“Fifteen minutes till evac expects us,” Jaebum effectively clears the last guard from the vault doorway, as Jinyoung works at the lock, nimble fingers almost a blur at the speed they’re going.

“The pressure is very helpful, hyung, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“By helpful I meant there are a lot of other things you could be doing to assist, other than giving me a countdown.”

“He wants you to give him something else, hyung,” Bambam supplies helpfully. Jaebum silences him with a look.

Jackson’s cackling over the mic, at this point, and Jinyoung gets the last few numbers in, before the door unlocks with a deafening clack, and Jinyoung stands, pleased.

“Alright, find the package, then we’ll get back to the primary pick-up point on the roof,” Jaebum says, as Bambam and Jinyoung step in once the doors open, watching cautiously for further traps. “Yugyeom, get ready to go on your end, too.”

“Got it.”

“Jackson, what’s your status?”

“I’m scanning the vault like you told me, nothing’s come up so far. Mark’s outside keeping lookout.”

“Noted. Keep us posted,” Jaebum mutters, walking further into the room.

The first thing that comes to mind, for all of them, probably, is that this whole place is awfully showy for a vault- ornamental guns polished and gleaming on silvery stands, frankly pretty monstrous embroidered silk carpets and drapes elaborately arranged around the cavernous room, giant gold framed oil and water colour paintings resting regally on the walls. It isn’t so much a vault as it is a tightly-secured showroom or auction house of some sort, Jaebum concludes.

“Whoa, that is one ugly gun,” Bambam’s eyes are wide, observing the prized ceremonial rifle perched on one of the displays, when Jaebum’s two rows away.

“Stay on target, Bambam,” the team leader orders sharply. “Trackers out, look for anything that matches the radioactive signature we got from the warehouse at our previous location.”

Jinyoung’s already covered two columns by this time, the black sensor in his hand beeping softly, and Jaebum follows suit on the other end. There’s silence for a period of time as they walk through the rows, eyes glued to their trackers.

“I’m not getting anything,” Jinyoung’s frowning, once he’s come to the end of the first half. “Jackson-hyung, did you guys get anything?”

“Uh, no? We scanned the place top to bottom- or I did, anyway. I just thought Jaebum hyung was right about his hunch. We’re on the way to the rendezvous now.”

Jaebum’s stomach sinks, as he exhales, sending his eyes spinning across the room.

“Jaebum,” it’s Mark now, sounding cautiously worried. “What if it isn’t in either?”

“It’s got to be in one of these,” Jaebum rakes a hand through his hair, frustrated. “No, it isn’t important enough for them to put it away specially, but it’s valuable enough that they’d put it in a vault. It’s got to be in one of these.”

“It was pretty valuable, though, right?” Jinyoung sounds thoughtful, turning a concerned glance his way. “Maybe it is here, just somewhere…special?”

“Somewhere its signature is concealed, maybe? Do you see anything lead?”

Jaebum’s eyes are already scanning each artefact, neatly propped up on each display, searching for anything that could possibly contain their prize.

“Paintings?” Jinyoung’s looking at the huge frames on the walls, in calligraphy ink and oils of scenery and villages, and Jaebum nods.

“Bambam,” he looks back as he’s walking over, to see the boy still enraptured by the gun, sitting atop a glassy mirror cube display stand. “Bam, come on, give us a hand.”

“Hang on a minute, hyung,” Bambam’s squinting. “Look, there are words on this,” he straightens, and Jaebum hesitates, looking back at the paintings, before walking over reluctantly to frown at the writing under the gun.

“What does that even say?” Jaebum can’t read the Japanese characters printed on the tiny bronze name plate below the gun- Bambam’s the specialist when it comes to communications and interpretation, anyway. They’d always relied on the younger boy for direct interaction with any foreigners they’d come into contact with, or when any of them needed help translating documents or audio clips. It was that or ask Jackson to help, a sure fire way to make them stick out like sore thumbs wherever they went or get an annoying live commentary on everything that was being said, highly undesirable- regardless of how many languages that man knew.

“Syonan-to, 1957,” Bambam pronounces perfectly. “Doesn’t really fit, right?”

It takes Jaebum a while to notice.

“What’s wrong with that?” Mark’s voice comes in. “It’s probably a gun they invented during that time period.”

“Yugyeom?” Bambam’s talking into his mic now, and there’s a split second pause.

“He’s right, the information’s off,” Yugyeom sounds thoughtful, and Jaebum listens, because if Yugyeom’s chasing a lead, then it probably means something. “Syonan-to’s not a gun name, it’s a place. It’s what they renamed one of the countries they occupied, and that ended in ‘45. Why would they have a gun invented there in 1957?”

Jaebum’s dubious, wanting to dismiss it as probably just a misprint, but Bambam reaches out, then, watching the gun carefully, before wrapping slender fingers around the trigger, and pulling.

There’s a soft hiss, and nothing, at first. Then the walls of the display stand beneath it seem to be dissolving, and the three of them step back quickly to see the mirroring quality of the glass start to fade, until it’s completely clear.

Inside, sitting on a black cushion, is a silvery case, opened delicately to reveal a gadget of some sort, sitting pristinely on the velvet.

Their attention’s brought to Jinyoung’s tracker, which is beeping stronger than it had before, and Jaebum looks back at the case.

“Hyung,” Jinyoung murmurs, before tapping a few buttons, comparing the signatures on the two artefacts. “I think this is it.”

“Alright, guys, I think we found it. It’s a silver container, fashioned like some pretty fancy case, and it’s in some sort of special glass case,” Jaebum says, staring at the case, eyes running over its edges and lines, searching for a point of entry, before he takes a breath, gears whirring in his mind.

“Okay, once we get the artefact out of the case, everyone’s to head straight for the rendezvous point. Mark, call evac now. Yugyeom, pack up. Let’s keep this one clean, okay?”

“Got it, hyung.”

“Calling evac now, Jaebum.”

“Uh. You know, isn’t it kinda funny,” Bambam says all of a sudden. “That they, you know,” he squints over at the open security door, as Jaebum runs his hands along the glass case, considering whether or not to risk breaking it. “Haven’t sent a second wave of security at us?”

There’s a pregnant pause in which all three of them look around warily. Jaebum waits for something to happen for a whole two seconds, and after being sure that nothing’s going to jump out of the door at them, opens his mouth to tell Bambam harshly not to jinx it.

But then the vault doors start to close, and panels in the ceiling open up, making way for masked men to slide down on cables, ready to fan out to surround them.

“Opportune,” Jinyoung comments, already taking out his gun and starting to pick them off one by one. “Thanks for the invitation, Bambam.”

“, there’s a lot of them- out, all of us, forget about trying to face-off on this one,” Jaebum orders hastily, thinking to hell with it before unslinging his rifle and smashing the of it into the glass. “Head for the doors, both of you.”

The case is closed, locked, and in Jaebum’s hands, and it’s a blur of gunfire and quick, muffled explosions as they run for the door. Jinyoung’s out first, and Jaebum slides the case out, before getting through himself. There’s a pause before-…

“Bambam!” Jinyoung’s urging, spying the second youngest struggling to break through a wall of the guards, watching them surround him now that they’ve sensed the other two are beyond reach, and all the manage to glimpse is a split second of his eyes, slightly wide with alarm, before he’s forced to duck for cover out of the line of fire.

Then it’s two seconds of tense indecision, before the doors finally slam close between them.

“There’s an override here, I can’t get through,” Jaebum’s jabbing at the panel. “,” he kicks at the panel, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “There’s nothing we can do here.”

“What’s going on, hyung? What happened?” Yugyeom’s volume goes up by a notch, barely noticeable over the radio.

“Bambam can take care of himself,” Jaebum’s breathing hard, half like he’s telling himself, gesturing for Jinyoung to follow him, as they break into a run down the corridor. “The priority here is to get the case to the rooftop now.”

“Hyung, what’s going on?”

“Bambam’s joining us later. Proceed as per normal.”

“He’s still in the vault?” Yugyeom demands, at once, and Jaebum tenses.

“Yugyeom, get to the rendezvous point, do you hear me? Bambam can get himself out. Yugyeom acknowledge,” he barks. “Do not go in after him, he’s smart enough to find a way to the rendezvous himself. Our priority is to get the case on the dropship, hear me?”

Radio silence follows.

“You know he isn’t going to follow a bull order like that, hyung,” Jackson says sympathetically. “If it helps, Mark and I are here, getting pummelled by security. We’d welcome evac any time, now.”

“Shut up, Jackson,” Jaebum groans. “Jinyoung and I are on our way.”

*

I’ve really done it this time, Bambam thinks, sending a spread of gunfire out blind from his cover, not even feeling properly satisfied at the multiple sounds of pain that follow. I’m a sitting duck.

His only hope is to get up one of the cables that the men are sliding down from, but he’d be a perfect target for the hail of gunfire to follow, he’s sure. He’ll have to clear himself some breathing air, first.

The grenade he aims next manages to blow up a space, just enough for him to stand from his cover, make a run for one of the cables nearer the door, and he groans when more of them start coming down.

He’s surrounded, now, with the introduction of the newer guards, held at gunpoint from all angles, and orders to surrender are shouted out in broken English.

This is it.

Bambam reluctantly drops the rifle he’d pilfered from the bodies one of the guards, before placing both his hands on top of his head. He resigns himself to finding a way out once they’ve brought him out of the vault- that’s their main advantage over him, here. Bambam doesn’t operate well in enclosed spaces- he works better where he can hide, where he can run, not like Jaebum or Yugyeom, who prefer direct confrontation like this.

Apparently they seem to know that, too, because he’s forced towards the wall, hands dragged behind him in an uncomfortable position before what feels like iron weights are clamped down tight on his forearms. They’re electricity powered, Bambam can tell from the soft hum they emit against his skin, but even on the tightest setting, though, they still hang slightly loose on his arms.

“This is so unnecessary,” Bambam complains in English, though he can speak Japanese perfectly well. “Can’t we talk this over?”

“Get him to a holding cell,” the team leader is telling the others in sharp orders. “The rest of you, head back up and cut the others off before they reach the roof.”

He’s tugged forcefully away, brought stumbling slightly towards the vault doors, mind already buzzing with schemes on how to break out from these cuffs, listening sullenly to the rest of the orders the leader is shouting out.

He’s thinking about all the ways he could break out of these cuffs now, just to step on the team leader’s face, as the doors start to slide open, and the leader steps ahead, probably to seem like a general leading his troops out of successful battle.

Until the doors actually open, and he realises something’s blocking his way.

“That,” Yugyeom takes a step forward, unfolding his arms from across his chest, forcing the men one step back. “Isn’t yours.”

The thing about how Yugyeom operates is that he’s so much brute force, people forget how fast he actually is sometimes. The first blow sends two of them flying back into the others, and by the time they’ve gotten their guns out Yugyeom’s grabbed a rifle from one of their limp hands, sending gunfire sinking into Kevlar, knocking them back.

Bambam twists out of the grip of the people holding him, legs hooking around their ankles to send them spinning to the ground, before he ducks out of the fray past the door of the vault.

“Grenade!” Yugyeom shouts, and Bambam gets the hint immediately as the younger boy throws one as he backs out, slamming a foot into the panel, smashing the display, so the doors close after them.

Bambam winces at the muffled explosion that follows behind the vault doors, closed once more, breathing heavy, before looking reluctantly at Yugyeom.

“You’re late,” he mutters, and Yugyeom scoffs.

“No thank you for saving my life, I’ll never insult your fashion sense again? I’ll keep that in mind next time your is in trouble,” he goes around Bambam to help with the cuffs, and the other boy rolls his eyes as Yugyeom gives a low whistle.

“Wow. Japanese tech never fails to amaze, this is a pretty solid pair of handcuffs.”

“Stop admiring the source of my suffering and just get the stupid things off, my elbow’s going to dislocate,” Bambam hisses, looking over his shoulder to where Yugyeom’s leisurely examining the cuffs, fingers running over one of the rectangular grooves in the alloy. “We need to report our status now, my radio got busted in there. Yours still working?”

“Uh, can you do that? I kind of tuned out when Jaebum started threatening to dock my pay for coming here,” Yugyeom twists the tiny device out of his collar with one hand, before pinning it to Bambam’s neckline with one hand and turning it back on while he works on the handcuffs with the other. “Another reason you should thank me, by the way. Your earpiece still working?”

“Yeah, it just got shut off in there, ugh, hang on,” Bambam tilts his head, knocking the device in his ear against his shoulder a few times, before Jaebum’s voice crackles in, and he winces.

“…support needed on hundred and tenth floor, I repeat, they’re blocking us off. Jackson, Mark, support is needed.”

“Yugyeom and I are out, heading for your location now,” Bambam mutters into the mic, wriggling uncomfortably in the cuffs, and Yugyeom chuckles.

“Didn’t think you were opposed to these things, by the way,” he comments, tapping the cuffs with a grin as he flips open a panel, and Bambam shoots him his best death glare.

“Once I’m out of these, I’m going to hit you,” he grumbles, body shifting reluctantly as Yugyeom tugs on the cuffs.

“I’ll take my time, then,” Yugyeom murmurs, tapping on the light display, and Bambam lifts a leg blindly to kick him.

“, , no time, no time,” Bambam’s eyes widen, suddenly, and he pulls Yugyeom along the corridor at the sound of rushed footsteps approaching. “Gyeom, they’re coming-…”

“Damnnit,” Yugyeom curses, pressing a final button, and the cuffs come off.

“Go go go!” Bambam takes to a run as the cuffs fall to the floor, Yugyeom close behind.

“Service stairwell is on the left!” Yugyeom shouts, and Bambam breaks through the doorway, taking to the stairs two at a time.

They turn out of the stairwell at the hundred and tenth floor, footsteps heavy against the carpet. The windows are smashed here, probably from Jaebum and Jinyoung’s trip by, overlooking the steep drop if any of them were to take one wrong step at this point, and Bambam can hear his heart hammering in his ears at the sound of wind circulating the building hungrily outside, like it’s waiting to drag them out, swallow them should they fall.

“They’re cutting us off ahead,” Yugyeom grabs Bambam’s arm, holding him back as men fan out on the other end of the corridor.

Time seems to come to a standstill, as the men draw closer, knowing that the two of them are cornered, and the boys find themselves back to back, wind howling in through the broken window panes, swirling in around them, threatening to pull them over.

But then Bambam feels Yugyeom press a gun into his hand, and feels infinitely braver than he had been about a second ago.

“You take this side, I’ll take the other?”

Bambam somehow manages a grin, then, despite the shortness of breath. “Try to keep up, then.”

They split, at this point, and both sides are blurs of gunfire and physical contact. Bambam makes use of the geographical advantage- being faster and lighter means being able to turn others’ strength against themselves, and as he unbalances one guard after another over the edge he hopes this is redemption for the embarrassing defeat that’d taken place in the vault. Uniforms are dropping left and right, and Bambam gets through the first wave of them easily.

The second’s a little harder, when half of them are visibly tougher, stronger, and Bambam’s quick, peppering attacks are near useless. He’s almost dragged into a chokehold by one, escaping by the skin of his teeth, when-…

“Duck!”

Bambam drops instinctively without even looking back, and a rifle flies over his head with the likeness of a javelin, slamming one in the head and causing him to spin into the other, forcing him off the narrow corridor into the abyss outside.

“Alright, that,” Bambam gripes as he grabs the rifle, sending a spread of gunfire into the crowd. “Was just showing off.”

“More like twice I saved your life,” Yugyeom snorts as he comes up behind him, armed with an assault rifle of his own. “How about a thank you, for once-…”

“Grenade!”

One of them must be getting desperate, because he throws a grenade in the tiny space, at this point, and Bambam forces Yugyeom aside, pitching them both over the edge into open air.

There’s a split second moment of panic, before Yugyeom manages to grab a bit of loose piping hanging from under the concrete, long and black and hanging out like a snake from the broken cement, catching Bambam with the other arm, and the explosion bursts whatever little glass that’d been left in that corridor.

“That’s thrice-….”

“Oh shut up,” Bambam groans. “If I hadn’t pushed us we’d both be dead.”

The piping groans threateningly.

“Okay, we’ve got a minute or so before this thing gives,” Yugyeom peers at it critically, before looking back down at Bambam. “Plan?”

“Lob me back there. I’ll pull you up.”

“You sure? They’re probably waiting for us,” the piping groans again, slipping out, now, and Yugyeom shrugs. “Alright, guess we don’t have a choice.”

“Go long,” Bambam pats Yugyeom’s forearm, and Yugyeom sways slightly, gaining momentum, before pulling, and swinging Bambam back up in a graceful arc that is at least 70% Bambam’s doing, he insists.

Shouts of confusion abound as Bambam literally flies back, landing on the charred ground, and there’s a brief period of panic firing in which everyone is caught in crossfire except Bambam (try attempting to shoot something from both ends in a narrow corridor) and though he makes excellent work out of the remaining soldiers he doesn’t stop to brag for a moment, darting out of the line of fire, impatient to get this over with.

He doesn’t even wait until the last guard’s dropped before he’s smashing open the case to the fire hose with a rifle, dragging the piping out to toss over the edge, breathing heavy.

“We’re even after this, right?” he shouts down, as the black hose sways in the strong wind, and he scans the corridor for incoming assailants.

After a second too long of unresponsiveness, something strikes, low and anxious, in his gut.

“You admiring the scenery down there, or something?” Bambam hollers, grabbing the metal scaffolding between empty window panels for support as he sticks his head out to scan the periphery below. “What’s taking you so-…”

His sentence stops abruptly there.

The piping is gone, the point where it’d broken off sticking out from under the concrete, shifting stiffly in the brisk wind.

It takes Bambam a while, but he sinks back onto his calves, eyes wide, breathing shallow, as Jaebum’s voice sounds from his earpiece.

“Bambam, Yugyeom, report your location. Are you headed for evac?”

Mission. You’re on an assignment. It takes every last ounce of the training that’d been drilled into Bambam to force himself to his feet, stumbling, clutching to the metal scaffolding for support.

“Yugyeom, where are you? The package is nearing the extraction zone. We need the two of you over here now.”

Bambam doesn’t mean to let the silence stretch, but he doesn’t think he can talk.

“Are the two of you okay?” it’s Jinyoung now, voice worried.

“This is Bambam,” Bambam inhales, before starting along the corridor at a slow jog, not trusting himself to run any faster. “I’ll be at the extraction zone in three minutes.”

“What about Yugyeom?”

“He’s joining us later.”

There’s a pause, then, too long for anyone’s liking.

“Noted. We’ll meet you at the extraction zone, then.”

*

The silence is too pronounced for Mark’s comfort.

They’ve been up here, unscathed after the first wave of security, for much too long now, and Mark tenses at the sight of a figure entering through the roof entrance.

He sighs in relief when it turns out to be Jaebum and Jinyoung, though, followed by Bambam after a few moments, muscles slackening in their tension.

“Where’s evac?” Jaebum shouts over the wind at Jackson, who shrugs.

“They reported in about five minutes ago, said they got held up at Yokohama.”

“Okay,” Jaebum sounds inexplicably relieved, but all of them know why- this means more time bought, more time before they have to leave anyone behind.

“It’s been too quiet,” Mark comments, squinting in the bright light. “I feel like they’re planning something.”

“The sensor’s been acting up too,” Jackson says, tossing his tracker over to Jaebum, who glances it over. “It’s been beeping like mad since we left the vault, I don’t even know what the commands on the screen are saying.”

Jaebum turns, holding it, before realising there’s no one he can verify the data with- not while they’re down to the strength they’re at now.

“Looks like a homing signal of some sort,” Jinyoung peers over. “For what, though, I have no idea.”

“Homing signal? Doesn’t that mean someone’s trying to transmit to us?” Bambam sends a reluctant glance over at the tracker in Jaebum’s hand.

“Who’d know our frequency?” Jackson squints, making a face. “Sounds pretty dodgy, don’t you think?”

The beeping’s coming in stronger and stronger, increasingly urgent, and Jaebum squints at the jumble of numbers springing up on the screen, trying to make sense of it. There’s a pattern, he realises, a short series of numbers repeated over and over again.

“You recognise this code?” he hands the tracker to Bambam, who looks it over.

“First three numbers, 505? They could represent SOS,” the younger boy shrugs. “I don’t recognise the numbers after, though.”

“Doesn’t matter, now, evac’s coming,” Mark mutters, at the approaching sound of helicopter blades, and they look in its direction immediately, momentarily distracted.

“Uh,” Jackson says pointedly. “Isn’t the heli supposed to like, I don’t know, come towards us?”

Jinyoung squints at the leaving helicopter, rising from the side of the building, for one second, two, before he glances at the tracker in Jaebum’s hand, beeping growing steadily weaker.

“SOS- that means it’s a distress signal, right?”

“It’s an enemy vessel, though,” Bambam says, managing to catch the words and markings on the side of the copter even as it travels away. “A distress signal to our frequency?”

Jinyoung grabs the tracker, studying the commands, before looking back at the helicopter, and his eyes widen.

“, the numbers after, it’s a serial number,” Jinyoung’s reading the numbers again, before starting to shout, pointing at the helicopter. “Jaebum-hyung, it’s a distress signal with a serial number- it’s Youngjae’s serial number, hyung, he’s on that copter!”

This becomes apparent when three more helicopters rise around them, all of different permutations, surrounding them in the centre, and the six back into a circle instinctively.

Gigantic guns click into position slowly, charging up, arming themselves, and Jaebum’s frozen, for a moment.

“Hyung,” Jackson says after a split second, clutching his rifle close, sending an urgent glance over. “Hyung, what do we do? The chopper’s getting away, hyung.”

It’s apparent, the internal turmoil that’s raging right now in the leader’s head- a choice between the case in his hands and the helicopter getting further away with every second, and the tension in the air is thick enough to cut with a knife, until Jaebum finally bumps the case against Mark’s elbow, eyes still on the helicopter.

“Get. The. Case,” he grits out under his breath. “Onto the evac copter, at all costs, understood?”

There’s a collective understanding all of them manage to click into at once, a gear they seem to shift into at that moment, and Mark takes the case, catching Jaebum’s eye for a moment with a nod.

“Jinyoung, you’re with me,” Jaebum gestures with two fingers, and Jinyoung acknowledges tersely. “On my mark.”

The barrels of the guns on the helicopter begin to whirl threateningly.

“Go!”

The two teams split like lightning, followed by the slam of heavy gunfire on the concrete rooftop, Jinyoung following Jaebum’s lead towards the ring of helicopters as Mark and the others head for the edge of the building.

The copter with the machine gun draws closer, tilting to a degree to give the gunman a better angle on the two approaching men, and only when Jaebum raises the cable gun does the pilot get a gist of what’s actually happening here.

It must have been a nasty surprise, becoming the hunted from the hunters within the blink of an eye, because the copter doesn’t even move, the pilot probably too shellshocked by the happenings to execute an evasive manoeuvre of any sort.

Jinyoung grabs the gun the same time as Jaebum secures a hold on the straps of the vest on the other man’s back and fires the gun, letting the hook catch the landing skids, and neither flinch at the tremendous tug as both of them are dragged up and forwards towards the cabin of the copter.

As per normal, Jinyoung’s the one to go in first- using the momentum from the ride up to leap ahead, slamming into the side of the copter and dragging the door open, just as Jaebum reaches the copter, twisting his body through the now clear route.

Jaebum doesn’t even talk, just points his gun at the gunman, gesturing impatiently for him to get lost, as Jinyoung knocks the other soldier on board out- there’s no time to lose, not when the copter holding Youngjae is getting further away.

Both men can literally feel the time ticking away after they get the pilot out, and Jaebum grabs the headset, gaining control of the vehicle easily, while Jinyoung settles behind the gun.

“Five o’ clock!” Jinyoung’s shouting, and Jaebum’s already turning the copter in a steep swerve, pushing them ahead at full speed.

Their vehicle was obviously built for attack and pursuit, they note, because they catch up faster than expected. The fleeing chopper returns fire once they’re close enough, shattering the glass of the windshield, but Jaebum barely flinches.

“Don’t return fire on the main rotor, not until we’ve got Youngjae,” Jaebum orders, but Jinyoung isn’t moving, obviously thinking the same thing. “You ready to board?”

There’s a brief period of radio silence as Jinyoung aims the gun, picking off the other gunman with an accuracy that would make an Olympic shooter resign from shame, before Jaebum hears him dismount. That’s his cue to bring the copter in closer, watching the door open as one of the guards aims a rifle over, and there’s a heart-stopping moment as Jinyoung leaps in a smooth arc over the space, twisting his body to avoid the line of fire, gripping the floor of the copter before flipping himself into the body of the vehicle.

Jaebum jams the controls of the copter, then, fumbling ever so slightly in his haste, before unbuckling from the seat, eyes narrowed on the open door of the other copter, watching the flurry of bodies as Jinyoung clears the copter, waiting impatiently for an opportune moment. It takes a painstaking couple of seconds, but he eventually follows Jinyoung to jump through the shifting space over into the other copter, barely looking as the other vehicle spins out of control behind them, dropping below them quickly.

He blinks rapidly once he’s in, eyes adjusting to the dimness, the two or three bodies on the floor alerting him to the fact that Jinyoung’s already secured the space for them, and it’s only when his eyes lock on the back of the copter does he-…

“Hyung!” Youngjae cries out, where Jinyoung has him wrapped up in what looks like a breathtaking hug. There’s the shadow of bruises and abuse and sleepless nights under his eyes and on his cheeks, and his clothes are definitely hanging looser on his frame than when he’d last been with them, but otherwise he looks fine, he looks alright, and half the tension seems to leave Jaebum, then.

He barely realises what he’s doing, before he’s on his knees beside them, joining in the embrace, letting out a breath that feels like it’s been stuck in his lungs since they’d been separated, every ache of fear and tension, visions of the big black block letters MIA on the roll call back at HQ, vanishing like smoke.

“I can’t believe you got the signal, the transmission mechanism was still in beta stages, I didn’t think anyone would-…” Youngjae’s talking in an endless stream like he always does when he’s panicking, his voice fraying like his nerves probably are, and Jaebum can literally feel him shaking through two layers of clothing. “I thought I was going to miss you guys for sure, how did you manage to-…”

“Did they do anything to you? Where were they bringing you?” Jaebum cuts through his anxious tangents, knowing it’s the only way to pull the younger man together, and Youngjae inhales.

“I don’t know, they said something about an exchange, I think they were going to trade me for something. My Japanese isn’t as good as Bambam’s.”

Jaebum’s grip tightens on Youngjae, and he sees Jinyoung’s jaw set itself in a certain way.

“If we hadn’t deciphered the signal in time-…heaven knows where you’d be,” Jinyoung murmurs, sending a bitter glance in the direction of the bodies littering the copter. “I’m just glad we caught up before they got away.”

They’re interrupted, however, then, by the rude sound of gunfire pattering on the metal body of the copter, reminding Jaebum that they’re on an enemy vehicle hundreds of feet up in the air, and he forces himself to get to his feet, scrambling for a next course of action.

“Can you stand? Anything broken?” Jinyoung’s urging Youngjae, and the younger man’s shaking his head, twisting around to show them his bound hands.

“Get him out of the cuffs, I’ll get us on safe ground,” Jaebum says, breathless, as he heads for the now empty cockpit, before another round of gunfire rocks the copter, tearing holes along the exterior.

Jaebum realises just how cornered they are in that moment- there’s no question about attempting any acrobatics now, not while they’ve got Youngjae, and he curses himself for not having planned beyond this point.

He doesn’t even manage to get to the entrance before an explosion rocks the body of the helicopter, pitching the vehicle sideways, and Youngjae shouts out again in panic as Jinyoung loses his balance, slamming painfully hard against the standing poles in the body of the copter.

All that’s on Jaebum’s mind now is to get to the cockpit, turn them around and get them out of harm’s way before another round of ammunition can wreck the helicopter, but there’s barely a moment’s reprieve before one final explosion rips straight through the walls of the metal body, tilting the entire cabin violently to the side, and the movement’s violent enough to knock Jinyoung off his knees, and toss Youngjae forward towards the edge.

Jaebum’s paralysed, gripping tightly onto the handle near the door, watching Jinyoung’s body go limp when his head hits the edge of the cabin door before he’s pitched from the body of the copter, listening to Youngjae scream before he tumbles over the edge after Jinyoung, arms immobilised behind him.

It takes him a second to respond, takes Jaebum a moment to struggle to his feet, breathing harsh, sending a glance through the gaping hole in the hull at the triumphant look on the face of the pilot in the offending helicopter, as if to say guess all that was for nothing, now you’ve lost them both.

Something snaps in him, then, something cold and desperate and burning, and he grits his teeth, reaching over to slam a fist into the storage of the copter, before tearing out a parachute and slinging it over his shoulders.

“Over my dead-…” he tugs it on, fingers working through the straps automatically. “ing-…” he pushes aside the remnants of the doorway, gravity be damned. “Body.”

And he leaps out of the wreck of the copter, eyes dead set on the two falling figures ahead.

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a/n: gasp thank you guys for your kind comments \o/ ahaha i hope this update helped answer some questions (i also hope it was interesting but hope can only stretch so far) so yes thank you friends! <3333 ily all much for the encouragement :)