Rubber scraped against sandy pavement as Baekhyun slowed to halt by a narrow alleyway. He stiffened, one arm partially outstretched toward the opening, his breath hissing between his clenched teeth on a single word. “Shield.”
Baekhyun listed slowly to the side, and Jongdae lunged forward, catching him just as a stampede of small, shrieking humans burst from the alley. The crowd of children, shoeless and sand-encrusted, recoiled from the trio of adults with a collective gasp of apprehension. Jongdae opened his mouth to reassure them, but one screamed “Yeollie hyung!” and they streamed past him to latch onto the arsonist’s legs like a swarm of selective jellyfish. Bemused, Jongdae lowered Baekhyun to the ground, leaning him against the closest wall. He only had a moment to marvel at the Virus, Plague of Asia, child whisperer, when an older kid staggered backwards from the alleyway, wielding a giant gnarled piece of driftwood like a bat. Jongdae noticed the bullet holes in his shirt first, the uninjured flesh beneath them second, then decided his own weapon should be free of its holster, just in case.
The kid turned and tensed at the sigh of the gun, his knuckles whitening on the raised bat. With his free hand, Jongdae flashed his NIS medallion, keeping the quarantine agent label folded against his palm. “I’m here to help,” he said, pointing his gun toward the ground, putting all his sincerity into his words.
The kid’s eyes darted back and forth between Jongdae’s badge, shining with weight and authority, and the Virus, calming a waist-level sea of post-traumatic hysteria. His shoulders relaxed an inch. “That’s what the other cop said.”
Jongdae’s first thought was of Team Leader Lee, but he was on the other side of the village, calling in reinforcements. These kids had come from the beach, their paths couldn’t have crossed. In flash of realization, he blurted, “Kyungsoo?” He took an eager step forward. “ You saw him?” When the kid shrank back, keeping the bat between them, Jongdae reigned himself in. More calmly, he asked, “You know where he is?”
The kid slackened his grip on the bat and pointed it back the way they’d come. “He took a hostage so we could escape from the soldiers, and they stopped following us after we left the beach.” His jaw tightened fiercely, even as his chin quivered. “What kind of cowards shoot at little kids?”
Jongdae noticed the number marked on the kid’s forehead, smeared from sweat and sand. A quick glance at the Virus’ sniffling mob confirmed they had all had similar marks. A picture of what happened started to unfold. “What’s your name?”
“Taeyong,” he mumbled, swiping at his eyes.
“Those soldiers, did they take cheek swabs?”
Taeyong nodded, a bit numbly. The children clustered around the Virus quieted, listening.
“Then what?” Jongdae prompted. Taeyong didn’t answer, he was staring dazedly at the bullet holes in his shirt, shock starting to settle in as the fight-or-fight clarity of adrenaline began to wear off. Jongdae gave him a little shake. “Then what?”
“They killed Minki.” One of the others said sadly.
“The doctor drowned him,” another added. They were all crying again, but softly this time. It was worse than screaming.
Jongdae took Taeyong’s shoulder, guiding him away from the group. “Taeyong.” He waited until the kid was looking at him, his eyes a little unfocused. “My team is on the other side of the village, at the start of the main road. Can you get these kids there? Can I trust you?” Taeyong nodded, slowly at first, but gaining focus as determination filled him. He went back to the group, and began helping the Virus organize the youngest ones for their journey. Nearby, Baekhyun stirred, and pushed himself upright against the wall with a grimace, shaking his head to clear the cobwebs.
Jongdae quickly knelt beside him and explained the situation, pitching his voice low so they wouldn’t be overheard. “Something’s off. Militia teams don’t travel with doctors.”
“It does run counter to their scorched-earth version of standard quarantine procedure,” Baekhyun agreed drily, massaging his temple.
“But why burn half the town in the community center, then bring infected kids all the way out here just to drown them?” Jongdae wondered. At least the fire had a purpose, however barbaric. The militia’s actions on the beach seemed so pointless, not to mention cruel.
Baekhyun gave him a long, level stare. “I’ll put it this way,” he said finally. “First test was fire, second water, third would be a freezer.”
Jongdae whipped back to stare the the raggedy group, where the Virus was mopping a sobbing girl’s nose with his own charred shirt. Fire, water, cold. “That’s insane. They’re trying to create outliers. ”
“Insane?” Baekhyun chuckled as climbed to his feet, leaning unsteadily against the wall. “Normal vivus hosts are terrible research subjects,” he said. “By the time you get them back to the lab, poof, they expire.” He tilted his chin toward Taeyong, doggedly trying to shepherd the tired, terrified children into an organized line. “But an outlier will live a long, unproductive life in hermetically sealed room. A perfect lab rat.”
Expire. Jongdae watched the Virus link the smallest children hand in hand at the front of the line. Some of them barely cleared his knees. “Maybe, if we got them to a hospital…” he trailed off, already knowing it was useless.
“Vivus will burn through them in a couple of days anyway,” Baekhyun continued, “then jump to other patients, their doctors, or their families as a parting gift.” Baekhyun pulled Sarai’s phone from his pocket, and grimaced when Jongdae caught his wrist. “They have to be contained. Like it or not, we need the old man and the witch to handle this. ”
Jongdae’s hand tightened in frustration. Calling Director Choi to lock these kids away in sterile rooms for the rest of their short lives felt no better than abandoning them to the militia kill squad. One option was less cruel and would let him sleep at night, but the end result was the same— children in graves. But there was no way to save them without putting more innocents at risk. Reluctantly, Jongdae released Baekhyun’s arm, his gut twisting into a leaden knot as he watched him type out a phone number.
“At least go with them?” Jongdae said as Taeyong began to lead his charges uphill towards the promised ‘safety,’ the bullet holes in the back of his shirt a silent testament to his will. “Make sure nothing happens to them before they get to Team Leader Lee.”
Baekhyun looked up from the phone long enough to follow Jongdae’s gaze to Taeyong. “Don’t worry. We don’t abandon our own.”
“We?” Jongdae echoed, but Baekhyun was already fading into invisibility, murmuring into the phone as he followed the group of kids to their fate.
Something stronger than sunlight warmed Jongdae’s back, and Virus loomed beside him, watching the line disappear over the hill. “They’ll be okay, right?”
Jongdae sighed, turning his back to the doomed group. “Let’s just go.”

***
Jongdae crept along the shoreline, staying low as he dashed to the safety of the line of fishing boats pulled onto the sand. He slipped from boat to boat until he reached a tiny skiff at the end of the line, and paused, crouching behind it. He motioned behind him urgently, mindful of being seen by the knot of heavily armed soldiers just across the other end of the beach. The Virus joined him after a few moments, panting slightly from his sprint as he hunkered down beside him in the boat’s shadow.
Jongdae sketched a quick diagram in the sand of the pair of trucks the militiamen were guarding. “The one with armored sides is a field lab,” he said, tapping the corresponding box on his diagram. “Kyungsoo must be in there.”
The Virus poked his head above the boat hull for a look, then ducked down hastily in an anxious flare of heat. “That’s practically an army!”
“It’s a dozen guys,” Jongdae said dismissively.
“We won’t even get close!”
“Don’t be a pessimist.” Jongdae racked his brain for inspiration, chewing his lip as he squinted against the constantly shifting glint of the ocean waves on the horizon. The edges of an plan began to take shape. He poked his head above the boat hull to take stock of the militia positioning.
“They’re not watching the water,” he observed. They’d captured Kyungsoo, and now all the militiamen were facing the village, guarding against a Phoenix attack by land. “Can you swim?”
“No!” The Virus shook his head frantically, fending off the suggestion with both hands.
Excellent. An unexpected approach. “I’ll need a distraction.” Jongdae began stripping off his jacket and shoes. He thought about taking off his jeans, but re-buttoned them after a moment’s hesitation. Swimming would be easier without them, but he didn’t relish the prospect of hand-to-hand combat in nothing but his underwear. He started sneaking towards the water, but the Virus blocked his path, uselessly long arms spread wide between the skiff and the neighboring boat.
“What are you doing?” he demanded, his whisper high-pitched and panicky. “They have guns!”
Jongdae tapped the weapon in his holster. “When I get close, do something loud and fiery,” he ordered, “and I’ll take care of the rest.” He tried to push through, but the arsonist was surprisingly strong. He redoubled his efforts.
“This is a dumb plan!” Virus insisted, struggling to hold his ground against Jongdae. “We should back off- retreat and come back!”
Jongdae abruptly let go, then pulled the overbalanced man over his hip, planting him face-first into the sand. “I didn’t come this far to give up.”
He dodged the Virus’ last-ditch grab for his ankle, and sprinted for the water, diving headlong into the surf. The ground dropped out quickly as he away from shore, the rip current catching him almost immediately. He bobbed his head above water for a quick gasp of air, then re-submerged up to his eyes, letting the current carry him toward the militia. He drifted for several minutes, bobbing closer and closer, stealing breaths whenever he reached his limit. He stayed low in the water until he could hear snatches of the soldiers’ conversation carried on the wind. They were preparing to leave, truck engines rumbling to life.
Jongdae started treading water to hold his position, searching the shoreline anxiously for any sign on the the necessary diversion. Now’s the time, he tried to project the thought back toward the boats where Virus was hiding. The seconds were ticking by, the soldiers were climbing into their trucks, and he was getting tired. Do something!
The skiff where they’d been hiding erupted in a deafening ball of fire, startling the soldiers on the beach into defensive positions. Yes! Jongdae began swimming for shore as fast as his arms would take him. The militiamen had begun moving toward the boats in a cautious attack when the second boat exploded, and they scrambled for cover, their formation ruined. Chunks of flaming debris rained down on the beach as Jongdae’s feet finally dragged against the shallows. He laid flat, waiting eagerly for another explosion to spread the chaos and hide his final approach. But there was nothing. The beach was eerily silent, save for the snap and crackle of flames consuming the two boats.
“Bird in sight,” a dropped radio squawked into the stillness. Too late, Jongdae spotted the muzzle of a sniper rifle poking out from the roof of the mobile lab.
A militiaman in an officer’s beret rolled from the undercarriage of the second truck and bellowed, “FIRE!”
Then everything went to hell.
The sharp crack of the sniper rifle rang out just as the truck engine roared. The mobile lab lurched backward, ramming a nearby soldier and the rifle muzzle disappeared as the rooftop shooter was thrown off balance. The officer leapt to his feet, his arm outstretched to the man crushed beneath the truck wheels. Jongdae never saw a blade, just the impact as the officer suddenly staggered against the side of his truck, hands gripping his throat as blood spurted candycane stripes across his fingers. His mouth opened and closed soundlessly, shock and betrayal in his widened eyes as he looked toward the front of the lab. He deflated like a balloon, life leaking out of him at the speed of his own heartbeat.
The masked traitor climbed out of the driver’s seat of the mobile lab and turned towards the water, locking gazes with Jongdae hiding in the shallows. Jongdae sat up with a start—even under a mask, he recognized those eyes. The assassin tipped a sardonic salute, then disappeared with a pop, the sand swirling in his wake.
Jongdae sprinted for the truck as the remaining militiamen were picked off, one by one. Leaderless and confused, men and women dropped seemingly at random as the assassin flickered across the beach, snapping necks and disappearing again with a soft poof. Someone panicked, and started firing blindly. Within moments, bullets sprayed in every direction as militiamen tried to defend themselves against the grim reaper in their midst, mowing down their own comrades moments before being cut down themselves.
As Jongdae reached the lab, crawling on all fours, the swarm of bullets slackened. Spirits broken, the surviving soldiers dropped all pretext of fighting and fled for their lives. Running, but still dying, each one in turn. It was a massacre, but Jongdae pushed it to the side, focusing on his goal. He yanked open the door to lab trailer, then froze.
He’d found Kyungsoo.
“It’s such a shame,” Dr. Han said, a syringe of clear liquid jammed into Kyungsoo’s neck, the plunger already half depressed. Kyungsoo was so limp, pale as a corpse. “But I can’t allow such a dangerous subject to leave my custody. You understand.”
Jongdae swallowed hard against the acid fear boiling in his gut. “Don’t hurt him,” he managed to choke out. He could barely breathe as Dr. Han Kyungsoo’s hair tenderly.
“He’s magnificent, a true god of war. Already twice the lethal dose of neurotoxin, and still breathing. His parents will be proud.” Something about those words felt wrong, but the inkling evaporated when Han’s thumb twitched on the syringe.
“We both want to stop this plague and save lives,” Jongdae said, his hands trembling. He didn’t know how to reason with a psychopath. “We’re on the same side.”
The doctor’s gaze trailed to the bodies scattered nearby, his eyes flat and empty. “Naivete,” he said, shaking his head, “is only a refreshing trait in the very young.” His fingers tightened on the syringe, the plunger dipping.
“Stop!”
Han paused, and raised an eyebrow.
Jongdae’s fists clenched, holding on to his composure with every fiber of his being. “Just tell me what you want.”
Han’s lips lifted in soulless imitation of a pleased smile. “You are your father’s son after all.” The truck shuddered, as the doctor’s assistant shifted it into gear. The false smile dropped from Han’s face. “Close the door. Walk away.”
Nothing had ever been harder.

***

Red and blue flashed in the distance, faint sirens growing louder. The cavalry, too little, too late. The tire tracks under Jongdae’s knees were beginning to crumble, the wet sand drying and hardening in the midmorning sun. A faint shadow fell across him, and Baekhyun solidified next to him an instant later.
“Seems like things went well.” Baekhyun turned in a slow circle, hands on his hips, taking in the single empty cargo truck, the bodies scattered on the sand. “A tad messy.”
Jongdae took breath in through his nose, and blew it out slowly, trying to re-center.
“You knew this would happen,” he said, his tone too bitter to be matter-of-fact, too tired to be accusatory. “That assassin. You knew he was following us.”
Baekhyun swept his arms outwards, encompassing the scarlet-stained beach. “I believe what you meant to say was ‘thank you.’ ” When Jongdae glared up at him, he rolled his eyes. “If it heals your bleeding heart, Phantom didn’t follow us. He was here because of that guy.” He jerked thumb over his shoulder, where the Virus was sprawled ungracefully in a glassy patch of sand like an abandoned marionette. “Phoenix Directive. The gunhuggers never learn.”
Of course, Jongdae realized, the mole in the militia. He started laughing, amazed at the audacity. The militia would never know what happened here, they would never guess they had an outlier in their midst. Han would tell them about Jongdae’s turn to the dark side, and they would doubtless blame the rest on yet another failed attempt on Phoenix. Phantom had left no witnesses. Jongdae climbed to his feet, still shaking his head in disbelief. Director Choi and Sarai thought Baekhyun was an harmless little scenthound that occasionally slipped his leash. But Jongdae could see Baekhyun clearly now, and he was a full grown wolf.
“Where will they take Kyungsoo?” Jongdae asked through gritted teeth.
“Back home, to Daegu,” Baekhyun said breezily. “The center there isn’t equipped for outliers, but it’ll do until Frankenstein is ready to head back to his mountain lair in the States.”
“We’re breaking him out of there,” Jongdae said with conviction. No matter what it took, he wouldn’t leave Kyungsoo in that place. If that meant unleashing the beast, so be it.
Baekhyun took a deep breath of sea air and sighed happily. “It’s going to be a gorgeous day.”

***
Kyungsoo peeled open his eyes to a masked soldier in black body armor standing over him, thumbing through his phone. The universe lurched, and the man grabbed hold of his bed as the truck took a turn at high speed.
“Thassmiphhhone,” Kyungsoo slurred, the words turned syrupy by his lack of muscle control.
“Just deleting a few texts,” the soldier seemed young under the mask. And strangely familiar.
With colossal force of will, Kyungsoo managed to rattle the chains strapping him down.
“Sorry about that,” the man sounded apologetic, but Kyungsoo couldn’t help but feel it wasn’t genuine. “I’d help you with those, but there’s something we need you to do in Daegu. First things first though.” He held the phone close to Kyungsoo’s face, so his blurry vision could distinguish the last number in his call history. The soldier smelled like cinnamon. And blood. “Super important. Who did you call?”
I called Jongdae, but somebody else answered. “Hyung,” Kyungsoo drawled.
“Cool, just checking.” The masked man deleted the final number, straightened, and tucked the phone back into Kyungsoo’s pocket. “Listen, I’ve got to run, but there’s a really persistent cop on your tail. Be patient, don’t try anything reckless, and maybe you’ll stay alive until he gets here.” The soldier took a step toward the truck wall, and Kyungsoo wondered if this was all a dream. There was nowhere for him to go. The masked man paused next to the wall and turned around. “The name’s Kai, by the way. I’ll catch ya later.” He aimed fingerguns at Kyungsoo, winked, and disappeared with a poof.
Definitely the drugs.