Things seemed to be going well. It had taken the authorities longer than usual to arrive, giving them time to work out their plan without interruption, and even now, the police offers trudging in, all high and mighty in their bulky uniforms, were thoroughly disoriented by the news of the explosion, the confusion about the situation, and the sheer passion and will flowing through the veins of the protesters.

           Ah, the protesters, or, as he liked to think of them, the fighters. None of them were willing to back down, even when faced with what their pathetic society called justice. They fought and fought and fought until the bitter end, and even then, even if they had faced their untimely doom at the hands of cruel inequality and corruption, their spirit remained, fueling those who lived on even more, and passing down their will to those following them through a tacit rite of passage. Those children who lost their parents today would seek to right the wrongs of their world. The parents who lost their children would only try harder to bring the system down. The friends separated by chaos would drive themselves to reuniting with only their burning will.

           There would be losses, but of them, these fighters would find gains far beyond the sorrow and suffering.

           He narrowed his eyes as he looked across the street, into an alleyway. There were people in there, just standing and… observing? It was difficult to tell from how far up he was, but they certainly weren’t taking part in the commotion around them. They were likely concealed quite a bit at ground level, with the shadows shrouding them perfectly so that those on the street couldn’t see them, but from this height, he was able to at least partially make out their figures. There were a few of them there—not too many, not too few. Five… six, maybe? He found it suspicious, to say the least. They could just be hiding, not wanting to be swept up in the disorder, but somehow, they seemed too… calm, for that. They were too close to outside the alleyway, as though they didn’t have a problem if one were to find them and attack them. They didn’t move, didn’t even seem to flinch at the viciousness in front of them. It’s as though they were waiting for… something…

           He shook his head. He was probably thinking too far into it, and even if he was right in his suspicion, he had no time for that. He needed to get out and make his retreat, fast. As though aligned with his thoughts, a flare gun was fired a few blocks down, and he smirked. It was time for evacuation, meaning it was time for him to high-tail it out of there. Still, it felt wrong to leave just as that, so, once he composed himself, he screamed at the top of his lungs.

           “Let the revolution live on!”

           He could hear the roars form the crowd as he slinked backwards, and, as he had done many-a-time before, stepped off the edge. As he fell, adrenaline rushed through his veins and his heart rapidly pounded against his ribcage. No matter how many times he had done this before, he could never shake off the exhilaration of it all. The speed at which things passed by his eyes, the harshness of the wind biting at his skin, the flickering between feeling right at misery’s doorstep and feeling as though he was finally free from bodily restraints—it more than excited him; it enlivened him.

           Who would think that being so close to death would make him truly feel alive?

           Almost as quickly as it began, though, the rapidness of it all faded, as his body was slowly brought to a gentle stop right before above the ground, before he was finally let down completely, no harm of sudden impact to be seen. He turned and smirked into the darkness of the alleyway behind him, knowing his ‘helper’ wouldn’t step out, but would always be there.

           “Thanks,” he muttered into the darkness, and his aide said nothing, not bothering to reveal himself when unnecessary.

           Whatever, he thought. That’s not what’s important right now. It’s time to get out of here. He leaned down, ensuring that his shoes were on securely, before readjusting his mask. He was sure no one would come after him, considering how occupied the authorities were in the streets with the protesters, but still, it wouldn’t hurt to be careful. Besides, he’d need to pass through a few streets to get back to his team, and while they hadn’t necessarily spread out throughout the entire area, he was sure there’d be some blockage along the way. Just as he turned to run in the direction of the darkness, he heard a voice call out from just behind him.

           “You there, stop!” the voice yelled— vaguely, he recognized the language as Exolian— and he glanced behind him to see that group from earlier.

           Well .

           He snapped his head back forward and, without a word, move to take off. He was right to be confused, he was right to be suspicious. Whether these guys were with the authorities or not, he wasn’t sure, but he knew that they weren’t good news.

           Unfortunately for him, he took too long to move his feet, and those guys weren’t far behind him. Before he could even get two steps in, his right wrist was grabbed, and he was forcibly tugged backwards. He quickly turned and glared. It was hard to them well in the unlit alleyway, but some light from the afternoon sun was leaking in, giving him a general idea of what the people in front of him looked like. The one holding him was tall, taller than him, with fierce eyes surrounded by dark eyebags, but a gentle looking face, and slightly shaggy black hair. The others he couldn’t make out as well, but he counted and noticed that they were indeed, six people. Frowning, he realized that escape would be a bit more difficult that he’d expected. Sure, the one holding him wasn’t gripping very tight, as though he was hesitant, but it didn’t help that there were reinforcements.

           It was then that the one holding his wrist spoke, in Mandarin, surprisingly.

           “Please wait,” the man said, and his voice was softer than expected and only slightly accented.

           “Why should I?” he shot back, but made no sudden movements. He needed a plan before just running away.

           “Ask for his name,” another quite tall man asked, with a deep, gruffly voice, in Exolian.

           “No need for a translator, I speak Exolian,” he spoke before the one holding him could speak up. “And why would I give you my name?” The others seemed surprised, but they shook it off quickly.

           “We need to ask you a few questions,” another man, with somewhat round and lightly blue features, asked softly. “And addressing you as what the protestors out there call you… ‘unicorn,’ I believe? Well, that seems hardly appropriate.”

           He snorted, but gave in. These people couldn’t be local, if they didn’t know his name. “I go by Lay, and I don’t need to answer your questions, ers.”

           With that, he twisted his wrist free and dashed off in the opposite direction, not bothering to look back.

----------

           Suho didn’t even have time to feel surprised. None of them expected to see the rebellion leader alive, let alone completely unharmed, after the fall he had taken, but they didn’t have time to question it as the man seemed ready to bolt off as soon as they reached the alleyway. Luckily, Tao had managed to hold him back for a little bit, but that didn’t last long, as Lay quickly pulled himself out of the hold and dashed off.

           And now here they were, running after the man through unfamiliar alleyways with little to no light to aid the on their way. It didn’t help that Lay was quite the fast runner, as well as extremely agile, weaving through obstacles with ful