Chapter Three: 이건 비겁한 전쟁

(It’s A Cowardly War)

“I’m sorry, but you won’t find any EXO members here.” The man at the desk said as he rearranged some papers, his eyes staring warily at the six men sitting around the coffee table in his office. The plaque on his table pronounced him as the manager of EXO, but there was no name, nothing to identify him by. No photos on his table, no paintings on the wall—only a small water fountain in some corner that Himchan suspected was placed in accordance to Feng Shui laws. The walls were painted a sterilised white, and there were fluorescent lights overhead. Yongguk was sitting across from the manager, a plain man with an ageless look about him, the sort where Himchan would think thirty, but immediately say fifty, no forty. From the tension in Yongguk’s shoulders, Himchan knew already that Yongguk was trying to discern the best way to coax the answer out of the manager and finding that it would be an impossible feat to achieve. Indeed, there was a stubbornness to the hard line of the manager’s lips, and a determinedness in his squared shoulders. Himchan knew it was useless to press.

“Ever since Telekinetic was apprehended, all activities by EXO have been suspended until further notice from the government.”

Himchan stood up and tapped Yongguk’s shoulder twice. Even though Yongguk’s attention was now on him, he continued to scrutinise the manager who had now crossed his arms in front of him and turned his face so that he looked at Himchan slightly out the top right side of his eyes. His pupils were contracted until they were just a black dot in the brown irises, as if by making itself smaller, it could hold back all the secrets of the universe from him.

“Thank you,” he said, flashing the manager a bright smile, out of place amongst the tension in the room. To his dismay, the manager didn’t seem fazed at the sudden flash of teeth. Someone either trained him more than Himchan had expected—after all managers don’t go into the field—or someone in EXO did unexpected things a lot.

Outside the office, Junhong childishly kicked the ground.

“Himchan?” Yongguk turned to him. At least, Himchan thought, in the deep recesses of his mind, that Yongguk still valued his opinion.

“Lying. The manager was very defensive in his posture even if his tone was apologetic,” Himchan said crisply as the six trooped down the corridor towards the central staircase. With a hand idly trailing on the rails that prevented anyone from falling from the second floor, Himchan continued on. “I think they were quite recently here, but not too recent that the manager would be panicky.”

“So they’re close?”

Himchan looked at Yongguk. He knew that the leader had muttered the last question more under his breath than anything else, but there was a drawn and tight look about his face, more than just what this case could bring on. They were just scrutinising the ice berg from the top, not yet dived under the icy surface of the ocean. No, that look was from a secret that only Yongguk bore and Himchan knew the other well enough to read it. And Yongguk was right, Himchan thought savagely to himself, to feel guilt and strain over Jieun. But immediately, he clamped down on these feelings and shoved a hand into his pocket.

“Here. We’re looking for Storm and Dragon.” He produced two photographs from his pocket and handed them around. “Storm is head of EXO-K, while Dragon is head of EXO-M, the unit Luhan is under. We can start by questioning them.”

They continued to head down the walkway, passing the photos between them. He kept half an eye out for Yongguk, and the other half he used to pick up the security layout, any hidden cameras and the like. There were obvious cameras scattered about to deter any criminals, but he knew that any of the blind spots presented by these would be filmed by other cameras hidden in the ceiling or the wall. He picked out a few of them, dark smudges that blended into the surroundings and the wall, in black cracks and once right beside the light where any attention would be directed towards the brightness. But there was Yongguk, his mind seem to have wandered a little, his eyes were only a little glazed, but enough for Himchan to read. And attack, if he were an enemy. However, before he could shake Yongguk out of his reverie, Junhong roughly elbowed the leader.

“Isn’t that them?” the maknae hissed, his eyes rolling somewhere beyond the rails. “Near the restrooms.”

Himchan immediately reached around Yongguk and pulled on Junhong’s hand, giving Yongguk an inconspicuous reason to fall behind and look over the railings. Himchan rested his head on Junhong’s shoulder, causing the taller to lean away from him, but also giving him the perfect view over the railings. He made some meaningless noises, rubbing his cheek against Junhong’s shoulder in a watery imitation of aegyo, while the younger pulled a disgusted face, attempting to shrug Himchan off, but both had their eyes fixed on the floor below.

Ahead of them, Youngjae merely fiddled about with his iPad while Daehyun and Jongup seemed to be in a small conversation.

On the ground floor, nestled in the farthest corner stood the restrooms and just outside it, two men conversed. Judging from the way they had their heads unconsciously tilted towards each other, Himchan deduced that it was a matter that they didn’t wish others overhear. One of the men was tall, his height marked him out clearly as Dragon, while the other was jerking his arms about in, what Himchan guessed, was an agitated manner. Abruptly, Storm stopped his movements and Dragon nodded, then both separated striding off in opposite directions.

Immediately Himchan felt a hand on his shoulder and a force pulling him and Junhong apart. Himchan merely nodded at Yongguk’s questioning glance, and the leader called for the other three. His arm was slung around Junhong’s shoulders, Himchan noted a little sullenly, and the grip the leader had wasn’t at all a casual grip of the shoulders. It was tighter, stronger—protective, Himchan could almost say.

“Okay, since they separated, we’ll have to split,” Yongguk addressed the group, his arm still around Junhong’s shoulders, the grip still there, the chords of the knuckles standing out in restraint. “Himchan I trust you to lead Jongup-ah and one other to track down Dragon. I’ll handle Storm with Junhongie-ah.”

There was no way, none at all, that Himchan could refuse orders from Yongguk. It would mean less chance Himchan had to confront Yongguk about Jieun, but perhaps, it was better for Himchan to pull his nosy beak away from matters that didn’t concern him. It wasn’t something he liked—he was a nosy person by nature—but Yongguk had always worked better alone, so Himchan turned to Jongup, and, almost in spite, slung his own arm around the teen. “Who do you want to work with?”

The teen looked up at him and smiled a dazzling smile. “I’d like to get to know Youngjae-hyung better.”

At that, the mentioned smiled sweetly, his eyes curving into beautiful crescents that radiated pure happiness. For a moment, Himchan wondered if he had lost his title of ulzzang to either Youngjae or Daehyun, but the small chuckle and a melodious “Thank you, Jonguppie-ah” made him change his mind. He’ll shelter this ray of sunshine for as long as he could in the profession they worked. Youngjae was something precious.

With a glance at Yongguk’s blank face, Himchan settled the arrangement, walking away, arm still wrapped around Jongup and the other holding the hand of Youngjae, from the leader. He’d have to shut down any unnecessary emotions, at least until they closed this case. It will be fine, it will be okay. There will be plenty of time, Himchan reasoned with himself, after this case to confront Yongguk. But it wasn’t okay. By no means was it okay. Here Himchan was, with two of the brightest people on earth, both of them giving him sincere smiles that Himchan found reassuring, Youngjae pointing ahead to a set of fire escape stairs, yet he still felt as if the world was cast in darkness. As if Yongguk had risen up and blocked the sun from shining—no, maybe it was Jieun—and he could feel the shadows seeping through his clothes, through his skin, settling into his bones, leaving him chilled despite the warmth of the sun as they appeared on the outside of the building, Jongup quickly identifying a tall man wrapped in a black coat walking briskly through the street towards the subway station.

As they hurried down the street, they struck up a meaningless conversation about a fictional school. Youngjae complained, Himchan admonished while Jongup merely laughed and made some offhand comments on certain made-up teachers. To outsiders it looked like they were merely a group of friends hanging out. To Himchan, he was always paranoid that someone could see past their façade, that Dragon would turn around and point a finger at him. But they walked down the stairs to the subway without incident and not once did Dragon look behind. Himchan nimbly slipped his money to the ticket salesman behind the counter who gave a yawn as he rung up three tickets that covered the largest number of stations and shooed them away. After a slight confusion since Dragon had seemingly pre-brought his tickets and had disappeared from their sights, they made their way onto the platform.

Only a handful of people were present, and there were scattered up and down the length of the platform. Even tens of metres away they had a clear view of Dragon, who plucked an abandoned newspaper from the bench before sitting down and opening it up, stretching his legs out and crossing them at the ankle. The conversation between the three trailers dwindled and eventually died, until Himchan was left aimlessly staring at the advertisement on the walls of the tunnel. He wouldn’t call the silence between them comfortable. For Jongup maybe, he sat there humming with an earbud in one ear and feet beating out a rhythm, presumably Chris Brown, but Youngjae’s eyes kept flitting towards Dragon then at Himchan and only settling on the floor for a second before repeating the cycle. Before Himchan could reassure the younger, the other had already opened his mouth.

“You wanted to go with Yongguk-ssi, didn’t you?”

Himchan stared at Youngjae, at the teenager sitting next to him wearing a size too large sweater worn thin and skinny jeans with Beats headphone decorating his slender neck, hugging his iPad to his chest. His brown eyes were turned up towards him in curiosity, like a child inspecting with innocent wonder the new toy before them.

Himchan sighed, slumping onto the backrest of the bench. “I wanted to ask him some questions, but I can catch up to him later.”

“You lazy people should wake up earlier then,” Youngjae said cheekily as the high-pitched squeal of metal on metal thundered through the small enclosed area, indicating that the train had arrived. They stared at the indicator board until Jongup tugged on Himchan’s hand, signifying that Dragon had boarded the train. They made their way through the mostly empty carriages until they stopped one carriage away from Dragon, where they could observe his movements through the clear plastic of the door.

Their target studied the newspaper that he had with him intently, seemingly reading every word printed upon its surface, sometimes even doubling back to previous articles as if contemplating them. At one point, he even took out a pen and attempted some of the puzzles. Himchan made sure to check on Dragon every time the subway stopped, but other than that, he focused on taunting Youngjae whenever he lost in Fruit Ninja and other such games until the younger got fed up and shoved the iPad at him, petulantly saying “like you can do better” and then giggling when Himchan hit the first bomb that came on the screen.

It was about an hour and a half, maybe less, when the PA system cackled overhead, announcing the next station, Soyosan, as the terminating stop and could all passengers please alight from the train. Dragon stood up and so did Himchan and his little team, moving to the exit. They stepped out of the metro station into a small street, the opposite of the clean wide streets lined with skyscrapers of central Seoul. Here, the houses were squat and robust, some had corrugated iron roofs while others merely had a plastic covering or just more concrete. The houses were uniformly grey, sometimes with black streaks running down the sides, the source of which was unidentifiable. They were packed so close together that Himchan thought some alleys probably never received any sunlight except during midday. Rubbish and bits and pieces of litter and debris were scattered across the footpath which seemed to melt into the road rather than have any clear definition as to where they ended. There were patches of sticky substances too and no one bothered to clean up after their pets. Around them the mountains rose up, majestic yet forbidding.

As they walked through the less-than-hygienic streets with Himchan sometimes wrinkling his nose, sometimes outright making strangled disgusted noises at the back of his throat, they checked their weapons over. Just in case. Himchan didn’t believe anything could happen three-on-one, no, Dragon wasn’t an idiot, but just in case, he had a small knife, no longer than a pen, strapped to his waist and a pistol, no larger than his hand on the opposite side. Youngjae had a working protocol of a gun and some needles around his wrist, while Jongup only carried a dagger and a small penknife, but his body was more than enough of a weapon. Ahead, Dragon’s coat swished with each purposeful step he took.

“Isn’t the U.S Army base somewhere around here?” Youngjae whispered.

The streets were devoid of people. They ducked into a parallel alleyway, rushing ahead to keep Dragon within their sights. They kept moving, their sneakers barely making a sound except for the low thud thudding that was unavoidable unless they walked in socks. Suddenly, Jongup broke away. He dashed to a pile of overturned crates, and, using it like a platform, hauled himself onto the roof of the veranda that was attached to a seemingly abandoned shop whose windows were boarded up from the inside. From there, the youngest lithely and silently clambered onto the roof. Youngjae met Himchan’s eyes, as if pleading to stay on the ground, but when Himchan gestured for him to follow, he exhaled a resigned sigh and climbed the crates and onto the roof with a helping push from Himchan.

On top of the roof, they easily caught up to where Dragon was walking, careful to keep their shadows from falling across him. They could easily jump between buildings due to the closeness, but Himchan quickly realised that the buildings they were treading on steadily grew longer, and he briefly wondered if they were in a warehouse district.  He wondered where Dragon was heading, what he could possibly be doing in Soyosan, whether this is where EXO-M lived. Did EXO-M and EXO-K live together? Clearly not if Storm and Dragon separated. Or perhaps Dragon wasn’t heading home at all, maybe Storm was and Yongguk has already figured their base. But at the word Yongguk, Himchan’s brain automatically shut itself down.

It was only for a mere millisecond that Himchan had disconnected his thoughts, but that mere millisecond was essential. Dragon’s phone was in his hand, he was looking intently at it. His wrist twisted at some odd angle. A bright light danced across Himchan’s eyes. It passed over, leaving him momentarily dazzled. When the blue lights behind his eyelids faded, Youngjae was crouching beside him, looking up in horror. And then it clicked. That odd angle, and the bright light of a reflective surface, it couldn’t be, he wished it to the high heavens that it didn’t mean anything and Youngjae had ducked for no reason at all. Coincidence or luck, hopefully, that Dragon was merely having trouble reading the display screen than scouting behind his back, but Himchan had already teased out his pistol, the cold weight reassuring in his palm. He impatiently gestured to the other two to keep moving.

As they slithered across the roof, now working on hands, knees and bellies, they watched with narrowed eyes as Dragon brought the phone to his lips and blew across the screen, vigorously wiping it with the ends of a sleeve. Himchan heard the slight whistle of a relieved breath from Youngjae and the muscles of Jongup relax, but something inside of Himchan tensed and grew alert. The movements was too precise, the wiping with the sleeve too vigorous, the way Dragon hunched slightly over his phone when all other times he’d been walking straight-backed, it seemed that everything was calculated, premeditated from the beginning. A buzzing rang loudly in his ears, bells clanged behind his eyes and his grip on the pistol tightened until he could feel the blood pulsing in his veins.

Then Dragon’s thumb was working across the screen, and Himchan got to his knees, the others following his movements in puzzled silence. He rearranged his legs until he was crouching, a curled ball ready to spring at a moment’s notice. Lifting the phone to his ear, he tilted his head to the side, as if waiting, his other hand slipping into a pocket on the other side of his body so that Himchan couldn’t really see anything. Dragon had stopped moving so Himchan stopped his advance too, ears alert.

“喂？艺兴？” Dragon paused. Himchan exchanged confused looks with Jongup. He glanced at Youngjae who seemed to be muttering incomprehensibly to himself. “啊，没什么。就是有三个傻瓜在追逐我。”

Himchan’s legs tensed. He didn’t understand Chinese, only bits and pieces— numbers, how to recognize names, money, price, crimes…

“他们什么也不知道：中文、自己粗心，还有这个电话不是真的。你能来帮助—”

And help me.

He launched himself off the building, the sharp “Wait, Himchan-ssi” from Youngjae went ignored, but the arm that the younger had flung out in order to stop him caught his side, making him land awkwardly on his feet, a burning sensation flaring up all the way from the balls of his foot up to his knee. He winced, hopped onto the other foot and brought up his arm to aim his pistol. His eyes widened though, before he could even his gun, it was slapped out of his hand, and fell clattering to the side. Dragon was facing him, a snarl upon his lips, a slim silver piece of metal held up so that the tip kissed Himchan’s forehead. When had he turned, Himchan wondered to himself, slightly shrinking from the towering man in front of him.

“Don’t move, Machine.” Dragon’s gun was already cocked and ready to fire, Himchan noticed. He followed the hand and the length of the arm, trailing up to Dragon’s face. There wasn’t a blemish on that face, all planes and angles except for a smooth chin. His lips were set in a hard line and he was burning holes of hatred, of loathing, into Himchan.

A thud announced that Youngjae had leapt ungracefully from the roof and was now scrambling to straighten himself. Himchan kept his eyes on Dragon.

“Hyung, he said the phone call wasn’t real,” Youngjae muttered as the rustling of cloth and sharp ring of gun on metal sounded in the empty alley.

“That display of multilingualism was to draw you out.”Dragon’s eyes averted from Himchan, but he could still feel the pure loathing choking him, filling up his lungs with its poison. “Now that everyone’s here, lay down your arms.”

Himchan growled, a deep gurgling from the back of his throat, completely animalistic. His only response, however, was Dragon pressing the end of the gun barrel harder into his forehead. He could feel the cold sting of the metal gradually receding as his own body heat warmed it.

A clatter to the side drew Himchan’s attention away. Youngjae stood a little behind Jongup, his face bleached of all colour, his eyes wider than Himchan’s ever seen. It was Youngjae’s gun falling to the concrete that had made the clattering sound, but with a dose of relief, Himchan realised that Youngjae hadn’t lost his needles. With an emotionless face, Jongup, too, dropped only his dagger.

“So lightly armed?” Dragon raised an eyebrow, his eyes reverted back onto Himchan.

“We didn’t think you’d be armed.”

“You would attack an unarmed man?”

Himchan could only shrug. No answer could he give would satisfy Dragon anyway.

At Himchan’s response, Dragon smirked, the edge of his mouth pulling up to make his face malicious.

“You’re just the same as the rest of them.”

A/N: Here are some translations to the Chinese... Haha, I have very childlike Chinese, so it fits with Kris' less-than-fluent Manderin kekeke.

喂？艺兴？: Hello, Yixing?
啊，没什么。就是有三个傻瓜在追逐我。:  Ah, it's nothing. Just that there're three idiots following me.
他们什么也不知道：中文、自己粗心，还有这个电话不是真的。你能来帮助—: They don't know anything: Chinese, the fact they're careless, and that this phone call isn't even real. Can you help me--

Oh and I also have cutscenes since I rewrote this three times, but uhh, that's for later, yeah (; Love you guys~<33