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TARGET ACQUIRED

LONDON - 15:01

Deep below the city streets a young man sat facing a crumbling, decrepit wall, the low rumble of distant trains echoing off the walls. A wild array of reports, photographs, and maps were being projected from a small device on the floor, sprawled before him across the old concrete. One particular image - a photo of a young doctor - held his attention. It was the same digital face he’d been glaring at for weeks.

DR. KMS - SEOUL DIVISION, the projection read.

The EXO emblem sewn into the collar of his lab coat laughed back at him.

The memories felt both old and new.

The laboratories, the cold metal tables, the maze of secured wards and grey-cast hallways, the armed guards, the man outside the glass barricade…

“You’re going to love me,” came a voice from the doorway.

There was no response.

“Aww, come on Kai. I’ve been working on this for like 20 hours straight. The least you could do is act grateful.”

“Chen...”

There was a sigh and an electric whir before the projection on the wall was overridden and a new image appeared at the center: an aerial shot of a run down street corner.

“You were right. He’s back in Seoul.”

“Get the ship ready and tell the others,” said Kai, quietly. “If we’ve found him, so has Kim.” He took one last look at the scientist on the wall before turning off the projection, plunging the room into darkness.

<<<01100111 01100101 01101101 01101001 01101110 01101001>>>

21 HOURS LATER - Seoul, South Korea

Jongin yawned as he hauled the next pile of dishes to the sink. God, he ached all over. He was exhausted. He was so tired he couldn't even add up the few hours he might have actually slept the night before if he cared. All he knew was that he’d helped close up the restaurant at 12AM, crawled back to his apartment, only to wake up again at quarter to four in the morning…

On the roof of an office building across town.

He'd been sleepwalking for as long as he could remember. Which, when your memory only goes back a measly two years, isn't really all that long. It was just another part of the mystery, the gaping whole in Jongin's mind. Why? How did he walk so far, so fast without being stopped or hit by a car, or any other number of horrible things? Why did it only happen when he had nightmares? Why could he never remember the nightmares when he woke up?

Forgetting. That seemed to be the reoccurring theme of his life.

Jongin wiped at his nose with the crook of his elbow, shaking his head, as if he could clear the same old nagging thoughts from the back of his mind. He could feel the beginnings of a cold in his throat: that ominous warm prickling. Last night it had taken two hours to find his way back home, walking the sidewalks barefoot. He didn’t know what was happening with him lately.

But the nightmares were becoming more frequent.

And the sleepwalking was getting worse.

“I didn’t know you had tattoos,” came a voice directly over his shoulder.

Jongin jolted and the glass he’d been washing slipped from his hand, shattering against the edge of the sink.

It all happened too fast. Not thinking, he instantly made to grab for the broken pieces, hissing as a jagged edge caught his finger. At the same time there was a moment of realization.

Tattoos.

He yanked his sleeves down until they reached the knuckles, arms now soaked with water and suds. He turned and came face to face with Taemin, the new waiter, eying where the markings would have been visible before.

The number 88 across the side of his hand. The strange hexagon on the inside of his wrist. Both of which always filled him with an overwhelming sense of dread. Both he had no memory of getting.

“Sorry,” said Taemin, looking bewildered. “I guess I shouldn’t have - Oh my god, you’re bleeding.”

Panicked, the waiter grabbed the dish towel from Jongin’s shoulder and reached for him.

“No,” he yelped, tearing his hand away. “It’s fine. I-” Jongin leapt back and stumbled into the rickety drying rack full of dishes.

With a horrible crash an entire row of clean plates and bowls rained down on the kitchen floor. Their broken remains lay in a dismal heap.

“Oh god,” Taemin whispered.

Jongin felt like all the breath had been pulled from his lungs. This couldn’t be happening. How had he not been paying attention like that? Why did Taemin have to see those stupid markings? And why did that bother him?

This was the only job he could find in the city. It was everything. He’d had to get on his knees and beg the old man to let him work for him, to pay him under the table, to not ask questions. He was barely scraping by as it was. He couldn’t afford a screw up like this.

Someone cleared their throat from across the room. Jongin looked up, dread roiling in his stomach. He met eyes with Mr. Choi, the owner, gaze steely and face set in a grim line.

Jongin could feel the new waiter tense up beside him and quickly stepped forward.

“Mr. Choi, I’m so sorry,” said Jongin. “This was completely my fault. I’ll replace everything. I promise it won’t-”

Mr. Choi held up his hand and Jongin came to a stuttered halt. “Just,” said the old man, face reddening and biting back his temper, “Clean it up and take out the trash. I’ll deal with you later.”

The threat lingered in the air and Jongin’s heart sank.

The streets had already become dark and the smell from last night's garbage lingered in the air behind the restaurant. The street lamps lit up domes of raindrops in an ugly green haze as Jongin dragged two heaping trash bags out the back door. With an unceremoniuos clatter he dropped them at the sidewalk.

Wasn't this just his luck, he thought, standing there, letting the rain soak him to the bone. He felt resigned. Who knew what Choi would do about the broken dishes. Take the money from his pay? Make him scrub the backs of the ovens again? Fire him?

He ran a hand through his hair. "God, I'm an idiot," he muttered to himself.

A sudden sharp pain in his neck had him gasping and lurching forward. He reached up and found something small there nestled in his skin. Panicking, he ripped it free. When he saw what was there his stomach dropped. "What the hell...?"

In his hand was a tiny clear capsul with a needle at the head. There was some kind of blue liquid inside, the smallest drop.

His heart began to thunder in his chest. A dart?

Suddenly the alley filled with the sound of footsteps. Men in dark clothing seemed to materialize out of the shadows, running straight for him. He was grabbed from all sides and Jongin didn't even think to scream. Headlights burst from around the corner, blinding him as a huge armored truck barreled in and came to a screeching halt only steps away. Jongin kicked and thrashed as the doors flung open and he was dragged forward. He was thrown in the back. With a clang and the sound of a heavy lock, the doors swung shut.

He was closed in.

It was like getting thrown into a whole other world. Cold, florescent light. Machines beeping and blinking. Metal from top to bottom. Jongin had no idea what was happening, barely able to feel the rumbling, cold steel against his cheek. He was having a hard time thinking, as if his mind had been clouded over. The next thing he knew he was being hauled up from the floor and forced onto a bench.

Two men were on either side of him, holding him in place. Which didn't seem necessary to Jongin as his whole body seemed to be going limp and numb. Only now did he realize the metal cuffs around his wrists. His vision was blurring in and out but he thought he saw a small blinking green light coming from them and there was something almost... familiar about that.

Am I being arrested, he thought, blearily, blood running cold. Could it be? Could it be that after two years of living with no identification, no proof of citizenship, someone had tracked him down? Were they going to put him back in that assisted living facility? Or worse: had someone finally found his real identity? Could Jongin have done something terrible before waking up in the hospital those two years ago? 

A bright light appeared in front of his face, flitting back and forth. Jongin blinked.

"Well that seems to be working nicely." The light disappeared and when his eyes readjusted a face came into view. A man with gold rimmed glasses and a cheerful smile stared back at him, holding a small flashlight. He was wearing a lab coat and carried the smell of a sterile hospital.

"Hello, 88, "he continued. "Remember me?"

By all rights Jongin should have been more worried about who these people were or where he was being taken but in that moment he'd only heard one thing: the man had said "88." No, he'd called him 88. The mysterious number on his hand. If he was frightened before, he was paralyzed now.

The man in the lab coat seemed pleased by his reaction, grabbing a clipboard and making some sort of note. "Wonderful! Introductions then. I'm Dr. Kim Minseok. And I hear you've been calling yourself Jongin lately? I'll be honest; it doesn't really suit you." He ended with another overly pleasant smile and Jongin wanted to be sick. This doctor was eerily out of place. Here he was handcuffed in the back of a moving truck and this man was making casual conversation. Was this even real?

"What's going on," he said, surprised by the slur in his own voice. "Did you drug me? Why are you doing this?"

The doctor ignored him, instead grabbing a case with some vials in it. "You know, It's been a long, expensive two years. And to think, in the beginning, we almost had you back. We've sent units to every corner of the world. Imagine our surprise when we get the call: unidentified male coma patient in a Colorado hospital..."

He knew. He knew about the hospital. Jongin could remember the faces of the nurses. The questions he couldn't answer. The man in the suit outside his door. He'd had a gun under his jacket.

"... A patient that matches the description of an 88," the doctor continued. He pulled out a syringe and pushed up the sleeve of Jongin's shirt. Jongin squirmed frantically with the little energy he had. It was an unfair match as the two men beside him easily held him down. "One of you being that careless? Maybe one of the others... but an 88? Incredible..."

Jongin hissed as the doctor drew blood from his arm.

"...We gave them specific instructions: that you were to be sedated and locked down, that you were an extreme flight risk. But, let's face it, getting cooperation from the U.S. Department of Homeland Security is like asking for snow in Belize. So naturally, you escaped, didn't you? That is what you do best after all."

Something about the doctor's face. There was something there. It was driving him insane.

The doctor leaned in close. "88, I need you to tell me if you've been contacted by your counterpart," he said, suddenly very serious. "Where is Kai?"

Kai.

An overwhelming pain exploded behind his eyes. Jongin gasped. He wanted to cradle his head but the cuffs and guards beside him prevented it. He was breathless from the agony.

The Doctor was still so close to his face. "88, I need an answer..."

That's when he saw it: the emblem on the collar of his lab coat, a familiar hexagon-like shape. Just like the one on his own wrist.

Images cut in and out in his mind and he didn't know what was happening.

A small, white room.

A camera in the corner, beaming red.

Lights and monitors.

"Watch for the reflections."

"We're never going back there, 12. Not while I'm alive."

The pain doubled and Jongin's heart felt like it was going way too fast. "Never going back" seemed to be echoing in his mind. Suddenly he felt like he was being ripped in half, all sound drowned out by white noise. He screamed as the world around him went dark.

<<<01100111 01100101 01101101 01101001 01101110 01101001>>>

High above the city in an aircraft completely undetectable from all surveillance a resounding beep was coming from an elaborate console.

"We've got a hit on facial recognition. Seoul Station."

A blonde man stood and opened a large compartment panel. "Comms on, everyone. Chanyeol, Sehun, you're with me." As he spoke he handed out an array of guns and devices. Baekhyun, you go in first-"

"Kai," said the man at the controls. He was staring at an array of cctv footage. "We've got a problem."

Kai appeared behind him and looked for himself. "Looks like our friends are here."

<<<01100111 01100101 01101101 01101001 01101110 01101001>>>

author's note: First chapter! Things are a little mysterious right now but don't worry next chapter everyone meets and that means it's about to GO DOWN! Thank you to my loooooovely beta to-a-tea!

-lemon