The point that patrols are much safer when done in pairs is a very, very poignant one, and no disrespect is intended upon the person who developed the idea. It’s a lot more convenient, see, when one of them has had a little too much to drink over dinner and needs to visit the bathroom without compromising the security of the area, or in case one of them is taken out by, say, some crazy talented secret agent in their attempts to infiltrate the area, that the other might be able to alert the rest in time. Be that as it may, one must come to the point of realization, with all due respect, that all one needs to do to infiltrate said area is to just get two crazy talented secret agents instead of one, then.

For aesthetic congruency, of course.

This point proves itself very nicely in a top-secret, highly secured research facility somewhere off the coast of Yokohama, Japan, a compact little mixture of glassy office skyscrapers and shallow concrete buildings, where double patrols are very seriously being carried out.

Or, they were, anyway. But tense is such an irrelevant formality here.

In the early hours of the morning, one of the two guards in the vehicle service area yawns. It’s 6.30am, definitely not prime time for sabotage of any sort. That kind of stuff usually happens at night. It’s early and he’s grumpy and convinced that his partner’s sloppiness during their last patrol was the reason for their third graveyard shift this fortnight, which is the reason why both of them insistently fail to notice the glint of two bright pairs of eyes, blinking in the shadows between the mountainous trucks and off-road vehicles.

Two pistols fitted with hypodermic darts and silencers are raised with the coordination that would make a team of synchronized swimmers weep in envy- two soft, sharp whoosh sounds are emitted, two nimble bodies dart outwards to catch the unconscious men before they hit the ground.

Then one guy snarks about the other’s unstable turning back at the vehicles, and gets calmly smacked upside the head by the latter in return.

Jackson rubs his chin ruefully as Mark ignores him, the other instead running his dexterous fingers through the pockets of the fifth patrol they’ve taken down this morning, searching for the keycard they’d been looking for.

“Finally,” Mark mutters, barely looking up as he tosses the card in Jackson’s direction, choosing instead to use the split second earned to relieve the guards of their guns and ammo, plucking the darts out from their necks as he does so. Jackson scowls as he catches it easily, muttering to himself about stupid partners and I would so be better off solo as he mooches over to the service entrance.

It’s an empty complaint, though- Mark would grumble about how he’s always stuck trying to keep Jackson out of trouble when they’re out on an assignment, Jackson would declare every so often that he’d be better off without Mark holding him back, but they’re the best duo the Academy’s seen in decades, and everyone knows it, including them.

“Hey, I think we’re going in,” Jackson says, seemingly to no one in particular, loading another round of darts into his gun. “Worship us.”

“Jackson, can you focus?” both men wince as Jaebum snaps over the radio. “How long do you think it’ll take before we can get the upper security cameras on loop?”

“Ten minutes, if Youngjae’s intel was right,” Mark gives the bodies a final kick, rolling them out of sight under the cars. “We just need to get the scrambler around the security cam wires, right?”

“Yeah. I’m feeding the lower levels a loop now, but you guys have three minutes to get to the elevator shaft to get up there before I have to renew it,” Yugyeom’s voice comes in next, and both men take a second longer than they usually would to adjust to the change. “Think you guys can make it, or do you want to wait it out till the next loop?”

“Three minutes?” Jackson’s grinning, more to lift the spirits of everyone rather than show off, for once, as he flicks the safety off with an unnecessarily loud click, and Mark rolls his eyes. “That’s more than enough.”

“You’re going to get us both killed one day,” Mark mutters, sidling reluctantly over to the door, gun at the ready, waiting for Jackson to swipe the keycard. “Do you even know where the elevator shaft is?”

“Eh, we’ll find it,” Jackson waves his gun unconcernedly, readying the keycard with his other hand. “Eventually.”

Mark concludes that Jackson runs the keycard then so he won’t have the time to deliver his comeback as they’re both forced into a tense, oppressive silence, and is reduced to shooting him a death glare as they set foot into the building proper.

Over the radio, Jinyoung comments languidly.

“Jackson’s got a higher probability of being killed by Mark than any patrol out there, if I’m to be honest.”

“He can’t,” Jackson mutters, as they round a corner, thankfully unnoticed. “He won’t be able to live a day with me gone.”

Mark grits his teeth, and makes a mental note to step on Jackson’s fingers when they’re climbing the shafts later.

*

“This place is fancy,” Bambam comments for the fifth time, and Jaebum glares over from his stiff-backed perch by the windows. “What?”

“Bambam, let’s keep the irrelevant traffic out of our radio for this one, alright?”

“Alright, fine,” Bambam mutters, twisting the near invisible, whisper-sensitive button mic clipped to his collar, and Jinyoung glances over in concern, lips pressed into a thin line.

“Come on, guys, let’s pull through this one, okay?” he half mutters into his mic, and an ounce of the tension in Jaebum’s shoulders seems to leak out as he inhales, the sound pained and drawn, even where they’re standing now.

Yugyeom, thankfully, has the sense to change tact, dragging them all back to the most important thing at hand.

“Did you get the scrambler on the wire?”

He hasn’t managed to hack into the security system from the outside- only Youngjae would’ve been able to do something like that. It’s the reason they’re forced to send Mark and Jackson in blind like this to hotwire it manually, to give him access to the tightened surveillance system on the upper floors where their prize lies, and even then he won’t be able to turn the security against the guards- just put the cameras on loop in stifling five-minute intervals so they won’t get caught.

“Almost there,” Mark’s voice comes in clear, slightly out of breath. One would expect as much (probably more) from someone who’d just scaled almost twenty vertical stories in an elevator shaft. “We just need to expose the camera wires and wrap the scrambler around it, right?”

“Yeah,” Yugyeom keeps it at that, not bothering with any relevant explanations or complaints about the (honestly already rather swell) equipment they get from HQ, and the six of them lapse into a stretched, tense silence.

The pause after his terse reply feels awfully empty, now, without the paragraphs of technospeak and muttered grumbles about how no one appreciates his genius that they would’ve heard, had they not-…

“Hey,” Jinyoung murmurs, running a hand down Jaebum’s shoulder blade, eliciting a tight shift in his muscles of acknowledgement. “Stop worrying so much. We’re going to get him back, alright?”

Jaebum leans ever so slightly into the touch, an infinitesimal sigh leaving his lips. “How do you know that?”

“We lost you once,” though Jinyoung smiles, he still shivers inwardly at the thought. “If we can get you back, we can get him, no problem.”

“That was different, I helped with half of that,” Jaebum scoffs lightly. “You know how Jae is. Guards aren’t a problem, but put him up against a trained professional-…”

“They know how useful he is,” Jinyoung says firmly. “They aren’t just going to kill him off and lose what could be the biggest investment of their career. They’re going to keep him alive, hyung.”

“Alive how?” Bambam mutters from aside, and Yugyeom extends an abnormally long leg to kick him sternly in the thigh. That seems to snap Jaebum out of it, though, and he straightens, sliding off his seat as Jackson’s voice comes over the radio again.

“We’re good. Yugyeom, you looping this level?”

“Got it. Looping will take about a minute,” Yugyeom says absently. “How’s the zipline, Jaebum-hyung?”

“On it once Mark and Jackson clear us a route,” Jaebum’s squinting into the reflective panels of the neighbouring building, shifting the cables in his hands once Mark appears at the window, tread cautious. It’s a tense minute or so as the other man begins to cut out the glass panel for that window, hands steady, ashen face illuminated by the sparks of the cutter in his hand.

They’re all tense, anticipating the looming face of a guard, and when someone does appear in the glass Jinyoung actually takes out his gun on instinct, and Jaebum raises a hand immediately, ordering him to hold his fire.

(This isn’t to say, however, that any of them doubt his ability to deliver a fatal shot through a panel of reinforced glass and a stretch of capriciously windy abyss.)

There’s a tiny, albeit collective, sigh of relief, when it’s Jackson who appears at the window, peering over, before he disappears again, probably to keep lookout.

They’ve already removed the glass panel for their level, secured their cable in the concrete above their window, and as Mark stands to remove the panel Jaebum raises the gun, aiming straight for the window.

There’s barely a second’s reprieve after Mark removes the glass that Jaebum fires, and the other end of the cable shoots across the space, shifting slightly in the wind by an angle the leader had already calibrated perfectly, so the hook lands almost directly in Jackson’s open hands.

“We’re on,” Jaebum says, once Jackson’s secured the other end, giving a thumbs up, and Jinyoung’s already on it, taking a running leap, hooking his rifle over the top of the cable, before cruising the rest of the way over almost silently, almost a hundred stories above ground level. “Yugyeom, you’re staying here to provide visual support and renew the loops, but be ready to get over there if we blow our cover and need the manpower. Bambam, you’re staying with me once we’re in that building.”

“Yes, sir,” Bambam mock salutes, before following Jinyoung across the cable, his light frame sliding over effortlessly, and Jaebum watches him go for a moment, chewing his lower lip unconsciously as he stares down the wide, gaping space between them.

“Hyung,” Yugyeom says quickly, then, as Jaebum takes a step towards the open window. “Don’t worry, alright? We’ve got this one.”

Jaebum chuckles, insides burning with a little shame at having let the rest of them see him so anxious, before he forces a smile.

“That’s the spirit, Gyeom. Thanks.”

*

“We’re going over the plan one last time.”

They’re moving fast, the layout of this building committed to memory on the evac ride out of their last assignment, and they know they’ve got about thirty seconds before they need to split ways.

“We’re looking for a package. We don’t know what it looks like, don’t know how big it is- all we have is the imprint of its radioactive signature. There are two vaults in the building, in the East and West Wings, and it should be in one of them. Mark and Jackson, you guys are heading over to the first vault at the East Wing,” Jaebum says, and on cue, almost, the two of them branch off. “Bambam and Jinyoung are going with me to the vault at the West Wing. Report if anything happens.”

“Loops are functioning as per normal,” Yugyeom informs. “I locked the areas where security and surveillance concentration are particularly high on your maps.”

“Noted,” Jaebum brings the live images up on the map in his tracker, hoping Mark and Jackson are doing the same. He’s surprised at how much Yugyeom’s been able to do in Youngjae’s absence- true, they were all trained in every aspect of the job, but hacking and tech had been purely Youngjae’s forte. There’s no doubt that the three youngest of the team are probably the brightest, but it’s obvious that Yugyeom must’ve been doing some independent research and practice on his own to get to this level. He makes a mental note to lobby for a pay raise once they get back.

“Nearing the East Wing,” Mark’s voice comes on as Jaebum rounds a tight corner. “It’s closer than we thought, with the alignment change between the buildings. Do we proceed?”

“Go ahead, keep us updated,” Jaebum orders, before checking the soft blue display of the map on his tracker. “We’ll only reach our vault in a few minutes. Tell us if you manage to identify the package there, and we’ll detour to get to rendezvous.”

“This is a waste of time,” Bambam grumbles. “If we’d just known which vault the package was in-…”

“Yeah, well, we don’t,” Jaebum bites back, stomach twisting with unease at the thoughts that spring up next.

We don’t even know what this package looks like. What if it isn’t in either of the vaults?

“Bambam,” Jinyoung says warningly, and the boy mumbles a what, sorry.

This cues a minute or so more of silence, nothing but heavy, quiet breaths and hushed footsteps, it takes the West team a while to notice the unnatural quiet on the other side.

“Mark, what’s your progress?” Jinyoung’s the one to address it first, frowning, though he doesn’t stop running. “Report.”

Jaebum sends a glance back at Jinyoung as they’re met with radio silence.

“Jackson, report,” Jaebum says it this time, a little more firmly. “What’s your status?”

“!”

Something that sounds like a roar is deafening the mic, balanced out by the audio stabilisers, but still almost making their hearts stop.

“Hyung, what was that?” Bambam asks, and Jinyoung urges him to keep running.

“, they were ing waiting for us, hyung!” Jackson’s not bothering to keep his voice down anymore, which can only mean one thing- their cover’s been blown. “Hyung, it’s this vault! They came for this vault!”

Jinyoung makes an abrupt turn, followed quickly by Bambam, but Jaebum slows to a stop, brow furrowed.

“No, no wait, don’t go back yet,” his breathing is barely laboured, but he’s thinking hard, shaking his head. “We need a proper plan. Yugyeom, what the hell happened?”

“Sorry, hyung,” Yugyeom sounds frustrated. “I have no idea how they knew, one of my loops must’ve been sloppy.”

Jaebum takes a deep breath, Jinyoung winces. “Okay. We can make do with this. Yugyeom, keep up with the visual support, tell us what’s ahead of us.”

“Then we have to go, don’t we?” Bambam’s already moving, eyes wide and worried. “They’re under fire over there! That means that’s the vault we’re after, right?”

“No, no I don’t think so,” Jaebum’s frowning, gesturing quickly for them to follow. “They were smart enough not to give it away by sending guards to us when we triggered the alarm. They’re smart enough to try to draw us away from the vault we need by defending the other one. I think the West vault is the one we’re after.”

“Can you guys manage?” Jinyoung’s speaking into his mic, and Bambam flinches as they pick up the pace at the sound of another slow roar. “And what the hell is that?”

“They’ve got a ing flamethrower, Jinyoung, that’s what the hell that is!” Jackson’s yelling, almost, sounding nearly disappointed.

Then-… “Why the hell don’t we have a flamethrower?”

“Because you’d either kill yourself or one of us with it, and either way, it’s a lot of paperwork for me,” Jaebum replies curtly, as they round their last corner. “Take care of them and meet us at the evac point. Make it snappy.”

“Yes sir,” Jackson grumbles. “Over and out.”

*

“They’re selfish s!” Jackson yells, and Mark winces, putting a hand to his earpiece as he simultaneously shoots a guard down with the gun in his other.

“Yes, we've established that,” Mark mutters, ducking back behind his cover to reload. “Since when wasn’t Jaebum completely absorbed in the mission, Jackson?”

There’s a pause as Jackson fires three shots in a row, hitting a guard with every shot, before stooping to reload as well. “Since the higher ups made him leader and shoved like, three sticks up his in the process?”

Mark winces at the imagery. “Uh, you could say that.”

“,” Jackson swears loudly as a bullet ricochets off where his head had been a split second before. “Piece of -…”

“Could you keep it down, for one moment,” Mark bites out into his mic, not even looking as he fires a spread of bullets with an abandoned rifle, catching a row of guards easily, preferring instead to scowl in Jackson’s direction. “You don’t even need a grenade to blow up my eardrums, I swear-…”

“Is that why they started giving you all the flashbangs?” Jackson sounds utterly betrayed, sending a horrified look over in Mark’s direction as slams a broken shelf into a guard, sending him flying back into another. “I knew it! I knew I wasn’t just imagining things!”

“Don’t cry too much,” Mark snorts, deliberately sending a grenade into the corridor, then, and effectively clearing half the approaching security at once. “You’re going to get yourself a rocket launcher one day, I’m sure.”

They’re both forced to drop to their chests on the ground, however, as the roar of the flamethrower starts again, and Jackson clutches his hair protectively to his head.

The air smells faintly of smoke as both of them look up at the heavily armoured specialist, bulky body covered in bulkier armour and Kevlar, gas mask obscuring his (probably ugly, Jackson would say critically) features, leering down at the two of them, the flamethrower heavy in his gloved hands.

“Or a flamethrower,” Jackson gets to his feet slowly once it’s over, fixing the offending specialist with a look, Mark doing the same beside him.

“Or a flamethrower,” Mark agrees, hooking a nearby rifle with his foot to toss it into his hands as Jackson takes out his carbine. “Looks like today’s your lucky day, man.”

They lurch forward, disappearing in the blink of an eye, splitting ways easily before the flamethrower can charge up again. Mark goes around the back, Jackson through to the front, the standard operating procedure, but both are forced to circle back as the flames burst out in a circle around the wielder.

“Concentrate fire,” Mark gives the command but it’s almost redundant, now, because Jackson’s already on the same page.

Their bullets bounce off the bulky armour, no surprises there, of course. In the few seconds they’d been still to get in their shots, though, the flamethrower’s charged up again, and Jackson’s forced to roll out of the way to avoid a streak of flame.

“, Mark, behind you!”

A hail of gunfire rains down from the corridor- security’s coming in in walls, and both of them are forced to duck behind cover.

There’s no way to concentrate their firepower on the flamethrower, at this rate, and every passing moment stuck behind cover means another moment that the flamethrower can get closer. They know how to use their specialists, Mark will give them that.

“Cover me,” Mark’s breathing heavily as he waits for the lull in gunfire, before ducking out, slamming behind a row of two cabinets.

“What the hell are you doing, man, you’re in too close!” Jackson’s shouting even through the mic, and Mark presses his lips together grimly. “Mark, the flamethrower’s coming for you! Mark!”

“What did I tell you,” Mark grits his teeth, poking his head out to get the flamethrower in his sights, before aiming for the reinforced metal tank hidden behind the man’s back. “About shouting,” he fires once. “In the ing,” he fires another, landing it in the exact same spot. “Earpiece?”

The last shot hits home, and Mark ducks back behind the cabinets, bracing, before the explosion rocks the room, and he feels the heat roll around him in waves a moment after the sound of the explosion nearly bursts his brain.

Then silence.

Mark doesn’t know how long he’s out for. There’s a faint whining noise in his ear and he doesn’t think he can hear anything, that and white’s starting to cloud in his vision from the sides, but someone grabs him, drags him up, and he’s fighting back instinctively before a faint noise drags him back to the present.

“…! What the hell was that, were you trying to kill yourself, you stupid idiot!” Jackson’s swearing freely, and Mark vaguely registers the other man giving him a perfunctory check. “Can you stand? How’s your vision? Can you hear me?”

“Shut up,” Mark half slurs, pushing a hand in Jackson’s face, reaching blindly with his other hand to grab his head, groaning. “Never doing that again, ow, my head,” he blinks, looking around blearily at the now ashen state of the room, burning in places here and there. “Did we get them, at least?”

“It was a clean sweep, man,” Jackson snorts. “I took out the few that survived it. C’mon, Jaebum says to give the vault a check before rendezvous, in case his hunch is wrong. Think you can cover me from outside while I look?”

“Is that even a question?” Mark grumbles, settling heavily near the entrance of the vault, grabbing a rifle from the charred hands of a guard and hissing at the hot metal against his skin. “Sorry about the flamethrower, by the way.”

There’s a pause, before Jackson throws his head back, laughing. Mark glares up at him as Jackson pats his shoulder, sniggering.

“Don’t worry, man,” he says, voice echoing as he heads into the vault. “I’d have you over a crummy flamethrower any day.”

___________________

a/n: <3