may contain typos as i have not proof read it enough

Chapter Three: Error Eraser

"We are nothing but Exiled Heathens"

Jongdae pushes the doors open, the heavy wood crying over the force, and the male stops on his tracks when a gun is pointed at him. On the other end of the weapon is Jongin with hooded and tired eyes, face expressionless as he sits in a throne of pillows and empty bottles of alcohol. Somewhere farther packs of money are scattered, some broken picture frames and a couple gun magazines. Jongin snarls at him, and Jongdae gulps down his fear.

“Kim,” he starts when Jongin barks a ‘what?’ at him. “Chanyeol sent a message for you.” With the disappearance of Jongin’s sanity, and the appearance of the broken Kai, Jongdae has returned to addressing him by his surname. Admittedly, he’s scared of Jongin’s reaction if he doesn’t, at this point. He’s out of his mind and Jongdae would prefer to stay alive.

Jongin, however, only lets his hand fall to his side, the gun threatening to slip from his grip. A smile takes over his face, his eyes glaring somewhere at the carpet-covered floor. They are sluggish movements that make Jongdae feel both pity and worry.

“So what does he want? Money? Weapons? Or is it,” Jongin’s dark eyes fall on Jongdae’s form, intoxicated, drunk on both alcohol and pain. “Territory? Tell him he can have none of it!”

“But Kyungsoo, sir…”

“I don’t care about that !” Jongin barks almost immediately and Jongdae steps back. Jongin stands up from his handmade throne, throwing the gun across the room. Jongdae watches as it falls on the floor after leaving a small dent in the wall, and just when it meets with the floor, he feels hands grab onto his shoulders. The nails dig into his skin through the cloth of his jacket and Jongin leans close to his face. That’s when his eyes look the most dangerous, the most hurt, mirroring his suffering insides.

“I have no reason to go after him after everything he’s done.”

“What has he done, Jongin?” the sound of his name shakes Jongin slightly sober. It almost feels unfamiliar, forgotten. “He’s always accepted you for who you are, with all the crazy you do, yet you let him at Chanyeol’s mercy when you know the man is desperate enough to hurt him, or worse.”

Jongin then delivers a sharp backslap, forcing Jongdae’s face close to him again with a strong hold on his jaw. “What side are you on, Chennie?” When Jongdae’s gaze falls down, Jongin pats his shoulder.

“Prepare the men, Jongdae. I want everything ready for an attack.” As Jongin steps away, back towards his throne, his eyes find a picture frame with a photograph of Kyungsoo sitting on a container back when Jongin liked to attack cargo ships for loot. He looks so angelic, so dream-like with the street lights hitting his back and showing a supernatural, innocent glow around his godforsaken body. His hair a wild red, dyed because Jongin has told him he liked the color and that it would match his then blond. So Kyungsoo sported scarlet hair for him. Back then Kyungsoo was less crazy, less corrupted. Just two years by Jongin’s side, yet he still clung to his humanity. Little by little, though, Jongin munched on it, tore it apart, let it loose.

The white canvas he’d seen years ago in that institute was not exactly pure. It had always held an insanity. Jongin didn’t need to poison him, he just helped it come out.

And taught Kyungsoo to embrace it.

And maybe that was what made him so valuable, so special. After so many differences Jongin thought they had, they were more alike and it fascinated him more than anything else in this world.

 Jongin kicks the frame, a frown over his eyebrows. “Tell Chanyeol to meet us at the cargo ship warehouses. And to bring Kyungsoo.”

It’s been so many years, so if Chanyeol wants to hurt him, Jongin will let him do so. But only if he makes sure Kyungsoo is safe beforehand.

$$$

The man Jongin finds in the mirror is the same monster that’d been put to sleep years ago. He’s a mean, sadistic bastard. One that Jongin finds he’s actually kind of missed. His eyes are hungry with revenge, his hands itching for death and his heart cold as a frozen lake during ice age. There’s something in that er’s stare that makes everyone cower, step aside and not voice anything in protest. He’s the epitome of pain and hurt and sadistic tendencies whose actions brought silence upon witnesses. A death dealer in skin and bones, glares and snarls and amused smirks.

The same man who Jongin has learned to suppress because he was one warning signs were made for. Because he was dangerous to everyone and himself.

But he welcomed him now with open arms, because after everything, he needed that bastard more than he despised him.

The black clothing is complemented with the black bullet-proof vest and Jongin, for once in a long while, doesn’t miss his suits. He expertly loads his guns, locks the safety and holsters them on either of his sides. He hides a knife in his boot and glances at himself in the mirror again. A demon in flesh.

He steps out of the room and into the lobby, finding men walking about. They are all dressed in vests, holding onto weapons and whatnot. He’s almost proud of his men and their loyalty for this battle is not theirs. Jongin, of course, is not an idiot—he knows they are not doing it out of love, going out of their way and going against a strong mafia clan. However, orders are and forever will be orders, and since they have signed their loyalty on Jongin’s hands, they might as well sign their souls to his words.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees Jongdae approaching. He’s also clad in black, vest and guns. His eyes, however, look somewhat worried but Jongin’s not going to be there to comfort him. It’s something he’s been putting off for over two weeks already. And since Jongdae was the one to kick sense into him, he has to suffer with his worry on his own. Jongin will not be there for that.

“Everything’s getting ready. At this pace we’ll be leaving in half hour. Chanyeol should be on his way now already,” Jongdae says surprisingly calmly as he looks out of the window. They’d agreed to meet at the cargo ships once the sun fell. The first  star was already disappearing in the sky for the night to come. And what a bloody night will it be.

“Knowing Chanyeol, he’ll be either trying an ambush, or arrive later than told.” Jongin’s voice is steady, deep. His glare is directed at thin air, though.

“That can work on our side if we sneak in. We’ll have to cover more distance on foot to do so, but it’s doable.”

“And it should. There’s no option here for us to fail. I’m not losing many men just because Chanyeol wants to play. If he wants to actually kill me, he should go for me.” Jongin makes a pause, huffing at his own foolishness. “But that guy will not even talk to me alone. He’s too stuck up with his protection all the time.”

“I have a bad feeling about this either way.” Jongin does not reply, he only silently agrees. It feels out of character for Chanyeol to accept this request when he’s tried asking for an exchange for Kyungsoo. But the catch was for Jongin to—read in Chanyeol’s own words—“quit his little cult and leave it to people who know what’s up”. And, as much as Jongin wanted Kyungsoo back, he was not going to erase everything he’s done, throw away everything he’s built the past seven years. He worked hard on it, and if Chanyeol wants him to quit it, then he’ll have to kill him.

Because willingly, Jongin is not going anywhere.

“The vans are ready, sir,” Minseok shows up with an expressionless face. He’s anxious, Jongin knows him well enough. He’s always been anxious during their escapades, and considering it’s Chanyeol who they are going to, it’s no surprise. “We can leave.”

A heavy silence fell over the trio. They don’t know what to say now that time has come. They don’t know if where they are going they will survive. If they will come back. It’s a mystery neither Jongdae nor Minseok is very fond of. Jongin, however, has worn his confidence along with his vest that afternoon. He’s sure that whatever happens, he’s not coming back here without Kyungsoo.

He’ll bring him home, whatever that might take.

“Hot potato!”

Jongin grabs on the riffle by reflex and he looks up to find a grinning Yixing- the one who also threw it. Jongdae and Minseok look much more surprised than Jongin, who plainly smirks back at his old friend.

“Will you be standing there or will we go and take back what’s ours?”

“Been a while since you saw your love interest, Joonmyun-ie?” Jongin coos and expertly avoids Yixing’s slap.

“You know I hate that sadistic prick.”

“Maybe that’s what you tell yourself to feel better,” Jongin calls jokingly and as he walks ahead, he doesn’t notice the wince on Yixing’s face and the small drag in his pace. A bitter taste on his tongue. The story rolling behind Yixing’s eyelids is put to a pause though, because this is not the place, and surely not the time.

The four of them jump in a van after Jongin has ordered the men to get ready, and he sits next to Yixing, who as always is behind the wheel. Jongin’s eyes fall on the riffle in his hands, all sorts of thoughts racing through his mind. How many souls do his hands hold? How many liters of blood? How many poor families is he meant to hurt still in this life?

And how many more will he hurt after tonight?

$$$

The cold wind cuts through Jongin’s skin the moment he steps out of the van. The closer they got to the shore, the stronger the wind hit the vehicle, and now Jongin can hear the water rush against the cement of the port a long distance ahead. It’s a wild night, that much he can see. The wind is strong, the waves are angry, the temperature so low he can feel his skin tighten even under all the clothes he’s wearing. A month like November is not forgiving.

Jongin’s ears pick up the sounds of guns holstered and readied for a fight he’s determined to win. Because he knows there’s no point in leaving this place without his trophy. Everything would be wasted, then.

“We can spread and go ahead. We can send groups to this and that direction and we’ll go along the fence.” Jongdae says that, and some more, pointing to different directions as he thinks aloud the safest route, all while guessing Chanyeol’s position on the other end of the port. Jongin pays little attention to him, though. He is too focused on his anger and itch for revenge. Jongdae has never been wrong in his plans anyways.

Eventually Jongdae sends Minseok away with a group of men to wiggle through the containers nearest to the coastline. Some other men go around the back with Yixing as a lead, some others through the middle narrow ways; the risky route.  It’s when everyone disappears that Jongin realizes it’s time to act. He grabs onto his gun, and leads the way ahead. He clicks the safety off and stretches his ears, trying to hear anything that could give away Chanyeol’s position. Frankly, if Jongin was given the choice to kill him tonigh