He leaves the Union that night, no use hanging around when he has a duty to fulfill. There are no goodbyes, no one to mourn his leaving and the feeling is mutual. The few belongings he has fit easily within the rucksack, enough food and water to last him a few weeks and the uniform is thrown into the incinerator.

The clothes given to him to replace his earlier attire makes his skin crawl to say the least. Dark jeans tucked into combat boots, a black hooded leather jacket and his hair stuffed into a knit cap. He feels like he's wearing a costume. But blending in is essential if he's meant to pass as a fellow Rogue.

V works systematically, draws a map of the city and starts to cross off areas. He moves day by day in a grid-like fashion until he realizes that Rogues probably don't stay this close to the city and follows up with the decision to head to the outer rings of his map.

It’s the first time in his life that he’s slept somewhere besides his bed, let alone underneath a black canvas of sky spilled with countless stars, lying on his roll-up mat in silence, no voice lulling him to sleep. It’s a foreign feeling. He feels isolated, alone. He wants nothing more than to find The Armored Seven so he can return to doing familiar things.

Familiar is comfortable.

//

The outskirts of the city are barren, crumbling buildings and heavily graffitied walls. He's underestimated the time it would take to find another living soul in this rat nest of alleys and safe houses.

A critical mistake. The first one he's made for as far back as he can remember.

He's becoming desperate when he starts running low on supplies, hunger and thirst making him easily fatigued and irritable.

Tremors rack his body when he finally leans against the mouth of an alleyway to keep himself upright. Dry mouth, an angry pulsing behind his eyes.

That's when he catches movement on the edge of his vision. A flash of dark denim and he sees a boy his age vault over a stairway railing, trailed by a number of other Rogues he identifies immediately by their rugged attire, whooping and hollering.

That familiar, youthful smile. Wind mused black hair.

Jeon Jungkook.

The Armored Seven.

V ducks back into the alleyway just as they rush past him in a blur before peeking out to make sure they hadn't seen him. Coast clear. He trails behind and the boys are so engrossed into their sport that they wouldn't notice V even if he were alongside them.

They make it back to what appears to be an abandoned train yard, a number of boxcars still resting on rusted tracks. Tunnels border the edge of the property and he can see several parked cars beneath the overpass. Obviously stolen. The boys crash, some of them slumping back on tattered sofas while the others lean comfortably against one another, their familiarity suggesting that this place is indeed their base. Their home.

The spasm beneath his eye returns, the world spinning around him and the medical scalpel smoothly slides out of the sleeve of his jacket in a fluid motion. He falls upon the one closest to him.

A swipe and an abrupt tug of sharp resistance as flesh tears beneath the blade. There's a cry of alarm as Jungkook staggers back with a hiss into the arms of the young man he recognizes as Seokjin.

"What the ?! Where'd he come from?"

"He tailed us!"

"Take him down! He got Jungkook!"

For the second time in his life, V realizes his stupid miscalculation. The cut too shallow, failing to wait to get him alone. In the next instant, he's grabbed around the waist and thrown to the ground with so much force that the breath leaves his lungs, the dripping scalpel kicked away from his grasp. Knees press against his chest and gravel digs into his back, the weight on him keeping him pinned and unable to breathe.

Seokjin is absolutely seething, struggling against Hoseok who's fighting to hold him back with gritted teeth.

"Who the do you think you are?!" he screams and almost breaks free from Hoseok's grasp with a lunge. Jungkook is sprawled at his feet and clutching a bleeding wound, dangerously pale.

V feels his head violently knock to the side, earning him a face full of gravel before there's a commotion above him and Seokjin is restrained further as he tries to land another blow. Yoongi pins his arms behind his back and Seokjin growls, eyes glinting dangerously.

There's movement and the weight off of V is lifted as he's roughly hauled to his feet by the collar of his jacket. His vision swims. A young man with blonde hair thrown over his eyes slams him against the concrete wall, sticks his face in his, not even a breath between them.

"Wanna tell me why you just tried to slice open Jungkook?"

Demanding tone, deadly calm.

Namjoon.

The bottom of V's stomach drops out as he looks the ringleader in the eyes and is met with a glare that chills him to the bone. Heat flares behind his gaze and his lips twitch into a snarl.

"You obviously want something from us. Who the hell sent you, huh?" the question is punctuated with another throttle, "you with ROVIX?"

The name draws a blank and he shakes his head. The contradiction seems to relax Namjoon a bit, a visible sag in his shoulders.

"I'm with no one," he fires back in a tone one could describe as challenging, acidic even. Namjoon narrows his eyes.

"You're walking on thin ing ice. Watch it,"

V starts laughing then, a low, menacing chuckle that causes the others to back up. He sees Jungkook's head loll to one side and his eyes flutter shut.

", he's losing consciousness!" Seokjin's voice echoes with raw fear. Yoongi and Hoseok help him in lifting up the bleeding boy with bitten curses, hauling him back under the shelter of the overpass. V is left alone with the ringleader and the one who had previously tackled him to the ground. Jimin.

"You're not going anywhere until you tell me why you tried to jump us," Namjoon spits and picks up the scalpel to bring it to the hollow of his throat, "I suggest you start talking,"

V scoffs.

"You really think threatening me with my own weapon is gonna make me squeal? That's adorable,"

Namjoon stays silent and instead presses the blade over the skin of his windpipe. V hisses, a droplet of blood oozing from his neck.

"I told you, I'm alone," he snarls.

"I'm listening,"

Another tight line of pressure and this time V whimpers, panic bubbling in his chest.

"! I'm telling you the truth, I swear!"

In his desperation, he manages to shove Namjoon off of him in his adrenaline buzzed state. His breath comes in quick gasps and he wipes at his throat, removing his fingers to see a thin streak of blood.

"Let it go, Namjoon," Jimin snaps and looks at V with a hard glare, one of disgust and pity, "the er's brain is fried, anyway. It's not worth it,"

Namjoon hums and studies him with his head cocked to one side. Lips pursed in a hard line, features set in concentration. A few moments of tense silence follow.

"When was the last time you ate something, kid?" he asks him suddenly. Another dry chuckle, mind too foggy to care for the drastic change in subject.

"Can't remember,"

"I can tell,"

V narrows his eyes. Jimin mirrors the action.

"I don't like where you're going with this," he whispers lowly.

"Jesus, he's starving, Jimin," Namjoon hisses and points a finger in V's direction, "and guessing by his condition, he's probably severely dehydrated, too. He looks barely older than Jungkook. He's still a kid, unlike you,"

"Need I remind you that he just attacked Jungkook with that scalpel you're holding?"

"Need I remind you that you wouldn't even ing be here if we hadn't taken you in either? Don't talk like I don't care about Jungkook. You know I'd die for any of you. Besides, Rogues stick together," he jerks his chin at V.

The disguise had worked.

Jimin chews his lip, hurt flickering across his features.

"Sorry. It's just..we should be careful. He's creepy,"

V blinks owlishly and his gaze cuts between the two of them as they continue to banter back and forth. He was also right here.

"Tell you what," says the ringleader and turns back to V, "you'll stay until you're patched up. But away from the others, you're with me at all times, got it? And if you try and pull something again, don't think for one second that I won't put a bullet in your head,"

V's mind is whirring with possible choices. His ambush had no doubt been a dud, his desperation getting the best of him. He couldn't exactly turn around and go back. They had seen his face and a face is dangerous enough to have his true identity revealed. At Namjoon's suggestion, he could stay and blend in with The Armored Seven, learn their ways, take them down from the inside.

A wolf wearing sheep's clothing.

He nods, a bit choppy, too enthusiastic.

"Thank you,"

Jimin tsks.

"But after that, you're gone. Capéche?"

thank you already for all of the subs, upvotes, and comments for only the first chapter! ;v; im so happy to see that you guys are excited for this story, im excited to share it with you all <33 stay tuned