail of the painting.

After a moment there was a shout of excitement in his ear which he took to mean Mingi had his pinhole. With that task secured, Seonghwa completed a long, slow circuit of the room, taking in the paintings, the view of the garden, and then a few more of the gem displays before he started in on his ‘very regretful’ goodbyes to Yoohyeon, her friends, and a few of Yang's other associates. All the while, Mingi was muttering about how good digital security was only worth the physical security as well. Yunho's chuckles were the sound of a very whipped man to Seonghwa.

As he was led back to the front door and handed off to a waiting valet, Seonghwa could have sworn he heard Hongjoong mutter, “Good job, Hwa” before the crackling of an earbud disconnecting filled his ear, leaving him with just Mingi and Yunho's adorably playful banter as Yunho apparently wove his way through the streets of Hala a little too fast and with far too much disregard for traffic laws.

Chapter Text

From: HK
Sent: 4:17AM
We need to debrief.

Seonghwa allowed himself an undignified groan, tossing his phone back on to the night stand as he rolled over to stare at the popcorn ceiling of his low-cost, short term rental.

Waking up to a text from Hongjoong was not how he had wanted to start his morning. Logically he knew they needed to meet today; it was standard practice after a grift like that. They needed to know what Seonghwa had seen in detail, and Hongjoong undoubtedly wanted to spend several hours dissecting it from every angle. There was a point in time where being stuck in a room with Hongjoong and watching his brain whir and turn a heist plan over and over would have been close to heaven. Now, it just sounded like torture. So close, yet so far. Kept at bay by an icy stare and cold persona. Walls Hongjoong had built around himself to keep anyone who would dare to care about him away.

Seonghwa had no one to be angry at but himself. This was his fault. He was why they were in this particular set of circumstances. He could rage against Hongjoong’s shift in attitude all he wanted, but he knew there was no one else to blame. If he hadn't done what he'd done, things might have played out differently. But he hadn't. And they didn't. So now they were here. Strangers with intimate knowledge of each other.

The ceiling had no answers or advice for him. Deciding that was enough self-pity for having just woken up, Seonghwa rolled back over and snatched his phone. Quickly he tapped out a reply to Hongjoong before pushing himself out of bed and towards the shower.

To: HK
Sent: 10:47 AM
Be there in an hour.

Leisurely he rolled through his morning routine. He saw no reason to rush; Hongjoong would find a reason to be grumpy regardless of whether he was early, on time, or late. Might as well go with the one he knew how to handle. Forty minutes after he had texted Hongjoong, Seonghwa stepped out of his shitty apartment and into the shitty neighborhood. Just another reason to curse himself for allowing Hongjoong to drag him back to the east coast. The eastern seaboard had been their stomping ground once. They had driven city to city together, planning jobs on the open road and in hotel rooms. After they had split, Seonghwa had rarely found a reason to come back.

He was so out of place in his plaid, heather gray, two piece suit and black tie, finished off with polished black dress shoes and carefully styled hair. Still, he was entirely unbothered as he strode toward his nondescript black luxury sedan. Thirty minutes and a stop at a local coffee shop later, Seonghwa was pulling into the driveway of building 1024.

Inside, the scene was much the same as it always was when Seonghwa stopped by the safehouse. Yunho was half buried under the transit van, cursing and making a hellish racket. Mingi was focused on his computer, massive headphones on his ears no doubt trying to block out Yunho's clatter. Yeosang was bent over his cluttered workbench with Jongho lounging on a stool nearby pretending he was watching the door, not the drone specialist in a tight tank top. Seonghwa nodded at Jongho as he skirted around Yunho's mess of tools and parts.

As he mounted the rusting metal stairs that led to Hongjoong's office, Seonghwa wondered, not for the first time, if the atmosphere of foreboding created by the peeling paint and half dead lights was intentional on Hongjoong's part. He wouldn't be surprised if it was. Hongjoong had always had a flair for the dramatic, but damn if it wasn't effective at getting him what he wanted. Better not to let it show, though, so Seonghwa carefully put on a disinterested face as he pushed through the door into the lofted office.

“You still like iced Americanos, right?” Seonghwa asked before Hongjoong could say anything, crossing to slide the coffee onto Hongjoong's disaster of a desk.

Hongjoong grunted but otherwise didn't acknowledge Seonghwa. Unperturbed, Seonghwa settled into the uncomfortable chair across from Hongjoong. Likely, this too was an intentional choice. How Yeosang and San put up with it for years, Seonghwa couldn't fathom. Well, actually he could. It was the same reason he was here. Hongjoong had offered him a very generous split.

Seonghwa sipped on his own latte and glanced around the office as Hongjoong continued to read something on his computer screen. The little bed in the corner was still as depressing to Seonghwa as the first time he'd been up here. Hongjoong had always been a workaholic, but at least when Seonghwa had been running with him he hadn't slept in his office on a regular basis. Instead, he'd come home to—

Seonghwa cut off the train of thought. Nothing good lay down those tracks.

“You're late,” Hongjoong said when he finally spoke, turning away from his computer to face Seonghwa.

Seonghwa smiled placidly at him. “I brought coffee.”

“That doesn't change the fact that you're late,” Hongjoong told him, but picked up the beverage anyway.

“The information in my head is still the same as it would have been twenty minutes ago,” Seonghwa said lightly, punctuating his statement with a sip of coffee.

Hongjoong harrumphed, bringing the straw to his lips. After a long sip, he spoke. “I saw the diagrams you sent over last night. Hopefully Mingi will be able to pull a full floor plan, but at least we won't be going in completely blind if he can't.”

“I'm not sure how much good it will do the infiltration team, if that's all they have to work off of,” Seonghwa said. “I didn't catch a glimpse of a vault and I doubt he keeps his collection out in the gallery on a full time basis.”

“Vault is right below,” Hongjoong said with confidence. “He wouldn't want staff to have to go too far with his precious gems. There's probably a door behind one of those curtains leading to the basement.”

“You were rarely wrong about that sort of thing in the past,” Seonghwa said lightly. “I have no reason to doubt you now.”

Hongjoong hummed and took a long draw of his coffee. “Tell me everything. Even the—”

“—smallest details can reveal something about a mark.” Seonghwa cut him off to finish the sentence he could hear in his own head when he planned his own jobs even two decades later. “I know how this goes.”

Hongjoong frowned but didn't say anything. With that, Seonghwa launched into a complete run down of what he'd seen in Yang's mansion. Hongjoong took notes and asked question after question. After a few minutes it almost felt like they'd never stopped working together. This part had always been easy: providing information to the smartest mastermind Seonghwa had ever had the pleasure of meeting. They ran through the layout of the hallways Seonghwa had seen and the rooms he had caught glimpses of. Hongjoong grilled him on the guards he'd spotted, demanding to know every detail down to the shoes they wore (sensible) and any weapons Seonghwa had noticed (tasers). They discussed Yang's collection in great detail, including how many pieces Seonghwa could identify as stolen and their points of origin. Hongjoong even wanted details on the non-guard staff. There was no stone Hongjoong left unturned.

By the time Hongjoong leaned back in his chair and dismissed Seonghwa, he was exhausted. He wasn't done, though. He had a question of his own. It had been gnawing at him since he’d first met Hongjoong’s crew.

“Have you told them the real reason you're going after Yang?” Seonghwa asked coolly, settling back into the uncomfortable chair like he didn't have a care in the world.

Hongjoong fixed him with an equally cold look. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

It was a clear signal to leave the topic well enough alone but Wooyoung wasn’t the only member of this crew that liked to flirt with danger.

“Come on, Joongie,” Seonghwa cajoled. “Don't play dumb. It never was an attractive look on you. I was there. I know what this means to you.”

“It's none of their business,” Hongjoong said stiffly. “And frankly, it's none of yours either.”

“Yeosang and San seem very loyal,” Seonghwa said lightly. “I would have thought you would have said something to them at least.”

“They're loyal to money. That's all that keeps them here,” Hongjoong deflected.

“And Yang is why you're here. In Hala. Isn't he?” Seonghwa phrased it as a question but it really wasn't. “Why you set up shop here after you got out?”

Hongjoong turned away from Seonghwa and back to his computer. “We're done here.”

Seonghwa hesitated for a moment but ultimately decided not to push his luck. He still wanted this payout after all. Gracefully, he stood up and headed for the dingy stairwell, but paused halfway through the door.

“I have missed you, Hongjoong,” he said softly, and then without waiting for a response he knew he wouldn't get, stepped fully out of the office.

***

“How'd it go?” Yeosang asked Seonghwa as the impeccably dressed grifter stepped out of the stairwell.

Seriously, Yeosang would never have the confidence to pull off a plaid suit, even if his usual style wasn't very strongly e-boy adjacent. He didn't have Seonghwa's legs either though. He'd certainly be a little more confident if his legs were that long and slender.

“Exactly as I expected,” Seonghwa said primly.

“So Hongjoong was an ass but you gave him everything he wanted anyway?” Yeosang suggested with a sly grin.

“Ah, I see you have worked with him as long as my sources say.” Seonghwa gave him a wink. “Good luck with whatever you're braving the lion’s den for.”

“Shouldn't be too bad. Just tellin’ him I gotta run by my usual supply guy,” Yeosang told him as he started up the rusty steps.

“I wish you luck nonetheless.” Seonghwa’s voice was light but his eyes flickered with an emotion too quick for Yeosang to catch.

Deciding now wasn't the time to confront Seonghwa about Hongjoong, Yeosang hopped up the steps. It was obvious to all of them that Hongjoong and Seonghwa had past history. Probably romantic as well as professional but no one knew how far it went. Even Yeosang's sources couldn't dig up anything about them.

Best anyone could figure out was that Hongjoong had grown up in Hala and except for a few youthful misdemeanors, never committed any crimes in the city. Then there was no trace of him until about eight years ago. That was when he'd started making a name for himself around the city, planning and pulling off some of the biggest heists Hala had ever seen. He had stayed in the city ever since, never even considered a job outside the city in the entire time Yeosang had worked for him. When he'd arrived he had been fresh out of prison, that everyone knew. No one knew why he'd been arrested or jailed though. Something about the court records getting hacked shortly before he arrived in Hala.

Seonghwa was a bit more of a mystery. An American grifter known worldwide with no true home port. Yeosang wasn't even sure Seonghwa Park was his real name. There were too many records he couldn’t turn up for the name with dates that made sense. He'd been in Hala before but had a habit of skipping town after completing a job. As far as Yeosang and even Mingi could dig up, there was nothing connecting them. Yeosang put his thoughts aside as he knocked lightly on the door to Hongjoong's office before pushing it open.

“Something the matter?” Hongjoong asked, not turning away from his computer.

“Nah.” Yeosang shook his head. “I’m just letting you know that I gotta go see Bobby today. He's managed to get his hands on some CIA shielding material that might be good for the new drone.”

Hongjoong waved a hand dismissively at Yeosang. “Fine. Take Jongho with you. Don't get ripped off.”

Yeosang crossed his arms. “I don't need a babysitter. I've dealt with Bobby plenty before.”

“Take Jongho.” Hongjoong's voice brooked no argument. “Jay's boys are getting bold and the cops are bolder.”

“Fine.” Yeosang did his best not to grumble like a petulant child but wasn't quite sure he succeeded.

He twisted on his heel and marched back down the stairs. When he got back down, Seonghwa was gone. He also noted that Yunho had pried himself out from under the van and seemed to be trying to convince Mingi to take a break with him. He was too ticked off to appreciate their general air of cuteness at the moment.

“Jjongie!” Yeosang shouted as he headed for the main door. “Boss says you're with me!”

Startled, the hitter looked up from his phone with an expression of mild confusion that really shouldn't have made Yeosang's heart flutter like it did. Where did he get off being so pretty and dangerous at the same time? It was unfair. Yeosang didn't stop or slow down as he watched Jongho hurry to catch up with him out of the corner of his eye. He did roll his eyes as noticed the hitter took the time to button his suit jacket appropriately. What kind of hitter even wore suits all the time? Was he designed in a factory to drive Yeosang insane? If God was real he better have a really good explanation for dropping Jongho into his life like this.

“I'll drive,” Jongho said as they stepped outside.

“No arguments from me,” Yeosang told him easily. “I hate driving around Hala.”

Yeosang slid into the passenger seat of Jongho's charcoal gray Mustang GT without another word. A moment later Jongho sank fluidly into the driver seat and brought the Mustang to life. Without asking, Yeosang leaned over and started tapping away at the center console display screen. He quickly punched in the address Bobby had given him earlier for a meet up. It was one of Bobby's usual storefronts on the outskirts of Hala's industrial district. Officially, it was a hardware store but if you asked the right questions to the right people it was a get-you-anything kind of store.

“Sure, just make yourself at home,” Jongho said sarcastically. “That's fine.”

“Thanks. I knew it would be!” Yeosang grinned at him, wide and with too many teeth, completely ignoring the barb.

Jongho just rolled his eyes and shook his head as he maneuvered onto the street. Yeosang let the classic rock station be the only noise between them as Jongho navigated the port, just long enough for Jongho to be lulled into a false sense of security. As soon as they turned on to the highway, he broke the silence.

“So, how long were you in the army for?” Yeosang asked, apropos of nothing.

Over the last couple of weeks, Jognho’s walls had slowly started to come down. At least with Yeosang. He was much more likely to meet Yeosang’s sarcasm and teasing with playful responses of his own. Or as playful as Jongho seemed capable of. Yeosang was pretty sure Jongho wouldn’t immediately clam up if he started poking around at his past.

Jongho's fingers flexed against the wheel at the sound of Yeosang's voice. “Eight years.”

“They send you overseas?” Yeosang noted that Jongho drove in the center lane of the highway, perfectly with the flow of traffic. Had he previously been a Boy Scout too?

Jongho snorted but it was rough and far from amused. “Yeah, a few times.”

“Infantry?” Yeosang questioned.

This time Jongho shook his head, hands twisting against the wheel. “Bomb squad.”

Something about the set of Jongho’s jaw and the bright white of his knuckles against the steering wheel told Yeosang he wasn’t just disarming IEDs. That the orders he had been given over there weren’t completely inline with pretty lies they told recruits about protecting America and their values. Yeosang wasn’t dumb enough to think that the specifics of what Jongho had been required to do in the line of duty were up for discussion.

He gave Jongho a moment to relax, his fingers loosening their death grip, his breath washing out of him in a deep even pattern. The radio filled the silence with some rock song written a decade before Yeosang had been born.

When Jongho looked more composed, Yeosang asked, “So how'd someone as buttoned up as you end up in my world?”

Everything about his posture tightened as Yeosang spoke, knuckles turning white again and his eyes hardened. For a moment Yeosang thought this would be the question that got him thrown out of the car or at least when Jongho stopped indulging him. That he would either shut down or start yelling at Yeosang for prying, but to his surprise, Jongho just kind of crumpled before his eyes after a few seconds. His normally perfectly straight shoulders slumped and his hands twisted against the steering wheel in what Yeosang was coming to realize was a self soothing motion. The hard look in his eyes was replaced with something Yeosang himself had seen in the mirror more than once, bone-deep regret and sadness.

“I lucked out on the physical scar side of serving,” Jongho told him slowly. “Kept all my limbs, fingers and toes too, managed to avoid most of the shrapnel thrown my way. Didn't get so lucky on the whole mental scar thing. I was a mess when I was finally discharged. Formally, I was at the end of my contract; informally, I wasn't fit to serve any more and my whole platoon knew it. So I was given a one-way ticket back home to Hala and the number of the local VA Hospital. Some help they were.”

“I'm sorry,” was the only thing Yeosang could think to say.

He'd worked with some ex-military types before. They rarely had anything positive to say about the government's treatment of veterans. Never enough VA funding, never enough post-discharge support, and certainly never enough in the way of mental health services, from what Yeosang had gotten from them.

Jongho shrugged. “It is what it is.” He spoke with the air of someone who had come to terms with something that would never truly be alright. “I couldn't keep a steady job. Even flipping burgers was too much. Was down to a month's rent, drinking it away in some shitty bar, and some punk picked a fight with me. I guess I was in his seat with his name written on it with invisible ink or something. Laid him out flat, figured I was going to jail at that point. Would have been better than the streets anyway. Instead his buddies dragged him into a corner and asked if I wanted a job. I said yes.”

“Wait, you joined up with the crew of some guy you knocked out?!” Yeosang asked in complete shock.

Jongho smiled, a little sheepishly. “Can't say I was exactly thinking straight back then.”

“I'll say.”

“Anyway, I ran with them for a few weeks. Mostly rolling debtors for loan sharks.” Guilt colored Jongho's face. “Word got out that I had explosives training and a crew with a very specific skill set reached out to me. Worked with them for about a year before I had to get out. Couldn't handle the dynamic. Been freelance since, worked for Zico a lot.”

“Very specific skill set?” Yeosang questioned. “You can't just dangle that out there and then not explain.”

“Armoured trucks,” Jongho said. “Get a big enough crew, some C4, and you can blow those pretty easy and be gone before the light even turns green.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Yeosang threw up his hands, waving them in front of his face like he was trying to clear something. “You linked up with G-Dragon's crew?”

“Bunch of disrespectful assholes, but yes,” Jongho answered.

Yeosang nodded. G-Dragon ran one of the roughest crews in Hala. He wasn't surprised Jongho didn't exactly fit in with them. Not that he wasn't tough, just that he had a sort of refined quality to him. Yeosang would have guessed he was more into white collar crime before he even considered that Jongho rolled trucks for the ‘Big Bang’ Crew.

Suddenly a thought struck Yeosang and was out of his mouth before he could decide if it was a good idea or not.

“So I’m guessing I don't need to worry about loud noises, what with the blowing trucks and all, but should I watch out for anything specific?” Yeosang tried to keep his tone light. “Don't want to accidentally send you into a bad headspace on a job or something.”

Jongho shrugged. “One good thing about running with G-Dragon was I had enough money to stick myself in some really good therapy. Got myself mostly under control now. I just don't recommend sneaking up on me or cornering me.”

“I won't,” Yeosang told him sincerely.

Silence lapsed over them for a long moment. As Jongho smoothly navigated an interchange, Yeosang studied him out of the corner of his eye. He couldn't be more than thirty, he certainly wasn’t any older than Yeosang's thirty-two, and yet he'd been through more than most. Life certainly hadn't been kind to Jongho. A growing part of Yeosang wondered if he would be allowed to show Jongho a little bit of kindness.

Jongho's voice broke his thoughts. “What about you? How did you end up working for Hongjoong?”

Yeosang waved a hand dismissively. “There's not much to it. Grew up lower middle class with a dad who had expensive habits and a mom who worked to foot the bill. Spent a lot of time with Wooyoung. He's always had sticky fingers. Candy bars and gum from convenience stores, that kind of thing, when we were kids. Then he started snatching wallets. At first I was just kind of there making sure he didn't take too many stupid risks. Then one day I was helping distract a mark. Kind of snowballed from there. Money was good though, put myself into college with it. Couldn't have dreamed of that beforehand.”

“You worked with Wooyoung for a long time then?” Jongho asked, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye.

Yeosang shrugged. “Kinda, I guess. If you want to count from his first candy bar. Once we got older, we found it was better for our friendship if we didn’t. Risks are too tantalizing for him and too anxiety inducing for me. After we made that decision, I spent a few years solo, mostly selling information to the highest bidder. Then Hongjoong reached out for the first time. Did a few contract jobs for him and impressed him enough to be made the second permanent member of his crew.”

Jongho nodded. “You must be very skilled at what you do to impress Hongjoong like that. He seems very discerning with who he'll even contract with, let alone keep around all the time.”

Yeosang smiled teasingly. “I don’t know. He brought you around this time. Standards might be slipping.”

Jongho glanced over at him before saying in a low tone, “Just wait until you see me in action.”

Something about the pitch of his voice had Yeosang mentally tacking a ‘Baby’ to the end of that sentence. Fuck. He might actually die if Jongho called him that. All confidence and sure of himself, Jongho was probably a menace in bed.

There was another moment of silence as Jongho exited the highway and merged onto the side roads before he asked a little hesitantly, “You ever sleep with Wooyoung?”

Yeosang couldn't help the snort that escaped him involuntarily. “No. Might as well have asked me if I've slept with my sister. We're both flying the rainbow flag but I've seen him eat his own boogers.”

Jongho wrinkled his nose at the unpleasant mental image Yeosang had supplied him with. Far too adorable for someone with Jongho's reputation.

“What about San?” Jongho asked softly.

“Why so curious about my sexual history?” Yeosang teased just to see Jongho's ears turn red. “The answer is no, by the way. I prefer a little more brains in my bed than he's packing. Haven't slept with Yunho either if that was your next question.”

“It wasn't,” Jongho told him. “You're very friendly with San and Wooyoung. I was just curious.”

“Curious about the competition?” Yeosang let his eyes slide up and down Jongho very obviously. “I don't usually sleep with coworkers but there are exceptions to every rule.”

“I'd be willing to make a compelling argument,” Jongho tossed back as he turned a corner.

Yeosang grinned. “I'd be willing to hear you out sometime. I have a feeling you're very persuasive when you want to be.”

As Jongho's brain seemed to grind to a halt, the GPS helpfully piped up that they'd arrived at their destination. Jongho swung the car into the parking lot and pulled into a space near the front. Yeosang took a moment to gather himself, pushing thoughts of Jongho in his bed to the wayside and he settled into his work persona.

“Let me do the talking,” Yeosang told Jongho firmly. “Bobby's a bit eccentric but he's the best at what he does. I don't want to ruin this connection.”

Jongho nodded. “I've played the muscle for these kinds of things more times than you can count.”

Yeosang let his eyes sweep over Jongho the briefest of moments. “I bet you have. Let's go.”

He swung himself out of the car before he did something stupid like touch Jongho. The click of the door told him Jongho was following his lead but Yeosang didn't look back as he approached the front door of Iconic Power Tools and Building Supply. In this scenario, Jongho was just a hired thug, someone to back Yeosang up if Bobby or another one of Jay's boys tried to pull something funny. Otherwise, he was just a nice piece of set dressing, not anything for Yeosang to pay attention to.

The bell above the door tinkled as Yeosang strode through with the confidence of someone who knew they were going to get what they wanted before they even started. DK nodded at him from behind the counter. Yeosang nodded back, meeting DK's gaze with a serious look. DK might be a pretty face but Yeosang also knew there was some serious firepower under the register.

“He's in the back,” DK told him as Yeosang strode by the front counter.

“Thank you.” Yeosang didn't pause. “Hongjoong sends his best to Jay.”

DK nodded once. “I'll pass the message along.”

Hongjoong, of course, had said nothing of the sort but they were on good terms with Jay's crew. A little courtesy went a long way. Helped grease the wheels if things ever needed it. The things Yeosang did for Hongjoong without the ungrateful bastard being aware.

Yeosang pushed through the rasta-colored beaded curtain that separates the public area of the shop from the private areas, almost turning around just to see if Jongho had a reaction to that. He strolled past the big doors that led to the warehouse, the smaller set that led to the break room, and the bathrooms without even pausing. Behind him he could hear the steady tap of Jongho's chelsea boots on the crappy linoleum tiles.

At the end of the hallway was a door inconspicuously labeled ‘office.’ Yeosang rapped his knuckles three times against the cheap laminate wood.

“Come in,” a voice called lazily from the other side.

Yeosang pushed the door open and stepped into the office. A record player sat in the corner on top of a file cabinet, spinning a record as quiet reggae filled the room. Posters of Bob Marley were plastered on two of the walls, the third taken up by a huge mural of a Jamaican beach. The only other furniture in the room was a dilapidated desk, currently occupied by the man Yeosang was here to see and a pair of threadbare chairs.

“Sang-sang!” Bobby greeted him enthusiastically as Yeosang made space for Jongho to join them in the small office. “And friend! Who'd you bring, Sang?”

“Hi Bobby,” Yeosang greeted him evenly as he sat down in one of the chairs. “This is Jongho. He’s on contract to Hongjoong for the moment.”

“Lovely to meet you, Jongho!” Bobby smiled infectiously at Jongho. “Please have a seat.”

“Pleasure to meet you. I would prefer to stand,” Jongho rumbled behind Yeosang.

Yeosang almost startled at the depth of Jongho's voice, far deeper than his usual register. Apparently he wasn’t the only one with a professional character. Yeosang turned his head just enough to see that Jongho had set himself up so that the only way in and out of the room was through him. Quickly he brought his attention back to the reason he was here.

Bobby shrugged, grin unmarred by Jongho's taciturn reply. It was difficult to knock the smile off the fence's round face, eyes almost permanently crescent shaped from the bulge of his cheeks. But when it did happen, Yeosang knew from experience, that was a good point to start worrying about one’s personal safety. Bobby may usually have the personality of a particularly jovial stoner but he was just as dangerous as anyone else who skulked around Hala's underground.

“How you been Sang-sang?” Bobby asked cheerfully as he clicked around on his computer. “You haven't been to see me in a while. Gonna start thinking you have another fence.”

Yeosang chuckled. “You're the only one for me, Bobby. You know that. No one can get me the stuff you do.”

“And you better remember it.” Bobby's smile was sharp, almost shark-like— a reminder that below his happy facade was a ruthless businessman and career criminal. “So.” Bobby sobered somewhat as he turned back to Yeosang. “I have what you were after on site.”

“Five sheets?” Yeosang asked.

“Exactly,” Bobby said with a nod. “But we ran into a little issue during transport. Cost us a pretty penny to unstick our operation.”

“And you're going to pass that cost on to me,” Yeosang said slowly, frowning.

“You understand my position,” Bobby told him seriously. “I probably wouldn't have even been moving this stuff if it wasn't for you asking about it.”

“We agreed to five grand, Bobby,” Yeosang told him testily. “That's already got a rush fee built in. I know five sheets of this stuff isn't going for more than two grand right now.”

A ridiculous rush fee of two thousand dollars on top of the premium of running his purchase through Jay’s crew. The premium Yeosang was more than happy to swallow, he’d never been ripped off or had a late delivery, and for being such a loyal customer he earned perks like asking for rush deliveries every once in a while. The only reason he even wanted this stuff rushed was because Hongjoong had been breathing down his neck for progress reports and he’d had very little to offer up recently. The mastermind was eager to expand their arsenal of tools but Yeosang was almost to the point of regretting he’d even mention the damn project to him.

Bobby shrugged. “I gotta recoup somewhere, Sang. Them's the breaks. It's seven now or you can leave without it.”

“Bobby, I'm gonna have to start shopping elsewhere if you keep pulling this stuff on me,” Yeosang said icily. “Hongjoong's got a good hacker on staff right now. Might have to have him hook me up to the dark web. Save myself the trouble of coming out here all the time.”

“Go ahead,” Bobby waved a hand like he didn't care even as his eyes hardened. “You'll be back here inside of a month. No one has my inventory.”

Yeosang narrowed his eyes. “Five.”

“Seven or you can leave,” Bobby said firmly.

“Five,” Jongho said smoothly behind him.

Yeosang resisted the urge to squeeze his eyes shut and pretend Jongho hadn't just spoken. That would be childish.

“We all know whatever trouble you hit probably would have occurred on your next shipment regardless of what it was,” Jongho continued before Bobby could speak. “If one of your guys got pinched or you lost a connection that’s not the customer’s fault. That’s on your team. Potentially losing a long-time customer like Yeosang will be worse for your bottom line over time than whatever you can squeeze out of him right now. Besides, with Yeosang’s connections, who knows who he’ll tell that about this shake down.”

Bobby narrowed his eyes, smile falling off his face as Jongho continued to speak. “Why's the muscle got brains, Yeosang?”

“New model,” Yeosang responded easily. “He does make a good point though. I know quite a few crews who prefer to run their purchases and sales through you, might have to start spreading the word that you don’t hold up a deal.”

Bobby gave Yeosang a long look, eyes boring into him. Suddenly something behind him caught his attention, eyes flicking over Yeosang’s shoulder for a moment before returning to Yeosang. Unwilling to break eye contact, Yeosang could only hope Jongho wouldn’t do anything reckless. He didn’t seem like the type, but he also hadn’t really known him that long.

“Maybe I’m willing to take that chance,” Bobby said with all the charm of a used car salesman. “I’m willing to bet my team’s reputation as the best import/export game in town against your little rumor mill.

Yeosang shrugged, trying his best to look unbothered. “I’m sure Jay will be thrilled to hear that not only are you taking a loss on this merchandise, that seems to have already cost you quite a bit, but that you’ll also be dealing with reduced customer throughput as well. This is highly specialized material we’re talking about here. I’d think you want to tell your boss you at least got something out of it rather than having it take up space in your warehouse for the next forever.”

“You’re not the only person in town who does drones, Sang,” Bobby told him icily.

“Oh, sure, sure,” Yeosang waved a hand with a carelessness he certainly did not feel in this moment. “There’s Peniel and Joshua. Kai too. But really, only I.N’s doing drones on the same level as I am and even he’s not crazy enough to try what I’m trying. Like I said, I’m sure Jay will be thrilled to have this hot material hanging around your main shop.”

Bobby narrowed his eyes. “Six and a half.”

“Five,” Yeosang shot back.

Ya gotta give me something here, Sang-sang,” Bobby groused. “Can you do six and a quarter?”

“I’m really not willing to pay much more than what we agreed originally, Bobby,” Yeosang told him. “I can throw a couple hundred extra in.”

“That’s just an insult and you know it,” Bobby accused him. “Let’s meet in the middle, six even.”

“I’m not paying triple for this stuff, Bobby,” Yeosang told him. “Bad enough you were already charging me more in fees than it’s actually worth.”

“It’s worth whatever someone is willing to pay,” Bobby retorted with a smirk.

“Well then I guess it’s worth five and a half because that’s all I’m willing to pay and I’m the only one willing to pay at all.”

Bobby gave him a sour look but said “Deal.”

He’d been expecting some sort of price increase; it was Bobby's favorite game. Get him all the way out here for a mostly decent price and then tack on an extra half grand or so knowing Yeosang would be reluctant to try finding another source or leave and re-do the whole process at a later date. Two grand was a bit much though, even for Bobby.

Yeosang slid a stack of hundreds out of his pocket and started counting them out onto Bobby's desk. When he'd reached fifty-five, Bobby scooped up the stack and stuck it in his automatic money counter. Satisfied when the machine showed no error in Yeosang's counting, he picked up his phone and dialed someone.

“DK, please bring Yeosang's merchandise to the back loading dock. He'll be swinging around to pick it up shortly,” Bobby said into the receiver, hanging up without waiting for a reply.

With that, Yeosang stood. “Pleasure doing business with you, as always, Bobby.”

Bobby gave a curt nod. “Likewise. Leave the thug at home next time.”

Yeosang smiled, sweet and innocent. “I'm thinking about making him a permanent addition. Something pretty to look at.”

Jongho said nothing, just stepped aside so Yeosang could exit the office first. There was something in the corners of his lips that looked distinctly pleased.

“Come on, Jongho. Let's get out of here. I want to get testing,” Yeosang said as he passed.

Jongho fell in step behind him as they traced their way back out of the shop and into Jongho's car. “Thanks,” Yeosang muttered, as Jongho backed out of the parking slot. “He caught me off guard. Wasn't thinking strategically.”

“Two heads are better than one,” Jongho said easily with a small shrug. “I just poked some sore spots and loosened him up for you.”

“Well I appreciate that, it gave me enough time to get my head together,” Yeosang told him. “ I think I prefer my muscle with a little brains.”

Jongho laughed at that. A bright happy sound that Yeosang wanted to bottle so he could have it at his darkest moments. Either that, or spend the rest of his life trying to tease that sound from the stoic man.

Chapter Text

The third time Mingi glanced anxiously up at Hongjoong's office and turned away with a sigh, Yunho decided something needed to be done. He might be an unfeeling bastard behind the wheel of his Supra but outside of it he was more the kind of person who rescued rain soaked kittens off the side of the street. Actually, he'd once stopped traffic on Hala's busiest highway just to grab an abandoned dog and made himself late to a race because he'd swung by the nearest no-kill animal shelter. So maybe he wasn't even that much of a bastard behind the wheel either.

Regardless, the point still stood, Yunho couldn’t stand by and watch cute creatures suffer. Even if said cute creature was a six foot man who was actively wanted by five countries for digital crimes so complex Yunho couldn’t begin to understand them. Decision made, Yunho pushed himself away from the van and shrugged half out of his jumpsuit, tying the arms around his waist. It was time for him to take a break anyway; he'd just tried to thread a bolt backwards while putting a wiring harness back into place. Last thing he needed was to tell Hongjoong he'd blown up the Ford's engine because he'd been tired.

A quick glance at Mingi told him the hacker was unlikely to go anywhere any time soon. Headphones firmly ensconced on his ears, fingers tapping away at his colorfully illuminated keyboard, shoulders hunched in the way Yunho had come to recognize as Mingi trying to solve a particularly difficult problem, Mingi probably wouldn't be leaving his computer unless someone physically pulled him away, and maybe not even then. Lucky for the hacker, Yunho had just nominated himself for the task. Someone had to make sure the man ate at least a couple of times a day.

He wandered into the break room and washed his hands before doing anything else. Grease on everything might not bother him, but Jongho swore it was ‘unsanitary’ or something. Yunho wasn't sure he agreed; it hadn't killed him yet. Still, the last time he'd gotten engine grease on the cabinet handles, Jongho had sworn to break all of his toes if it happened again, and he wasn't exactly eager to test how much hyperbole that statement had been. Something told him the combat vet didn't exactly joke much.

Hands clean except for the stubborn stuff under his nails, Yunho opened the cabinet he'd stuffed some snacks in the other day. A bag of chips practically jumped out of the overfull cabinet at him, which he nearly fumbled but managed to keep from hitting the floor. Conveniently, it was the chips he'd purchased for himself. It took a few minutes of riffling through the other snacks and Yeosang's impressive collection of power bars to find the peach gummy rings he'd bought for Mingi tucked behind Jongho's giant container of protein powder. On his way out of the room, he swung by the cold-war era fridge and snagged two bottles of the iced tea he'd stashed this morning.

He managed to set both drinks down next to Mingi and settle himself on the stool next to him without the hacker noticing him. For a moment, Yunho just studied his profile. With his smooth alabaster skin, long thin nose, angular jaw, it was almost like he was a masterpiece carved from marble. Like one of the classic Greek statues he'd seen in the museum on a high school field trip. The round glasses perched on his nose adding character to his classically handsome face. As Yunho's eyes roamed across his profile, they got a little stuck studying Mingi's lips. They were so pink, and the bottom one was somewhat more plush than the top. Almost like a permanent pout.

The stray thought of how it would feel to kiss him crossed Yunho's mind.

Mingi made a startled noise, and Yunho thought he'd been caught, but instead, Mingi just started typing in a flurry. Lines of code appeared suddenly in one of the open windows. It seemed to be a brief burst of genius because after a moment, Mingi's slender fingers stilled and he slumped with a groan. Deciding now was his moment, Yunho held the package of gummies between Mingi and his screen.

For a moment, Mingi just blinked at the bright pink and yellow packaging of the Atiny brand candy like he'd never seen it before, even though Yunho knew it was his favorite. Yunho wiggled the bag a little, making the chubby white mascot with its yellow flower hat dance. That seemed to spur Mingi into action, lowering his headphones and finally noticing Yunho sitting next to him. His face split into an easy grin and Yunho swore the heart palpitations that it caused him could not be a good thing.

“Thought you might need a break.” Yunho laid the candy down on Mingi's keyboard. “I sure as fuck did.”

Mingi picked up the package, ripping it open as Yunho nudged one of the bottles of tea closer to him. Satisfied Mingi wasn't going to try to dive back into his coding, Yunho opened his own bag of chips. Mingi eyed the bag with clear revulsion.

“What?” Yunho asked as he shoved a few into his mouth.

“How do you eat those?” Mingi asked with disdain.

Yunho shrugged. “Old Bay chips are a delicacy. Not my fault you have a terrible palette.”

Mingi shook his head before he tipped his head back to drop a peach ring into his open mouth. The line of his neck, Adam's apple prominent, had Yunho scrambling for his own bottle of tea as his mouth suddenly went dry.

“Halaians are so weird. The other day I saw a brewery offering Old Bay beer,” Mingi said, nose wrinkling and completely unaware of Yunho's struggles. “Who even wants that?”

Yunho shrugged and attempted to sound unaffected as he spoke. “Someone I guess. I'd at least try it once. Old Bay's good though. Fantastic on crabs, wings, corn, chips. Try one.”

Yunho held his bag out to Mingi. From the look Mingi was giving him, he might have well as held out a bag of crickets. Very pointedly, Mingi reached into his own bag and drew out another couple of gummies.

“Suit yourself.” Yunho tipped the bag back towards himself. “So, what do you need to talk to Hongjoong about?”

"How do you know I need to talk to him?” Mingi looked at him with confusion.

"You keep glancing at his office.” Yunho shrugged. “I took a guess. It was either that or you pissed him off.”

Mingi barked a laugh. "No, I haven't managed that yet.”

"So what do you need from him?” Yunho shoved a few more chips in his mouth

Mingi’s shoulders slumped a little. “It's complicated.”

“Having trouble getting the door open?” Yunho asked.

“Yeah,” Mingi sounded a little dejected.

“You've only been working on it for three days. Give yourself a little time. You'll work it out,” Yunho told him confidently.

“Eventually,” Mingi muttered, staring forlornly at the gummy pinched between two fingers. “But I only have a few weeks before the gems move. If I had infinite time, this would be almost fun. Right now it’s just stressful.”

Yunho nodded, unsure of what to say. His part was easy—upgrade the van and don't get caught in a police barricade. He'd done that more times than he could count. Mingi was trying to crack a brand new puzzle.

Mingi continued before Yunho had to figure out something comforting but not patronizing to say. “I think I figured out a way to crack it a little faster but I can't do it here. That's what I need to talk to Hongjoong about.”

“Why can't you do it here?” Yunho asked.

“I need to hook into Yang's wifi,” Mingi explained, pushing his glasses back into place. “I think if I can do that, I can trick the system a little bit into thinking I'm supposed to be there. That combined with the pinhole should let me crack the backdoor a little bit wider.”

“How close do you have to get to grab the wifi?” Yunho asked around a mouthful of chips.

Mingi’s smile was a little fond as he answered, though Yunho couldn’t discern why. “There was a faint signal where we were sitting in the gala the other night. If I can grab it I can boost it from wherever I am. Should be enough for me to hack in.”

“That's not too bad,” Yunho mused. “If you went with me, Hongjoong shouldn't have a problem with it because I can get us out of any trouble that might pop up.”

Mingi gave him a sidelong gaze and then shoved a couple more gummies in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. Yunho was content to let him think for a moment. It was easy just to be with Mingi. They'd spent more than one lunch in companionable silence. Yunho's quest to ensure Mingi ate at regular intervals couldn’t always separate Mingi's brain from whatever piece of coding he had been working on before Yunho pried him away from his keyboard.

“Yeah that would probably work,” Mingi said eventually. “Could you take me today?”

Pretty much without thinking, Yunho nodded. He was waiting for a part to come in before he could make any more significant progress on the van anyway. It wouldn't derail him to take the afternoon off.

“Okay.” Mingi looked like he was steeling himself as he set the half eaten bag of peach rings down. “Guess I’ll go talk to him now.”

“Want me to go with?” Yunho asked, chips already on the desk.

Mingi shook his head. “I got it.” He offered Yunho a lopsided smile. “Thanks though.”

Yunho watched Mingi trudge across the warehouse and up the stairs like a man walking to the gallows. To distract himself from unnecessarily worrying about how Mingi would fare talking to Hongjoong, Yunho tidied up from their snack break. Then he puttered around the area he'd claimed as his own work area, tossing his loose wrenches and screwdrivers back into his tool box and disposing of any scrap he'd accumulated over the last couple of days. When he ran out of things to straighten, he shucked his jumpsuit completely, carelessly leaving it to hang over the toolbox.

He wandered into the tiny bathroom and spent a long moment studying himself in the mirror. It wasn't quite a date but he'd still prefer not to look like he'd just crawled out from under a car, even if that would be an accurate statement. The grease smear on his cheek was a bit stubborn but he eventually managed to get it off. A quick shake of his head and a little bit of smoothing with his fingers and he deemed his hair acceptable. There was nothing to be done about his outfit but at least his plain black t-shirt was clean with no rips. Combined with his baggy jeans and his timbs, the whole ensemble made for a classic casual look.

When he exited the bathroom, he found Mingi waiting for him by his computer, messenger bag hanging by his hip. Very obviously, Mingi's eyes gave Yunho a once over as he strode over to where he'd tossed his jacket this morning.

“Sorry. Didn't mean to make you wait, darling,” Yunho told him with a smirk.

Twin spots of color appeared on the tops of Mingi's cheeks as he snapped his gaze to his own feet, suddenly very interested in his pristine Nike Air Forces. “It's okay. I wasn't waiting long anyway.”

Across the warehouse, Yunho had to strain to hear Mingi. It was kind of adorable the way Mingi got flustered when Yunho said something like that. Even after a fair number of shared lunches and convenience store runs at all hours of the day and night, Mingi still reacted to Yunho's flirting the same way as when they first met. After this is all over, Yunho was definitely going to ask Mingi on a date.

“Hongjoong agree to the plan?” Yunho asked, reaching for his favorite red and black leather motorcycle jacket. Not that he even rode a motorcycle, he just thought the jacket was cool.

“Uh,” Mingi swallowed thickly at the roll of Yunho's shoulders as he settled the jacket into place. “Y-yeah. He said you taking me was a smart idea.”

“I'll keep you out of trouble.” Yunho pulled his keys out of his jacket. “Ready?”

Mingi unfolded his long frame from the stool. Yunho couldn't help the way his eyes trailed over the other man. The unbuttoned oversized black cardigan he was wearing draped nicely over his frame, pulling Yunho's eyes down his torso. His wide cut, heavily ripped, light wash jeans gave glimpses of his powerful thighs that had Yunho's mouth watering. What really did Yunho in though, was the tight white t-shirt the hacker was wearing. The way it highlighted Mingi's pecs should be a crime.

“Yeah,” Mingi responded, heading for the door. “Which car did you drive today?”

“My baby.” Yunho trailed after him. “The Supra. I know I shouldn't play favorites with my children but I do anyway.”

Mingi laughed as he opened the door, stepping out into the driveway. “They're cars, Yunho. Not sentient beings.”

“You telling me you don't talk to your computers?” Yunho asked, arching an eyebrow as Mingi glanced back at him.

“I do not,” Mingi said primly.

“Yeosang talks to his drones.” Jongho's voice startled Yunho from his Mingi tunnel vision.

The handsomely dressed hitter was standing next to his Mustang GT. Yunho thought it was very stereotypical for an ex-army guy to drive one of those awful pieces of American engineering. Not that he was planning on telling Jongho that anytime soon. He liked all of his toes where they were, thank you very much.

“Don't tell them that!” Yeosang groaned as he stepped out of the passenger side of Jongho's car.

“Why?” Jongho asked, giving Yeosang a smile so sweet Yunho didn’t know how he was ever going to be afraid of the hitter again. “It's cute.”

Yeosang blushed furiously. “Shuddup.”

Jongho just laughed fondly. As Yeosang rounded the front of the car, Yunho was struck by how odd of a couple they made, at least visually. Yeosang in his baggy cargo pants, three different length chains decorating his left thigh, ribbed black tank top, and shoulder length shaggy black hair that's always a little out of control. Jongho in his black three piece suit, deep blue shirt, black tie, and carefully styled hair. They didn't exactly look like two people who would know each other let alone enjoy each other's company very much, but they did. That Yunho could not deny. Every time Yunho caught a glance of the two of them over at Yeosang's workbench, they were chatting quietly. Jongho didn’t need to spend nearly as much time at the safehouse as he did and he certainly didn’t need to spend it holding a flashlight for a sarcastic drone specialist who could definitely just buy a flexible light stand. And yet he did and Yeosang never seemed to complain about Jongho hanging around him.

“Snack run?” Yeosang asked, breaking Yunho's train of thought.

Yunho shook his head. “Chauffeur duty for his royal highness.”

“Hey!” Mingi protested, looking at Yunho with wide eyes. “It was your idea!”

Yunho laughed. “You're right, you're right. I'm just teasing, Mingi. Sorry.”

“It's okay,” Mingi muttered.

Yunho turned back to Yeosang. “Mingi needs to hack into the mark's wifi for a reason I am too stupid to understand. I'm just driving in case we need to make a quick get away.”

“Not a bad idea,” Yeosang said to Mingi, clearly able to guess at Mingi's plan. “Masking like that might be just what it takes to nudge the system to let you in.”

Mingi nodded. “That’s what I'm hoping. Did you get what you needed?” Mingi gestured at the bag in Jongho's hand.

Yeosang nodded.

“Had to drive all over the damn city,” Jongho muttered.

“Hey!” Yeosang protested, pointing a finger at Jongho. “I bought you lunch!”

“Sounds like a fair trade to me,” Yunho said with a playful smile and a shrug, heading for his own vehicle.

“Should I buy you dinner then?” Mingi asked as he followed Yunho.

Yunho glanced at him over the Supra's hood, a little surprised at Mingi's forwardness. The hacker looked a little shocked as well, eyes wide, lips parted.

“I won't say no,” Yunho told him as he popped open the door and slid into the driver's seat.

Mingi joined him after a moment, still looking a little flustered. He'd probably teased Mingi enough for the moment, so he let the silence settle between them as started up the Supra and fiddled with getting his phone connected to the audio system. Without thinking about it, he selected the playlist he had been listening to this morning on his drive over. As he locked his phone his eyes caught on the name of the playlist and then suddenly Mingi was not the only one who was mildly embarrassed. F1X0N You. A collection of songs that made him think of Mingi for one reason or another. Worried that changing it would just bring Mingi's attention to it, Yunho opted instead to just pull out of the driveway.

The ending notes to the first song drifted between them when Mingi hesitantly said, “You're not stupid.”

“What?” Yunho asked, genuinely confused.

“Back there with Yeosang and Jongho, you said you were too stupid to understand what I needed to do,” Mingi explained softly. “You just don't have a lot of knowledge about computers. It's different. I don't understand half of what you say about cars but you don't think I'm stupid, do you?”

Without even thinking, Yunho told him, “Of course not, you're like the smartest person I’ve ever met.”

“See?” Mingi sounded a little smug. “So you're not stupid. Most people can't dream of doing what you do to cars.”

Yunho shrugged. “I don't know. It's just learning patterns and which pieces affect what. There's a lot of mechanics in the world.”

“Yeah, but how many of them can soup up a fucking Ford Transit van?” Mingi asked, with a tone of disbelief.

“What you do takes a lot more brains.” Yunho told him, deflecting the question. “Cars are all basically the same once you get down to the nuts and bolts. It seems like you deal with a whole different jungle every time you hack something.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Yunho watched Mingi shrug. “Sort of, but not really. The ones and zeros only have so many combinations. It's kind of like learning how to solve really hard puzzles. Sure, the end picture is always different, and different manufacturers use different jigs, but the more you do them the more tricks you learn. The faster you can do it. Anyone could do it.”

“And yet I bet I can find someone else who's souped up a Ford Transit van before I could find someone else who hacked the FBI on a dare for Area 51 pictures,” Yunho tossed back. “I may not be stupid, but you're pretty damn smart yourself.”

Mingi didn't seem to have a response for that, so Yunho let the subject drop. The drive to Yang's mansion was easy enough, just a straight shot up Hala's main highway to the exit that dropped them into the wealthy community just outside of the city proper. Huge estates with long winding driveways, and perfectly manicured lawns. Careful not to draw attention to them, Yunho remained on his best driving behavior as he navigated the tree lined streets.

“This good?” Yunho asked as he stopped the Supra on the side of the street that ran adjacent to Yang's mansion.

“Should be,” Mingi told him, reaching between his feet to pull his laptop out of his bag. “Give me a second to check but this is basically where we were the other night though.”

“Yeah, it is.” Yunho nodded, peering past Mingi at Yang's estate.

Yunho had chosen this spot because the street was a relatively unused cul-de-sac for only two other mansions. Technically, there wasn't even street access to Yang's mansion from this road, and there were a bunch of big old trees lining the road that would hopefully obscure the Supra should anyone passing on the main street glance their way. Yunho hadn't spent a ton of time in this area before—rich people were more likely to call the cops on street racers than their inner-city counterparts—but he was fairly certain the cops did somewhat regular patrols of the area. It had definitely come up on the police scanner app he used during street races.

There were a few soft mechanical noises as Mingi's computer whirred to life, followed by Mingi tapping out his password. Another beat and then Mingi said, “Yeah, I can grab his wifi from here.”

“Cool,” Yunho said, undoing his seatbelt before leaning his seat back and popping in an ear bud. “Let me know when you're ready to go.”

“I will.” Mingi already sounded a little distracted, focused intensely on the screen in front of him.

For a couple of hours, Yunho alternated between dozing lightly to the sound of Mingi typing and muttering to himself and playing a dumb game on his phone. Everything outside of the Supra was still except for a few cars that drove past on the main road. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a car rolling a little too slowly past the top of the cul-de-sac.

Curious, he lowered his phone just enough to catch a glimpse of a very familiar bumper and taillight.

Hala City Police Department.

Suddenly on edge, Yunho raised his seat back to his preferred setting and pulled up the police scanner on his phone. There was nothing immediately alarming or even applicable to them but he hadn't stayed out of jail this long by being complacent.

“Mingi,” Yunho started slowly, not wanting to startle the hacker. The only response he got was a grunt. “Do you have what you need?”

“Almost,” Mingi muttered, more to himself than Yunho. “Give me a couple more minutes.”

Yunho wrapped his hands around the steering wheel, twisting them nervously against the leather. “Okay.”

Anxiously, Yunho kept watch out of the windshield. A couple of other cars rolled by, all very distinctly civilian and perfectly in keeping with the neighborhood. Just when Yunho was starting to think the cop hadn't noticed them and he could let his guard down, a HCPD vehicle appeared at the top of the road. Yunho gulped as he watched the black and white vehicle turn toward them. The Supra's windows were tinted just this side of legal so Yunho was sure the cop couldn't actually tell who was in the car, but the way he crawled down the cul-de-sac did Yunho's heart rate no favors. Keeping his breathing even, he pulled his earbuds out and tossed them in the cup holder next to him.

“Mingi,” Yunho said with more urgency this time, clicking his seat buckle into place. “We gotta go.”

“Not yet,” Mingi snapped back. “I've almost got this.”

Yunho pushed down the brake pedal and put the Supra in drive as he watched the cop start a very slow circuit around the cul-de-sac in his rearview mirror. He didn't go anywhere yet though, just anxiously tracked the officer. The cop car came to a halt at the midpoint; it almost looked to Yunho like the officer was checking something on his mounted laptop. Yunho would bet all of his most recent winnings that he knew exactly what the cop was doing.

“Mingi,” Yunho said, this time with a tone of warning. “We really gotta hit the road.”

“One more minute,” Mingi responded, sounding a little annoyed. “That's all I need.”

“You've got until this cop finishes running my plate,” Yunho told him, eyes fixed on the car in his rearview.

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” Mingi was so close to his laptop his nose was practically touching the screen. “Just let me finish one more thing and there we-”

“Go!” Yunho yelled, slamming his foot down on the accelerator just as the cop flipped on his lights.

The familiar surge of adrenaline and excitement flooded his veins as they raced up the street. Street race or running from the cops, it always made him feel alive like nothing else did. One wrong move and it would all be over. Yet he still pushed his abilities, and car, to the very edge.

“What the fuck!” Mingi shouted, looking up from his laptop for the first time in two hours.

“Fucking bored ass patrol cops! That's what!” Yunho yelled back as they tore out of the cul-de-sac and onto the main neighborhood street. “Get your seatbelt on!”

Next to him, Mingi scrambled to comply without tossing his laptop at the same time. With the cop hot on their tail, siren blaring, Yunho wove through the windy streets that made up the area. God forbid rich people be able to see each other's hideous mansions on a straight street. Vaguely, he was aware of Mingi yelling next to him but couldn't spare the concentration to actually determine what he was saying. They roared onto the highway, and Yunho had half a hope that they would lose the bastard in the late evening traffic.

That hope was shattered when the cop managed to keep pace behind them. Adrenaline spiked through him as he urged the Supra faster. Doing everything in his power to lose their tail, Yunho slid the car through some truly inadvisably narrow gaps. He whipped through traffic, ignoring the beeping and birds being flipped their way. Trying to shake the cop, Yunho shot between a pair of semi-trucks.

“Fuck!” He cursed when he glanced in the side mirror and saw not one but now two cop cars behind him with full lights and sirens. “They're multiplying!”

They raced around a curve so steep Yunho genuinely wasn’t sure how all three of them kept traction, certain that the Supra was seconds from spinning into the rock wall that bordered the highway. As he pulled out of the turn, a calm settled over him. It was always like this when he drove. Adrenaline and fear gave way to clarity after a few minutes. This was what he was built to do.

The world became a blur around them as the odometer on the car climbed higher and higher. Mingi had stopped yelling, so that was something, but he wasn't sure exactly what the hacker was doing. When he glanced in the sideview mirror on the passenger side he caught a glimpse of him furiously typing.

Not exactly having the spare time to worry about that, Yunho pushed it out of his mind. Thinking fast, he merged into the furthest left lane and then threaded the needle between four cars to take a right hand exit into the heart of Hala's downtown. This late in the day, most people were either home or already bellied up to their preferred bar, leaving the roads fairly empty, though not completely devoid of cars. As Yunho drove the wrong way up a street to dodge a line of cars stopped at a red light, Mingi actually shrieked. Unfortunately, risking damage to his ear drums did not shake the cops still tailing him.

He flung the Supra down an alley so tight he almost scraped a mirror. The cops did not seem to care about their paint job as they barreled after him. Yunho pulled a quick loop around a block of office buildings, followed by a second, and a third, before he peeled off back in the direction they had come from. He wove through the slowly dimming streets of Hala, occasionally taking unnecessary turns but ultimately still aiming for one goal.

By the time he'd pulled back onto the highway heading back in the direction of Yang's mansion, they were back down to just one cop. All he could hope was the other bastard had gotten four flat tires. They flew up the highway, weaving between cars, until Yunho took a last second exit. Mingi gasped as they screeched around the curve and on to a windy county highway.

Yunho's favorite cruising road. He knew this road better than he did the back of his own hand. This was where he came to test new builds. To clear his head. To celebrate wins and successful jobs. This was his road. No one could touch him here.

He tore up the road, dust and rocks kicking up in the Supra's wake. With every curve, bend, and twist in the road the cop dropped further behind. Eventually they came out of a turn and the officer was out of sight for just long enough for Yunho to turn onto a smaller side road.

“Fuck yeah!” Mingi cheered as the cop raced past the turn Yunho had taken.

“Not out of the woods yet,” Yunho said cautiously, though he did slow down to a slightly less manic speed.

Without a real goal in mind, Yunho followed the road he'd turned on to for a while. It seemed to track up the mountain that overlooked Hala. Tall pines lined the spaces that weren't too vertical and rocky for vegetation to grow. It was almost pretty in the fading daylight. Next to him Mingi's breathing was slowly evening out. His own heart rate was also settling down, now that the thrill of the chase was wearing off. Neither of them said anything, tensely checking the mirrors and glimpses of the other roads they could make out between the trees and rocks.

After about ten minutes and not even a hint of red and blue in his rearview, Yunho breathed a sigh of relief. “Now we’re out of the woods.”

“Actually it would seem we're still in them,” Mingi joked, pointing out the window.

Yunho chuckled at Mingi's bad joke. “I suppose we are.”

“That was awful,” Mingi told him with a shake of his head.

Yunho shrugged. “You did pretty good for a first timer. San puked and I think Yeosang threatened to dig up dirt on me so bad he’d be holding it over my grandchildren’s head.”

“Well let’s hope it was my only time.” Mining shuddered. “I don’t want to ever do that again.”

“Good chance there’s at least one more in your future,” Yunho told him as they crested a hill. “There’s a good reason Hongjoong bothers hiring me on for jobs like this.”

Off to the right, the skyline of Hala City was suddenly visible, stealing Mingi’s attention, dramatically back lit by the red and gold setting sun. The tall buildings jagged spikes that rose into the air, carving up the bands of color that ran across the sky. Mingi stared out the window looking absolutely stunned. His lips parted around a silent gasp and his eyes wide.

A couple hundred yards ahead of them was a scenic overlook. Without a second thought, Yunho turned in and put the Supra in park.

“Beautiful,” Mingi whispered.

Not looking at Hala in the slightest, Yunho whispered back, “Yeah, you are.”

Mingi blushed sweetly, lips curling into a soft, pleased smile. It was a good look on him. Illuminated by the last light of dusk, he looked like a prince from a fairytale. Pinks and yellows of the fading light played beautifully in his silver hair, sharp features thrown into relief by the cast shadows. Yunho could stare at him for hours and still find something new that he loved.

“You're nothing like I thought a street racer would be like,” Mingi told him quietly, like he was admitting a deep secret.

“Oh?” Yunho cocked his head to one side. “What did you think I would be like?”

“I dunno. Cocky, arrogant, I guess. Mean.” Mingi shrugged.

Yunho snorted. “I've met a lot of guys who fit that description around the scene.”

“But you don't,” Mingi told him earnestly. “You're not like that at all.”

The thought to ask Mingi what he was like was on the tip of his tongue but he held the thought. It seemed to take a lot for Mingi just to say this much about Yunho. His blush had increased and he was still staring out at Hala, only taking brief glances at Yunho out of the corner of his eye.

“How'd you get into racing?” Mingi asked him.

At that question Yunho hesitated. There were two answers to that question. The truth and what Yunho actually told people. His carefully constructed narrative was almost out of his mouth as an instinct when he stopped himself. It would be too easy to give Mingi the same story he gave everyone: he'd always liked cars and he's always liked to go fast, one thing had led to another and he found himself driving for a local group of guys who would stake him, and then he'd just never stopped. It was close to the truth. So close there were pieces of the truth buried in there. But it wasn't everything.

It wasn’t what he wanted to tell Mingi. He’d never felt like he needed to put up a front with the hacker. It was scarily easy to lay himself bare in front of the other man.

“My mom got really sick when I was in high school,” Yunho said softly, hands gripping the steering wheel as a kind of comfort. “Never really knew my dad. He passed shortly after my brother was born. So mom was too sick to work, benefits weren't enough for anything really, and my brother was only twelve or so.”

“Oh, Yunho,” Mingi's voice was colored with empathy but not pity. “I'm sorry. That's a lot for a high schooler to deal with.”

Yunho shrugged. Maybe it was, but it had been his reality. “We never really had a lot but we lived in a duplex in an okay-ish neighborhood and mom always managed to put food on the table for us. After she got sick, she fell behind on bills. I wanted to do something, make her better, fix it, anything. So I marched down to the mechanic on the end of our block and asked if I could work with them after school and on weekends. They agreed to take me on as an apprentice.”

Demanded might have been a better way to phrase it. And the guys at the shop had laughed at him at first. A skinny, baby faced teenager with his fists balled at his sides, doing his best to convince them he could be of use around the shop. He was pretty sure the owner had only agreed because he had bought Yunho's mother's old van the last time they needed to pay a medical bill. That and the fact that Yunho had been on the verge of tears and fighting desperately not to look weak.

“Wow,” Mingi said. “I don't know if I would have thought to do that at what—sixteen, seventeen?”

“Fifteen,” Yunho admitted a little sheepishly. “I was desperate. My brother was going to bed hungry and my mom was in so much pain. I couldn't just sit by and do nothing. The money from the garage wasn't a lot but it kept us fed. Bought school supplies and new clothes for my brother. It meant we could do more with my mom's benefits.”

Yunho sighed. That had been the worst period in his life—watching the people he loved suffer, wondering if they were going to get evicted or their electricity shut off every time he came home to a notice taped to the door. Scrounging through a mostly empty fridge and bare cabinets to make anything for his brother and mother to eat, going to bed hungry more nights of the week than not. It had left him angry at the world for putting him in that position but he'd refused to lie down and just take it.

“Anyway,” Yunho said, trying to dispel the melancholy filling the car. “Somewhere along the line it became obvious that the shop was half a front for a street racing crew. All the guys at the shop either raced or worked specifically to modify cars to race. After a year or so I got good enough working on the regular customer cars that they had me doing the dirty work on the racecars. Why climb under a car when you can shove the skinny kid under there instead, ya know?”

Mingi nodded. “A year? That's all it took for you to get good enough for them to have you doing stuff on racers’ cars? That's crazy!”

“I'm a quick study when I'm properly motivated,” Yunho told him with a small smile. “The more I could do, the more hours I could pull at the shop, the more money they paid me. It was mostly just fluid changes at first though.”

“See?” Mingi sounded a little smug. “I told you you're not stupid. I wouldn't have known how to change a car's oil at sixteen. Hell, I still don't!”

Yunho chuckled. “Mingi, you should know how to change your oil. That's basic maintenance.”

“No, thank you. I'll just hack banks and pay you to do it instead.” Mingi smirked at him.

Yunho laughed at that. "I give cute guys a pretty good discount,” he told Mingi with a wink.

As expected, Mingi flushed at Yunho's flirting before quickly moving on. “You still haven't told me how you actually started racing.”

Yunho shrugged. “After a little while I started tagging along with a few of the friendlier guys to some of the races. Sometimes, they let me ride in the back if I changed their fluids for half pay. Once I saw what the payouts for winning were, I was determined to start racing myself. Took a couple years to—well get my license first, but then a cheap car and pay for the mods myself. One of the guys paid my first couple of stakes for a 70/30 split and it just kind of went from there.”

“And now you’re the top street racer in Hala,” Mingi said with a little smile. “That's kind of crazy.”

Yunho laughed. “Yeah, it kind of is. Never thought this is where my life would end up back then but I guess it's more interesting than working an office job.”

“Did your mom…” Mingi trailed off clearly unsure of how to end his sentence.

“She got better, mostly. Chronic illnesses can't really be fixed. But she's stable.” Yunho told him. “Set her up real nice in a house in the suburbs, have a home nurse check up on her a couple times a week. My brother's doing his residency at Hala General Hospital.”

“You're a good son, Yunho.” Mingi looked over at him, eyes a little glossy.

“Uh, thanks,” Yunho responded a little awkwardly. He cleared his throat. “So, uh, how did you get started with hacking?”

Mingi looked down at his lap, and shook his head. “It's not that interesting.”

“Aw come on,” Yunho cajoled. “Tell me. I want to know how the infamous F1X0N got his start.”

Mingi sighed, turning back to look out the windshield. “I grew up in a small town two states up from here. Ya know, one of those towns where everyone knows literally everyone. Went to school with the same hundred kids from kindergarten through senior year. Some of them decided early on I wasn't cool enough, I've always been kind of awkward. So I spent a lot of time alone growing up. Spent a lot of time on the computer entertaining myself. I've always liked knowing how things tick, so I started digging into the software. Taught myself a couple basic languages by the time I graduated high school. Somewhere along the line I decided to go to college for software engineering, thought I'd get a normal IT job.”

“Clearly that didn't pan out,” Yunho said with a chuckle.

Mingi laughed as well. “Clearly. Only made it through a handful of semesters but I learned a lot. I also started hanging around dark web chat rooms. Learned a lot there too. Mostly I just made myself a nuisance to anyone with an online presence who’s philosophies I didn’t jive with. Rerouting anti-abortion websites to pro-choice stuff, changing the front pages of neo-nazi websites to be sparkly pink and play Bieber every time you loaded the page, dumb shit.”

“That’s hysterical,” Yunho commented with a chuckle.

Mingi grinned back at him before continuing.

“Eventually I fell in with some guys who were a little more than general nuisances. Somewhere along the line they asked for my help with a DDOS attack on a bank. It was a distraction while they did the real dirty work. I thought they were my friends and they offered me a small cut, simple math for me. Except they didn't pay me when all was said and done. I was mad as hell. Risked jail time for them and they fucking stiffed me. Couldn't go to the cops, though.”

“So what did you do?” Yunho asked.

Mingi smirked. “Signed them up for every religious self-help service I could find and sent them a couple dozen glitter bombs each. I still regularly update their address with their local Mormon temple, make sure they're on the canvas roster. But the whole thing got me thinking. They weren't doing anything I couldn't do and hell I could probably do everything the three of them were doing on my own. So I did, started small but it didn't take me long to discover that exploiting security weaknesses and not getting caught was my true skill. College seemed pointless when I was pulling in serious cash without needing to subject myself to a mindless corporate life. After I didn't get arrested for any of my early heists, I got a little bored. Picked a few causes with Anonymous, and whatever else struck my fancy.”

“Like hacking the FBI for UFO pics,” Yunho said with a chuckle.

“Yeah,” Mingi grinned. “Like that. The rep kind of built from there.”

After a beat, Yunho gave Mingi a small smile and reached across the console to wrap his fingers around Mingi's own slender hand. “Ya know, life might not have gone how either of us thought it would, but I won't say I'm upset because I got to meet you.”

Mingi squeezed Yunho's hand, and gave him a small, shy smile. “I'm not upset either.”

They sat like that for a while. Just the two of them, holding hands, while Yunho's sappy playlist filled the silence between them and the stars winked into existence. Happiness and something that was starting to feel a lot like love filled Yunho’s chest.

After a while, Yunho broke the silence. “I guess we should head back. Hongjoong is probably wondering where we are.”

Mingi groaned. “He's gonna be pissed.”

“Yeah but at me, not you,” Yunho said as he threw the Supra into reverse.

“I mean probably a little bit me,” Mingi shrugged.

“Why? It wasn't your fault that cop ran my plate,” Yunho told him. “I should have swapped it before we started this job anyway.”

“Yeah, but I scrambled their radios while you were driving,” Mingi told him. “I think I covered my tracks but who knows. I was working fast.”

Yunho paused. “You what?!”

“Didn't you wonder why there were only two cops that whole time?” Mingi asked. “I managed to jam both of them just after the second cop showed up.”

Yunho started laughing as he pulled onto the road. “I want you as my second when this is all over and I can race again.”

“Oh fuck no,” Mingi said with conviction. “That was quite enough adrenaline for one lifetime.”

***

The breakroom table was completely unidentifiable under the large maps that covered its surface. It had been that way for the last couple of days and no matter how much anyone—read: Yunho—complained that there was nowhere to eat, it was probably going to stay that way for the foreseeable future. There was plotting to be done! Yunho could sit in his damn van for all Wooyoung cared. He and his bestie were working out the best way to relieve this rich bastard of his sparkly goods and not get nailed for the deed.

This was his element.

Planning and executing an infiltration. This is why Yeosang had recommended him to Hongjoong; there was no one better than him in Hala. Possibly the entire eastern seaboard.

He wouldn't go so far as to claim the world or even the whole U.S. There were some pretty good thieves out there. Plus, it gave Wooyoung something to aspire to. There was no one left to best in Hala, after all. He'd been behind all of the major unsolved heists in the city for the last five years.

The Hala City Museum robbery? Wooyoung.

The Utopia Art Gallery heist? Wooyoung.

The Central Bank job? Wooyoung.

The mayor's fucking underpants? Wooyoung.

That one wasn't as publicized but Wooyoung was infinitely more proud of it than just about anything else he'd stolen. At least the mayor had more intelligent security than half the businesses in the city.

Right now though, he was starting to go a little cross-eyed. He and Yeosang had been poring over these blueprints for the last few hours. It was all they’d done for the last couple of days actually. After Yunho and Mingi’s little joy ride, that Hongjoong had thoroughly taken Yunho to task for, the crazy hacker had pulled an all-nighter to crack Yang’s system wide enough to extract blueprints of his mansion and details on his physical security. It had been like Christmas morning for Wooyoung.

Since then they'd been doing nothing but tracing possible entry points to the vault and then to an exit point, marking down security, possible guard locations, and other weaknesses in addition to any pros the route may have. They were supposed to present their top three options to Hongjoong tomorrow, but Wooyoung was going a little stir crazy. They'd been over everything. There was nothing left to do. No secret perfect route they were going to stumble over. No glaring security gap they'd somehow missed over the last few days. They’d ranked the pros and cons. They knew which routes were the best options. It was just a matter of letting Hongjoong run the scenarios in his genius brain and calculate their best odds based on whatever minutiae the two of them were missing.

Wooyoung looked at Yeosang across the table. The hacker was absolutely determined to go over every possible option no matter how poor of an idea it was out of hand. If Wooyoung had to hear about guard patterns again or answer one more stupid question about his ability to bypass a window alarm, he was going to scream. So far all of his attempts to persuade Yeosang to take a break had been in vain.

Couldn't hurt to try again, though. Just once more, for old time’s sake.

“You've been working for Hongjoong for what—three years now?” Wooyoung asked.

Yeosang raised his head just enough to stare incredulously at Wooyoung. “Something like that.”

“How long has San been working for him?” Wooyoung asked casually, fiddling with the pen between his fingers.

Yeosang narrowed his eyes, folding his arms on the table. “About six years, I think. Why are you asking, Wooyoung?”

“I'm just curious,” Wooyoung responded quickly, not quite meeting Yeosang's eye.

“Curious,” Yeosang repeated slowly.

“Yeah, ya know,” Wooyoung said. “You've worked with him for a while. And you collect information like a squirrel stocking up nuts for winter. You must know what he was up to before he became Hongjoong's bodyguard.”

“Maybe I do.” Yeosang sounded a little guarded. “I'll ask again, Wooyoung. Why are you asking about San?”

“I like him,” Wooyoung answered honestly.

“You mean you like to fuck him,” Yeosang shot back.

“No! Well yes, but…” Wooyoung cut himself off with a sigh. “I won't deny we have a lot of sexual compatibility but it's more than that.”

“It's never more than that with you,” Yeosang retorted. “San’s a good man. He doesn’t deserve to be toyed with.”

“I’m not toying with anyone!” Wooyoung was struggling not to yell. Leave it to Yeosang to know how to get under his skin with the least amount of words possible.

“San’s not like the other guys I’ve seen you fuck around with.” Yeosang fixed Wooyoung with a hard look. “He’s a lot softer on the inside than he pretends. It’ll break him if you’re just messing around because you’re bored and horny.”

“I’m not!” Wooyoung punctuated his statement by slapping his open palm against the table. “San's special. We get along great. He’s funny and kind. He's so gentle with me. I really like spending time with him. I really like him.”

Yeosang stared at him with undisguised disbelief. “You're interested in someone outside of the bedroom?”

“Yes! It is possible! I'm a human with emotions! I'm allowed to fall for someone too, Yeosang!” Wooyoung was shouting now, having shoved his chair back as he stood up to stare down at his childhood friend. “You’re not the arbiter of workplace romance!”

“Wooyoung, I'm—”

“You don't exactly have the best track record with men either.” Wooyoung was well aware the next words out of his mouth would be a low blow, but he barreled on. “Should I be concerned about you breaking Jongho's heart when things inevitably get too serious for you to handle and you panic ghost him? Because you've been known to do that in the past. And I don’t think he’s exactly going to be interested in your usual situationship MO. At least I don't play with people's emotions. I'm up front about what I want!”

All pretense of apology was gone from Yeosang as he narrowed his eyes at Wooyoung, mouth falling into a deep frown. “Fuck you.”

“Fuck you too!” Wooyoung spun on his heel and stormed out, knocking over the chair as he went.

“Everything okay?” Yunho called after him as Wooyoung stormed towards San's personal gym.

Wooyoung didn't stop or even answer. He just waved a hand flippantly over his head. There was a twinge of guilt at Yunho's little “okay” at his retreating back. The puppy-tempered driver wasn't the subject of his anger; he didn't really deserve to be dismissed just for being a little concerned. Still, Wooyoung was angry and he wasn't exactly in the mood for talking things out, especially with a near stranger that he'd only worked with for like a month.

In the gym he found San and Jongho sparring at half-speed, something they did regularly to learn from each other and keep their muscles in fighting shape. Usually, Wooyoung would appreciate the display of prowess and muscle. Right now, though, he was too upset to give a shit. He wanted to hit something. As he stormed in, he paused just long enough to scoop up the punch mitts.

“San!” he yelled.

The two hitters halted and turned at the sound of his voice. Wooyoung launched the punch mitts at San.

“I want to fucking hit something.”

Jongho looked between San, now holding the punch mitts, and Wooyoung. He seemed to decide that he was better off literally anywhere else than in the gym. “I'll leave you two to it then.” With a tug on his suit jacket to right it, Jongho strode out.

“Alright,” San said, pulling the mitts on. “You want to hit something, baby? Come hit something.”

Wooyoung grinned, sharp and feral. San's answering grin was equal in every measure as Wooyoung charged him. He still wasn't particularly strong but Wooyoung had been training with San every day for the last month. He'd learned a lot. It wasn't like he'd been starting from zero either. Break-ins require flexibility, core strength, and a good amount of cardio. Wooyoung wasn't a stranger to working out; San had just shown him a new way to move, to put his body to work.

It was almost like dancing, the way they moved together.

Duck, step, punch.

Step, punch, duck.

Punch, duck, step.

It was easy. They flowed through each move well together. It wasn't seamless—Wooyoung wasn't trained enough for that—but San was skilled enough to meet him where he was. After a few minutes, Wooyoung had worked up a delicious sweat. His muscles were starting to feel well-worked. The swirling thoughts in his mind were starting to feel less chaotic.

In a way, Yeosang wasn't wrong to be concerned. He could see that. It wasn't like he had a good track record with serious relationships. Or even a record on the subject to judge. No one had ever interested him in that regard. Much more fun to flirt, dance, and fall into bed for a night or two. But San was different. He might not have done a very good job of conveying that to Yeosang, but he knew it was true. He was interested in San. As a real partner, not just someone in his bed.

They went around the sparring mat until Wooyoung was breathing hard. The burn in his arms and legs felt wonderful. It was grounding. It pulled his thoughts into some semblance of order. San seemed content to go as long as Wooyoung needed, faithfully keeping the punch mitts up despite his own dripping sweat and heavy breathing.

When Wooyoung got too tired to continue, he threw one last punch and then dramatically fell backwards onto his butt. He stared up at San from the mat, panting, hands braced behind him. San stared back, chest heaving, hands falling to his sides. They stayed like that for a long moment. Just the sound of their breathing filling the air.

Eventually San asked, “Wanna talk about it?”

As Wooyoung thought about how to answer that, San pulled the punch mitts off and tossed them towards the edge of the mat. He flopped down next to Wooyoung, their shoulders brushing. His lack of immediate answer didn't seem to bother San. Always content to meet Wooyoung where he was, even if that meant just staring at a dilapidated wall of an old shipping warehouse.

“Is this…” Wooyoung stopped. “Am I—What are we doing, San?”

San made a curious noise. “Right now? Or like in general?”

“Like with us,” Wooyoung clarified. “Is this just fun for you? Cause I think it's more than that for me.”

"It's more,” San said sincerely.

"Really?” Wooyoung questioned, glancing at San out of the corner of his eye.

Without hesitating, San answered, "Yes. I've never felt the way I do about you with anyone else.”

"Oh,” was the eloquent response that Wooyoung managed to muster up.

When he looked over at San, his heart skipped a beat. The look the hitter had aimed at him was fond and soft. Wooyoung didn't think anyone had ever looked at him like that in his entire life. It had something warm and pleasant, but unfamiliar, pooling in his gut.

"I think you're amazing,” San told him honestly. "I love spending time with you. It doesn't matter what we're doing.”

"I like spending time with you too.” Wooyoung smiled at him, maybe a little sappily but he couldn't bring himself to care.

"Then that's what we'll do." San shrugged easily. "Spend time together. See where it goes. No need to rush anything or put names to it. Sound good?”

"I'd like that.”

San studied his face for a moment before asking, "Was that it or was there something else?”

Wooyoung sighed, dropping his gaze to his knees.

"I argued with Sangie,” Wooyoung admitted.

San made a confused noise. "About what?”

“About you,” Wooyoung said.

If Wooyoung wasn’t still so bent out of shape, he would have laughed at just how adorable San’s confused expression was. “About me?”

"Well, kinda. I was trying to get him to tell me about what you were doing before you worked for Hongjoong and things kind of escalated,” Wooyoong clarified. "He said I only like you in bed. I got mad and told him he should stop stringing Jongho along because his track record isn't so hot either.”

"I see.” San nodded. "Sounds like you both need to apologize.”

Wooyoong ducked his head a little at San's pointed look. "Probably.”

There was a beat of silence. San was right, of course, but Wooyoung didn't feel like confirming that. He was still a little hurt by his best friend. Selfishly, a part of him wanted Yeosang to apologize first.

"Do you still want to know?” San asked.

Now it was Wooyoung's turn to be confused. Unsure of what San was talking about, he looked over at him quizzically.

"About what I was doing before Hongjoong,” San clarified.

"You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to,” Wooyoong told him sincerely.

“And if I wanted to?” San asked, looking at Wooyoung earnestly.

Wooyoung reached over and wove his fingers through San's. “You can tell me anything. I'll always listen.”

San stroked his thumb along the back of Wooyoung's hand for a moment. “I grew up in West Hala.”

A choked noise emerged from the back of Wooyoung's throat before he could stop it. He didn't need San to elaborate on what he meant by that. West Hala was the worst neighborhood in the city. Multiple gangs claimed it as their territory, making it the frequent target for violent clashes. Growing up Wooyoung had been warned to stay away from that side of the train tracks. Even as he'd grown up and developed his own less-than-legal habits, he'd been smarter than to roam those streets. The people who had no choice but to live over there were between a rock and a hard place. Often they were living paycheck to paycheck, and if they managed to qualify for benefits that never went far enough either.

“Dad was a piece of shit who split when I was a kid. Never saw him again and he never did my mom any favors.” San's voice was completely flat as he spoke. “Mom did her best but she had her own demons. One good thing she did for me was get me lessons at the local boxing gym. Kept me off the streets and from getting into a gang.”

“Well, that's something,” Wooyoung commented, squeezing San's hand a little.

“I suppose it was, at least until she got arrested and I had to move in with my aunt. She had too many kids, couldn't reasonably afford a teenager with anger issues but it was either her or the system. My mother begged her and she caved.” San sighed. “I stopped attending school regularly after that. Started hanging around some guys affiliated with a local gang. I never officially joined but I was chill with them. Spent the next few years doing little more than getting drunk, high, and into trouble. They liked that I could handle myself in a fight so they would bring me along when they were looking to jump people.”

The expression on San's face broke Wooyoung's heart. At least he'd made a conscious choice when he'd signed himself up for this life. It wasn't like he'd been born with a silver spoon in his mouth or anything, but his parents had given him a good home and he'd never had to wonder where his next meal was going to come from. It didn't seem like San had been given such luxuries. The deck had been stacked against him from birth.

“One day we were trolling a local park, literally looking for trouble, when some posh asshole comes walking down the path like he owns the place. Bastard’s wearing a suit, polished shoes, got his platinum blonde hair styled perfectly, wearing way too many accessories for anyone on that side of the tracks.”

“Hongjoong,” Wooyoung breathed.

San continued with a nod. “Looked like money and an easy target to us. We're all buzzed but some of the guys were a little further gone than others. Things got out of hand, fast. I swear I thought they were gonna kill him. I never wanted to kill people.”

“What did you do?” Wooyoung asked, feeling like he couldn't breathe.

“Got the rich bastard out of there. Had to knock five of my boys on their ass to do it. Bunch of cowards ran off once there wasn't an easy target any more. Then it was just me and this half-unconscious guy bleeding out on the concrete. Dragged him back to the shithole I was renting at the time and patched him up. Spent three days laying on my shitty couch, doing nothing but sleeping and moaning. When he was finally lucid, he offered me a good deal to be his bodyguard and said he wouldn't go to the police.”

“What a way to meet your future boss,” Wooyoung commented.

San laughed. “You're telling me! Not like I had much of a choice though. It was either work for him or take my chances with the gang I had just betrayed.”

“That's not exactly hard math.”

“No, it really wasn't. Been keepin’ Hongjoong in one piece ever since.” San chuckled. “There's worse gigs in the world.”

Wooyoung laughed in return. “Yeah, I bet there are.”

Sobering slightly, San added hesitantly, “That's uh, not exactly a story I tell a lot of people. I think Yeosang only knows because we got like stupid drunk together once after a job.”

“I won't tell anyone,” Wooyoung promised.

“Thanks,” San said sincerely. “You wanna get out of here? I could use a shower and I can definitely think of more than one thing I'd rather be doing with you right now.”

Wooyoung playfully punched him in the shoulder. “Do you actually think your sad backstory is gonna get me in the sack?”

“You were in my bed before you knew my sad life story.” San grinned. “I was actually hoping for a pity blowjob.”

Wooyoung laughed, loud and very unpretty as he shoved himself up off the mat. “Come on, you're in luck, I have a thing for tragic backstories.”

“In addition to the danger kink?” San asked cheekily as he followed Wooyoung out of the room.

“A person can have more than one kink!” Wooyoung yelled.

Chapter Text

Show time, Seongwha thought as he was shown into Yang's office.

This one different from the one he'd been in on the night of the gala. It was slightly larger, though still hideously modern and white. Yang's desk was huge and imposing, but still lacking in family photos. One wall was taken up by a built-in bookcase. Seonghawa would be willing to bet his split of this heist that everything on those shelves was completely for show. He seriously doubted Yang had ever read a lawbook, unless it was for inspiration on how to break the law. The other wall had a couple of black and white paintings on display. Probably Yang's favorites, given the careful lighting and descriptive plaques hung underneath each one. A pair of white leather armchairs were set in front of the desk with a low table between them.

"Councilman Yang,” Seonghwa greeted the stern man behind the desk.

"Sebin, please have a seat.” Yang gestured at one of the chairs.

Gracefully, Seonghwa lowered himself into one, giving Yang a placid smile as he did so.

“Remember your mission,” Hongjoong said in his ear.

With a great effort, Seonghwa managed to keep his facial expression from changing. Hongjoong, it would seem, was not over Seonghwa's choice to plant Mingi's USB in the stereo over Yang's computer. Personally, Seonghwa still didn't understand the problem. Mingi had told him he had options. He'd chosen the safer one. It had all worked out. Mingi had gotten his pinhole and the genius had managed to use that access to build himself a proper trojan. No harm, no foul.

This time the hacker had been clear, however. There were no options. The trojan had to go into a computer with top level access—the kind of access only the main guard computer and Yang's personal machines would have. Since Seonghwa already had an in with Yang, there was only one option. Seonghwa had to get the USB into the computer in front of him. Otherwise the whole plan would fall flat at the starting line.

"Thank you for being willing to rearrange your schedule to meet with me,” Yang said without a hint of gratitude.

Seonghwa inclined his head. "Of course. I know you're a busy man. I'm grateful you made time to allow me to have this opportunity,”

“You'll be doing me a favor if we can agree to terms that satisfy both of us.” Yang opened a drawer of his desk and pulled out a few velvet boxes of varying sizes. “I will rest easier knowing these are safe in the hands of someone who will appreciate them properly.”

“I will certainly give them all due care and respect,” Seonghwa reassured him.

This seemed to satisfy Yang as he nodded and positioned one of the boxes directly in front of himself. Seonghwa put on a good show of eager anticipation as Yang caressed the box. Truly it was a bit weird to watch a grown man pet a velvet case like it was a particularly favored cat but Seonghwa was a professional, so he kept that thought tucked carefully away.

“I acquired this piece from a rather discreet seller based out of L.A.,” Yang explained. “It's a piece I've treasured for several years now. I wouldn't be parting with it if the circumstances weren't what they were.”

Seonghwa inclined his head. “I understand.”

Yang opened the case to reveal a glittering, carved ruby brooch, rattling off stats about clarity, cut, and the artist. As though he couldn't resist such a beautiful item, Seonghwa edged closer as Yang continued speaking about the brooch. Leaning forward in his seat, Seonghwa asked a few questions about the stone and its history. Yang answered them carefully, clearly dancing around bits of the truth regarding the stone's recent history. Sebin Jang might not know this particular piece by sight, but Seonghwa certainly did. It had gone missing from a private gallery in L.A. several years ago, no doubt the work of Yang’s discreet seller.

“It's gorgeous,” Seonghwa told him once Yang had given all the information he seemed willing to give. “But I would like to see the rest of what you have on offer before I make any decisions.”

“Of course.” Yang closed the case and set it to the side, before pulling another one to the center.

They repeated the same song and dance over this item, a large cut sapphire, as they had over the brooch. Yang provided what information he could without outright incriminating himself and Seonghwa oohed and ahhed over it, moving closer to Yang's desk all the while. By the time they'd reached the fourth piece, a massive diamond pendant, Seonghwa was on his feet and leaning over Yang's desk making quite a show over how impressive he found the pendant.

With Yang sufficiently distracted by showing Seonghwa the fifth and final piece, a gem encrusted ring supposedly owned by a member of the British Royal Family at one point in time, Seonghwa slid his hand into his pocket. Carefully he oriented Mingi's USB between his dexterous fingers and pulled his hand out, keeping it below the edge of the desk. He shifted as though trying to get a better look at the ring in front of him but the move also brought him closer to Yang's desktop and its rear mounted CPU.

“The design is exquisite,” Seonghwa gushed. “What do you know of the artist?”

Eyes still fixed on the ring, Yang launched into a lengthy spiel about the designer and the apparently very deliberate process of choosing and cutting gems for this particular ring. Content to let Yang distract himself, Seonghwa pretended to be enthralled as he raised his hand holding the USB. Trying not to hold his breath, or even really look at what he was doing, Seonghwa made a first attempt to insert the USB. Internally he swore as he failed to seat the drive properly in the port. Casually, he asked Yang a follow up question and flipped the USB to try again. This time he was successful.

Yang's computer beeped softly as the new device was detected. For a moment, Seonghwa thought it was all over but Yang paid the noise no mind, much more interested in showing Seonghwa a minute detail on the back of the ring. Breathing a sigh of relief, Seonghwa leaned forward, pretending to be very interested in what Yang was talking about.

”I'm in,” Mingi said in his ear.

He was quickly followed by Hongjoong telling him to “Wrap it up”.

When Yang put the ring back on its silk cushion, Seonghwa settled back into the armchair. As though there was nowhere else in the world he'd rather be, Seonghwa casually leaned back, resting his right ankle on his left knee. Without any rush, Seonghwa let Yang drag him into negotiations over the price of all five pieces. He had complete faith that Mingi would warn him if there was going to be trouble, nor would the hacker do anything that would put Seonghwa in immediate danger. With the air of someone who had nothing better to do, Seonghwa quibbled with Yang over each item, bringing up minor things here and there about each one to attempt to drive the price down.

Twenty minutes later and by the third time Hongjoong had hissed at him to “Fucking leave” Seonghwa was reasonably satisfied. Yang too seemed to be nearing the end of his patience with Seonghwa's negotiations.

“I will agree to your price of 250 for all five,” Seonghwa finally said, letting it show on his face that he was still somewhat dissatisfied with this price.

Yang's face briefly shifted out of its usual passive mask to a sharp grin but that was quickly covered back up. “Excellent.”

“Please give me a few days to move some things around,” Seonghwa begged with an air of apology. “Given the nature of this transaction, I think we would both feel better if it was carried out in cash and I do not have quite that much spare cash liquid at the moment.”

Yang waved a hand, dismissing Seonghwa's concern. “That's perfectly acceptable. I can hold them for you until next week. After that, I will be forced to consider this deal moot and look for other buyers.”

“I think that's more than fair,” Seonghwa agreed easily, gracefully rising to his feet.

Yang did the same, a smug look on his face. It was fine, he could think he’d won the war. He couldn’t begin to realize the truth of what had happened here today. Even after it all played out tonight, there was a chance he’d never even connect Sebin Jang to those events.

Seonghwa offered his hand to Yang. “$250,000 before the end of next week for all five pieces you showed me today.”

“Agreed.” Yang shook his hand firmly.

With that, Seonghwa bid Yang goodbye and strode out of the office. A neatly dressed member of the household staff was waiting outside the door. Without saying a word, the staff member beckoned for Seonghwa to follow and headed off down the hallway. Seonghwa trailed behind a few paces, but not suspiciously so.

“What the fuck was that?” Hongjoong hissed. “I told you to wrap it up thirty minutes ago.”

Trusting in Yeosang's technology, Seonghwa responded in a low whisper. “If I had left too early it would have looked suspicious. I needed to negotiate properly.”

“You're just lucky Mingi's trojan didn't trip any alarms,” Hongjoong tossed back, not mollified in the slightest.

“No, not lucky,” Seonghwa replied easily. “Mingi's just that good. I put my faith in him.”

There was a long moment of deafening silence on the comm line before Mingi's deep voice rumbled through the slight static. “Thank you, Seonghwa.”

Hongjoong, however, did not seem interested in engaging with Seonghwa's thinly veiled barb. Not that Seonghwa had been expecting him to. That would require a level of self-awareness that Hongjoong did not want to engage with.

As he stepped out of Yang's affront to interior design, Seonghwa figured Hongjoong had removed his earbud. It was such a surprise to hear the mastermind's cool voice that Seonghwa very nearly startled as he approached his car, only maintaining his composure by the thinnest of margins.

“At least the trojan was successful.” Hongjoong sighed. “We're still a go for tonight. Mingi, let the others know.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” Was Mingi's cheerful reply.

***

“Fuck,” Mingi mumbled under his breath.

Yunho twisted around as much as he could in the driver's seat of the Ford Transit van. “Something wrong?”

Resisting the urge to cringe at drawing attention to himself, Mingi forced himself to remain focused on the screen in front of him. He was the best hacker in Hala, on the east coast; he wasn’t about to let one measly little security system best him before the main event had even begun. He could handle this.

He had to.

Anything else was unacceptable.

“We don't have room for issues.” Hongjoong’s curt voice cut through Mingi's spiraling thoughts. “The ground team is almost in position.”

“We're fine, we're fine,” Mingi reassured them, eyes still glued to the computer. “Just a small hiccup. I handled it.”

“You still have the cameras and the alarms, right?” Hongjoong asked sharply.

For a moment he felt like a manga panel with Hongjoong’s words forming arrows piercing his back, each one slamming into him with enough force to jostle him. He tried not to let it get under his skin. Hongjoong just wanted to make sure everything was going to go smoothly, that was all. Mingi just had to do his part. Which, for all his bluster about his skills, was actually easier said than done. As if to prove his doubts right, his software pinged and a warning pop-up appeared about another area the EXO was trying to block him out of.

He redoubled his efforts as he told Hongjoong, “Yes, and I have access to the badge scanners too. System just got a little feisty for a moment. EXO's are programmed to kick anything that seems even remotely foreign. Haven't met a system that can best me yet, though.”

Fake it ‘til you make it, baby.

Those were the words Mingi lived by. It had served him well enough, and it would just have to keep working.

Hongjoong harrumphed, clearly dissatisfied with that answer. The last thing Mingi needed was Hongjoong tearing into him. Taking one hand off the keyboard, Mingi blindly fumbled in the jump seat to his left. Eventually his hand hit the smooth glass of the tablet he was searching for. He hefted it up and over himself, holding it out to Hongjoong. As soon as the weight of it left his hand, Mingi was back to typing furiously with both hands. All he could hope was that the multiple camera feeds he’d hooked up to the tablet was enough to distract the mastermind.

After a moment, he still had the unsettling feeling of eyes on him. Mingi glanced up to find Yunho staring at him from the driver’s seat with a worried expression. As soon as he caught Mingi’s eye, Yunho flashed a thumbs up. Not wanting to worry him, Mingi returned it without hesitation. Seemingly satisfied, Yunho smiled and turned back to sit correctly in his seat.

Free from their eyes, Mingi felt his shoulders curl in a little bit on themselves. It was too late to back out now. He was just going to have to find a way to make it work.

***

“Fuck,” Wooyoung cursed quietly, as his gloved fingers slipped against the painted wood of the window pane.

“What?” Yeosang snapped back in a sharp whisper. “You’ve been opening windows since we were thirteen. Don’t tell me you’ve met your match now.”

Wooyoung shook his head, taking a step back from the window. The serious expression on his face was one that never did anything good for Yeosang’s nerves. The only time he ever saw Wooyoung serious was when he was concerned about a job.

Wooyoung gave him an unamused look. “Yang—well more probably Yang’s security team—added an internal security bar. Not gonna be able to open it from out here. Hongjoong?”

There was a beat of silence before the mastermind’s voice came over the earbuds. “Probably barred all the lower windows. Got to use the really good stuff. Can't cheap out with what Yang's got stashed in there. That would have cost a pretty penny to do.”

Yeosang caught San’s eye before rolling his own in response to Hoongjoong's muttering. They’d both been here before. Standing in the darkness, listening to Hongjoong think out loud even though the mastermind had already had eight contingencies for every step of the main plan. San just shrugged, ever the placid guard dog waiting for his next order. That's why he was Hongjoong's favorite.

“Most likely decided to save some money and didn’t do the second floor windows since those are harder to reach. Hongjoong continued his muttering. “Wooyoung, plan G.”

Wooyoung nodded firmly. “You got it, boss.

Next to him, Jongho groaned softly. Yeosang understood. Plan G was no one’s favorite except Wooyoung. Plan G was entry via a second story window, and all the extra hallway, stairs, and potential guards that came with that. Yeosang stared up uncertainty at the second floor window, barely visible in the pitch black that accompanied the world at one in the morning. The dark streaks of clouds covered what little light the waning moon and stars would usually cast at this hour.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Jongho muttered, mirroring Yeosang’s thoughts exactly. “How the fuck do you want me to get up there?” His question was aimed at Wooyoung, who was currently digging through his backpack.

“We’re all going up there,” Wooyoung told him distractedly. “Quite easily.”

“Get a move on. You’ve got ten minutes until the next patrol.” Hongjoong’s voice filled Yeosang’s ears just as Wooyoung pulled free a coil of rope with a mean looking grappling hook at the end.

“We only need half that,” Wooyoung responded. “Mingi, everything’s still disabled, right? Even the window alarms?”

”Yeah,” the hacker replied. “Swear on my grandma’s grave. You’re in the clear.”

“I thought your grandma was living in Florida?” Yunho piped up.

“The other one, stupid,” Mingi hissed back.

“Both of you, shut up,” Hongjoong cut them off before they could get going. “Wooyoung, entry, now.”

“Yes, boss.” Wooyoung saluted sarcastically even though Hongjoong couldn’t see him.

Actually it was probably for the best that Hongjoong couldn’t see him. If he could, they’d probably be out a thief and Yeosang being out here in the damp, cold night air would be a complete waste. With the comm line silent now, Wooyoung focused on his task. With one precise throw, he sank the grappling hook into the windowsill above them. He gave it a couple firm tugs and when it didn’t dislodge he nodded.

“I’ll go up first. Once I get the window open, you lot follow. Got it?” He looked at them expectantly, slinging his backpack over his shoulders.

Jongho eyed the rope distrustfully. “That’ll work?”

“You’re a big strong guy, I think you can handle climbing one little story,” Wooyoung told him. “I’ve done like ten with no harness.”

“We’d already established you’re a little crazy when you started fucking San,” Jongho tossed back. “The rest of us have self-preservation instincts.”

“Hey!” San protested in a whispered shout but both Jongho and Wooyoung ignored him. Yeosang patted his shoulder consolingly.

“And you must have a masochistic streak if you’re still sniffing around Yeosang, so I don’t exactly see what the problem is here,” Wooyoung shot back.

If they weren’t on a job and Yeosang didn’t take so much pride in being a professional, he would have some choice words for Wooyoung right now. Lucky for the irritating thief who called himself his best friend, they were, so Yeosang bit his tongue. There would be time for that later.

“Eight minutes.” Hongjoong sounded distinctly displeased with the current proceedings.

Wooyoung didn’t wait around to be chastised again. With a fluid grace that never ceased to amaze Yeosang, the thief hauled himself up the rope. It didn’t take him long to scramble up the wall and perch himself on the tiny ledge. Another minute later and he’d managed to jimmy the window open. Yeosang watched as he disappeared into the dark interior.

“Who’s next?” Yeosang whispered, looking between San and Jongho.

“Me,” San volunteered before fearlessly grabbing onto the rope.

He wasn’t quite as graceful as Wooyoung, but the hitter didn’t have much trouble scaling the wall either. Jongho was still eyeing the rope like it was a snake, so Yeosang bit the bullet and stepped forward. He tightened the straps on the backpack holding his drone before he wrapped his gloved hands around the thick nylon. It certainly wasn’t easy and it definitely didn’t rank high on his list of favorite activities, but he managed to reach the window without incident. Helpfully, Wooyoung caught a hold of his wrist and hauled him over the sill once he reached the top. He let himself sit on the floor where he’d landed and collect himself. Another minute and a bit of quiet grunting later, San was tugging Jongho through the window and deposited him onto the floor next to Yeosang.

The hitter looked slightly shaky, slumped against the wall next to him. Yeosang understood. The first time Wooyoung had told him to scale the side of a building, he’d damn near walked away right there. Yeosang reached over and squeezed Jongho’s hand in a way he hoped was reassuring. The hitter returned the gesture, eyes dropping closed for a moment.

Yeosang scanned the room as Wooyoung moved to collect his rope. It was probably some sort of entertaining space. There was a fancy-looking couch and matching chairs taking up the center of the room, and a wet bar along one wall. A black rectangle that was probably a TV was on the opposite wall. Thankfully, it was as empty of guards as Mingi’s intelligence had told them it would be.

“We’re in, boss,” San said in a low voice as Wooyoung eased the window shut.

“Good,” Hongjoong replied flatly.

“There’s no cameras where you are now,” Mingi told him, the faint sounds of clicking accompanying his voice across the comm line. “I’ve got everything in the hallways on a loop right now. You’re good to proceed.”

“Guards?” Jongho asked as he pushed himself up off the floor and crept towards the door.

He looked calmer now, Yeosang noted. Like he'd managed to center himself again.

“Just did this hallway. Next rotation in ten minutes,” Hongjoong replied. “There’s one stationed at the top of the stairs around the corner though.”

As Jongho eased the door open a crack and scanned the hallway, Yeosang made short work of pulling out his drone and powering it up. It took to the air nearly silently, the blades whirring softer than a whisper. A quick glance at the control pad in his hands told him that both the camera and night vision were functioning perfectly. He maneuvered the drone to hover over Jongho's shoulder where he was watching the hallway.

Jongho startled but made no noise when he noticed the drone a moment later. He glanced over his shoulder at Yeosang, who gestured towards the hallway with the controller. With a nod, Jongho opened the door just wide enough for the drone to slip through. Carefully, Yeosang positioned the drone near the ceiling and quickly surveyed the hallway. As Hongjoong had said, the hallway was devoid of human life.

“Clear,” Yeosang muttered.

“Ready,” Wooyoung responded, much closer than Yeosang had expected.

“Ready,” San repeated.

Jongho just nodded, straightening his black suit jacket. Yeosang caught his eye briefly, but what exactly he was looking for, he wasn't sure. Jongho quirked the corners of his mouth, and just that simple gesture settled the last bits of Yeosang's uneasiness.

As planned, Jongho took point, with Yeosang right on his tail, drone controller in hand. Wooyoung crept behind them as they entered the hallway. San brought up the rear, easing the door shut as he came through. With the drone above them, they silently walked down the hallway. As they reached the end, Yeosang eased the drone around the corner.

His attention was focused on the drone feed but in his peripherals he could see Jongho staring at him intently. When he was sure of what he was seeing, he held up a single finger. Jongho nodded sharply and stepped around the corner with confidence. In the grainy, green tinged footage, Yeosang watched Jongho stride quickly down the hallway like he belonged there. Even if the radio the guard at the top of the stairs was in possession of wasn't being jammed by Mingi, the man didn't even have a chance to call for back-up or alert anyone of Jongho's presence. Before the half-asleep guard could assume a defensive stance, Jongho was hitting him with a one-two combo.

The guard doubled over and Jongho caught him like he'd planned for exactly that to happen. In the blink of an eye, the hitter wrenched the guard's arms behind his back. Yeosang motioned for Wooyoung. As they had planned, Wooyoung ran light-footed around the corner and down to where Jongho was. Quickly, he slipped a pair of plastic handcuffs on the guard. Jongho tested the fit with a sharp tug. Seemingly satisfied, he roughly forced the hapless guard to sit against the wall between a pair of pillars. He reared back and hit the guard once in the head. Yeosang winced as the man went limp.

“There's another one at the bottom,” Hongjoong reminded them like they hadn't studied the guard placement rigorously over the last twenty four hours.

Jongho flashed a thumbs up, though if it was for Hongjoong or to let Yeosang know they were in the clear, it wasn't obvious. Either way, Yeosang and San stepped out into the hallway to join them at the top of the open stairwell. The four of them hovered around the opening as Yeosang guided the drone down. As expected there was only one guard. This time when Yeosang held up one finger, San tapped his chest twice and raised an eyebrow at Jongho. In response, Jongho just made a by-your-leave gesture at the stairs.

San grinned at the other hitter, wicked and wild, before he took off silently down the stairs. A second later, Wooyoung was pressed up against Yeosang's side, jostling him in an attempt to get a good view of the drone feed. Yeosang rolled his eyes but shifted so Wooyoung could see easier over his shoulder.

Sneaking up on the guard, San managed to get the man in a chokehold before he even knew anyone was there. The man thrashed but it was a futile attempt. San hung on tight, not easily dislodged. After a torturously long few seconds before the guard slumped in San's arms. Without waiting, Wooyoung bounded down the stairs, already digging through his pocket for another set of plastic cuffs.

“Two approaching from the left, Jongho,” Hongjoong told them flatly.

“What?” the hitter hissed, exchanging a worried look with Yeosang from the other side of the stairs.

“They're just early. Cameras are still on a loop,” Mingi mumbled, sounding somewhat distracted. “No alarms triggered in the system.”

“Got it,” Jongho whispered back.

He gestured for Yeosang to stay put and he turned just as the first footsteps were audible. A quick check of the drone feed told him that San and Wooyoung had everything under control on their end. He looked back up to find Jongho readying himself for the unexpected guards, pressed against the inside corner, rolling his shoulders. The instant the first one was in view, Jongho punched him hard enough in the chest to send him stumbling backwards into his partner. Before he could right himself, Jongho swept the man's legs out from under him. Without pausing, Jongho leapt at the second man, fists swinging.

Jongho was a master of his craft and Yeosang was blessed to witness it. The hitter effortlessly handled the two guards, not allowing either to regain their bearings enough to be a threat; it was over in a flurry of blows. Quicker than Yeosang expected, Jongho had both men unconscious on the floor. He took a second to straighten his suit and run a hand over his hair before looking over at Yeosang expectantly. Shaken from his trance, Yeosang hustled over, digging two pairs of cuffs out of his pocket as he went. He passed Jongho the controller as he knelt down between the unconscious men. It only took him a moment to have them both cuffed. Jongho passed the controller back as he stood up and then hauled the two men out of the center of the hallway.

“We gotta move,” He hissed as he nudged Yeosang back towards the stairs.

“Understood,” San responded over the comms. “You need any help up there?”

“Jongho handled it,” Yeosang told him, heading down the stairs with Jongho at his heels.

The stair deposited them in the round central room of Yang’s mansion. Directly across from them was a hallway. There was a grand staircase to their right that led up to the second floor opposite where they had just come from. Nothing of value to them was up there, just Yang and his family's personal quarters. To their left were the massive front doors of the mansion. In the darkness Yeosang could make out the picture frames and display columns that Seonghwa had described lining the walls.

“Cross the room and then make a left,” Hongjoong instructed them.

“Copy,” Yeosang replied, sending the drone ahead.

The hallway in front of them was short, lined with more display columns. As they walked, Yeosang kept his attention mostly on the drone footage. The drone rounded the first corner and it was as empty as Yeosang expected. As it rounded the second corner however, Yeosang reached out and grabbed the back of Jongho’s jacket.

“Guard,” He hissed under his breath.

Without another word the four of them backtracked and slid through the nearest door. The room was blessedly empty save for some ostentatious dining furniture. Via the drone, Yeosang tensely watched the guard round the corner and walk by the door they’d just gone through without stopping.

“We’re clear,” Yeosang whispered to his three slightly nervous companions.

“Take the other door in that room,” Hongjoong told them like they hadn’t rigorously studied the floor plan.

Hongjoong had drilled not only the planned route into them but any possible alternates. Yeosang could probably walk through this damn mansion blindfolded. The door to their left would spit them out right about where Yeosang had first seen the guard.

Without another word the four of them maneuvered silently through the room. As he went, Yeosang guided the drone back through the hallway so it would be out in front of them again. Jongho paused at the door, gripping the door handle, and glanced back at Yeosang. He nodded and the hitter pulled the door open, stepping into the hallway with confidence.

With his heart in his throat, Yeosang crept out the door after him. The soft click of the door closing a moment later had his pulse spiking. Luckily, they encountered no more guards as they approached the hallway that led to the ballroom. Jongho stopped at the corner and looked back. Yeosang eased the drone around the corner and halfway down the hallway before he held up two fingers.

Jongho nodded and then gestured for San to follow him. Together, San and Jongho charged down the hallway at the two unsuspecting men. Neither guard had a chance to pull their taser or reach for their radios before San had tackled his target and Jongho had delivered a mean looking gut punch. In a beautiful display of violent unity, they easily overpowered the two guards.

With the guard subdued, Yeosang and Wooyoung jogged down the hallway to meet them. Yeosang couldn’t help but note that the doors truly were as ugly as Seonghwa had described. As Wooyoung cuffed the two unconscious guards, Jongho tried the handle, but the door didn’t budge.

“Locked.” He stepped back, making space for Wooyoung to kneel in front of the door.

The speed at which Wooyoung picked the lock did not surprise Yeosang in the slightest. He’d seen Wooyoung practicing lockpicking since they were teens. It was nothing new. San, however, seemed to be more than a little impressed by Wooyoung’s skills. The lock popped with a quiet click and Wooyoung stowed his kit away quickly. Jongho held the door open as San took point into the spacious ballroom. The drone whirred overhead as they made their way across the room to a nondescript, curtain-covered wall.

Jongho and San pulled back the thick heavy curtains to reveal a riveted, heavy looking metal door. Next to it was a digital badge scanner.

“Scanner, Mingi,” San said as he released the curtain.

“Give me a second,” Came the hacker’s deep voice.

“What’s the issue?” Hongjoong asked tersely. “I thought you had the badge scanners?”

“I did! I do! I just need a little time,” Mingi shot back. “The system is starting to fight back. Nothing I can’t handle.”

“We don’t have time,” Hongjoong told him. “Get it done, now.”

Mere moments after Hongjoong’s demand, the scanner in front of them beeped politely and turned green as the sound of the lock disengaging could be heard.

“Done,” Mingi said defiantly.

“Thanks, man,” San said happily. “You’re the best!”

With a grunt, San pulled the door open revealing an industrial looking spiral staircase. Wooyoung gestured for Yeosang to send the drone through. With an eye roll, Yeosang complied more because it’s what he needed to do then because Wooyoung was telling him to. With the drone on point, the four of them waited a brief moment before following after it. As planned, they left the heavy entry door ajar.

“As expected, I’m not seeing anyone on the floor below.” Hongjoong told them as they filed down the spiral staircase. “Vault should be straight ahead of you at the end of the corridor.”

“Got it,” Yeosang replied, as he hesitated on the last step, drone hovering just above him, camera aimed down the long corridor in front of them. “I'm not seeing anything suspicious either. Mingi, are we clear to enter?”

After a beat the hacker replied, “Lasers and motion sensors are disabled. You're good to go.”

Yeosang sent his drone ahead and the four of them hardly waited another second before they were jogging down the nondescript gray hallway after it. They passed several doors that Yeosang didn't even want to hazard a guess as to what was behind them. As they approached the intimidating vault door, Yeosang plucked his drone out of the air. It had served its purpose.

Wooyoung approached the vault door with a reverence of sorts. “Hello, baby. You ready to play with me?”

“Quickly, Wooyoung,” Hongjoong admonished. “We're behind schedule.”

“You got it,” The thief replied, already digging his tools out of his backpack.

Yeosang stowed his drone in his own backpack before leaning up against the wall next to where Wooyoung was working. San and Jongho took up positions on either side of the hallway, about five feet from the vault door. There was something uneasy about the way Jongho surveilled the space that set Yeosang a little more on edge. Unlike San’s relaxed slouch against the wall, Jongho looked tense and uncomfortable, head on a swivel despite the relatively confined space they were in.

The seconds ticked by way too slowly for Yeosang's liking, filled only by their breathing and the quiet clink of Wooyoung's tools. With every moment that passed the feeling of unease curled tighter in Yeosang’s belly. Jongho didn’t look like he was doing much better, he was slowly acquiring ticks Yeosang had never seen from him. Alternating between flexing his fingers out against his thighs and shaking his hands like he was trying to force them to stop. It was strange enough that Yeosang was tempted to try to help the hitter calm down but he was viscerally aware of just how many people were listening. He didn’t think Jongho would appreciate being called out for being on edge, particularly when Hongjoong could hear. Instead he just watched in silence, desperately hoping for Wooyoung to finish quickly.

“Motherfucker!” Mingi's sudden curse startled all four of them, causing Wooyoung to curse in return as his hand slipped.

“What the fuck, Mingi?” Wooyoung growled. “This is delicate work.”

“Well you have approximately two minutes to finish up,” Mingi retorted.

“What do you mean?” Hongjoong asked impatiently. “I thought you had everything under control?”

“I also said the system fights back!” Mingi snapped. “It's starting to lock me out.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Yeosang could see both San and Jongho exchange an uneasy look. With a glance back at Wooyoung, San pushed off the wall. Jongho made an aborted motion towards his ribs before folding his arms in front of himself. Next to him San was rolling his shoulders and bouncing on his toes.

“I need at least three more minutes,” Wooyoung told them, hands working somewhat faster now.

Three minutes to open the door but they'd estimated emptying the vault, even with four sets of hands, would take at least eight minutes. Yeosang was starting to get that sinking feeling in his stomach. This might be the rare time Hongjoong had overestimated the size of the bite they could handle.

“Doing my best,” Mingi grit out.

The frustration in his voice did nothing to calm Yeosang's nerves.

***

Hongjoong glanced over his shoulder to watch the hacker working frantically at his computer. Fingers flying across the keys as he worked to combat Yang's security system. The plan was starting to slip, falling from his fingers. He looked back to the security feed outside the vault door. Yeosang had moved to kneel beside Wooyoung, some sort of gadget in his hand. San and Jongho had all their attention focused down the hallway.

“Start the van,” Hongjoong told Yunho, who obeyed without question.

The driver looked nervous, eyes darting between the darkness in front of them, the screen in Hongjoong’s hands, and over his shoulder at Mingi. Hongjoong didn’t have time to worry about that though. Of all the members of their crew, Yunho was the least of his concerns. He’d never failed Hongjoong, and he doubted tonight would be any different.

Mingi let loose another stream of curses behind them but before Hongjoong could demand an explanation, a flashing on the screen in front of him explained all he needed to know. Strobe lights were now flashing over the area in front of the vault, and moments later the drone of an alarm could be heard faintly through the earbuds.

The security system had been tripped. They were officially fucked.

“Mingi?!” Hongjoong demanded without taking his eyes off the feed.

“It’s just the local alarms,” The hacker responded somewhat frantically, the sound of typing filling the van. “I’ve cut off the phone lines and interrupted the automatic callout to the police.”

Hongjoong grunted, but didn’t say anything. At least Mingi had managed to prevent the police from being alerted. For the moment.

A quick flick through the cameras told Hongjoong that every damn guard in the house was heading for the vault. When he returned to the vault feed, the first guards were charging down the hallway. Wooyoung was still kneeling at the vault door. Over the comms, Yeosang could be heard pleading with Wooyoung to abandon his attempt.

“Get that vault open, Wooyoung,” Hongjoong told him harshly.

“I can do this,” Wooyoung responded desperately, making no move to stand. Whether he was talking to Yeosang or Hongjoong wasn’t clear. “Just give me another minute.”

“We don’t have a minute.” Jongho grunted out as he laid a guard out. “This is a kill box. In a minute we’ll be trapped.”

“Come on, Woo,” San pleaded as he dodged a punch before dropping into a leg sweep. “We’re out of time!”

“No!” Wooyoung yelled, shaking Yeosang off as the hacker attempted to pull him to his feet. “I can do this!”

“The vault is our target. ” Hongjoong said. “Do not abandon the mission.”

With a harsh sigh, Yeosang sank back down next to Wooyoung. Reliable Yeosang. He was more likely to argue about a plan than San but once he was in the thick of it, he never disobeyed.

More guards were pouring into the hallway. The only blessing was the hallway was only wide enough for two across, effectively funneling the guards in manageable numbers at Jongho and San. It wasn’t going to take long though before sheer numbers overwhelmed the two of them though. He had to remind himself to breathe as he watched Wooyoung and Yeosang continue to fiddle with the vault door.

Then everything happened in slow motion as Hongjoong watched the small screen in his hands. A guard slipped around San, but before the hitter could react he was forced to defend himself from the guard who stepped forward to take his buddy’s place. Jongho was in no position to assist either, the guard he was dealing with was giving him a run for his money. Then before Hongjoong could get a word out, the guard who had gotten behind them grabbed Wooyoung, roughly forcing him away from the vault.

Everyone in the room stopped.

For the space of a heartbeat, no one did anything. San looked completely frozen, one arm looped around the neck of the guard he had been fighting. Yeosang had backed up, hands raised in surrender. Before anyone could say or do anything, Jongho harshly crashed the head of the guard in front of him into the wall. Without pausing, the hitter smoothly pulled a gun from under his suit jacket, pointing it at the man holding Wooyoung.

Mother fucking cocksucker, Hongjoong cursed to himself. How in the world had he missed that the hitter was strapped? That was a critical detail. A gun in the room changed everything.

The remaining conscious security staff also recognized this. All of them froze in place, clearly reluctant to approach now that a gun was involved.

“Don’t shoot!” San yelled frantically.

At the same time, Hongjoong said in a low voice, “No killing, Jongho. I will drop you to rot in a prison cell.”

On camera, Jongho didn’t so much as twitch. He kept his gaze and gun trained on the man holding Wooyoung. Out of the corner of his eye, Hongjoong could see Yunho openly watching the scene unfold in Hongjoong’s hands. No doubt Mingi was watching on his own computer as well, though the steady tap of his fingers told Hongjoong the hacker was still working to keep the worst of the security system from going off.

“You might hit, Woo!” San sounded desperate and scared over the comm in a way Hongjoong had never heard him before.

“Job’s dead, Hongjoong,” Jongho said evenly. “I’m pulling the plug.”

“Jongho, don’t—”

Hongjoong cut himself off as Jongho raised his gun towards the ceiling and shot out a pipe.

White smoke filled the room obscuring Hongjoong’s view. From the comms, Hongjoong could make out the sounds of San and Jongho fighting guards. Then there was running, four sets of heavy breathing, punctuated by an occasional grunt.

“Pull the van around,” Hongjoong told Yunho evenly.

There would be a time to be mad later. Right now, they needed to get out of this without anyone dying or being arrested. Without a word, Yunho put the van in drive and started down the street to Yang’s long driveway. Hongjoong watched the four inside burst through the basement entrance, just as Yunho pulled the van into the drive way. San was bleeding from a cut on his forehead and Jongho had a split lip but otherwise the four of them looked to be uninjured. They ran full tilt through the hallways, only pausing to clear a guard from their path. Hongjoong counted three more pursuing them but the four of them were closing in on the front door faster than the guards could make up the distance. Yunho stopped the van right below the ornate steps leading to the mansion’s front door.

As they tumbled through the door and down the steps, Mingi threw the backdoors to the van open. The hacker stowed the swing out shelf he’d had his laptop on before he buckled himself into one of the jump seats, just in time for the other four to haul themselves into the van in an uncoordinated mess. Yunho punched the gas before San could get the doors shut properly, but no one seemed to care. They just scrambled for seats of their own, clicking the harnesses into place. As Yunho screeched out of the driveway and on to the street, San managed to get both doors shut.

Wooyoung reached out and grabbed a handful of the hitter’s shirt to keep him from slamming into the side wall. Steadied, San dropped into a free seat and struggled to buckle up as Yunho sped through the neighborhood. Hongjoong just twisted to drop the tablet into Mingi’s lap without saying a word.

They had just lost what was probably his only change to hit Yang where it really hurt. To get revenge for what had been done to him all those years ago.

There would be hell to pay.

Chapter Text

The sound of a van door slamming shut reverberated through the cavernous space of the old warehouse. Seonghwa was startled by the sheer force behind it; even from the break room he could tell that the person who had shut that door was irate. Fearing the worst, Seonghwa rose, coffee cup in hand, and headed for the work area.

It took a moment but as he heard the rest of them piling out of the van, something dawned on him. It was the quietest he had ever heard the six of them be. There was no banter, no flirting, no sarcasm, no good-natured ribbing, just a thick dark tension that slithered through the room.

Horrible thoughts filled his head, enough to have him hesitating, grip tightening on his cup. His breath caught in his throat as he stood there, counting the footsteps. He was reasonably sure there were seven sets, but he couldn’t breathe a sigh of relief until he was positive. With a deep breath, he forced himself to keep moving towards the doorway.

Any relief at the sight of all seven of them reasonably unharmed was stolen from his lungs by the sight of Hongjoong’s thunderous rage. The mastermind was making no attempt to hide just how angry he was.

“I take it that you were not successful?” Seonghwa asked in what he knew Hongjoong would recognize to be his deliberately neutral voice even after all these years.

It was a tactic that once upon a time would have helped to stem the tide of Hongjoong’s rage. But no longer. Seonghwa recognized his mistake as he watched the last ounce of Hongjoong’s control snap.

“No,” Hongjoong spat, before he spun on his heel to face the room. “These fucking morons couldn’t complete a simple B&E!”

“Simple!” Wooyoung yelled back, looking completely indignant. “Simple my fucking ass! That safe was a MonstaX Gen 3! You’re lucky I didn’t trip the burn switch as soon as I fucking touched that door!”

It didn’t escape Seonghwa’s notice that both Yeosang and Mingi flinched at the yelling. Nor did Jongho and Yunho miss it either. With hurried steps, Yunho moved from where he had been making sure the bay door was secure to Mingi’s side. With a worried expression, he wrapped an arm around the clearly upset hacker. Jongho was much subtler, only moving slightly to stand partially in front of Yeosang, like he could physically block Hongjoong’s inevitable tirade.

“Lucky?!” Hongjoong seethed, taking long steps to stand toe to toe with Wooyoung. “Luck isn’t a factor here, Wooyoung. You lot are supposed to be better than luck! My plans are better than luck! All you fuckers had to do was fucking execute it as you were told!”

“Hongjoong, back off,” San warned in a low warning voice, as he placed a hand between Hongjoong and Wooyoung. “It’s not his fault.”

Maybe it’s what the protective hitter wanted or predicted would happen, but he didn’t look remotely startled when Hongjoong swung to focus his rage on him. He just stared passively down his nose at the mastermind.

“No, I suppose not,” Hongjoong seethed. “Not entirely at least. Perhaps if you hadn’t frozen as soon as your boy toy of the month got grabbed, we could have recovered.”

A flicker of guilt flashed across San’s face but he quickly recovered, drawing himself up to his full height. As he stared down at Hongjoong, he crossed his arm, fingers flexing against his biceps. If this went to blows, Seonghwa didn’t know if he or anyone in this room would be able to stop it—aside from perhaps Jongho, who looked seconds from jumping in on San’s side.

“We were in a no-win situation,” San told Hongjoong. “Don’t insult mine or Wooyoung’s skills. Sometimes things just don’t go to plan.”

“Not when they’re my plan!” Hongjoong screamed.

“What is your problem?!” San shouted back. “We’ve walked away from jobs before! You’ve pulled the plug well before I wanted to on a solid handful of jobs! Why this one?”

The answer to that question rattled through Seonghwa's mind like a freight train. It was the answer to a lot of questions. About him and Hongjoong both. However before he could find his tongue, Hongjoong was yelling a response back.

“Pulling out is my decision! Not any of yours! Mine!”

“Your vision was clouded,” Jongho said steadily. “That room was a kill box. Nothing in that vault was worth killing any of us for.”

“Don’t get me started on you,” Hongjoong warned, twisting slightly to face Jongho.

“I regret none of my actions,” Jongho told Hongjoong calmly.

At that moment it occurred to Seonghwa that Jongho may genuinely be unafraid of Hongjoong. He was completely unbothered by the mastermind’s rage. Or at least, he was damned good at appearing that way, his face passive, body language no more tense than Jongho ever appeared to be.

“None?” Hongjoong questioned, taking a step towards him, voice dropping slightly. “Not even bringing a gun to a simple robbery?”

Seonghwa sucked in a breath at that revelation. He’d guessed during their first meeting that the well dressed hitter was carrying. It hadn’t even been a hard guess. So easy he hadn’t even thought to mention it to Hongjoong. That it would seem was a mistake. Perhaps the mastermind had gotten too used to working with San, who Seonghwa had been told never carried more than a simple handheld taser, if he brought anything at all. Or maybe the mastermind wasn’t as infallible as the rest of them let themselves believe and had simply missed the telltale signs of Jongho’s over the shoulder holsters.

“No one ever asked if I was armed and it wasn’t one of your rules,” Jongho shot back.

“Bringing a deadly weapon to a robbery,” Hongjoong explained in an eerily calm voice, “is the difference between a slap on the wrist and a whole fucking lot of jail time.”

An uncomfortable look slid across Jongho’s face for the first time since they’d returned. His whole posture tensed. Behind him, Yeosang took a step forward, the fear that had been tinging his features slipping into rage.

“You can’t just assume all hitters are like San.” Yeosang gestured at the other hitter. “Plenty of others prefer to walk into situations armed, even if it’s not their first choice for handling a problem.”

“He should have told me he was packing!” Hongjoong screamed. “I can’t plan without knowing all factors involved!”

“We’re criminals! Of course we’re going to have secrets!” Yeosang yelled back. “And you are the last person who gets to be upset about playing things close to the chest!”

It didn't escape Seonghwa that Yeosang didn't deny knowing Jongho carried firearms. Though perhaps for the drone specialist's benefit, Hongjoong was too enraged to notice such subtleties.

“This isn’t about me! This is about you lot’s gross incompetence!” Hongjoong deflected. “Each and every one of you failed to perform as promised!”

Mingi made a small distressed noise from where he was tucked against Yunho. Which had the unfortunate effect of dragging the irate mastermind’s attention to the timid hacker.

“And you, I don’t even know where to start with you,” Hongjoong told him ominously. “You’re supposed to be the best hacker on the east coast and yet you were bested by one little security system in under thirty minutes.”

“Hey!” Yunho shouted, pulling Mingi tighter to him. “He told you that thing was near impossible on your stupid timeline and you still insisted that he do it! Fucking listen to experts when they tell you shit!”

“Experts!” Hongjoong spat. “There’s no fucking experts here except me! Experts would have come out with the goods!”

“We’re not dying for you!” Jongho yelled back.

“You had a job to do!” Hongjoong roared.

An uneasy silence fell over the eight of them. Just heavy breathing and the sounds of the dockyard outside filled the space for a long moment.

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa said softly, breaking the silence and pulling Hongjoong’s attention to him. A shiver ran down his spine at the dark anger in Hongjoong's eyes. “You know this job is different for you. It’s not fair to take it out on them. This wasn’t as important to them as it is to you and you know it. You’re not stupid and neither am I. Going after Yang wasn’t the same as any of your other targets. This wasn’t about money. This was personal.”

Hongjoong narrowed his eyes. “Fuck you.”

The response was low, dangerous, and lacking any of Hongjoong’s usual eloquence.

Undeterred, Seonghwa continued. “Are you going to tell them or should I?”

“Fuck you,” Hongjoong repeated, but didn’t actually make a move to leave or explain.

“Do any of them know? Or is even your loyal bodyguard in the dark?” Seonghwa questioned, refusing to break eye contact with Hongjoong.

Hongjoong didn’t say anything, just kept a dark look leveled at Seonghwa. That was as much an answer as Seonghwa needed.

“I thought not,” Seonghwa accused him. “You’re expecting them to dance for you, without even telling them what they’re dancing for.”

“It’s not important for them to know,” Hongjoong spat venomously. “They were given a job. I expected them to complete it, just like any other.”

“When was the last time you pulled a job this big with less than six weeks of planning and a crew that barely knows each other?” Seonghwa questioned. “It’s been a while since we worked together but I don’t think you would have survived this long if you’d fallen into such sloppy habit.”

“I’ve been watching this target for a very long time. This was more than a few weeks of planning,” Hongjoong defended.

“Oh, I’m sure it was years of hoping and scheming to get a shot at Yang,” Seonghwa shot back. “But you only got the details on his security system and mansion two weeks ago. Even for your skills, that's a tight timeline and you know it.”

“Seonghwa, what are you driving at?” San asked before Hongjoong could respond.

Seonghwa swung his gaze off of Hongjoong and across the other six. “Yang is the reason Hongjoong went to prison.”

Shock rippled through the room, echoed on all six faces staring back at him. Hongjoong didn't even flinch, just continued to glare at Seonghwa from the center of the room.

There was a moment of stunned silence, broken only when Hongjoong hissed, “Don’t pretend you’re innocent in that particular chapter of my life.”

Hearing that from Hongjoong still stung after all these years. He had done his best back then. He had lived with the guilt for over two decades. It had taken him years to convince himself it wasn’t his fault. Hongjoong’s choices had been his own. Seonghwa had done what was right for himself.

Still, all he could do was sigh. “Why don’t we have this conversation sitting down? I just made a pot of coffee.”

***

There was a few minutes of awkward shuffling as they all moved from the main area and into the break room. The atmosphere was tense as they all got drinks and quickly tended to wounds. It did nothing to cool Hongjoong’s burning anger. Anger at his failure of a crew, anger at Seonghwa for not only being here but dredging up the past, and anger at himself for failing to get payback. The anger permeated every fiber of his being in a way he hadn't felt in years, decades even. Not since he had been sitting in that godforsaken jail cell. Plotting. Planning. Hoping for a chance.

A chance that had just slipped by. So close his fingertips had brushed it as he'd reached for it.

And now Seonghwa was going to rub salt in the fresh wound. The least he could do was stick around to make sure the record was straight and unbiased. Seonghwa had played his own hand in the darkest chapter of Hongjoong’s life. Hongjoong wasn’t about to let him downplay that. Absolutely not.

Eventually they all fell into seats at the old table, with Hongjoong at one end and Seonghwa at the other. Mingi had chosen the seat to Seonghwa’s left, laptop open in front of him. Predictably, Yunho took the seat on Mingi’s other side, pushing his seat close enough to press his thigh against Mingi’s and drape an arm along the back of his chair. The seat on Yunho’s left was empty because San had chosen to sit on Hongjoong’s right and Wooyoung had seen fit to sit in San’s lap rather than a chair. On the other side of the pair was Yeosang, fingers putting dents into the energy drink can he was holding. To his left Jongho was sitting passively, staring at the steaming mug of black coffee in front of him like this was some sort of meditative retreat.

“So.” Yunho broke the awkward silence. “What exactly have we all been dragged into?”

“You have all been pulled into a revenge plot against your knowledge,” Seonghwa said calmly.

“But you knew.” Yeosang wasn’t asking, it was a statement.

Seonghwa inclined his head. “I did, because I was there all those years ago. The real question though, is how much did you know, Yeosang?”

All eyes flicked to Yeosang who spent a moment playing with the tab of his can. “Not as much as I would have liked. Hongjoong had me watching out for any info on Yang’s movements basically since he hired me full time. I figured it was just about Yang’s money and the chance to stick it to a corrupt politician.”

Hongjoong scoffed. “You never suspected anything else?”

Yeosang shook his head. “Whoever you paid to cover your past was good. None of my contacts could ever come up with anything on you before you popped up in Hala.”

They better have been. Hongjoong had spent most of the cash he had managed to hide before ending up in a six by eight room on that man’s services. He had suspected Yeosang had been searching for information on his past; he wouldn't have made a very good informant if he lacked that natural curiosity, but Hongjoong was never quite sure if he'd dug anything up.

“So what is the story then?” Jongho asked in a careful monotone.

“Where to start?” Seonghwa hummed, glancing at Hongjoong.

“Don’t look at me.” Hongjoong glared across the table at Seonghwa. “I’m just here to make sure you don’t lie to make yourself look better.”

Seonghwa sighed. “Fine then. When Hongjoong and I were younger, much younger, we worked for Yang.”

It felt like a lifetime ago at this point. They had barely been more than kids when they fell in with Yang. Neither of them had the easiest of upbringings. Honestly it was a miracle neither of them had an official track record by the time they took up with the gang Yang was running.

Wooyoung’s eyebrows knit in confusion. “You were political staffers?”

Seonghwa laughed and waved away Wooyoung’s assumption. “Yang’s certainly not clean now but back then he didn’t even have a veneer of respectability. He ran a crew up in New York and in our own ways Hongjoong and I both ended up wrapped up in his organization. We both had a few good years running with him. Yang’s jobs were certainly profitable.”

“So how did Yang end up down here in Hala as a shitty politician?” Wooyoung asked.

“The answer to that is tied up in the same story as how Hongjoong ended up in prison,” Seonghwa told him. “It wasn’t uncommon, after a while, for Yang to give jobs just to the two of us. Said he trusted us more than most of his crew who all had eight to ten years on us.”

“More like he was manipulating a pair of kids,” Hongjoong sneered.

And how easy it had been for him. They were desperate to belong somewhere, anywhere. On top of being young and naive, it had been only too easy for Yang to convince them they were special to him. They were different from the rest of the crew. His proteges. That him giving them the most dangerous and difficult jobs was a sign of trust and nothing less.

Seonghwa inclined his head. “Yes, that occurred to me eventually as well.”

Their eyes met for a beat. All Hongjoong could do was stare angrily at Seonghwa’s sad expression. What right did he have to be upset over this? It was practically all his fault. With a sigh, Seonghwa lowered his gaze to the table and continued.

“One day Yang gave the two of us a job. It sounded real simple, worm our way into the good graces of a local reclusive billionaire and then make off with whatever we could at the nearest opportunity. Yang was never picky—forged checks, expensive art, or cash nicked from a safe, it was all the same to him. It was something we’d done before. It should have been simple.”

“Except it was a setup,” Hongjoong finished for Seonghwa. “Not that we knew that at the time.”

“I told you it was! Before we were even twelve hours into that job, I told you!”” Seonghwa all but yelled. “I knew something was fishy as soon as we met that mark. He all but smelled like a fed.”

“You were guessing.” Hongjoong clenched his hands, knuckles turning white with the effort it took to contain himself.

“And you never listened to me!” Seonghwa fired back, before pinching the bridge of nose and recomposing himself. “What’s done is done, Hongjoong. Can we please not argue?”

“Tell the truth and I won’t have any issues,” Hongjoong told him.

“Give me a chance to speak!” Seonghwa watched him for a moment and when it became clear that Hongjoong wasn’t going to say anything he continued. “Despite my concerns, I helped Hongjoong work the mark for a few weeks. I should have pulled the plug after the first meeting but I was young and dumb.”

And in love, Hongjoong thought to himself. They had been so in love back then, it hurt Hongjoong to remember. Seonghwa hadn’t been able to convince him to back out but he couldn’t convince himself to abandon Hongjoong either. At least not at first.

“Once we felt like we had everything we needed, we planned a simple robbery. Get in, nick as many priceless goodies out of the mark’s vault as possible and get out. Nothing we hadn’t done before and the mark didn’t even have very good security.”

“But you never showed up and I walked right into an FBI sting,” Hongjoong finished.

Seonghwa frowned. “Come to find out, Yang had turned state’s evidence in what would eventually be a very successful attempt to save his own hide. With what they had from that sting and a few other things Yang was willing to testify about, the feds had enough to put Hongjoong away for a good while.”

“And you disappeared off the face of the earth and Yang got off scot-free,” Hongjoong spat. “He moved three states south, bought himself into the local political scene, and made himself a new life.”

For a moment it looked like Seonghwa was going to say something but then he decided better of it. That was probably for the best; Hongjoong didn’t want to hear his excuses anyway.

“And you’ve been looking for a way to nail Yang’s dick to a wall ever since,” San concluded.

Yeosang’s face scrunched in distaste. “There were so many other ways you could have phrased that.”

“Aw,” Wooyoung cooed, stroking San’s cheek. “My Sannie has such a way with words.”

Ignoring Wooyoung, Jongho asked, “So you’ve been trying to pull a job on this guy for how long?”

“Eight years,” Yeosang answered before Hongjoong could say anything. “That’s how long he’s been in the city according to my sources.”

“How long did you wait after you were let out to move down here?” Seonghwa questioned. “Did you make it more than a month?”

“Six,” Hongjoong told him, unable to keep the smug smile off his face.

In the few beats of silence that followed, Hongjoong took stock of the men in front of him. Betrayal still colored San’s face but he no longer looked steaming mad. Wooyoung however still had anger written all over his face. Beside him Yeosang held an air of false calm, face passive but his shoulders tense. Jongho had a similar air about him, breathing oddly rhythmic. On the other side of the table Yunho looked contemplative, fingers playing idly along Mingi’s shoulders. The hacker however looked completely ignorant of the conversation around him, buried in his laptop, fingers flying across the keys and his eyes tracking something on the screen.

“No wonder you lost your shit,” Yunho murmured. “I’d go insane if I were in your shoes.”

“It’s still not our fault,” Jongho countered. “That was a nearly suicidal, bordering on impossible mission. We needed more time.”

“We didn’t have time. That gala was the only event Yang’s held at his mansion in the last six years,” Hongjoong told him. “And he’s moving his collection to the federal bank on 8th Street next week.”

“So?” Wooyoung questioned. “I could pop their vault in my sleep with one arm tied behind my back.”

Hongjoong hesitated. Answering that question would be like showing his hand at the blackjack table. It would reveal too much.

“Because it’s not about the gems or the profit,” Yeosang said softly. “It’s about sending a message. It’s about humiliating Yang. To have his collection stolen from a bank is the fault of the bank. He can drag them through the mud for letting it happen. To have his collection stolen from his own home—there’s no one else to blame.”

Faithful, observant, intelligent Yeosang. He rarely missed a trick.

“Exactly,” Seonghwa said.

“You should have told us.” There was a calmness to Jongho’s voice that Hongjoong found suspicious. Like he was masking his true emotions. “Yeosang and San at the very least. Just to have some checks on this harebrained scheme of yours.”

“Couldn’t risk having someone else pull the plug.” Seonghwa took a sip of his coffee before continuing. “If you had known Hongjoong was emotionally invested in this one could you have let the plan go this far?”

His question was aimed at San and Yeosang, both of whom seemed disinclined to answer. Hongjoong could probably guess, though. Loyal to the last, San would have endorsed anything Hongjoong planned to help get revenge. The real concern for Hongjoong had been Yeosang. The man was loyal but he was also pragmatic. If he had known what this job had meant to Hongjoong he would have kept a closer eye on the details. Asked more questions. Pushed harder on the risks of the plan. He was a walk risk that Hongjoong couldn’t take.

“We have another week, right?” San said instead of answering Seonghwa. “Let’s take another stab at the bastard.”

“Are you an idiot?” Yeosang asked. “It was impossible when Yang didn’t know we were coming. It will be damn near suicidal when he does.”

“We don’t have a week anyway,” Mingi piped up, for the first time since they’d left Yang’s mansion.

Yeosang cocked his head to one side. “Huh?”

“Yang’s moving his collection in two days.” Mingi didn’t look up from his screen.

Seonghwa blinked slowly at the hacker. “How do you know that?”

“Got shut out of the security system, not Yang’s internal communications.” Mingi sounded slightly distracted as he answered. “He’s steaming mad but didn’t contact the cops.”

“Because Sebin Jang hasn’t completed the transaction for the stolen pieces,” Seonghwa mused slowly. “He doesn’t want to bring any heat down on himself.”

“What’s his plan?” Hongjoong asked.

“Armoured truck. Day after tomorrow.” Mingi told him. “Gonna move everything to a bank in the city center.”

“On 8th,” Hongjoong muttered.

“Yeah, that one,” Mingi replied, finally looking up.

There was a chance. It wouldn’t be as good as stealing from Yang’s home but knowing that bastard he would use his own security team for the transport. Officially, the security agency that staffed Yang’s home and provided him personal security was owned by a company unconnected to him. But it had taken Yeosang all of two days to connect the shell company back to Yang. The same company Yang shamelessly recommended to his closest associates. It wouldn’t be a grand public embarrassment but enough of a social one that it would still satisfy.

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa’s voice held a low warning. “Don’t. Let this lie.”

“One more shot,” Hongjoong said, looking Seonghwa in the eye. “One last shot to nail this bastard.”

“I don’t think—”

“Please, Seonghwa,” Hongjoong pleaded, throwing his pride to the wind. “You more than anyone should know what this means to me. If you ever felt anything for me at all, please just do this one thing for me.”

Seonghwa held his eye for a moment but then his shoulders fell with a sigh. “Just this one thing more.”

“Thank you,” Hongjoong told him sincerely.

“But I want 5% more,” Seonghwa added.

Without thinking, Hongjoong agreed. “Done.” He glanced around the table. “That goes for the rest of you too. I’ll add 5% more on top of what I already promised as hazard pay.”

“You know I’m in,” San told him.

Wooyoung bounced excitedly in San’s lap. “I’ve never tried an armoured truck! Count me in too!”

“I’ve missed too many races to not get paid for this shit show,” Yunho groused. “You better let me set up a real shop in here too, after this one Hongjoong.”

“Fine.” Hongjoong waved his hand. It was probably time he admitted that Yunho was the only getaway driver he wanted to work with anyway.

“If you’d still like me to work with you, I’d like to help on this one,” Mingi said timidly.

Hongjoong sighed, rough and heavy. “I couldn’t name another hacker with your skills. I shouldn’t have underestimated the Sooman security system. I would appreciate you working this one with me.”

That was as close to an apology he could manage but Mingi seemed to know that. He acknowledged Hongjoong with a small nod. One hacker secured, Hongjoong thought as he turned his gaze to Yeosang.

The drone specialist settled back in his chair, and crossed his arms. “You’re stupider than I thought if you think I’m going to let you attempt this without me around to pull the plug.”

“I hoped for nothing less,” Hongjoong told him sincerely.

“But if I say we’re done,” Yeosang fixed him with a pointed look. “We’re done.”

Hongjoong nodded solemnly. “Understood.”

“Jongho,” Yeosang prompted the hitter.

There was a long pause, with Jongho just staring at his coffee, fingers drumming on the side of the mug. He turned his head to look Yeosang in the eye. What he was looking for, Hongjoong didn’t know, but he must have found it because with a small nod he spoke.

“How fast do you think Bobby can get you some C4?”