I'll get the matchsticks, you get the bomb.

I'll get the bullets, you get the gun.

When we see red, they'd better run, run.

--

Namjoon crossed his arms and scowled. "This is extremely unorthodox," he said stiffly. "We normally don't let anyone down there, except for a handful of highly trained guards."

The man standing opposite him raised an eyebrow. He was short and bald, with a spotless suit, a stark contrast to the tall military man standing in front of him, ramrod straight and giving him a hard stare.

"We have his partner in detainment now, warden," the bald man said. "It’s vital that we assess the inmate’s physical and mental condition before we decide whether or not it's safe to put them in a facility together."

"His partner?" Namjoon gasped, shock breaking through his irritation. "How did you catch him?"

The bald man frowned. "With many lost lives."

Namjoon’s scowl returned. "Well, I can assure you that while this is the most secure facility in the world, it would still be an extremely bad idea for them to be anywhere near each other. I wouldn't even trust them to be on the same continent, let alone the same building."

"That is not your call, I'm afraid," the man replied, somewhat impatiently. "It's not even mine. As I said before, I am simply here to assess the prisoner’s physical and mental health and then report to the board, who will then decide what to do with both of them."

Namjoon stood for a moment, glaring at the bald man who stared back at him, unblinking. "Very well," Namjoon finally replied stiffly. "Follow me." He his heel and walked out of his office without waiting to see if the bald man would follow.

They walked in silence down a brightly lit hallway, the walls and ceiling plated over with metal sheets. They passed several hallways, never turning down any of them, but the bald man in a breath as he heard shouts and laughter coming from some of the closed doors down the halls. He walked slightly faster, keeping close to Namjoon's heels.

"Those cells are where a lot of our mentally unstable inmates are kept," Namjoon said without turning to look at the wide-eyed man beside him.

"Dreadful," the man said softly. "They really do keep the scum of life here, don't they?"

Namjoon didn't reply, simply stopping at the end of the hall where a small elevator stood. The two guard standing beside it stepped aside for Namjoon to punch in the security code onto a keypad.

"I must ask that you leave all your personal items here," he said to the bald man.

The man nodded, pulling out a cellphone, keys, and wallet, which he then passed over to one of the guards. The other guard stepped forward with a metal detector, scanning both of the men over. When the guards stepped back, Namjoon pressed the button to open the elevator, stepping back as the bald man joined him. The door closed with a soft ding and the elevator began to descend silently.

They were silent for a few minutes, the bald man shifting his weight and tugging nervously at his tie while Namjoon glared at the steel elevator wall across from him.

"How far down is he?" the man finally asked.

"About fifteen stories," Namjoon replied without looking at him.

"And how many guards are kept with him?"

"None," was the short reply.

The man gasped. "None?! How could you possibly consider that to be wise, warden?" he demanded.

"When I ended up with more guards than patients in need of psychological treatment because of him, I decided that it would be best for him to be checked on by guards only three times a day and watched around the clock on monitors the rest of the time. I was under the impression that the board knew this."

"They knew you added more video surveillance, not that you had eliminated all physical presence of the guards," the man snapped. "What exactly was he doing to cause the guards to go insane?"

"It wasn't exactly him, pre say," Namjoon replied.

"Then what was it?" the man asked, clearly growing tired of Namjoon's reluctance to answering his questions.

The elevator landed, another soft ding signaling their arrival, as Namjoon turned to the other man.

"It was this," he said simply as the doors opened.

Immediately, the sounds of soft singing could be heard echoing through the dim, steel plated hallway. It sounded like a lullaby, but as the two men listened, a chill ran down their spines at the softly sung words repeating themselves over and over.

'I'll get the matchsticks, you get the bomb.

I'll get the bullets, you get the gun.

When we see red, they'd better run, run.'

The voice was voice was soft and gentle, almost childlike in the way it caressed the words as it sang.

"Is that him singing?" the bald man whispered, edging subtly closer to Namjoon as the eerie voice sang.

"No, it's a tape that was sent to us anonymously shortly after he was first detained."

The man frowned in confusion. "Why would you start playing something like this for an insane and highly dangerous criminal, warden? This can hardly have a calming effect on him."

Namjoon raised an eyebrow. "On the contrary, this song is the only thing that calms him. Follow me."

He stepped out of the elevator before the other man could speak again and began to make his way down the hallway. It was oppressively silent, beside the morbid lullaby playing over and over on the speakers. The hallway was long, straight, and much darker than the one upstairs had been. There were no other hallways branching off, just the single, lonely hall that opened up into a huge, equally dim room. The floor was hard concrete and the walls were the same steel at the rest of the building. The lullaby was louder in this room, echoing and bouncing off the cavernous walls. Cameras were positioned all over the walls, all of them pointing at the large cage that sat in the middle of the room. Namjoon and the man in the suit stopped several yards away from it and watched in silence.

In the very center of the cage, with his legs crossed and his arms tucked around himself tightly in a white straightjacket, sat a young man. His white clothes were baggy on his slim form and his hair was shaggy, hanging in matted strands around his face. His eyes were closed and a tiny smile hovered over his lips as he sat with his head tipped back, as if he were letting the lullaby wash over him.

"Kim Taehyung," the bald man whispered.

The prisoner's eyes snapped open, startling both men as he stared at them in silence, the small smile still on his face.

"Does he ever say anything?" the bald man asked, still whispering.

"Sometimes he calls for his partner in his sleep, but besides that I've never heard him say a word."

"Then why do you play this?" the man asked, gesturing around him to indicate the music.

"Because when we didn't play it he would laugh without stopping for days on end. That drove more of my men mad then the music did."

The bald man shuddered. "And how did you know playing the tape would work?"

"We didn't really," Namjoon replied reluctantly. "There was a note attached to it saying that it would calm him down and by then I was desperate."

The man in the suit opened his mouth, but both men froze as a screeching noise scraped through the speakers and the music stopped.

The silence in the room was deafening as both men watched Taehyung slowly rise to his feet, the straight jacket not hindering his balance at all.

"Why?" Namjoon breathed, taking a step toward the cage.

"Maybe a circuit went out?" the bald man suggested timidly behind him.

"Not that," Namjoon said, his eyes locked on Taehyung. "Every time the music has been stopped before he starts laughing immediately. So why not now?"

Before the bald man could reply, Taehyung's smile widened and he spoke one word, his voice hoarse from disuse, cutting through the air.

"Jiminie."

Namjoon gasped and took a step back. "We need to get out of here," he said sharply as he turned back to the other man. "Something is happen-"

He froze.

The other man smiled calmly at him as he finished pulling off a bald cap, dropping it to the floor and releasing a shock of bright red hair.

"In the future, warden," he said, his voice higher than it had been before, almost lilting, "It might be wise to be more thorough when you screen your visitors."

"Park Jimin," Namjoon said softly. "I guess I should have checked rather than taking your word for it when you said they had detained you."

Namjoon didn't move, standing frozen in between the two most insane criminals of his generation as Jimin stepped closer, a coy smile on his face.

"You should've checked a lot of things, warden,” he said softly. “But it's too late for that now."

"We're on camera," Namjoon said between his teeth. "The guards will be down here in minutes and you won't make it out of here alive."

A loud, maniacal laugh sounded right behind him, making him jump. Taehyung was standing against the bars of his cage, his face pressed against them as if he were trying to push through. "Don't underestimate me and my Chimchim," he said through his laughter.

"They won't get here fast enough," Jimin said, his breath ghosting over Namjoon's face. Namjoon gasped, flinching back. He hadn't even heard the other man move forward.

There was a blur of green and a sharp, ripping pain slicing through the side of his neck. Namjoon stood still for a moment before sliding slowly to the ground, his vision blurring and his limbs feel as if they were turning into led. He watched as Jimin stepped over him, green ivy circling up his arms like snakes as he approached the bars of the cage.

"Jimin," Taehyung said, wiggling slightly as he tried to get through the bars to his partner. "Missed you."

"I missed you too, Taetae," Jimin cooed. The ivy on his arm shot out, ripping at the ties on Taehyung's straightjacket before wrapping around the door of the cage. There was a loud ping and the lock on Taehyung's cage fell, broken and useless to the floor, just like Namjoon.

Taehyung shot out the door and straight to Jimin, wrapping his arms protectively around the other boy and kissing him, long and hard. Jimin's hands gripping the back of Taehyung's oversized shirt, holding him close as the older boy broke off the kiss and nuzzled against Jimin's shoulder.

"My Chimchim," he murmured.

Jimin turned as far around as he could within Taehyung's tight grip and looked down at Namjoon. "Two things, warden," he said calmly as Namjoon felt his eyes droop. "First, you're not going to die, so don't panic. I had so much fun putting on this little act for you this evening and I think we can have so much more fun later, so I'm letting you live for now. And second, it's not that song keeps Taehyung in check. It's my voice."

As darkness swept over Namjoon and he slumped the rest of the way down, completely unconscious. Taehyung looked down at him with distaste, letting go of Jimin for just a moment to retrieve Namjoon's gun before returning to wrap his arms around the smaller man. "I know he'll be useful, but I really wish we could kill him now."

"Me too," Jimin said, nestling his head on Taehyung's shoulder. "I'm sorry it took me so long to figure out how to get in here, you've always been so much better at planning than I am."

"It's okay, I'm happy now," Taehyung said, kissing Jimin's forehead. "Missed my Jiminie," he murmured.

"I missed-"

Whatever the rest of Jimin's reply was going to be was lost by the ding of the elevator and a shout of "Freeze!" from down the hallway, accompanied by the sound of running feet.

Taehyung glared over Jimin's head at the interruption. "Rude," he snarled. "Jiminie was talking."

"Put your hands up and get on the floor!" was the only response he got. Guards were pouring into the room and forming a half circle around the two criminals.

"Hey, Tae, have you been as bored as I've been?" Jimin murmured, smiling up at Taehyung.

Taehyung grinned back down, the smile a little too wide and bright to be considered sane. "Let's have fun," was his only response before he raised Namjoon's gun and started firing.

The response was instantaneous. Guns started going off all around them. Jimin twisted in Taehyung's grasp so that he was facing their attackers, vines laced with venom shooting out and slicing at anyone who wasn't dropping from Taehyung's bullets.

Jimin felt a bullet wiz by him, slicing a tiny cut in his cheek. He gasped, more from shock than pain, but Taehyung let out a wild scream of anger. He shoved Jimin back, further away from the spray of bullets as he sprung forward, straight into the ranks of the remaining guards.

Jimin could see him, flipping, punching, shooting, a blur of movement, traceable only by the screams of pain he left in his wake and the maniacal laugh that bubbled from his lips. From one of the guards’ hands he managed to grab a blackjack, not quite as good as his old baseball bat, but it was better than nothing as he dropped the empty gun to the floor and began swinging his new weapon with calculated precision.

Jimin covered Taehyung's bloody trail, taking care of the guards further back who were trying to pick off Taehyung while his back was turned. These guards he didn't spare, his vines piercing through their vests like spears, poison dripping in glistening green droplets into open wounds. Foot soldiers meant nothing to him. Namjoon might prove to ease his boredom later, but these guards were nothing more than easily squashed nuisances.

With one last flick of Jimin's wrist, the last guard dropped. Taehyung turned panting, blood spattered over his face, clothes, and blackjack as he grinned at Jimin, uncaring of the bodies that littered the ground around him.

Jimin was across the room in three strides, throwing his arms around Taehyung's neck and jumping up so his legs were wrapped around the other man's waist. "God, I missed you," he whispered, kissing Taehyung, ignoring the metallic taste of blood under his tongue as he bit lightly on Taehyung's bottom lip, causing the taller boy's grip on his hips to tighten as he moaned into the kiss.

"Jimin, can we?" he asked, panting as Jimin pulled back and dropped back down to stand on the floor.

"Later," Jimin said, taking Taehyung's hand as the other boy pouted at him. "For as long as you want," he promised, smiling as Taehyung perked up slightly.

"A long time," Taehyung said happily, leaning down to rest his head on Jimin's shoulder.

"They've probably called in reinforcements," Jimin said, looking around with distaste at the bodies around them.

"We need to get upstairs and start shutting down the security to get everyone else out. So nice of them to put most of our allies in one facility," Taehyung giggled.

"Let’s go get them now so they can have some more fun with us," Jimin said, smiling back.

Taehyung's smile dropped slightly as he wiped his thumb with surprising gentleness over the shallow cut on Jimin's cheek. "They hurt my Chimchim," he said in a low voice. "This isn't fun, it's revenge." His tone was one that even Jimin rarely heard and he knew that no force on earth, not even Jimin, could stop what was about to happen.

He didn't bother to try to stop the grin the spread over his face in response to Taehyung's fury. Most people thought that Taehyung was the only insane one, just following Jimin's orders, but that was never how the two of them had worked. They were a team, partners, equal in every way, including their insanity. Jimin was usually just better at hiding his.

"Okay, Taetae," he said. "Let's go."

"We'll need to get everyone out first," Taehyung reminded him as they stepped over bodies, walking hand-in-hand toward the elevators. "We can leave in the squad cars they have here, it'll be faster. Did you set up explosives?"

Jimin nodded. "Rigged to blow as soon as we're gone."

"Boom!" Taehyung giggled.

Right before they reached the elevator, Jimin turned and looked straight up at one of the cameras.

"One last thing to think about when you wake up, warden," he said to the camera. "When I said earlier that they keep the scum of life here, I wasn't talking about the prisoners. I was talking about the people who think that they’re fit to rule over others and lock them up. I was talking about people like you."

As the two bloodied figures stepped hand-in-hand into the elevator, a shrill, maniacal laughter echoed through the hall, broken only when a second voice began to sing softly.

'I'll get the matchsticks, you get the bomb.

I'll get the bullets, you get the gun.

When we see red, they'd better run, run.'

The elevator closed with a soft ding, leaving behind silence and death.