A/N: So, an explanation for my disappearance. I suffered a concussion from a bike accident and I decided to take a small break from writing and whatnot. But, I'm semi-okay now and as an apology, here's a new chapter! I read certain grievances from some of you and I feel bad, but I wasn't going to be gone forever. Haha. If you're enjoying this story, make sure to leave a comment and upvote! I'd really appreciate it. Cheetolord out!

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It was two weeks in since the infiltration. It was the coldest time of the year but the underground facilities were warm. Irene nursed a cup of hot coffee, nothing in it. Just how she liked it. She watched Seulgi dump in milk and sugar like her life depended on it. Maybe it did. Irene wouldn’t know, she could never understand the point of making something meant to be bitter into something sweet.

They had their own room, a circular dome of white with the necessary furniture pre-installed. The only problem was the single, queen-sized bed in the midst of it all. Though they’d found that it wouldn’t be a problem after the first night because the both of them slept like logs, not moving an inch from where they’d fallen asleep. Irene supposed it was from their training as agents.

“Are you sure you don’t have diabetes?”

“Huh?”

Irene gestured towards the mug in her hand. Seulgi looked down, then looked up with a sheepish expression. She didn’t seem to know what to do with it. It was admittedly cute. She hid the small smile twitching at her lips with another sip of coffee.

There was a knock at the door. Light, not a goon by the sound of it. She put the coffee down and stood up in one swift movement. She saw Seulgi do it, too. The guy walked in a moment later. He wasn’t big like the guys she’d seen before. He was small and scrawny and had a shifty look to him. He was recently beaten. There was a black eyes and blood running down the side of his face. His hand shook like a leaf. And where the other hand should have been, there was a stump.

“T-The Boss wants t-to see you.”

Seulgi looked furious. Irene felt a twinge of pity. This wasn’t an anomaly in groups like these. They were frequent, men dragged in and used as slaves to do their every bidding, tortured and bullied until they became nothing less than dirt. Irene regarded him emotionlessly. There was no point in expressing pity.

“Where?”

“I-I could take - .”

“I said, where?” she repeated, evenly.

“T-The meeting room, Ma’am.”

“You can go.”

“Y-Yes. Of course.”

He backed up, one, two, three steps then turned and scurried away, the door slamming firmly behind him. Irene sat back down. She resumed intaking the cup of caffeine in her hands as if nothing had happened.

“I didn’t not have a mother for years just to see this,” Seulgi said.

Her voice was more of a growl, deep and angry. Irene couldn’t blame her. This had to be a disappointment, a large one at that. She finished the rest of her drink and stood up. She opened the door.

“Let’s go find out what she wants.”

Apparently, she wanted them on a heist. She’d obviously calculated their worth. Their time in a top agency, the skills they’d acquired, the knowledge they’d received, the people they’d killed. Skill sets required in this field of work. Far more advanced and capable than any one of the goons.

Harley Quinn was there as was Frost and two others, a male and a female. Irene had never seen them before. Presumably members of Kang Sumin’s elite group. They looked the part. Both fit, though in different ways. The woman was lean, the man was bulky. No fat, just pure muscle. The opposite of Frost. Harley Quinn was the only one who didn’t seem to be overly athletic. She wasn’t overweight, just skin and bone. Presumably the brain of the group