A wisp of smoke flew upwards as he exhaled, bringing the cigarette down along with his arm as he sighed, staring in the distance to the gray skies that resembled his pollution-filled home. 

Zhang Yixing was one of, if not the best agents in the IMF, aka Impossible Mission Force that was formed by Secret British Intelligence before the First World War, and he was one of the top members of its Chinese Branch. 

He chuckled to himself quietly. Ironic, wasn't it, when China was one of Europe's many enemies in the many wars written in fallen soldiers' blood on the pages of history. Who, in those times, could have possibly thought that China and European countries now skip hand in hand when saving the world? 

A shrill bird's call jolted him out of his stupor as he cursed under his breath, digging the electronic device out of the knee-length coat that he'd thrown on for the slight autumn chill. "Hello?" 

"Zen me le, shun li ma?¹" Yifan's deep voice cracked slightly across the line, and Yixing had to strain his ears to hear and mentally cursed at his boss for speaking in Chinese. 

"No it's not successful," He snapped back, foul mood taking over. "So far it had been pouring and I haven't got anything done." 

Static flowed across the phone before words were shouted, ".....danger! ......measured to be....thirty...out...Algeria...Kim Junmyeon..." 

Just as the line became clearer, a loud beep indicated that the other had ended the call. Strings of Chinese curses bounced off the stone walls as he vented his frustration, before stopping when the words came echoing back to him. 

Yixing froze in his uncomfortable position of leaning against the damp walls in the dark as he strained his ears for any sound that indicated discovery of his hideout. When nothing was heard except the occasional drip drop of excess water falling off the metal roofs from the downpour of the day before, he peeled himself off the wall and stuffed the long sleeves covering his clenched fists into the large pockets of his jacket, then strolled causally towards the light in the distance, as if he wasn't walking out of a dark and damp alley. 

Algeria was actually different from the other places he had traveled to, in a way that it seemed surreal to exist in the same world. There were the rich, and there were the poor, which differed from each other so much that the poorest of the poor were living skeletons slumped against the graffiti-dirtied walls, while the richest merchants live in their respective palaces built in the midst of the slumps. It also had a labyrinth of alleys, in which Yixing learned in the hard way by managing to see sunlight after seemingly endless days of wandering. 

One of the skills he learnt was to blend in, and he had to say, so far nobody had seemed suspicious of the Chinese agent. Still, accidents could happen. Suddenly - 

Hiss. He paused for a fragment of a second, freezing in his own world, a contrast to the crowded and noisy streets, fingers curling around the gun hidden in his trench coat pocket. Yixing risked a look behind him, and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw a cat's shadow jump over a pond. 

He continued walking, shouldering his way through the crowded mass of bodies that, helped cover him and at the same time, pose a danger to him. The Chinese agent spot a shop selling scarves and accessories, bent down, pretending to examine a pretty piece of stone fashioned into a rose, hanging from a black string, when he was actually looking into the mirror set on the table. Indeed, a hooded man was hiding behind the corner, keeping an eye on him as he turned the stone over and over on his hand. 

The shop owner noticed him, and came over. A chance. "Kiasi gani?"² Yixing asked, letting the stone slide across his fingers and the string hanging from his fingertips. 

He could see the other man's eyes glitter, and he rubbed his hands and grinned. "Thelathini na tano...lakini kwa muungwana hii...ishirini?"³

"Mimi itabidi kuchukua ni kwa kumi na tano,"⁴ Yixing threw a fifteen piece on the table, and the merchant hurriedly put the necklace into a golden bag, and tied it with a string. "Hapa kwenda."⁵ He smiled, revealing dirty and crooked teeth before dropping it into his open palm. 

"Thank you," He smiled back, and stuffed the pouch into his pocket as he continued to bend over the goods of every stall, and glanced in the mirror of every one. The mysterious figure followed him closely, and once he chuckled quietly when the man stumbled, clearly not used to unruly crowds. Yixing took the chance, and slipped away, into a corner where he waited. 

He wasn't called one of the greatest agents for nothing; Yixing had the ability to block out all of the sounds around him, and search for the one he was looking for. In this case, the man's footsteps, which, would likely be heavy and casual, yet tense. 

Some people specialises in listening to animal cries. He specialises in listening to footsteps. 

He waited. 

And waited. 

Would he have lost me, or lost his way? The Chinese wondered, and rested one boot against the wall. No, if that man was sent to tail him, then he certainly would not have been an amateur. The stumbling would've been a show, yet it seemed natural, which meant...

He's dealing with an expert here. 

To conceal the shaking of his hands (which is, of course, due to excitement and not fear), he slipped a hand into his jacket and pulled out one of his phones. Agents generally have two phones or more, as there would not be a lack of communication lest he lost one of them. 

Dialing a number quickly, he glanced around the area, sweeping his eyes around so that no one could ambush him. No dail ringtones are allowed, of course, but somehow when the Boss calls he programmed it to be something loud so his agents could possibly get killed. And so he nearly missed Yifan's low mutter of "Hello?" 

"I need your help," Yixing raised his hand, and cupped the other over his mouth and the phone as he rattled off a list of coordinates and also the fact that someone lured him. 

It was a few seconds before there was an answer, and the young agent the blade hidden in a pocket sewn in his trench coat anxiously. "...that's correct. You're near. Very near." 

"Good. Now - " Yixing never finished his sentence; he was so occupied with the call, he didn't notice a shadow slipping up on him and the sound of a foot dragged through gravel and rock before it was too late; before a palm being slammed onto the side of his neck, knocking him unconscious. 

The man smirked, pulling his face mask off as he stared at the agent sprawled on the ground. Such an amateur mistake to make as one of the so-called best agents in the world, he thought as he hauled the man up by the scruff of his collar, taking a closer look at his features. 

No doubt Zhang Yixing was handsome, the pictures lining the room he lived in proved that as he sighed, but lips thinned again as one of his underlings came up to him, trembling in fright. 

"What do you want?" He snapped. 

"M-mister Byun," The other started, voice coated with fear. Oh, how he loved that feeling. "I-I'm sure - " 

"Take this." Tossing a coin bag at the direction of the cowering man, he didn't spare another glance at the other who soon took off, gleeful and laughing with joy. "Goddamn idiots." 

"Now now, there's no need to belittle him like that, is there." A smooth and rich voice appeared in the shadows of the nearest exit of the maze, making his lip curl. "Baekhyun?" 

"Junmyeon-ssi," He chuckled, letting go of the collar and controlled his will to pick the Chinese agent off the sandy and dusty alley floor. "I'm sure someone like you would have no time running around reprimanding his subordinates about treating their underlings, seeing as your schedule is packed from day to night." 

The heir smiled. "As you have been informed by my secretary, haven't you. I probably should hire another, seeing as she's so smitten with your charms. Now - "

" - with parties in forbidden clubs even in the underworld, meetings with the unnatural, as well as running a drug business." Baekhyun continued, shrugging his jacket off. He should've brought lighter clothing, seeing as Algeria was an oven. He wondered how Zhang Yixing could survive with a ing trench coat, but then again the agent would have his own secrets. 

Junmyeon's gaze darkened. "How did you - " 

"Oh, seeing as your secretary is so smitten with me, it wasn't hard to wheedle information out of her." The other tossed a careless grin over his shoulder. "Just kidding. I have my own sources, and you forgot I received spy training as well, didn't you? Just like this guy." He nudged Zhang Yixing's head just for the sake of acting. 

Sure enough, the young heir wasn't convinced, but said, "Don't hurt him. Father is thrilled with the idea of breaking him using physical and psychological means." 

"Sure sure~" Baekhyun waved, but there was a sense of dread welling up in him as he heard the words. 

There was a sudden blast of wind; the sand and dust was kicked up into a swirling tornado as the sound of chopping blades filled his ear canals. He tried to cover himself up with his jacket, but still got a mouthful of sand which he spat out promptly as the helicopter had landed. 

"Dramatic." He sniffed, and nearly choked on the dust in his lungs. 

Junmyeon noticed, and grinned. "There's equipment in the back if you need to wash that sand out of your hair and system." The heir, being a rich heir, was of course able to afford a helicopter, not to mention jumping onto it in his million-dollar shoes and suit, into the cockpit next to the pilot while Baekhyun, the poor subordinate had to carry Zhang Yixing on board, and he's not exactly light either. 

"What about your underling?" Junmyeon called. 

"Ignore him," Baekhyun yelled back over the noise of the helicopter starting. "He can find his way home. If not, just fire him."

The older chuckled at that. "Roger that, mister." 

Hi people!!! Long time no see I know; this is the first chapter for the story and I apologize for teasing you with the snippet but not actually writing > < 

anyways let me know in the comments how I did!! 

Love you all <3 

~Suhyo07

Sidenote: URGH I SHOULD BE STUDYINGGGG

23.6.17:

Translations: Title = 'Desire for Danger' (I forgot what I was supposed to name this lol) 

Chapter title = 'Love + Danger = Death' 

¹= 'How is it, successful?' 

²= 'How much?'

³= 'Thirty five...but for this gentleman...twenty?'

⁴= 'I'll take it for fifteen.' 

⁵= 'Here you go.'