A/N: Hey all! Thanks for taking the time to read my second fanfic (which is hopefully of higher quality than my first one, "Stronger", a Myungyeol comedy that is still in the process of being written)... Much love goes out to my FIRST EIGHT SUBSCRIBERSSSS!! Thankyouthankyouthankyou!! I initially didn't want to start another fanfic without finishing my first one, because then I would have to juggle two... Butbutbut, I had this great idea in History class today, and I just couldn't not write it... Ya know what I mean?? Hehe... 

Lols, I know this gif kinda spoils the Daehyun-spy idea, but it was too cute. Couldn't resist ;)...

  It was midnight when Daehyun smiled. He had tracked down his target. It was almost Game Over now. It hadn't been easy, this assignment, but it wasn't anything Daehyun couldn't handle. Now all he had to do was swoop in just at the right moment, and the job would be over.

  It had taken three weeks, three whole, long, sleepless, monotonous weeks to get this job over and done with. It had been kind of boring really, this particular assignment. Some rich, prestigious boys' high school had its suspected that the selling of drugs was taing place in the school, and had hired the agency to work it all out. This had landed Daehyun in school for THREE. WHOLE. WEEKS. Maybe that was why this job took so long to complete? Maybe it was because there were no big explosions, inhumane murders, high-profile culprits that were hard to locate. Daehyun prefered all of that to this job. It kept him constantly on edge, and his senses sharp. During the course of the past three weeks, all Daehyun did was snoop about classrooms, run around collecting information, making lists of suspects, collecting evidence, smoking out his prey, and above all, finishing HOMEWORK. Daehyun understood the pain in students' lives. On top of all his undercover work, Daehyun still had to do work not to blow his cover. Ironic as it sounded, this life that Daehyun had lived these past three weeks was killing him.

  Daehyun could not be happier that it was almost over. He needed something more dangerous, more adrenaline-filled.

  Daehyun glanced at his phone as it recieved information on his prey's whereabouts. Daehyun's body tensed as he focused on the hunt once more.

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  It was midnight, and the streets were dark, save for the beam of brightness from street lights that lined the road at regular intervals, and cast long shadows over everything. Only one of these shadows slid quickly down this street, fading in and out as it's owner passed by the street lamps. When the person casting this shadow moved near one of these pools of light, one could dimly make out a dishevelled middle-aged man that was dressed scruffily with eyes wide and almost wild with fear, because he never came directly into the light. The man didn't dare.

  This man was being hunted. And he knew it. He knew now. The man had been too careless, and he kew he would have to pay for it.

  The man, the Prey, was so intent on escaping Him, on escaping Them, glancing so frequently over his shoulder, that he failed to notice another presence, slowly making her way down the street, until he crashed into him.

  The man saw an opportunity.

  It was round-cheeked teenaged boy that he had knocked over. The man eyed him warily. What if this was yet another surprise ambush waiting for him? The man took a step back and feared the worst.

  Nothing happened.

  The man felt braver, and bent over the boy for a better look. The stranger looked tired, as if he had just been jogging, blonde bangs damp with his sweat. He looked about eighteen, and did not appear to be hostile in any way. In fact, he was just sitting there on the pavement, slightly out of breath, squinting at him. 

  One could almost see the man's brain move, slowly piecing things together. This boy, subdued at his feet, could have money on him, and money meant being able to catch a bus, or a train. Anything to get away from here, anything to escape.

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   It was midnight, and Youngjae had slipped out of the dance studio to grab drinks for him and his group members, who had been practicing since this morning. This wasn't the first all-day-and-half-the-night practice for Youngjae, but it still made his mind feel numb, and kinda fuzzy, it still made him feel, well...sort of zombi-ified...

  Youngjae had walked slowly down the street, enjoying the silence, after hours of music he had danced to had started to make his head throb. Youngjae looked up, not to see the stars (there were none though: the night was cloudy), but to try to relieve his aching neck and back muscles.

  Then, something had smashed into his back, and his view of the inky night sky was replaced by the pavement rushing up towards him.

When Youngjae hit the ground, the air was knocked out of his chest for a split second and he lay there, winded, too tired to get up for a while. Youngjae scowled, and whipped around to see what had crashed into him.

 The light from the streetlamp was in his eyes, as he tried to make out the person bending over him. Youngjae waited to be helped up, as he could not be bothered to stand up when his muscles were in this much pain... (God, how he hated late night practices!)

 Caught up in his train of thoughts, Youngjae failed to notice when the person loomed nearer, and reached towards him.

  Youngjae froze, tensed up. The stranger's hand brushed over the front of his shirt tentatively, then (as if he had decided that Youngjae wouldn't hurt him), the hand roamed even more bodly on Youngjae's chest, almost carressing his shirt pocket, as if searching for something.

  "What are you doing?"

  The stranger moved at Youngjae's words, sensing his feeble resistance. Faster than Youngjae's tired mind could process it, the man's hand smoothed over Youngjae's front jean pockets. Youngjae moaned. The man obviously didn't find what he wanted, and flipped Youngjae over, making him sqeak in protest.

  "Don't move." Was growled into his ear, the voice raw with desperation.

  "Stop..." Youngjae huffed, attention on the unwelcome, roaming hands on his body, groping his back pockets. The hands rubbed around, and Youngjae couldn't help but feel embarrassed, even in this situation. The stranger was squeezing his ..?!

  "Help... HELP! HELP!" Youngjae finally regained his senses enough to scream twice. Youngjae thrashed feebly.

  Youngjae saw stars as the man punched the back of his head, and pressed his face into the ground. Youngjae's hands felt cold, as he lay sprawled out once more, at the mercy of the stranger. 

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  Daehyun cursed, as he caught sight of his prey. The idiot had dragged a random passerby into the chase. Daehyun understood it was to gain access to faster transport, but he knew that even if the man fled to another planet, it didn't matter. Daehyun would simply track him down there. After ten years, Daehyun was an expert in dogged pursuit.

  Daehyun wanted to look away as the man hurt the passerby. As experienced as Daehyun was in this business, he hated watching someone get hurt. Injured beforehand was alright, Daehyun guessed, because he could easily patch the person up. What Daehyun couldn't stand was watching it happen. Daehyun had a heart, and according to his hyung, it could mean the end of Daehyun's life if he was not careful.

  After the punch, Daehyun couldn't stand it anymore. Daehyun had to stop it or he would go mad. Daehyun had two options: one, run away, and spare himself the scene, then come back and finish the job, or two, step in. Now.

  Daehyun had always prided himself on not running away, ever. No matter how dangerous the situation was. That was what made him such a valuable agent. He never left the job unfinished.

  Daehyun made up his mind.

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  "Freeze." Daehyun's voice was hard.

  The man found his arm bent at a strange angle, and groaned at the pain. He struggled, although he knew it was hopeless. He was caught.

  Youngjae lay still on the ground, and wondered if the new voice belonged to the man's accomplice, or if the new person meant well for Youngjae.

  To Youngjae, the voice had sounded low, slightly husky, with cold undertones. It had sounded in control, and smug, as if the new person had won something. Youngjae felt (as he marveled at his own weirdness) that the person's voice had sounded y...

  No, screw that, all Youngjae had to do was look for a way to get away from the man. The man's hands had stilled, had retracted from his body, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

  Youngjae looked up.