-March 18th, 2015. Singapore 16:43.

Damn he was bored.

Middle of the week, working the afternoon shift, staring at the computer screen as visitors came and left. Who knew that working as an assistant receptionist could be so...ordinary? People had patterns; people became predictable, therefore requests were predictable making his humdrum of a job become even more monotonous as each day went by. Everyone wanted to be treated special and they were paying a great deal of money for it. But it turned out that people weren’t so different after all; they all had the same idea of ‘special treatment’, which made the privileged, the spoilt, much easier to deal with. Whatever request a new guest would make, had already been made before at some point or another, no matter how unreasonable their requests got.

So he really didn't have much of a job to do other than register bookings, check ins and outs.

Thank goodness it was still low season, that meant he had less to do and more time to waste letting his mind ruminate and then get lost into a state of near incognizance. He didn’t even need to think as he mechanically typed on the keyboard, writing out monotonous replies to guest reviews on any social media that mentioned the hotel -signing as the P.R. Manager, though he was just a ‘temporary’ assistant.

‘Great location and service. The staff was friendly and comprehensive. Excellent installations, the garden and swimming pool were the best and the food was superb. Expensive but best option if you’re willing to spend well your money for an ostentatious vacation.’

“Expensive?” he murmured to himself, hands typing fast, “It’s a five star luxurious hotel, what the hell did you expect?”

He huffed out a sigh as he rested his chin against his palm to gaze at the opulent lobby. Luxurious felt a little short to describe the scenery before him. The expanse of the lobby had six massive pillars, all white pristine marble. Potted plants and trees, even a mural green plants hung out of. Many sitting areas to keep guests comfortable as they waited to check in. A massive flat surfaced water table instead of a coffee one. Hell, the rugs must have been more expensive than the house he lived in. It was only the front lobby, but it showed just how luxurious the 15 acre hotel was.

“How’s the work going?” his foster father, Mr. Kim, asked as he walked towards the back of the reception.

“Uh,” Junmyeon blinked dumbly as he turned his attention back to the computer screen. He hadn’t realized he had already written out the same reply he gave to the rest of the reviews.

“It sounds too impersonal, Junmyeon,” his father commented as he peered from behind him.

“Of course it’s not personal, you’re not writing them,” he quipped with a bored tone as he finished the reply, signing off on his father’s behalf.

He heard the elder man sigh beside him as he pushed his thick-framed spectacles up the bridge of his nose. “Look, I know you hate this job, but could you at least appear more amicable towards the guests?”

Junmyeon frowned as he looked around the lobby again. “There’s no one here.”

“I know, I know,” Mr. Kim placed his hands on his hips. “But once someone walks in, all cherry about being in this beautiful city and beautiful hotel, they’ll sense your gloomy aura and think that this place might not be as beautiful as it seems.”

Junmyeon stared back at the man for a good whole minute, debating whether it was wise or not to engage into an argument about non-existing auras and the adequacy of his people skills,  when people truly were around. He decided to plant the biggest and most insincere smile onto his face instead.

His father rolled his eyes, waving his hand dismissively as he gave up on trying to brighten his mood. “You know, I used to teach before relocating here and, as a person who sees potential in others, I believe you being here is a waste. But it was your decision to drop out.”

“I didn’t drop out.”

“Freeze the semester,” his father corrected himself before he could. “Either way, you’re not attending classes and putting that brain of yours to good use. Instead you’re, what, wasting your days behind this counter?”

“You gave me this job.”

“So you wouldn’t turn into a recluse cooped up in your room,” he countered. “That’s an even worse way to waste your time. You don’t even have friends. You don’t go out. You’ve refused every date your mother worked on setting you up with.”

“I’m not interested, I already told her,” Junmyeon mumbled annoyed as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“What about our neighbor’s daughter, um, Sarah? I’ve seen you two talking together,” he insisted.

“Not interested,” he was unaffected by her mention.

Mr. Kim sighed, placing his hand onto Junmyeon’s shoulder. “You’ve got us worried son,” the sincerity in his words was reflected in his hazel eyes. “You were doing so great. Finished two years of studies and then you suddenly dropped it all. You’re so smart Junmyeon, you could have a successful career and a fulfilling life if you tried,” he encouraged.

“Dad, I appreciate your concern, I really do,” he said as he held onto his father’s hand, “But I already explained this to you.”

The elder shook his head while letting his hands fall to his sides. “You’re so stubborn.”

“Because I’m right.”

Mr. Kim readjusted his glasses as he spoke, “University isn’t useless. Trying to live a normal life isn’t a waste of time.”

“It is when my time is scarce.” He leaned against the counter, “I don’t want to be worried about midterms when I should be looking for my group. Something’s meant to happen by the end of the month and I want to be there when it does.”

“You keep insisting that it will happen.”

“Because it will,” he stressed.

His father peered over him, looking towards the entrance. A family of four walked through the glass doors with their luggage being ushered in by the porters. Junmyeon was going to bring up the homepage on the computer system to check them in, but his attention was caught by a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Yes?”

“I’ll take care of them,” his father said. “Agent Kim is waiting for you at The Orchid.”

Junmyeon went out to the garden, immediately feeling the heat and humidity as he stepped out of the conditioned lobby. He took the trail that led to the outdoor open-greenhouse shaped like a wooden pod. It was around seven meters tall with long-bent planks of wood, resembling a Torchidae top-shell. Inside it was filled with six hundred orchid flowers, carefully placed in pots along the spiral wall, all the way up to the top. Everywhere that you looked an orchid was growing from its pot; from top to bottom, the inside of the wooden dome was ornamented by beautiful flowers.

 The Orchid was the only thing he loved about the hotel –not the overbearing ostentatious installations, like the swimming pool or the heavily decorated interiors. No, his love for this place, this wooden dome, and for the flowers it guarded.

As he had been informed, his guardian agent was standing inside the pod-like structure, staring up as he observed the magnificent flowers.

“Hey,” he greeted as he stepped inside, eyes immediately captured by the elegant beauty of the orchids. The Vanda Miss Joaquim always reminded him of Yixing, especially the paler ones. There was something so calming about them.

“This place is beautiful,” Agent Kim commented. “I should’ve visited sooner.”

“Well, now you’re here,” he said as his eyes found a branch of delicate Ionopsis orchid; little violet petals that reminded him of Sehun.

“Which one’s your favorite?”

“I don’t have favorites,” he quickly replied. “But there are eleven that I like most.”

“Eleven?”

“Yes, one for each member,” he smiled as he pointed at the spray of firecracker red Renanthera Kalsom, “Chanyeol,” and then next to it at one with golden petals and brown pollen spots, the Vandachostylis Ladda Gold, “Yifan.”

“I see,” the agent nodded. “Eleven, right? You don’t have one for yourself?”

“There’s a mirror for that,” he shrugged lightly, unable to keep his lips from grinning.

“Smooth,” he chuckled. He kept silent as he looked around, contemplating the orchids. “Which one would be Baekhyun then?”

“Baekhyun?” Junmyeon wondered why his agent mentioned a specific member as he searched for his designated flower. Junmyeon pointed up towards the right, “Dendrobium Joyce Margaret Kuok,” he named the bright orchid. It was a mix between bright purple, fuchsia and red, with details of white and yellow. But the most distinctive feature of the dense spray of flowers were the two curved spikes that sprung out on the top, resembling the horns of an impala.

“Wow, that one is quite… flamboyant.”

“Well, Baekhyun can’t go unseen or unheard. He demands attention,” he explained. The agent nodded in agreement. “So, why did you mention him?”

“What?”

Junmyeon rolled his eyes. “Why did you bring up Baekhyun?”

“Oh, right,” Agent Kim moved towards the entrance, taking a quick scope of the garden to make sure no one was around to hear them. Once he felt safe, he walked up to Junmyeon and spoke in a low voice. “I got word from Moon. You remember Agent Moon?”

“Yeah,” he whispered.

“He’s Baekhyun’s guardian,” he quickly informed. “Anyway, you know that communication with Central is slow at times, but I haven’t had word from them in weeks. Agent Moon managed to message me and he says that Central is down. I checked and he’s right, we’re in the dark, cut off from Central; which means they have shut us out for our protection.”

Junmyeon frowned as he tried to make sense of his words. “You mean something happened down in Central that they cut off all communication with us so we’d stay safe?”

“Yeah, so there will be no trace that can link us to them and compromise our location,” he explained.

“You’re sure about that?”

“It’s either that or Central’s completely down, which means we’re pretty much ed, but I’m trying to stay optimistic about this.”

Junmyeon wasn’t sure if laughing would be adequate, so he closed his eyes to calm down. "Optimism is naive.”

“We’re still alive, aren’t we?” Agent Kim shrugged. “Anyway, Moon, he, umm, he had gone off the grid sometime last month, so I was surprised he contacted me.”

“Wait,” he frowned in confusion. “Off the grid? Is Baekhyun in trouble?”

“No, no,” he quickly shook his hands, “Going off the grid is something we’re allowed to do to ensure more security for our protégé, by cutting off communication ties with the Agency to reduce risks of being traced and linked.” His agent noticed that he wasn’t clear enough. “Working under the Agency requires constant checkups and reports that have to be transmitted back to Central, so if communications are intercepted then logistics can get compromised,” he paused for a second, “Going off the grid is basically giving up your rank in the Agency and dedicating your life to your protégé. It’s not a bad thing to do, but it’s uncommon. There shouldn’t be any reasons to take such measures.”

“But Agent Moon believed he had to,” Junmyeon tried to make sense of why the agent would give his life’s job to secure Baekhyun’s security. “And now Central is down. So he had to believe there was something wrong beforehand. Why?”

“He believes Central is down because of a rat, because of…” he stopped talking, looking uncertain if he should disclose the information he knew.

Junmyeon knew his agent couldn’t inform him of everything going on in the Agency -sometimes secrecy was best for their protection. But if Central was down and they were in trouble, then it would be best if he had a bit information to work with and come up with a plan.

“Just tell me what you think I should know,” Junmyeon argued with patience, “I don’t mind if you can’t tell me all the details, but at least give me something. Why does Agent Moon believe that Central’s down because of a traitor?”

Agent Kim rubbed his mouth, internally debating whether he should agree or not. “Something… Something happened down at New Zealand that couldn’t be just a coincidence.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, without details, that what happened down there couldn’t be sheer coincidence,” he tried to explain lowering his head as if it would keep their conversation more private. “It had to be planned.”

“And Agent Moon believes that the rat in the Agency had something to do with what happened in New Zealand.” Junmyeon surmised. “When did this incident happen?”

“Mid-January I think.”

“So it was before Agent Moon went off the grid. Which means that whatever happened down there was bad enough for him to decide to cut off ties and protect Baekhyun,” he thought aloud.

“Yeah,” Agent Kim agreed, catching on his train of thought.

“What happened down there?”

“I can’t say, but it was bad,” Agent Kim scratched his neck.

“So he’s warning us,” he thought aloud. “Central’s down because there must be an internal threat, a rat. And Moon’s warning us, why? Are we compromised? Is my group compromised?”

Agent Kim shook his head. “I wouldn’t know, there’s no communication, and no other agent has tried messaging me.”

“But-”

“Look,” he cut him off, “the reason Moon messaged me was to tell you that he’s hiding in Paris with Baekhyun and Lu Mei.”

“Mama? Baekhyun’s with Mama?” he asked as he could not believe it.

“Yes.”

“Then we’ve got to go to Paris,” he said without hesitation.

“What?” his agent gasped. “It’s Lu Mei. I don’t think she’s trustworthy.”

“She’s not the enemy,” Junmyeon stressed, knowing that trying to explain that Mama wasn’t either good or bad would be a waste of time, “And we most definitely need her help to time travel. So if she’s in Paris with Baekhyun, that means Zitao and Jongin will be there too. So I have to get to Paris.”

“But-”

“There’s nothing to discuss about this,” he rudely cut off his agent. “I’m going with or without you.”

“Without me?” he said scandalized. “And how do you think you’ll do that, huh? Swim all the way there,” he said sardonically.

“I will if I have to,” he retorted childishly, causing his agent to scoff loudly. “Look, Tao and Jongin need Mama’s help to time travel, or to help her with the evidence that they take to the past, I don’t know. The thing is that they have to get to Paris and I want to -need to be there,” he insisted. “So are you going to help me or not?”

Agent Kim ruffled his hair as he let out a muffled string of curses. “Fine,” he said exasperated.

“Good,” he smiled. “Did he give you any instructions?”

“Instructions?”

Junmyeon let out a sigh. “Agent Moon might have been the one to contact you, but he did it on Baekhyun’s behalf. And if Baekhyun’s hiding out with Mama, it means that Mama must have given some specifications to Moon because she likes things done her way,” he explained. “So, did he give you any instructions?”

“Damn, I forgot you were this smart,” Agent Kim muttered as he looked him up. “He said something about not flying directly to Paris. We’ve got to get close first and then find a discreet way to enter France. They will let us know when to get in.”

Junmyeon nodded as he thought it through. “It makes sense. Two members already have to find a way into France, though Jongin shouldn’t have any problems with being discreet. Still, we should be careful to not arouse any suspicions and avoid compromising the meeting point.”

“Italy.”

“Excuse me?”

“I know a place in Genoa,” his agent explained. “We can get there first and then figure out how to cross to France.”

Junmyeon stared into his agent’s eyes. This was the moment he had been waiting for, the chance to find his group again.

Junmyeon vigorously nodded as excitement stirred in his chest. “Alright, Genoa it is,” he agreed, “When can we get there?”

“Give me two days to figure everything out.”

“Alright.”

-March 19th, 2015. Barcelona 10:10.

He was becoming more antsy with every tick of the clock. It has been nearly a month since he moved to Spain and he yet had to hear any news from Mama or Jongin. Time was running out and the end of the month was only ten days away. How the hell was he supposed to find them in time? This wasn’t what he had expected. This wasn’t what he had seen.

Well, it wasn’t like he had seen when he was going to find them. But at least he knew where. The only memory of Spirit Tao he had before Paris, was of Jongin and him near the Basilica Sagrada Familia.

So like every other day since he moved away from the Buddhist monastery -since he traded tunics for fashionable suits and a blond undercut- he picked up the day’s edition of the El País at the reception, walked out of his hotel down at Fusina street and walked the short distance to Café Kafka; a quiet and quaint place he enjoyed his breakfast at. He sat at his preferred spot, the corner with the bookshelf to his back and ordered coffee and homemade croquettes with Iberian ham.

As per usual the waiter served him his coffee first; black with a touch of milk to chase the bitterness away. Ah yes, this was the perfect spot to relax as the clock ticked. He had a full view of the café bistro, a perfect view of the 50’s Sputnik lamp at the center and of the eccentric bar, wooden with a base made out of old iron fireplace trims, with multicolored light bulbs hanging above on wires.

Yeah, this café had spunk and style, and Zitao loved it.

He picked up his copy of the El País newspaper to skim through the pages. It wasn’t like he could really understand anything written on it, for his knowledge of Spanish -which by the way was supposed to be much easier than Catalan, since Catalan was a weird language- was close to nothing, but he liked to pretend he could grasp an idea or two of what was happening through the images printed among the articles; plus it had sudoku, so all was well.

What he didn’t expect was to find scribbled Hangul on the front page.

“What the ?” the words in Mandarin slipped out with ease as he stared down at the handwriting.

He realized the person who wrote on the newspaper was translating the headline of a news article about a Russian ship that got stuck in thick ice during its ‘failed’ Australasian Antarctic expedition. He flipped the page to find the full coverage, discovering the news to have been translated as well.

‘Okay so, a Russian ship, Akademik Shokalskiy, departed from Port Bluff in New Zealand on December 8th and went on some so called “scientific expedition” to the Antarctic but got trapped in thick ice. A Chinese and Australian icebreaker went to aid the Akademik Shokalskiy, along with a French research vessel. Ice was too thick, the only way they could help was using the helicopter of the Chinese vessel to transfer 52 passengers onto the Australian vessel to get them out. But then the Chinese one got stuck too, boo-hoo.’

“Boo-hoo?” Zitao repeated aloud. “Seriously, who the is this person?”

Knowing no one was there to reply, he continued reading.

‘Anyway, some American heavy icebreaker was sent to help but the Akademik and the Chinese one managed to get out on their own and headed back to New Zealand, arriving at Port Bluff on January 14th. That’s pretty much it. That’s all it says. Weird, right?’

Zitao frowned, looking up from the newspaper as he suddenly felt like he was being observed. Other than the waiter, there were two customers inside the café. One with a laptop and a fresh-pressed orange juice, another calmly reading a book. Neither seemed suspicious nor were they looking his way. He was being paranoid because of the freaking person who decided to translate old news to Korean.

‘Why is it weird, you ask. I say, well, the news says nothing about why the Russians went to the Antarctic, they say “scientific expedition”, so why the hell did they have 52 passengers needing rescue? Were they really passengers? Or were they something else, something the Russians, French, Chinese and Australian knew about and went to help get out of the Antarctic? Huh? Isn’t it odd how the Russians and Chinese magically managed to “escape” from the thick ice before the Americans could barge in? Weird ain’t it?’

It was weird, now that the translator mentioned it. Were the Russians affiliated with the Chinese, French and Australian in anyway? He didn’t know much, but he had an inkling of EX’ACT’s main structure from before. He thought he could recall something about the headquarters being in China, and about them having international partners built as subunits like the one they were part of in Korea. But South Korea wasn’t mentioned in the news. So why would it matter to him? It wasn’t like the stranger wrote knowing he would pick up the newspaper and read it…right?

‘So, Beef-’

“Beef?”

‘So, Beef, if you want to find out what the hell I’m talking about, find me near the fountain at the Luxembourg garden in Paris, tomorrow at around 10am so I don’t have to wake up too early. Oh, and bring Kkamjong with you, he should be at the Sacred Family basilica by this afternoon. See you tomorrow, your little ray of light.’

“Little ray of light?” he repeated as his frown deepened. “Holy, ! Baekhyun,” he got up so quickly, that he knocked his table. Startled by the sudden movement, he felt his body tense up as adrenaline rushed through his veins, causing him to stop time before the table could fall.

He moved away from his seat, letting the newspaper fall onto the table as he settled it back in place, making sure everything was in order to avoid a bigger mess once he would start time again. He looked around at the other people in the cafe with him -frozen in time- without really observing them, as he attempted to walk a few steps to ease his confusion.

Baekhyun had been there. He had been in Barcelona, in his hotel and had scribbled onto the newspaper he was given at the reception.

Without further deliberation Zitao released his hold on time, and  ran out of the café, feeling the beating of his heart hammer against his chest. Baekhyun had been in Barcelona. He had been to his hotel and had managed to get the receptionist to hand him over the old newspaper.

, he realized he left the newspaper inside the café. Hastily he ran back in to get it, once again stopping time to keep the waiter from asking questions or ranting about the bill. He quickly grabbed the newspaper, smacked a couple of euros on the table and ran out onto the street to head back to his hotel.

But when he got there, the receptionist he saw in the morning had finished his shift and left for the day. Trying to explain about the newspaper to the new one was useless, so he ended up packing his stuff to pass the time before walking all the way to the basilica.

He had visited it before, though it was still under construction then and would be for another eleven years. He looked around the crowd of people, anxiety knotting his nerves whenever he thought he saw someone who could’ve been Jongin. Why the hell were there so many people on a ing Thursday afternoon?

He was getting skittish under the shadows of the Gaudi gothic towers, so he walked towards the Gaudi square, feeling that it would be a better choice to stand in front of the plaza. He was about to cross the street when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He spun so fast the other fell a step back. Zitao stared with wide eyes as he saw Jongin recompose himself from the sudden movement. He looked up with a broad smile, hair swept back, long black coat to combat the lingering cold paired with matching shoes, simple white shirt over light maroon pants.

“Tao,” he smiled as he opened his arms wide.

Zitao didn’t manage to will his voice out of his mouth, too astonished to finally see him again. He needed to feel him, he needed to make sure his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him, so Zitao jumped forward and tackled Jongin into a massive bear hug. Jongin laughed out loud, in that silly high pitched laugh of his as he squeezed him tight. Zitao couldn’t help the tears from forming and he snuggled his face against the crook of Jongin’s shoulder, taking in the other’s light-pine-scented cologne.

He couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t ing believe it. He was holding onto Jongin again and he didn’t want to let go -he couldn’t let go because he feared if he did Jongin would disappear into thin air. No, he couldn’t let go. He couldn’t even lean back to look at Jongin’s face because he knew he was crying and he didn’t want to show he was crying -, he was crying so bad he hadn’t even been able to squeak out a ing hello.

“Tao,” he heard Jongin’s thick voice, “Tao you’re making me cry too.” Zitao muffled an apology against his shoulder. “Let’s go find a bench to sit.”

People were staring weird at them but he couldn’t care less. Jongin needed to guide him towards the park and Zitao held tightly onto his hand and arm, scared to death that the other would just teleport away.

“I’m not leaving you,” Jongin said as they sat down on a bench beside the massive pond in the middle of the square. “Tao, seriously, I can’t feel my hand,” he chuckled.

“Sorry,” he sniffled and stopped squeezing him too hard but kept their hands linked. He used his free hand to dry his face and that was when he noticed how bad Jongin had been crying. He felt laughter bubble up inside as he considered how ridiculous they must’ve looked, breaking down in tears in the middle of the street. “I can’t believe we cried in front of all these people,” he chuckled.

“Hey! It’s your fault,” Jongin whined childishly as he wiped his own face. “You cried first.”

“Sorry.”

Jongin stared back at him, smile broad despite his tear-stained face. Now Zitao noticed the small details. Jongin’s chocolate brown hair had a few highlights. His face had grown rougher, sharper and more masculine. He had matured a lot, but still retained his young boyish aura.

“Where have you been?” he asked.

Jongin tilted his head to the side. “Your pronunciation sounds different.”

“I haven’t spoken Korean in all these years,” Zitao explained. “Once we were separated I got assigned to the Chinese Agency and ever since then I only spoke Mandarin.”

“Did you learn it fast?” Jongin asked with interest. “Because Yifan picked it up pretty quickly.”

“Yifan?”

“Yeah, he was assigned to the NSB too,” he explained.

“You’ve seen him? You’ve seen Yifan?” Zitao couldn’t help himself from grabbing onto Jongin’s shoulders to take a good look at his face.

“Yeah, I found him in Canada and Chanyeol’s in Mexico,” he explained.

Zitao felt a pang in his chest, he had to cup his hand over his mouth to muffle a gasp. “How…How are they?”

“They’re fine, both are doing well. Yifan’s into painting and Chanyeol composes music, though he also works part time as a chef at his foster mother’s restaurant. Oh, and Yifan doesn’t have a foster family, but he’s got sponsors for his art so he lives in this massive house with a studio in Montreal, you’ve got to see it someday. His paintings are wonderful, you wouldn’t believe how much he’s learned. Do you remember his sketch books? Those are nothing compared to what he’s capable of doing now,” Jongin rambled vivaciously. “Chanyeol moved to live by the ocean, a bay area called Zihuatanejo, it’s so beautiful, Tao. The sea is crystal clear and emerald. And the food,” he gasped, “the food is amazing over there. And-”

“Jongin, Jongin,” he interrupted. “I’m so happy you’ve found them, I really am,” he could feel the damn tears in his eyes, “but I need to tell you something important, okay?”

“Yes,” he nodded vigorously.

“I..., how should I say this,” he looked down and took Jongin’s hand again. “I need you to promise me something.”

“Alright,” he immediately agreed.

“I, I’ve seen an omen in my dreams,” he started off with a serious tone. Jongin stared back with his undivided attention, patiently waiting for him to explain. “I have this fear that if Yifan comes back to the group, if he tries to help us in anyway, he’ll…he’ll die, just like Tawny did.”

Jongin’s face visibly drained of color as he let the words sink. “Yifan’s going to die?” he whispered, voice cracking with fear.

“No, I won’t let that happen,” he corrected. “What I see is him coming back to help us, just like Tawny did when we needed to escape. If we don’t let him come back, then he won’t be in any danger. Do you understand?”

Jongin nodded slowly. “We can’t let him come back.”

“That’s what I need you to promise,” he explained. “Promise me you’ll help me keep Yifan away.”

“I promise,” Jongin said without hesitation. “Whatever happens, if I can keep him away I promise I will.”

“Thank you,” he said and hugged him once more.

“Were you living in Spain all this time?” Jongin asked him.

“No, I was settled in India. I stayed at a Buddhist monastery in Mumbai.”

“That sounds awesome.”

“No, it was ing boring. All I was allowed to do was meditate, do chores and practice wushu. I wore an orange tunic every single ing day,” he sighed exaggeratedly, earning a laugh out of Jongin. “What about you?”

“I lived in New York for a year and then I was transferred to another foster family in Seattle,” he replied.

“Why did you change families?”

“I didn’t get along with the first one,” Jongin shrugged his shoulders. “I wasn’t cooperative either. I mean, I kept escaping and running away trying to find you guys.”

“Oh,” Zitao sighed. He might not have had a family but he did have to follow rules whilst staying at the monastery. He could imagine that rules didn’t mean much to Jongin as he couldn’t be held bound. “What about this second family? Do you get along with them better?”

“Yeah, they are much nicer,” he smiled. “They’ve been more understanding with my ventures, but I still had some conflicts with my dad. He’s a bit strict but I guess he just worries too much.”

“Oh, so he really cares about you?”

Jongin nodded. “He must be freaking out right now,” he chuckled, but Zitao frowned.

“How do you know he truly cares?”

“You weren’t assigned to a family?” Jongin asked instead. Zitao shook his head. “But you’re just a year older than me. You should’ve been put in a foster home.”

“I was assigned to a Buddhist monk if that counts for anything,” Zitao said lightly. “Very wise man, always so calm and happy. His smile was infectious, whenever he smiled I had this urge to smile as well. I don’t think I could ever raise my voice or get angry at that man.”

Jongin tsked his teeth. “Lucky you.”

“Am I?” he questioned out loud. “I might have had a happy monk to guide me but I never had the chance to call someone my father or mother, even if it were a witness protection charade.”

Jongin remained silent as he contemplated the murky greenish water of the pond. A sad smile adorned his handsome face as he reminisced about a memory.

“I remember the first time I had a big fight with my father,” Jongin briefly looked back at him before continuing with his story. “I had lied to him for the better part of a month or more. I would say I was attending the dance institute downtown, when instead I’d teleport all the way to the dance academy in New York and visit Yifan too. I just liked the academy better over there and I had made friends,” he chuckled as he swept his hair back. “Anyway, he was furious when he found out. He scolded me and I was being stupid and mean, I probably said things I shouldn’t have. I, I think I yelled first, I’m not sure.” He rubbed his neck as he thought it through, “I said: ‘Why do you even ing care?’ He grabbed me by the collar of my shirt to keep me from running off -I swear that pissed me off so much, but then he said that ever since I stepped into his house I was his son and he would take care of me as if I was his real son.”

Zitao could feel his eyes prickle as he listened intently to Jongin’s story, but the other chuckled bitterly before continuing.

“I was so angry at that time, I didn’t understand him, so,” he paused, looking at him with a worried gaze. “So I said: ‘I’m not your ing son and you're not my ing father’, and then warp-jumped into my room without waiting to see his reaction.”

“Damn, Jongin,” Zitao gasped.

“I know,” he groaned into his hands.

“Why did you have to say it like that?”

“Because I, I don’t know,” he played with the collar of his shirt. “I couldn’t understand how someone else, someone I’m not related to and had only known for what, three, four months, could actually care about me in that way. I didn’t understand what it was to have a normal family -I just thought it was a charade.”

Zitao remained silent as he pondered over Jongin’s words. He could picture it clearly now, a distressed Jongin suddenly having someone taking care of him, an adult who actually cared about him. An adult, not a kid like them. An actual family with parents he could trust and find comfort in, hell, he could even love them the way a family should -not like all the they went through with the trials. So it was easy to imagine him, distressed not understanding the emotions he was feeling and venting with painful words. He could imagine it so easily because that was him nearly three years ago. That was the way Zitao had treated his guardian agent before transferring into the monastery.

“What happened after that?” he dared to ask.

Jongin smiled. “I knew I was being stupid so I was ready to apologize during breakfast. Before I could even speak, he called me over to show me a schedule planner,” Jongin let out a shaky breath as tears welled up in his eyes. “He stayed up all night planning out visiting hours so I could see Yifan and practice days where I could go to the academy in New York. He even found the perfect alley I could hide in for teleportation with freaking googlemaps,” he chuckled as he wiped the tears falling down his face. “That’s when I realized he really meant it. That he really cared about me.”

Zitao couldn’t help himself from tearing up as well. Was it because he felt happy for Jongin? Happy that he had somewhat of a family? Or was it something else? Envy maybe? He was never given the chance to live with a foster family. Maybe if he did, then his days would’ve felt a little less lonely. But right now wasn’t the moment to worry over that. Instead he wrapped an arm over Jongin’s shoulders to hold him closer.

“I’m glad you have a caring father, Jongin,” he spoke with honesty.

“Just because he agreed on letting me travel doesn’t mean he didn’t stop scolding me every time I strayed away from the schedule,” he laughed. “You should hear him, he’s an earful.”

“I’d rather not,” he joked. “So, um, you were in Seattle right? How did you know I was here in Barcelona?”

“I didn’t,” Jongin answered. “But I knew I had to come to Barcelona.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, for some reason I can’t explain, I had the strongest urge to come here to Barcelona,” he explained. “I think Lu Han might have told me to come, but I swear I can’t remember.”

“What?” Zitao said even more confused. “Lu Han was in Seattle?”

“What? No, in London.”

“What were you doing in London?” Zitao waved his hands in the air. “Wait, just, explain from the beginning.”

“Okay, so about,” he rolled his eyes up, thinking hard. “Four days ago? What day is it?”

Zitao couldn’t help the judgmental gaze in his eyes. “March 19th.”

“Okay, so yeah. Four days ago I heard my father speaking with my guardian agent in the dining room.”

“You were eavesdropping on them?”

“More like accidentally overheard them as we live in the same house,” he shrugged. “Anyway, they said that Agent Moon had been seen in London and that he’s supposed to be one of our guardians. So I warp-jumped to London trying to find the next member.”

“Lu Han?”

“No,” Jongin lifted his finger to stop him from asking more questions. “I wasn’t feeling well, I had a fever during the week so I wasn’t in my best condition when I teletransported,” he explained. “I nearly passed out in Parliament Square. But I somehow managed to cross the London bridge and check into a hostel.” He took a breath, “So the first day I managed to move around the city, but then at night I felt like . So I got some medication and went to sleep. After that I don’t remember much other than waking up fine today and with an urge to come here.”

Zitao stared at his face for a good whole minute before trying to make sense of his words. “So you’re saying that you spent a day in London, got sick, went to bed and woke up fine today knowing you just had to come to Barcelona,” he summarized.

“Hey, I’m not wearing a big coat for nothing,” he argued. “I still feel a little under the weather.”

“What the hell does this have to do with Lu Han?”

Jongin rolled his eyes. “I think I saw Lu Han.”

“You think?”

“I don’t know,” he exclaimed, “I had a fever and was delirious. It could’ve been my imagination.”

Zitao felt his jaw go slack, “How the did you get better?” he asked incredulously.

“Someone took care of me.”

“Lu Han?”

“Maybe. I’m not sure,” he scratched his neck. “There were two. One who I think was Lu Han and another, an older one, they both spoke Chinese.”

Zitao groaned, rubbing his temples. “No one speaks Chinese. It’s either Mandarin or some dialect.”

Jongin huffed an annoyed sigh. “Then they spoke Mandarin.”

“It must have been Lu Han then.”

“Lu Han speaks Mandarin?”

“He should, since he’s been assigned to the NSB like me,” he explained, “All our agents speak Mandarin, so he should too.”

“Oh,” Jongin elongated the word. “So maybe I saw Lu Han and his agent.”

“That’s what I’m trying to say.”

“But you didn’t say it.”

“Oh my god, did part of your brain die during your fever?” Zitao exclaimed, letting his sass come alive.

Jongin frowned. “It’s nice to see you too, Tao,” he said sarcastically.

Zitao rubbed his forehead as he apologized without a hint of sincerity. “Should we look for Lu Han?”

“No,” Jongin immediately replied.

“Let me guess, you don’t know why but you just know that we shouldn’t look for him, right?” Jongin nodded in response. “He probably told you but you forgot as you were fighting a fever.”

“How did you know I’d be here?” Jongin asked.

“I got a message from Baekhyun.”

“Baekhyun?”

“Yep,” he popped the p as he picked out the heavily folded newspaper from his pocket and handed it over.

Jongin took his time to read the scribbled words on the paper -he only mumbled a soft ‘Huh, my birthday’, at some point. So Zitao took the liberty to gaze around the plaza, at the small food stalls and souvenirs. He was tempted to buy some ice cream when Jongin finally spoke up.

“Beef?” he questioned.

“Taurus,” Zitao corrected. “It’s a stupid joke we have.”

“Uh huh,” he hummed in agreement and kept reading. “Kkamjong? Seriously?”

“You should read the way he signed out.”

“Your little ray of light,” Jongin read out loud. “Yep, this is definitely Baekhyun.”

“Yep.”

“Do you know what this news is really about?”

“Nope.”

“I think it’s EX’ACT.”

“What?” Zitao spun in his seat to look at him.

“I don’t know much, but I heard from Yifan that one of EX’ACT’s affiliates is Russia,” he explained as he pointed at the word scribbled in Hangul. “Yifan heard that the Agency managed to take down subunits in Russia or something like that. And when I overheard my father and agent speaking the other day, they mentioned something about New Zealand. Umm,” he thought it over. “Some went down in New Zealand and then other bad things happened.”

“Do you remember what?”

“Um, well, Central is down.”

“Central?”

“Of the NIS, they’ve shut down because of a rat or something. It was an internal problem and they couldn’t communicate with Central,” he explained. “Um, they said something happened to an agent, and that Agent Moon bailed -no idea what that means, and um, I think they mentioned that Agent Maxwell too.”

“Do you think this news has anything to do with all that?” Zitao asked as he pointed at the newspaper.

“It could be, I mean, why else would Baekhyun go through the trouble of translating it,” Jongin pondered. “ went down in New Zealand and then a lot of bad things happened. Maybe these ships have something to do with it.”

“Do you think that maybe…” Zitao thought it through as he skimmed through the written words. “That maybe there are EX’ACT subunits in France and Australia as well?”

Jongin bit his lower lip as he nodded. “There were subunits in Russia and China, so it’s possible that there are some in France and Australia. And maybe this so called ‘scientific expedition’ was actually a meeting of some sort.”

“Maybe an extraction,” Zitao nearly gasped. “Fifty two passengers were supposedly rescued, but Baekhyun wrote that they might not have really been passengers. What if those vessels are part of EX’ACT and went down there to the Antarctic to get something?”

“Something? Like what?”

“I don’t think I could even try guessing.”

“Well,” Jongin looked back at the newspaper, “I guess we’ll find out tomorrow.”

-March 19th, 2015. ??, Arizona 17:12.

He woke up confused in the middle of an empty field. Sun blaring down at him, wind beating cold against his skin, dry grass poking at his sides.

What the hell happened?

Chanyeol sat up as he tried to understand where he was and why he was there -and why his head ached so damn much. He reached up to touch the right side of his head and felt something slick. He looked down to find a little smear of blood on the tip of his fingers.

“.”

He got up to his feet, feeling a little dizzy from the sunlight hitting his eyes. He could smell something burnt. He looked around the small and dry-looking valley surrounded by mountains and saw dark patches of burnt grass form a path towards the place he had been sleeping at. The ends of his pants were scorched up.

He crouched down closer to inspect the burnt patch that had an eerie resemblance to a foot print -oh, . They were his foot-prints.

He felt his stomach churn uncomfortably as he noticed how far apart each burnt spot was from one another -long steps disordered and unbalanced in wide strides- and he realized he must have been running away from something. Yes, away from something not someone, for those things that had been chasing him all the way from Zihuatanejo were neither bogger nor human. They were a mix between them both. Human enough to think and talk and blend in with the crowd, but once they showed their true claws Chanyeol knew he had to run away from them as fast as he could.

Humans with bogger body parts. Now that was ed up. It made everything so ed up.

He needed to defend himself from them but it left a much more scarring image in his mind to see human faces burning instead of boggers. And the screams…Bogger screams were monstrous and unearthly, but human screams were much more terrifying in a different level –a level much too close to home. Those screams could’ve been his mother. Those screams could’ve been his father or sister, his group of friends. These half-human-half-boggers were so much worse because they looked and sounded so real, so human.

Chanyeol held his head between his hands as he let out a silent yelp. He needed to get rid of the sound, he needed to stop thinking about them, about what he did to them.

“Calm down,” he tried to speak but his voice was caught in his throat. Breath hitched, hands shaking and stomach twisting into a painful knot.

They had managed to run away, he remembered. Agent Jeon and his team divided into two groups. One stayed behind to help relocate his foster family and the others jumped on a car with him and drove north. They couldn’t just catch a plane and disappear, not when their location had been compromised and all the airports could be heavily guarded. Agent Jeon had insisted that they should cross all the way to the United States and get to Jongin. That then they could teleport to a safer location. Chanyeol didn’t understand why though. It would’ve been so much easier if they hopped onto a private jet and got the out of Mexico. But Central was down, they had no support. They were on their own. So getting to Seattle was their top priority.

They crossed through Nogales and headed directly to Tucson hoping to catch a national flight. But they were caught. A group of hybrids attacked them on the interstate. Twenty hybrids against a group of four. Agent Jeon’s team stayed behind to distract and hopefully kill them all off, as he took Chanyeol towards Phoenix.

“Phoenix,” he muttered to himself as he remembered where he was.

Right, but they hadn’t even gotten near Phoenix. They didn’t take the interstate but instead circled around south, hoping to get to the airport in Mesa, but they had been followed. And now...Now he was in some forest near Mesa where they had been attacked a second time. But how did he run all the way here in the middle of ing nowhere? Where was Agent Jeon?

Chanyeol retraced his steps with caution, keeping a keen eye towards any sign of movement. He could perceive the faint smell of smoke and as he got closer to the forest he could see the white-greyish smoke rise from the burning canopies. It was a ing conflagration and he had a pretty good idea that he was the cause of the wildfire.

He made his way towards the fire. Only his steps were visible running out of the scarce trees, which meant that Agent Jeon was probably inside the flaming woods. He needed to find Agent Jeon. He needed to know if he was still alive.

He always wore fireproof undergarment, the same kind of clothing he had had back in the trials. So he didn’t care that his blue woven coat would burn as he stepped into the fire. He felt safer walking inside the flames rather than lying out in the open. Chanyeol thought it through as he stood inside a ring of fire -flames hot and wild, reaching up over his height and devouring all in its way. If he didn’t find Jeon in an hour or two, then he’d have to stay on the run on his own. He couldn’t just stay wandering about Arizona hoping an agent would still be alive and find him. He needed to keep moving and get to Seattle.

Jongin, he needed Jongin.

-March 20th, 2015. Paris 02:31.

He was about to get ready for bed when Mama came knocking on his door. He didn’t even question her presence as he followed her through the hallway to the common area.

“What are you doing awake?” he asked concerned. She hadn’t been sleeping much as she spent most of her time figuring out and planning every detail for Zitao and Jongin to time travel safely and successfully.

“I was monitoring the weather report,” she answered behind a yawn. “According to my calculations, Sehun should be close.”

“I didn’t consider him arriving at such an ungodly hour,” Baekhyun mumbled a complaint. “But why were you up monitoring? Don’t you have Mad Eyes for that?”

Mama frowned at the nickname. “Yes, but he’s in a bad mood tonight.

“Isn’t he always?” he asked with honest confusion, but Mama chose to ignore him.

“Is Lu Han in place?”

“Yeah, he texted me when he got back to Edinburgh yesterday,” he replied as they walked into the open area.

The common room was spacious and had enough furniture to be considered comfortable, but it was still dull looking with concrete walls and no decorations -pretty much looking as unhomely as the rest of the underground lab. The television was on, showing CNN breaking news about a horrible conflagration that was destroying Tonto National Forest and had spread fast all the way up towards Coconino National Forest. The fire had started south, engulfing the Salt river, and spread north at increasing speed. A fire of that magnitude had never been seen before, much less starting so down south of Tonto National Forest –since that area had less foliage. Authorities speculate it to have been man-made and had even gone so far as to consider it as arson terrorism.

Baekhyun couldn’t really register what the English anchorwoman was reporting, for his chest felt too uncomfortable to pay attention. That fire had most definitely been man-made for the weather conditions did not aid its expansion. No, its strength, speed and growth could only be indicative of Chanyeol’s superior skills. He had created a huge inferno which could only mean one thing: he was protecting himself from danger.

Danger that certainly was Baekhyun’s fault.

“Now we know where Chanyeol is,” Mama commented as the screen showed live footage of the wildfire.

Baekhyun silently agreed, while internally trying to push away the dread and fear. He felt guilty because he knew it was his fault that Chanyeol was running away and hiding in fires to keep safe. But worrying wasn’t going to help now. No, he needed to compose himself and sort out a solution to bring Chanyeol back safely.

“He’s heading north,” Baekhyun observed and Mama nodded, giving him a knowing look, as if she had already figured it out. Baekhyun took in a breath, his hands by his hips to keep himself from fidgeting with his fingers. “He’s heading to Seattle; to Jongin.”

“This was your plan?”

Baekhyun disagreed with the shake of his head. “I planned for Chanyeol to get to Seattle by the 19th, which he could still make if he jumps on a plane,” he sighed, scratching his elbow. “I didn’t plan for Jongin to suddenly appear in London. He moved before he had to.”

“What are we going to do about Chanyeol?” she asked as she sat down on a sofa, looking rather tired.

“I thought giving out his location would cause him to move. But this,” Baekhyun pointed at the television screen, “this is something else. He’s not being chased by EX’ACT agents like you said he would be.”

“Go on,” she encouraged.

The plan he had worked out wasn’t bad, nor was it the most optimum. But getting members crossing over continents, hell, even countries wasn’t going to be easy in any way. There was never going to be an optimal plan, only defensible ones.

There was no way Chanyeol could discreetly move by air. He would’ve taken a plane at any airport but the risk was too high -even private ones were out of the question because it was impossible to go under the radar with air traffic control. Getting him to travel by bus all the way up to Seattle to meet up with Jongin and get them both to teleport was the plan he had thought out to be best. Obviously things didn’t go his way. He had Moon tell Agent Jeon in advance that he would have to make sure to get Chanyeol all the way to Seattle, but clearly something had gone wrong. Something he hadn’t considered, let alone known about.

He hummed as he shook his head, taking in the extent of the fire damage. “He’s being threatened. He’s in danger. But from what?” He looked at Mama. “It can’t be boggers, they’re too volatile and would attack anything that moved. Using boggers to catch us is stupid, useless and completely conspicuous.”

“Agreed,” she nodded while resting her head against her hand.

“So what is he running from?” he questioned. “What don't we know about?”

Mama’s right hand unconsciously found the bell pendant of her necklace and played with it as she had a moment of thought. Baekhyun didn’t keep his eyes on her long enough to seem suspicious, just enough to see she looked rather blue. He would've thought she would be colored with anxiety a bit, worrying as much as she did over time traveling, but her thermal readings looked rather neutral.

“I think they have something that can easily mix inconspicuously among humans yet is dangerous enough to provoke Chanyeol into such a flagrant defensive behavior,” she finally answered.

“A monster disguised as a human,” he considered. “Maybe something like us?”

“Nonsense,” she scoffed. “They haven’t been able to develop anything close to what I’ve achieved. That’s why I gave them a push.”

Baekhyun nodded, knowing exactly what she meant. “You don’t think they could’ve advanced quickly? It’s been like two months.”

She shook her head softly before leaning against her hand. “Two months wouldn’t be enough. They should still be on test trials.”

Baekhyun hummed in agreement as he crossed his arms over his chest. “So what do you think are chasing him?”

She took a deep breath as she gathered her thoughts. “EX’ACT is down to one subunit and the headquarters in China. Not boggers but something anthropomorphic enough to blend in with ease. But China is the least advanced with human intergenetics, their main focus has always been cloning for it was easier to get away with ‘legally’,” she explained, “So whatever they’ve sent must be old school genetics.”

“Meaning what?” Baekhyun questioned, but Mama frowned in thought as she tapped her fingers against her chin. “Were there any other monsters made other than boggers?”

Mama stopped fidgeting and her eyes widened in realization. “Oh,” she said. “It’s Cao.”

“Cao?”

“He was a fellow scientist from the old days in the NAMU unit. From when I first created the Boogey Men,” she explained, letting her hand fall to her lap. “Our team were given the same genetic pool samples so everyone’s research could help develop another teammate’s experiment. Cao understood the flexibility and adaptability the Boogey Men had, but the problem was their animalistic cognition. So he proposed a simple transgenic implantation of bogger DNA into human clones.”

“Wait, what do you mean by that?” Baekhyun asked uncertain.

“Human clones with bogger features. That way they would be deadly dangerous yet preserve advanced cognitive functions so their intellect would meet the company’s criteria,” she diligently explained. “That way they wouldn’t go killing the soldiers they’d be meant to work with.”

“And that didn’t work out?”

“No. By that time human cloning was very flawed, not because we couldn’t form a fully functioning human body, but because of the psychological impairments ensuing rapid biological development.” She paused, letting her words sink. “Remember I said it took me over 6 years to prepare the trials?”

“Yes.” She did during her confession tape.

“Well, most of that time was used to develop memory implantation and simultaneous telepathic stimulation to link forming memories from an active clone to a deactivated one. Do you understand why?”

Baekhyun thought about it for a second -feeling rather dumb with all her scientific jargons. “Memory implantation to…to give the clone a background and a sense of self, because our memories help form our personalities and mental development.”

“Correct,” she smiled proudly. “If you just artificially clone a human into an advanced age, its mental state would be horribly underdeveloped. Which means they wouldn’t possibly have the intelligence to comprehend what was required of them.” Baekhyun nodded in understanding. “So the hybrid project had failed.”

“But you think they’ve created them again?”

“It’s the only ‘monster’ that looks human enough,” she replied.

Baekhyun wanted to disagree but refrained from doing so. Instead he looked at her thermal signature again. There had been no significant changes. No heat around the eyes, cheeks or ears -she wasn’t lying. Maybe Lu Han didn’t trust her thoughts but Baekhyun could see if she tried lying or not. Keeping his ability secret gave him the upper hand.

“Does this mean they’ve developed memory implantation?” he cautiously asked.

She slowly shook her head. “Not possible. Murdock works with me and Han’s dead.”

“But they’re not the only neuroscientists in the world,” Baekhyun argued.

“They were the best and we kept our research secret,” she countered. “If they managed to create hybrids, then it’s some new method.”

“They have…” he blinked as he realized something. Mama gave him a curious look. “What did they take out of Antarctica?”

“You mean on that bogus trip?” He nodded in lieu of a reply. “The research lab was completely empty by the time the Agency checked it out. I just assumed it had been abandoned but it’s possible that, because of the scarcity of resources from the dismantlement of the subunits, they took out old equipment.”

“Old enough to have grown?”

Mama’s eyes widened in amazement. “No,” she gasped.

“It’s worth considering,” he commented.

“But fifty two are too few. They were created with the same auto-disintegration gene, making them a spawnable minion,” she argued.

“Fifty two were the number reported to have been transferred to the Australian vessel,” he reminded. “We don’t know if they carried more to the Russian and Chinese vessels before the Americans entered the picture.”

“And to think that whole fake expedition was just meant to be a distraction,” Mama huffed annoyed.

“Well, I guess EX’ACT had a few hybrids under their sleeves,” he joked, but Mama shook her head annoyed. “Don’t worry, I’ve got a plan for Chanyeol,” he said as he walked up to her and extended his hand for her to take. “Go get some rest, I’ll monitor the weather report tonight, okay?”

“Your acting is getting better,” she commented as he helped her up. Mama lightly his cheek with her free hand as she looked into his eyes with her calculating ones, “You don’t show it but I know you’re worried about him.”

“Yeah, well,” Baekhyun placed his hand over hers, “I worry you’re not getting enough sleep. Let’s go.”

As she let him guide her to her room, Baekhyun wondered if she could tell when he was lying or not, because if she did then he’d be ed.

After escorting her, he made his way to his room, went to the bathroom and picked out a bottle from the cabinet. If he was going to stay awake to monitor the weather report he would need a little chemical boost.

Adderall; one pill and he wouldn’t sleep until the next night or worse depending on his energy levels. So he applied some pressure on both sides of the uncoated pill and broke it in two, putting back one half into the bottle and slipping the other inside his pocket. He’d take it later at a more decent hour of the morning, when he would no longer be able to stay awake on his own.

Baekhyun walked out to the hall and knocked on Moon’s door. His agent mumbled a reply so he let himself in, closing the door behind him.

“Wake up,” he urged as Moon tiredly sat up on the bed. “I’ve got to be quick.”

“What?” he groaned annoyed as he forcefully rubbed his eyes.

“I need you to go find Chanyeol.”

Moon stared at him confused through half-lidded eyes. “Wasn’t he supposed to move?”

“Yes, to meet up with Jongin and have them both come here. But Jongin teleported to London, remember? Which means I don’t have Chanyeol on the board,” he explained as he plopped down on the bed at his agent’s feet. “I can’t recruit him if he isn’t even on the freaking board,” he exclaimed, shaking Moon’s legs to annoy him.

Moon languidly kicked at him to make him stop. “Doesn’t that mean I’ll step off the board to find him?”

“Yes, but you’re the rogue one, aren’t ya?” He patted Moon’s leg.

“What the does that even mean?” Agent Moon argued as he folded his legs away from Baekhyun.

Baekhyun petulantly ignored Moon’s comment. “Look, I’ll manage things here while you get him. These are just the initial movements, it’s just preparation so nothing should happen to us yet.”

“You sure about this?”

“Yes,” he insisted without hesitation. “I need him, I need my light rook on the board.”

“Alright, alright,” Moon rolled his head to stretch his neck. “Where will I find him?”

“He’s running around Arizona, heading towards Seattle,” he informed as Moon got up and started to prepare his bag -not even caring about dressing properly as he walked around in a white wifebeater and blue boxers. “You don’t have to go right now,” he said alarmed, “it’s 3am.”

“I’m packing so I can leave first thing in the morning,” Moon replied dully, as if he was stating the obvious.

“Oh, okay,” Baekhyun leaned his elbows against his thighs. “You’ll have to sneak your way back to Paris, Brussels is the easiest way if you go by plane.”

“I know, Baek. I’m a pro,” Moon chuckled as he secured his fake documents and wallet filled with euros and dollars in his canvas backpack.

“You’ll probably have to get Chanyeol a fake id and passport,” Baekhyun said as he bit onto his thumb to calm a sudden spur of anxiety.

“I know a guy in Colorado,” Moon said as he picked out clothes to wear. “Seriously, Baekhyun?” he said with judging eyes.

“What?” he asked with his thumb still in his mouth.

Moon sighed as he walked the short distance and pulled Baekhyun’s hand away from his mouth. “You’ll be fine without me, okay? You’ve got your encrypted phone, we can get in touch if you need me,” he reassured, patting Baekhyun’s black locks.

Baekhyun let out a muffled groan as he leaned his head against his agent’s firm stomach, letting the elder caress his head.

“You’re not taking those damn pills again, are ya?” Moon asked suspiciously. Baekhyun shook his head as best as he could, still leaning against the other man. It wasn’t a complete lie, since he hadn’t taken the half-of-a-pill yet. “What’s worrying you then?”

“Nothing is going the way I planned,” he mumbled.

“This is just a hiccup Baekhyun. Besides nothing ever goes according to plan,” he said calmly. Baekhyun looked up at him. “We use plans to figure out a path, not to determine every step.”

Baekhyun nodded, knowing he was right.

“So don’t you worry too much or your brain will fry,” he joked as he ruffled his hair.

Baekhyun complained and reached up to capture Moon’s wrist. “Hey,” he lowered his voice to a whisper, “Let me know when you find him, okay?”

“I will,” Moon promised.

“Don’t bring him until I say you can, alright? Just in case,” he instructed.

“Why? You got some kind of plan?” he lowered  his face in question.

“It’s not really a plan,” he said with a sly smile, “It’s more of an idea.”

“You sneaky little ,” Moon jibed as he poked his forehead, earning a yelp of complaint from the younger. “Alright,” he agreed nonetheless, turning to resume his preparations.

But Baekhyun held onto his arm. “Take care of him,” he pleaded.

“I’m sure fire boy can take care of himself,” Moon joked in a soft tone.

“Please.”

He smiled, reaching down to affectionately ruffle Baekhyun’s hair again. “Don’t worry kid.”

-March 20th, 2015. Berlin 05:07.

He shouldn’t have agreed to stay after hours and end up in a bar with his co-workers. He should’ve ended his shift at the cafe and gone straight home. But damn he had been craving a shot of vodka ever since he left Moscow.

He didn’t even know what time he had left the bar. Nor had he any clue how he had made his way back to a familiar part of the city since he had never been to that bar before so he didn’t know the address. Hell, it wasn’t like he could memorize every street address anyway. German was a string of unpronounceable words.

And he thought Russian was hard.

Minseok scoffed to himself at the comparison. He had been living in Germany since November and he still couldn’t grasp the language.

Anyway, judging by the empty streets and the dark sky, it was either very late in the night or very early in the morning -or more like both. It was rather cold out in the streets, not that it mattered to him, but he could see his breath’s condensation with every exhale.

He wasn’t drunk, no not at all. Just a little tipsy.

Minseok stopped walking as he blinked a few times feeling a tad bit confused as he wondered why was he carrying a skateboard when he didn’t even own one. Whose skateboard was this? Where did he even get it?

Okay, maybe he was a bit more than just tipsy.

He finally reached S street -he called it S street since he couldn’t pronounce the name without sounding like he lived at ‘slaughterhouse-n street’. He was positive he was walking in a straight line, so why did the Omni Security sign on the adjacent building kept moving around?

Speaking of security, there was a big street surveillance camera at the top corner of the building. Minseok stopped in his tracks to stare up at it.

“Are they watching me now?” he wondered as he tilted his head to the side while smiling at the camera. “Nah, they’re probably sleeping. I know Baekhyun would be,” he answered himself and made a peace sign towards the dark lens before resuming his steps to the residence.

“Keys, keys, keys,” he repeated as he searched for said object between his pockets. “Aha!” he loudly cheered in victory when he finally found them. But his victory was short lived as he struggled to fit the key in the lock. “I’m not drunk, I’m not drunk,” he mumbled annoyed while forcing his hand to stay still before inserting the key. He let out a breath of relief when, with a twist of his wrist, he unlocked the door.

Once he got inside to the staircase, he took off his big furry hat. It took more effort than normal since his arm felt tired for some reason. When the hat came off, he finally noticed he still had his headphones on.

What am I even listening to? He wondered and pumped up the volume to actually be able to listen to his music.

He made his way upstairs, not even trying to decipher the graffiti tags that filled the once sky-blue walls of the apartment building. Someone rudely bumped into him, not even caring to give out an apology. Minseok wasn’t even surprised at this point since most of his neighbors were jerks.

Anyway, as he finally got back to his apartment he dropped the skateboard at the entrance and activated the lockdown system to secure the door. He walked to the kitchen first, pouring himself a glass of water to hopefully save himself from a headache tomorrow.

The living room was a mess. Why the hell were there books scattered on the floor and the lamp was turned over on the floor?

“What the hell did Bao do now?” he asked himself as he went to sit at the single couch they had in the apartment.

He let out a tired sigh as he pulled his headphones down to his neck, resting his head against the settee. Knowing Bao it could’ve been anything from martial arts practice to a boredom-induced tantrum gone wrong. Minseok decided it was best to just ask him when the other woke up.

He felt his pocket vibrate.

He frowned confused as he picked up the phone Mama had given him. He had one message.

‘Weather Report. B.’

“B?” he wondered. Normally he’d get texts from Mama signed off as MM. He had never received a text from B. “Baekhyun,” he gasped in realization.

Quickly he grabbed the remote and the muted television. He searched a few channels until he found the international weather report on CNN. He read the information on the screen rather than turning the sound on -he didn’t want to wake up Bao with the noise.

The screen showed the wind forecast for Europe, specifically heavy wind blowing northeast from the Atlantic Ocean towards Ireland and the UK. The headlines read ‘abnormal front’ and ‘high wind warning’ with an average speed of 160kph.

“No ing way,” he whispered astounded, leaning forward to get a closer view of the wind diagram that moved quickly through the screen.

He jolted in surprise as he felt his phone vibrate in his hand. He quickly checked the text.

‘Fetch. B.’

, it was time to wake up Bao and move. Minseok nearly stumbled as he got up and ran towards their rooms.

He seriously chose the worse night to go out drinking.