Luhan turns his car off and sits back in his seat. It’s thirty minutes before the District-wide curfew takes effect and all he can hear is the steady drumming of rain and Minseok’s soft breathing. A hand touches his shoulder drawing him from his thoughts, and he turns to face the car’s only passenger.

“Are you okay,” Minseok asks him.

Luhan nods his answer and takes the hand on his shoulder off to hold. “Yes,” he says aloud with a smile to ease the worried lines of Minseok’s face. “I was just thinking.”

His smile doesn’t seem to comfort Minseok like he hopes, but he does manage to pull a small grin out of the other.

“I’m not worried about this part,” Minseok admits. “I’ve done this before, and I trust the guy you found. You said he was a former CNS Tech right? I think he’d know best how to not get caught.”

“You’re right,” Luhan says in agreement. He looks around the near-empty lot through the car window. On the border of District Eight and the Red Light, hidden by the fog of heavy rainfall stands Mirage Motel. It’s a shabby little love motel masquerading as something more respectable, but the three other cars, two of which more expensive than most can afford, tells otherwise.

“Stay here,” Luhan tells Minseok, “I’ll go get the key.”

There is one person in Mirage Motel’s main office, a balding man that appears to be middle-aged and who stares down Luhan with obvious curiosity. He sits behind the office’s counter, watching a muted movie on the mini-monitor before him.

“I'd like a room for the night,” Luhan tells the man, fingers drumming against the counter as he looks around the office. There’s a camera in one corner discrete and facing the entrance. Luhan looks away from it and towards the dish of hard candy on the counter before him. “Particularly room 115 if available,” He adds on.

The man doesn’t show his surprise openly but Luhan picks it up just as it swiftly fades away to be replaced by a look of calculation. The man’s eyes are on Luhan again, roaming over his body in an attempt to find signs of wealth. Although Luhan had made sure to dress down, anyone would be able to tell what District he hailed from and a quick web search would tell a person just how much they could make selling his sordid secrets to tabloids.

Luhan grins as the man stands and begins approaching him. He reaches a hand into his jacket pocket and pulls out a wad of clipped cash, more than enough for a one-night stay in a low rate motel, and slides it over to the man.

The hotel owner takes the money and removes the clip, beginning to count it, eyes flitting from the money in hand to Luhan and back again.

“I can count on your discretion, can’t I,” Luhan asks. He’s emulating President Kim now, trying for cool and nonchalant but with the slightest hint of threat in his voice. It disgusts him, but it’s necessary.

“Of course,” the owner answers when he finishes counting. He reaches under the counter, and pulls out a gold key card, handing it over to Luhan.

“Great,” Luhan says, feeling his grin stretch into something much more wicked. “I’m sure a man with your history knows better than anyone how to keep a secret.”

****

Inside the motel room, Luhan doesn’t give himself a second to dry off. He wants to get things over with as quickly as possible and begins proofing the room as he was instructed. He asks Minseok to help by retrieving the bathroom’s towels. He then proceeds to move around the room unplugging unnecessary electronics and removing the batteries from others. He has been instructed to make sure the room isn’t bugged in any way, and he does as he’s told

He turns the television on next, raising the volume till nothing can be heard besides the loud voices of news broadcasters.

Minseok is standing beside the closed bathroom door with the things he’s gathered, waiting for Luhan to tell him what to do next. Luhan uses the towels and bedsheets to cover the television and the windows.

It looks ridiculous when they’re done, but Luhan would rather they gave into someone’s paranoia than be caught doing something illegal because they weren’t careful enough.

With Minseok seated on the unmade bed, Luhan walks over to the door connected to the room beside theirs. He opens it and knocks hard against the closed door belonging to room 113. There’s nothing at first and Luhan wonders if the man will be able to hear the knocks over the muffled yet still loud news broadcast.

His silent question is answered when the connecting door opens and the CNS tech emerges. The man’s hair is dyed an almost platinum blond and is freed from the cap he usually wore in the presence of Luhan. He’s dressed in all black and has a pair of thick silver glasses hanging off the bridge of his nose. He’s carrying a dark case with him, which he then places on the coffee table in front of the room’s small blanket covered sofa.

His eyes sweep the room with intense concentration, nodding as he sits himself down. “You’ve done well,” he states simply. Luhan doesn't hear him from where he’s standing, the television is too loud, but he can read his lips. The tech gets to work immediately, opening the case and beginning to take out tools. Once he’s done he looks up to Minseok, gesturing for him to come over.

He says something to Minseok when he sits, Luhan can’t see it, but he notices the way Minseok’s eyes are focused on the man’s lips. He then wipes a few things with one of the hand towels Luhan had instructed Minseok to leave on the table. “There should be a bucket underneath the bathroom’s sink, please retrieve that.”

Luhan does as he’s told and returns to the sight of the tech programming the chip, and Minseok leaning close to him to hear the words being drowned out by the television. “You’re a Next Gen orphan, the same day of birth, different year. They’re easiest to forge and have fewer regulations about how they leave the city. You went to University. Majored in business. You live in District Five. Your profession is the same.”

Once he’s finished programming the chip, he begins assembling the syringe. The chip is in a large capsule and bathed in pink liquid.

“Will it hurt,” Luhan finds himself asking, not expecting to be heard in the loud room.

“He should feel a couple of pinches at the most,” the tech says turning to face Luhan. “The liquid acts as a local anesthesia. It should numb the arm enough that I can inject the chip and navigate it towards the wrist. I will have to manually embed the chip into the cartilage to mimic how one would look if it was there for years.”

Luhan doesn’t like the sound of that but Minseok doesn’t complain, he simply grins a smile of reassurance towards Luhan and turns back to the man beside him. The syringe is large and squared, and although He’s had his blood drawn on various occasions Luhan has never once seen such a thing. The tech doesn’t waste time, he presses the tip against the inner part of Minseok’s upper arm and slowly pushes the plunger down releasing both the liquid and the chip. He keeps one hand on Minseok’s arm, his gloved thumb pressed over the injection site, and places down the used medical device.

He makes Minseok replace his hand and grabs a black circular gadget. If it makes any noise it’s drowned out by the television, but it seems to be programmed to the glasses the tech is wearing. Luhan watches him reach his hand up to press a hidden button the on the glasses. He drags the device down the inner surface of Minseok’s arm with a steady hand, pulling it away once he reaches Minseok’s wrist. He reaches for a third tool at this point, holding that against Minseok’s wrist as well.

Unlike the injection, the embedding produces a reaction out of Minseok, although it’s nothing more than a clench of his jaw and a tensing of his muscles. The tech returns to the implant site, at last cleaning the area of the dribble of blood and placing gauze over it.

When he’s done, Minseok lifts his wrist close to his face, inspecting the area and then turns it towards Luhan. It’s bare, not a bruise or scar in sight.

His turn is next.

He takes Minseok’s spot on the sofa, ignoring the looks of question and confusion Minseok continuously gives him as he tries to figure out what’s going on.

The tech turns towards him a small tube in his hand and a frown on his lips. “I can give you a surface anesthesia. You won’t fill the incision as much, but you will feel everything else.”

“I can handle it,” Luhan says in reply. The man doesn’t seem to believe him, but he still applies the tube’s contents onto Luhan’s upper arm. He then grabs the last device he’d used on Minseok.

Without anything to numb the full pain of the process the detachment of the chip feels like having his skin ripped off. It hurts, the pain lingering and pulsing, even after the chip’s been removed from its place embedded deep into the cartilage of Luhan wrist.

When the tech uses the pen-shaped circular device to move the chip, Luhan can feel it. It doesn’t hurt, but Luhan can feel the chip moving just under the surface of his skin, dragging its way upward even though it’s tiny in size.

“You’re going to bleed,” The tech tells him. “I don’t have anything to prevent that. You won’t bleed out, but there will be blood.” Minseok grips his shoulder hard, and Luhan looks up, finally meeting his eyes as he tries to give his own look of reassurance. It doesn’t help, but the hand moves, running along the width of his back as a sign of comfort.

The blade is small and thin. It doesn’t look as sharp as he expected it to and that eases his nerves. The drag of it doesn't hurt. It burns. The anesthesia dulls it only partially and that weak burn reminds him of liquor scratching a faint path down his throat.

The way the blood bubbles over, sliding down his arm causes him to remember one of the most painful things he’s ever experienced in his life. The intense pain from all those years ago resurfaces. The cut, two inches in size, goes ignored as he slips into the memory of the way the liquid had scorched a fiery path down his esophagus. He doesn’t react as the skin is pushed further apart nor as the forceps digs into the open cut, pushing pass blood and flesh to grab the chip.

He’s back to that day, back to pain, blood, and tears. He can taste it on his tongue. Can still feel it. The poison, smooth and warm like liquor.

Luhan comes back to himself with Minseok’s call of his name. Minseok’s head is rested against his own, and he’s using a hand towel to stop the blood flow of Luhan’s wound. “Are you okay,” is whispered to him. Luhan nods, swallowing. His eyes are on the tech, watching him jam the chip’s GPS signal.

“You were shaking.” Luhan doesn’t reply. He’s sure he could use one of the many excuses floating around his brain but he suddenly feels exhausted.

It seems to only take moments for the tech to do his job, and then he’s back to facing Luhan. Minseok removes the bloody towel and the tech uses the now cleaned forceps to place the chip back into Luhan’s open cut. He stitches it up afterwards. Luhan focuses on naming all the employees under him to distract from the feeling of his skin being pierced and sewn back together.

The reattachment feels like a punch, his wrist throbs at the pain even as the tech begins packing up. “I suggest you wait until the sutures dissolve,” he advises. “You may have a scar.”

He leaves and Minseok draws away from Luhan to turn the television off. Luhan slumps against the sofa, happy for the quiet, his eyes closing as he tries to relax.

“Why did you do that,” Minseok asks him. Luhan opens his eyes to see him seated where the tech once was, a box of tissues in his hand. “I thought you were staying.” He wipes at Luhan’s bottom lip, eyes on his task at hand rather than meeting Luhan’s. Luhan glances down at the tissue when he pulls it away, noticing the red spots dotting the once pure white.

“I’m going to be your ,” Luhan says. “I haven’t been able to find a new that I’m comfortable with, and I think it’s too dangerous to rely on just anyone.”

Minseok’s eyes still aren’t meeting his, he’s regarding the sutures on Luhan’s arm with a hard to read look. “You shouldn’t have done that.” His hand reaches out, but he stops himself and pulls it away at the last moment. “You’ll have a scar.”

Luhan should say something. He knows he should say something because Minseok looks guilty like he’s the one that just dragged a blade across Luhan’s skin, but he’s tired. He’s said all the words in his head a thousand times already and knows by now that they just won’t work.

“At least I’m not a model anymore.”

Hours later they lay together on the nearly bare bed, both too tired and emotional wound up to turn the room back to its natural state. Minseok sleeps in his arms, head resting in the crook of his neck, his slow breathing tickling. Luhan can’t sleep. In only a few days, they will leave the city. It will be dangerous, both sides a threat, and Luhan is still so confused by what he should do. There’s a chance that if he returns he may need to reveal Minseok’s identity to press. He may have to feed the public the same lies President Kim conceived in order to prove his devotion to the nation.

No matter how much he tried to rationalize it, using Minseok as a scapegoat could never be for the greater good if it meant risking his life even further. Luhan would have to find a different way.

****

In the morning, Luhan gathers the misplaced sheets and towels. With the blanket covering the window removed, sunlight slithers in through the cracks in the window blinds, reflecting light off the blue walls and bathing Minseok’s face in its glow. The Imperfect doesn’t wake, he groans and twists away from the sudden light but settles back into the bed.

Luhan cleans the bucket in the shower and tries to do the same for the bloody hand towels. It doesn’t work. The blood has stained them so deeply that no matter how hard he tries to remove it, brown stains remain. He gives up and tosses them into a pillowcase, along with the other things he intends to incinerate. The money he’d provided for the night would cover much more than a few small towels and a pillowcase.

The day is just as quiet as the night before, the only sound Luhan hears is the gravel crunching underneath his shoes. The rain has stopped although the sun remains hidden by the overcast. There's a woman near the entrance to the motel's furnace. Her hair is long and dyed an artificial light pink. She looks up when she hears Luhan getting closer, straightening up as she lazily sweeps her eyes over him.

 “I know you," she says, her accent is thick and foreign, distorting the words she speaks so much that it sounds almost like a different language to Luhan. “That model.”

“I’m no longer a model,” Luhan says in reply. The woman doesn’t seem dangerous. Her clothes are worn and too big for her small frame, and the roots of her natural chestnut brown hair are showing. She’s small in height as well, and her accent suggests that she’s most likely an Imperfect.

The lock to the door is broken, but Luhan still needs to shove his shoulder against the door to unjam it. The inside of the room is messy, boxes and debris take up space along the walls and floor. Luhan picks up the heaviest thing he can find and uses it as a doorstop. The woman follows him into the room.

“Oh, I know,” she says. “Saw you on the billboards, you know. Heard what you said too.” Despite the strange accent, and the childlike appearance her voice sounds mature. “It’s dangerous for you, you know.”

“Are you going to do something to me,” Luhan asks, as he tosses his things into the fire pit of the furnace, watching the flames eat it away.

“No,” the woman says, laughing. “I’m not a fighter. There are others. They want to use you as an example. An eye for an eye. The death of the elite’s future for the death of our own.”

“You’re a–”

“A protector,” She says interrupting him. “I protect. Not you, but those that need it. Women and children.” She turns, her pink hair falling around her as she makes to leave.

Luhan rushes after her grabbing her wrist and holding it close to his face. There are no devil horns, but there is a tattoo. Foreign lettering spelling out a word Luhan can’t understand. “It’s my mother’s name,” she tells him. She doesn't step away from Luhan when he lets go of her wrist, she moves closer. Her head is tilted an inch, her eyebrows are drawn together, and she stares hard.

“What,” he asks, finding her loos unsettling.

“There’s blood on your sleeve,” she says even though her eyes aren’t on his T-shirt. Her eyes stray pass him, sweeping over the furnace as her lips spread into a smile. “I’ve never met an elite before, are they all as interesting as you?”

Luhan doesn't answer and she brings her gaze back towards his eyes. The intense look of concentration breaks and her smile loses just a bit of the teasing edge it has. She doesn't say a word as she steps away from him and turns back towards the exit, leaving him behind.

Minseok is awake when Luhan returns to room 115. He's seated in the middle of the bed, bleary-eyed and confused. He looks up to Luhan when the former model walks deeper into the room. "Where were you," he sleepily asks.

Luhan takes a seat on the bed beside Minseok. “I had to toss out a few things. Are you okay?”

“I should be asking you that,” Minseok tells him. His eyes lingering on where the shirt covers the wound on Luhan’s arm.

“I’m fine,” Luhan says, pushing Minseok back against the bed. “Let’s rest a bit more before getting breakfast.” Minseok hums his agreement.

“Do you know what a protector is,” Luhan asks.

“A protector,” Minseok repeats. “I’ve heard that word used before. They’re supposed to be like the guardian angels to us Imperfects. Men and women that kind of patrol the districts and help those in need, I guess. Why?”

“Are they connected to the Red Devils?”

“Possibly,” Minseok repeats. “They, the Red Devils, work differently than what a lot of Perfects think. They’re integral to the Imperfect community. They aren’t good, obviously. But they help.”

⇒ I personally didn't think anything in this chapter was graphic enough to require a warning, but if you think otherwise tell me and I'll add one :).

It's the beginning of October, I'm almost halfway done with the last chapter, but it probably won't be posted until the end of October at the earliest (Beginning of November at the latest). I really want to make the ending perfect since the ending has repeatedly changed as the story continued and what I envisioned in the beginning would just not work now.

As always thanks for reading and all the support given <3