Jaebum picks up a vegetable with his chopsticks and scrutinises it, before eating it nonchalantly.

He’s at the usual table at the mess hall, chewing mechanically, and Jinyoung’s by his side, chatting about the latest sparring session, while Jaebum nods in tune, reviewing the lesson in his head himself. For a quick, irrational moment, he bemoans how dull the status quo has become, before quickly retracting that statement. He’s had enough excitement to last him a lifetime already, without what’s coming up wrecking that quota.

It’s not difficult to notice, then, the pale boy with scruffy red hair and a black face mask sidling sullenly into the Hall across them- of course Jaebum does, because he notices everyone.

He nudges Jinyoung subtly, and the other boy stops in mid-tangent quizzically. “New kid,” he nods, and Jinyoung follows his gaze.

After a moment, though, Jaebum shoves another spoonful of rice into his own mouth unconcernedly. People come and go all the time. This one doesn’t look like he’ll be any different.

“He looks kinda angry,” Jinyoung squints. “Should we-…should we try to say hello?”

“And then I find you all miserable and sulky back at our room again two hours later because he blew you off?” Jaebum grunts. “No thanks.”

Jinyoung huffs something like that was one time two years ago under his breath, chewing on a mouthful of food and refusing to look the other boy in the eye.

Jaebum steals another glance up- more curious gazes are being directed towards the new kid, but all it takes is one sharp glance from him for them to decide he’s not worth the trouble. There’s nothing particularly fierce about the look in his eyes, it’s more of the lack of anything that scares them, like the ghost of a storm threatening to break, letting their imagination be the one to promise broken bones and split lips if they aren’t careful.

Jungyeon sets her tray on their table and plops down beside Jaebum, glancing with disinterest in the direction where they’re looking.

“Wager,” she offers. “I give him two months. Before he almost kills one of the other recruits and has to be “released”.”

Jaebum wishes he could disagree, but the way that guy’s hunched in a corner, fists stuffed in his jacket pockets, coolly watching the rest of the hall under the pretence that he’s not trembling in his fancy combat boots, is a guarantee of eventual defection. Boys like him are lava and gunpowder, clamped down under dirt, and without water to cake them up, will burn everything that crosses their path.

He has a month, max, especially with the winter trials- the fiercest of the training drills, coming up.

Jaebum’s about to voice that opinion when the door opens again, and someone tumbles in- dark hair, big eyes, bigger smile, for reasons Jaebum can’t understand. Most recruits are usually wide-eyed, fearful in their first few weeks here, at least, but this guy seems as comfortable as if he’s been here all his life. That, or he’s just a really good actor.

He watches through narrowed eyes as the second boy claps the first on the back, raising a brow when he slings an arm over his shoulder, half dragging him along towards the food collection point.

Does this kid have a death wish, or something?

But instead of pulling a knife on him like Jaebum had expected, the first guy lets himself be pulled along- Jaebum can see him roll his eyes over the top of that mask, sees the way the tension rolls out of his shoulders, like a sigh of relief.

“They know each other?” Jinyoung murmurs to Jaebum, who lifts a shoulder in the form of a shrug, when he’s really watching them carefully over the rim of his standard-issue mug.

His eyes follow the two as they approach a table, where, as expected, the second guy’s the one to start talking, all smiles and smooth jokes.

“Yeah, laugh a little louder, why don’t you, I’m pretty sure the whole Mess can’t hear you yet,” Jungyeon mutters, cutting up her chicken, as Jihyo settles at the table with her tray.

“Talking about Jackson Wang?” she raises a brow. “You’d be joining the rest of the Academy. The girls couldn’t stop whispering about him since he set foot into Training Room 7 with Mark this morning.”

“What have you heard about them?” Jinyoung asks curiously, and Jaebum listens in, reluctant to admit that he’s interested too.

“He just came in a couple days ago. Him and Mark,” Jihyo messes with her cutlery, bumping Jungyeon over with her before settling down. “Jackson’s your typical story, I guess- street thug turned assassin, but no one really knows much about Mark. There are some pretty wild theories that he’s an alien, though.”

“They worked independent before this?”

“Didn’t we all?” Jungyeon shrugs. “Albeit some against our will.”

Jaebum recoils a little at that, ducking his head to look down into his food and eat another spoon of rice, steeling himself for the brief moment until it’s passed, and willing away the stab of shame that follows.

“What do you think Mark did before?” Jinyoung pulls the conversation back expertly, and Jaebum doesn’t have the courage to thank him. Not yet, anyway, fast forward about five years- but that’s another story.

Jihyo throws out a couple of ideas (“I’ve seen some “Mark”s on corporate client hit lists- you think he did espionage?”), until Jinyoung shifts beside Jaebum, gesturing towards them.

Jaebum straightens stiffly, expression turning stoic as Kunpimook joins them, settling automatically at Jinyoung’s side. He glances over, and sure enough, has to stare down the couple of guys sitting three tables away, the exact ones who’d thought it’d be funny to drag the younger boy into an empty bathroom and mess him up after he surpassed their scores for the individual field mission rankings.

Predictably, they look away like they’d been stung- their “prank” had gotten real old real fast, even to them, especially when Jaebum’d walked in, arms folded across his chest, glaring at them until they apologised in stutters and fled.

Jinyoung likes to snark that it’s his overall unpleasant demeanour that has that effect, though the fact that Jaebum’s currently sitting at the top in terms of overall rankings might have had something to do with it too.

(Jihyo’s an exception- she’d hit Jaebum after he made one of the other female recruits cry, they’d had a week of tension and death stares, and suddenly they were sitting together for lunch every day and trading passive-aggressive barbs on whose headshot looks uglier on the LED leaderboards. Jaebum still has no idea how it’d happened, except for the fact that it might have had something to do with Jinyoung.)

They say the rankings are the reason why JYP’s chosen him to be the leader of the Academy’s next male unit, but Jaebum knows there’s a lot more to it than that- the one before him pretty much made sure of that. It’s about chemistry, teamwork, sacrifice, and how well he knows the rest of them, but the fact remains that he won’t get to know who his team members are until possibly a year later. Best of all, he won’t even get to choose.

That’s the part that rankles him the most.

“We’re gossiping,” Jinyoung informs Kunpimook, throwing an arm around him, still careful not to touch the bruise he knows is blooming on the younger boy’s left shoulder. “You happen to know anything about the new guys?”

Kunpimook looks over at the table on the far end, wide eyes both cautious and curious. Jaebum’s definitely listening, now- it’s one thing to beat the others during practice, and another to have actually experienced the real thing. The young Thai boy’s the only one out of them all to have come up out of the filth of the criminal underground, and knows more names out there than the rest of them do combined- taking out Jinyoung, maybe.

“That’s Mark,” Kunpimook looks a little surprised. “Mark Tuan.”

“You know about him?” Jungyeon’s leaning in, both brows raised so high it looks comical.

“Not much, and it was pretty difficult recognising him at all,” Kunpimook’s watching the duo with barely concealed curiosity, now. “He’s usually low profile, works solo, keeps his perfect kill record to himself- it’s kinda weird, why’d he be here in the Academy?”

“You never know?” Jihyo shrugs. “The Academy does recruit in shady ways. I mean, we’re not SM, or anything, but still.”

Meanwhile, Jinyoung nudges Jaebum, voice low over the chatter at the table as Jungyeon continues interrogating Kunpimook, as if to say what about them?

Jaebum makes a derisive noise, turning over a piece of meat with his spoon. “Too much trouble. Doesn’t look like the Jackson guy can stop talking, or that Mark can talk at all.”

Jinyoung gives him a look. “You know, hyung, your word’s not going to count for much when JYP picks Unit 7 for you later.”

The older boy sighs into his plate at the thought, eyes squeezing shut, stress weighing heavy on his shoulders at the thought. “Yeah, okay. I get it. I just-…”

He trails off for a bit after that, before continuing in a significantly lower tone. “I don’t know if I can manage anyone, Jinyoung- hell, I can’t even manage myself. I just don’t think he made the right choice.”

“Like real,” Jinyoung scoffs. “There’s a reason you were chosen out of everyone else, hyung, he sees the way you operate in the field, the way you conduct yourself during our practice missions- no one’s born the perfect leader. He trusts you to be able to carry the Academy name. And besides,” Jinyoung seems to deflate a little, shrugging to keep the front up. “You’re going away for that six-month leadership training next year. Never know what might change by the time you get back.”

Jaebum winces again- he’d forgotten about the training for a few glorious hours.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, nodding gruffly towards their food and giving Kunpimook a warning glance to stop ogling the new pair, unless you want a repeat of the last two days. “Maybe you’ll be in it, and them, and Kunpimook. Throw in a couple of nasty surprises and Unit 7 will be set.”

“Say anymore and you’re going to regret those words one day,” Jinyoung rolls his eyes. “You know, the new pair- I don’t think they’re so bad, honestly. Just a little unstable without each other, maybe.”

Jaebum thinks of himself with the rest of them, for a real, genuine moment, and shivers.

*

Jaebum snaps automatically out of his half-sleep at the first buzz from his radio, shaking his head clear. His mind usually goes to fragments of the past at times like these, vague, fuzzy moments lost in the periphery of his memories, and it’s stupid, in hindsight, when there are a load more important things he should be focusing on now.

No one would’ve thought that it’d work out the way it did. And now, those people might just be proven right.

The leader forces his head back in the game, checking his watch automatically to see that only three hours have passed since they first started searching. Youngjae’s ahead of schedule.

“You got it?” he clears his throat before speaking, up and alert in ten blinks, and Youngjae hums assent, sounding exhausted but satisfied. He’d probably been working hard on customising that facial recognition program, Jaebum thinks. “Wow, that was fast.”

“I uh,” Youngjae hesitates. “I had a few reservations about your uh, your search frame, so I added some tweaks of my own, and it turns out I was right. I’m calling Bam now back from the practice rooms, he’s with Gyeom.”

“Don’t call Mark yet,” Jaebum says sharply. “I want to know what’s going on first. Stay in the room till I get there.”

*

Youngjae’s already got a screen up, Bambam and Yugyeom settling in their own chairs, tapping in indecipherable numbers and letters by the time Jaebum walks in and pulls out a chair.

“Well?” the leader says, trying not to sound too anxious. “How’d you narrow your search, by the way?”

“I didn’t start it from YG,” Youngjae confesses, pulling up another screen. “Something didn’t click, you know? Jimin’s been managing good relationships with a lot of the agents there and I know, that’s not supposed to affect their professional choices, but it didn’t seem right that they’d agree so easily to an assassination or a watch duty job, especially one involving Jackson-hyung of all people, you know?”

“Looking at their new units, it wouldn’t be that much of a stretch,” Jaebum says flatly, peering at the screen, trying to make sense of whatever Youngjae’s writing. “How can we be sure?”

“There’s something else- uh, something Jackson said,” Youngjae looks a little embarrassed. “The whole dumbo thing- I remembered something, you know, from back at Osaka when we had a brush with Unit EXO last year and I piggybacked their radio frequency to make sure they weren’t planning anything that might cause conflict of interest. It’s what one of the guys called another, and it could’ve been just a coincidence, but-…”

He finally brings up the camera freeze frames, just a bunch of blurred pictures at first, then Youngjae sharpens them with the programme he’d been customising just now, until a decent outline begins to form.

It’s a man about Jaebum’s age, face comically youthful and features faintly handsome, even in the grainy CCTV image, looking anxiously to the side, brow creased in fear. Jaebum knows that face- he’d forced himself to memorise the profiles of every new agent in the industry so they’d never be caught off guard.

“Park Chanyeol, arms specialist of one of SM’s newer male units,” Youngjae says, sounding slightly nervous now. Chanyeol’s one of the most well-known of his unit, even throughout the entire industry, and going up against him probably means going up against the equally strong members of his team. None of them are particularly anticipating that sort of fight right now. “It’s a 96% hit, and I cross checked with footage from outside the building and inside earlier that day. He’s come up on cameras several times- it seems like the security guards know he’s there, too, so it isn’t like he’s on a covert mission. The company must have hired him to either protect the property there or get rid of Jackson specifically.”

“How would the firm even have known?” Yugyeom looks vaguely troubled.

“Probably a tip-off, it happens sometimes,” Jaebum takes a deep breath, running through all the stupid standard operating procedures that are bound to follow in his head. “, it just had to be that guy, out of twelve (“well, nine,” Youngjae reminds him tentatively) of them, it had to be the one we’d have the most trouble pinning anything properly on. You can bet they’re going to bend over backwards to cover up any this guy pulls, with how much he’s bringing in for the company.”

“Well, on the bright side,” Bambam says helpfully, here. “At least it wasn’t a YG agent, right?”

The three youngest shudder, and even Jaebum’s forced to look at things in perspective, then. True- at least it isn’t a YG agent.

“Okay, then, since we know who it was, let’s get things straightened out,” Jaebum leans heavily over the table. “We don’t know why he attacked Jackson- there’s a possibility he might not even have known it was an agent under protection of the collusive treaty. Considering the IQ estimation the techies gave us and that brush we had with the EXO unit in Montreal two years back, I wouldn’t put it past the guy. But the fact is that SM agreed to a contract location clashing with JYP’s, which is technically illegal under the collusive treaty.”

“Reporting this could blow things up,” Youngjae sounds worried, and with good reason. The three companies skirt around the boundaries of the contract more often than not, but that’d never resulted in casualties before. If SM was getting this bold, it could, at the very worst, mark the beginnings of some sort of scheme by the company to eliminate or worse, subjugate them. Either way, blood would be shed, and it wouldn’t do to count on YG for help at a time like this. Their agents were never known for being the most sympathetic of people, anyway. “We have to make sure we’ve got everything right before saying anything- this is something big.”

“But if we try to handle things on our own, there’s no telling what SM might try to use against us,” Bambam scowls. “Did you listen to their representatives during the last “conference”? They’d be able to turn the blame for Jackson’s injury on us without breaking a sweat if we try anything without official approval.”

“Whatever it is,” Jaebum says firmly. “Standard operating procedure: we need to establish a line, ask for an explanation, though I seriously doubt that’s going to help. Only if that fails are we allowed to start making a proper case out of this. I’ll have to talk this out with Kim Junmyeon, and if he denies responsibility we’ll report it with the evidence we’ve got,” he rubs his temples, sighing in frustration. “Don’t know how long that’s going to take, and with Jackson still unstable in the med bay-…”

He takes a deep breath, steeling himself- they’re depending on you, he reminds himself, before straightening, walking towards the screen.

“Alright, Youngjae, prepare a secure line to Junmyeon, but don’t put it through until we’ve settled things on our side. If diplomatic attempts fall through, Yugyeom and Bambam, prep the evidence we’ve got that Chanyeol shot Jackson, so we can inform the higher-ups in the Seoul base immediately. This has to be handled quickly but properly, we don’t want to give SM any reason to justify what they’ve done to Jackson. Bambam, inform Jinyoung-…”

“Hyung?” Yugyeom interrupts loudly, then, and Jaebum whips around, all ready to pull rank and sharply remind the maknae of his place, before he sees the door ajar, Mark halfway in, staring at something past Jaebum.

The leader’s head whirls back, catching the blown up shots of Chanyeol’s face and profile on the projector screen, and cold hard realisation hits him low in the gut.

“Mark,” he turns back, voice low and even, as one would use with an unstable animal. “Mark, don’t, we have to settle this officially.”

The emotion in Mark’s eyes: cold, calm resolve, barely flickers - for all Jaebum knew, he could’ve been talking to a wall. “Mark, don’t be an idiot, you can’t handle it on your own like that, don’t-…Mark!”

The door slides shut, something humming and fizzing audibly from outside, and Bambam leaps over, pulling at the sunken handle, only to withdraw his hand with a pained shout, the skin of his palm fast turning an angry burned red.

“He’s locked us in,” Youngjae hasn’t even budged, looking more upset than anxious, and Jaebum shouts in frustration, storming over to the door, the knife from his belt now in his hands.

“Jae, call Jinyoung, tell him what Mark’s planning to do,” he grits out, gesturing sharply at Yugyeom. “Gyeom, come help me get this door open. Whether or not Mark gets to Chanyeol first, once we get out of here, I’m gonna kill him.”

a/n: the plot thiCKENSSS

or rather it just became the consistency of disappointingly fluid-like ketchup as compared to water, but there is a point, and i demand that you get it.

anyway hope you guys...aren't violently opposed to the way this is heading...? T.T i was so putting this chapter off because of the introduction of other characters (i even started a whole new spy au fic, that's how hard i tried to avoid this guys, it's unverygood and i am a sorry person to all inconvenience caused.)

;A;

i also wanted to mention here too: please share your got7 spy tropes!! >.< if you guys have any prompts/ideas (something as simple as "markson, focusing on xxx backstory moment/cute 2youngjae fluff set after events of freefall" would be great too!), feel free to share in the comments, and if you see something you like in the comments, upvote it! (though no promises >.<) if it's done, it'll probably be added to the collection of spy au ficlets i linked above! yup. yes. requests are a thing.

as usual, comments are well and truly appreciated, and spur this hungry tired soul to do better in the future \o/ eat well and live healthily my friends, and fellow countrymen, do drink water and take shelter from this sibei pms weather.

peace