The requested gas arrived about half an hour later.  Taemin seemed to have resigned himself to doing whatever Xiumin asked him, muttering something about being dead either way.  Third mug of coffee in hand, Xiumin went for a wander around the house, scouting out the rooms for the best place to spring the ambush.  It turned out Taemin was a tidy person who enjoyed a minimalist setup in terms of furniture, and the only room anywhere near big enough with enough furniture and other objects to be viable was the living room.

“I have no idea how he’s going to get into the house,” Xiumin admitted, “but if he’s going to skin you alive, which is what he appears to reserve for people who’ve touched his weapons, he’s going to come at you with a knife rather than a gun, which means you actually have a chance to get away from him.”

“And what if you’re wrong?” Taemin demanded weakly, looking like he might be sick.

“Then I’m wrong, but there’ll probably still be enough time for me to gas him before he leaves again.”

Taemin flopped down on the couch and the TV.  “How are you even sure he’s going to be coming today?”

“I told him you were leaving the country either tonight or tomorrow morning.  It’s the logical time to come.”

“You’re devious.”  It sounded like a complaint.

Xiumin ignored him.  “Well, if you’re happy there, I’m going to find somewhere to hide.  Just yell with terror when he shows up.  The gas is ready to be used at a moment’s notice.”  He plucked a book on the evolution of weaponry down the centuries off a nearby shelf and retreated to the cupboard under the stairs with a torch to read by.

He was halfway down page eighty-seven, examining a large colour diagram comparing a couple of gun barrels, when the awaited yell of terror came.  Snapping the book shut, Xiumin slipped out of the cupboard and headed for the first of the gas canisters, pulling on a gas mask as he did so.

Three minutes later, the house was utterly, utterly silent.  Being sure to keep the mask on, Xiumin stole into the living room to find two unconscious bodies sprawled on the floor, one on each side of the sofa.  In disbelief that it had actually worked, he pulled Taemin out of the room by his feet and into the passage, and then went back in for Baekhyun.

He made quick work of tying the man up with a length of rope he’d left under the sofa earlier, and then hauled him out of the room and into the kitchen, where he set the assassin down in one of the chairs.  Pulling out his smartphone, he crouched so that their heads were level and held the phone up, ready to record.  Beside him, Baekhyun began to stir.  Xiumin whacked him as hard as he could over the head and the man went limp again.  Then he returned to the camera.

Carpeted floors, Semi had discovered, were hard and abrasive when lain on for long periods of time.  It was actually more comfortable for the arms and legs to go dead, and since Suho wouldn’t let her out of his sight, she decided to while away the time by sleeping.

It didn’t work particularly well.  Heo Youngsaeng had a knack of showing up every time she was about to drift off, untying the ropes and massaging life back into her legs because he was bored and felt that she shouldn’t be made unnecessarily uncomfortable even though they planned on killing her.

“What would you like for your last meal?” he asked her around dinnertime, thoughtfully taking the gag out.

“Your head on a plate,” she spat out.  There was a snort of laughter from Suho in the background.

“I can’t cook myself, unfortunately,” Youngsaeng told her.  “Conventional stuff only, please.”

She just turned her head away.

“Fine.  Go hungry.”

“Can I speak to my brother instead of a meal?”

“No.  Only last requests for food.”

Semi rolled over, pointedly turning her back to him and wincing as one of her arms took her bodyweight and was squished between her and the carpet.

“Fine,” exclaimed Youngsaeng, exasperated.  “Be stubborn, then.”

Typically, it was the lackey called Jonghyun who interrupted at that moment, sprinting in with a tablet.

“Boss, Boss, we have a problem!  There’s a message for you.”

The sound of an office chair trundling over the floor hummed in Semi’s left ear, which was pressed to the ground.  “Let’s see.”

There were a few clicks from the tablet, which had presumably changed hands, and then Jonghyun left the room in a hurry.

“Well, hi there,” said a new voice, quality slightly distorted by the speakers.  “I thought I might as well join in the hostage game, so I took the liberty of getting hold of your blood brother Baekhyun.”

Shock jolted through Semi and she looked up as best she could.  That was Xiumin’s voice.  She heard Suho cursing softly.

“Took me a while to work out,” Xiumin went on.  “The police were trying to figure out why he spent so long in your old HQ before getting to Semi, and what happened between him knocking her out and delivering her to the hospital, and why he was the one to deliver her and Sehun, and I figured the only logical response was if he was welcome there, particularly if you and Jungmin had a hit list commissioned for him.  But I won’t bore you with the details of exactly how I worked out you had a third blood brother and it was Byun Baekhyun.  The point is that you’re threatening the life of my blood brother through Oh Semi, so I’m proposing a swap.  No later than half eleven—”

The rest of the sentence was lost by Jungmin bursting in through the door.

“Jonghyun said you had an important message – what’s going on?”

From around the corner of the sofa, Semi saw Suho beckoning Jungmin over.  Youngsaeng was already peering over his boss’s shoulder.

“If you don’t,” continued Xiumin, now audible again, “I’ll either kill him or I’ll just leave him here for the police to pick up.  The official mandate for Byun Baekhyun says dead or alive, so I don’t think they’ll be particularly bothered either way.  He was caught here breaking and entering with intent to kill, though, which isn’t a light prison sentence, and there are people in America who can testify to him trying to kill Semi.  That said, she’s ruined his perfect kill record, so in the interests of my safety through Semi’s, it’s probably best if I just kill him, don’t you think?”

There was a pause.  From Semi’s vantage point, it looked like Suho’s face had gone puce.

“Your other blood brothers wouldn’t like that, though, especially not when I go blasting it through the underground who your blood brothers are.  If you’re not going to honour the Code for one of them, will they be able to trust you to honour the code for them?  Imagine what the loss of trust in you would be like in general.  Anyway, the police officer’s waking up now.  Remember: eleven thirty.  Bye!”

There was silence for several moments.

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